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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

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Evanesce (Giorno Giovanna x Ghost!Fem! Reader)

This was quite a specific request from a nonnie mouse🥺 . This is a bit angsty, I hope I was able to do your request justice my sweet, 💖💕❤️🐞

TW: mentions of death, part 5 spoilers

Word count: 2.1k

The gentle, crisp spring breeze softly rustled the leaves of the tree overhead, dislodging a few, which fell about the handsome young man occupying the bench you had sat on daily for the past 6 months. You weren’t upset or anything like that, you were just a creature of habit and that spot provided the best vantage point of your surroundings.

“Excuse me, are you saving this seat for anyone?” The blonde boy briefly looked up at you, shook his head sharply and returned to what he was reading as you took a seat on the other side of the bench, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. He furrowed his well-defined brows at the page he was currently perusing and finally resigned, snapping his book shut in one swift motion.

“What are you reading? Well were reading…” he scanned your face pensively before answering.

“Catch 22…”

“Ah, Joseph Heller, I’m familiar,”

“Have you read it?

“No… I haven’t got around to it,” you admit shyly.

“you should, it’s quite brilliant actually,”

“Hmm, damned if you do, damned if you don’t… it’s a metaphor for life really, if you think about it,” you knew that feeling all too well, but that was a story for another day. In the time you had spent there you had learned the young man’s name was Giorno Giovanna, and he when he wasn’t a “freelance cab driver” he went to school a few streets away. You both chatted for what felt like a few moments, but in actuality, was the rest of the afternoon. Alerted by the changing colors of the sky as the day had started turning to dusk he had excused himself to make it back to his dorm before dinner. Watching him walk away, you sat there and wondered how different things might have been had you met him earlier.

Giorno was preoccupied with his thoughts too, wondering where you had come from and why he hadn’t seen you before… he had been to that park enough times, and if you frequented it as much as you claimed to have done so, surely he would have come across you before…

“Giorno, a few of us are going to work on the science project in the rec area after dinner, do you want to join?”

“Oh, Lorenzo, thanks for the offer, but I really need to finish this report tonight, sorry,”

“No sweat, catchya later,” the sprightly boy left Giorno to his own devices pondering silently over the events of the day.

Over the next few weeks, Giorno regularly visited the spot in the hopes of running into you, which he did, and slowly you both had learned so much about each other. Favorite foods, music, books, shows… hopes and aspirations… there was never a dull moment when you were around each other, and he had somehow enabled you to find your smile again, while you were certain you had done the same for him. He grew closer to you, connecting on a different level almost… he found himself wanting to spend more time with you than he could afford to, but your company was just too intoxicating. Savoring each smile, laugh and shy sideward glance, you were altogether too lovely, and too unaware of the effect you had on him. As much as you were unaware of his growing affections, so too was he unaware of yours. Falling in love with his wry smile when he teased you over the silly anecdotes you thought up, and the way in which the wind made his lovely, golden hair dance about in the sunshine, your heart both leapt and stung, lamenting the inopportune timing at which you had encountered your possible savior, but still being thankful that you could experience something as pure as this, nonetheless.

As much as you were happy, you remained unfulfilled, having such a specific set of circumstances during which you could interact with Giorno. In the beginning it was much easier, catching him in his quieter moments, but now, those moments barely ever occurred, each time you made a move to get closer to him, your plans were thwarted by his new groups of friends… allies? Watching him rapidly traversing Italy, cheating death at every turn, despite your yearning, you hoped with everything you had that you would not encounter him in your space between the two realms. You weren’t sure what kind of force kept you bound to earth but you knew the reason was because you had yet to truly experience love before your untimely passing. You found it altogether ridiculous and unfair, so many others with regrets much more intense than your own had encountered and passed you as they were finally able to cross over, so why were you still here?

You had wanted to tell him the truth of your semi-existence on so many occasions, but his sweet smile had forced you keep up the pretense, enjoying for once, the feeling of being a teenager with a crush, whether it was something more than that, you were unable to tell. When you hadn’t seen him for a few afternoons, you decided you needed to look for him, remembering where he had gone to school, you saw him in what looked like the throes of a fight near a white haired man, and something that looked nothing like anything you’ve seen before… was it a wraith? A monster? It seemed like the two men also commanded such apparitions, appearing and disappearing, it seemed, according to their will. Suddenly, you felt like the normal one in this scenario, which was rare for you. You knew that what he was going through was bigger than the both of you, and thus began your journey with them, keeping your distance and trying to provide support from your position in the shadows. One by one, you saw his comrades fall, each time grieving with him. When everything was finally over, you resolved to approach him directly, waiting for an opportune moment in between his duties. For now, though, you frequently visited the spot that held so many happy memories for you, knowing what you needed to do.

During his eight-day mission, in his quieter moments, Giorno had found his thoughts drifting back to you. He knew that you probably were there, at the usual spot, looking for him. he wished he could tell you about what he was doing, but the stakes were too high, there was too much to lose and not enough time to work with, so he made up his mind to find you once everything was over, but for now, he was on a mission that he could not back down from. There were moments during which he could have sworn he saw your silhouette from the corner of eye, smelled the pleasant scent he had come to associate you with, but those moments could not be dwelled on with how much was left to do and the unyielding assault from Passione’s elite.

With the battle being won, and his precious allies laid to rest in the manner they deserved, Giorno’s thoughts returned to you once more. Deciding he had avoided the place enough, he went the rendezvous spot, without any of his guards. He was confident in the ability of his stand to protect him from danger, the requiem arrow safely ensconced in his breast pocket if the need arises for him to use it. Seeing you perched under the tree, you cut a forlorn figure.

“(y/n) …”

“Giorno… oh gosh! I didn’t expect to see you here today…” you were taken aback by the sight of him, looking completely different in his black suit, embodying an entirely unapproachable, otherworldly beauty, but somehow the energy he radiated still felt warm and familiar.

“You’re probably wondering where I’ve been all this time… I’ll explain everything,” he intended to take your hand in his, but you flinched, deepening the grimace on his face.

“Cara, I’m sorry, I know you must be upset with me, as you should be, but if you allow me a chance to explain, you would understand, please…”

“It’s okay Gio… I know everything… please, sit down, there’s something I have to tell you,” with confusion replacing his pained grimace, Giorno sat down and looked at you expectantly.

“I know about everything that happened to you Gio, I was right there. The reason I recoiled from your touch, or never took you up on a coffee date is because I no longer exist in this world… my physical body has already perished Giorno,”

“April fools has already passed (y/n) and Halloween is only in October… either way, it’s still a terrible joke, not funny at all,” Giorno tried in vain to conceal his irritation.

“It’s not a joke Giorno, have you ever wondered why the area becomes deserted when we’re interacting? How I can disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye? I’m already dead… I’ll prove it to you,” in an instant, you had disappeared and the people had magically appeared in the distance. With his eyes locked on those, he suddenly saw them vanish again as you appeared.

“I don’t understand… where are we then?”

“This is the dimension I exist in, half way between the two realms. My soul refuses to pass over, being bound by a regret,”

“What regret? If you’ve been with me this entire time, surely you know my ability, and of the other ghost that inhabits the turtle… there must be something we can do,”

The desperation in his voice hurt you, you knew that he meant well, but you couldn’t allow him to live like this, being bound to someone who didn’t really exist. In the time you had observed him fighting for his life and for those around him you realized that regardless of how much you both would try, nothing would materialize from these interactions, so you made the painful decision to not pursue this any further, regardless of how much it may hurt you both.

“Face it Gio, there’s no way that anything can happen here, and hanging on to this is just going to hurt the both of us…”

“Don’t say it…”

“Giorno, this is going to be the last…”

“Please, (y/n), don’t say it. I already know… it’s just like me though… the first girl I fall in love with turns out to be a ghost… yet another one of my bizarre escapades… (y/n) … you’re glowing,”

You looked down at your hands and body, seeing a warm cerise glow taking over your body, you felt odd, -weightless- as if you would float away… and then you realized what Giorno had said to you. He loved you, actually loved you, and this was your moment of ascension. After all these months, finally, you would get your repose.

“I think it’s time, you’ve given me something precious, something I can’t even begin to return. I’m finally able to rest because of you…”

“Falling in love hey? Usually a declaration like this is supposed to awaken the princess, not send her away…” he said dejectedly, knowing well enough from recent events, that a spirit cannot remain longer than intended regardless of how much you willed it to.

Reaching up to try and cup his cheek as your image grew ever fainter, “Giorno, these past few weeks have allowed me to feel things in death that I couldn’t have even imagined when I was alive. You’re the reason I can finally rest, and I’ll always be thankful to you, I know you’ll be happy and will love again, all your dreams will be realized, I love you Gio,”

With a sorrowful smile, he watched you fading away from his sight, a warm gentle breeze swirling the loosened leaves around him, and just like that you were gone. Being unable to speak after what happened, he just sat for a while to gather his thoughts before returning to his life as the don of Passione.

It has been a few years since your final encounter with Giorno just before your ascension. Over the years you still watched him, this time from your vantage point above him as opposed to lurking beside him. Your spirit was at ease as he grew from strength to strength, realizing his dream, with a resolve that only he possessed. You watched as he matured, confidence growing in leaps and bounds… as he fell in love- again- just like you promised he would. She was perfect for him, the ray of sunshine he needed to compliment his golden soul. You smiled knowingly, the young man whose pure feelings granted respite to your soul, would be just fine, and even though it may have felt as if you had faded away on that fateful day, the memories of you will always live on through him, adding gravity to your existence- ironically, his memories of the beautiful ghost who had captivated him, would serve as evidence that you had lived…

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thebigbadbatswife · 3 years

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The Witching Hour - Chapter 1 - All Hallows’ Eve

Summary - When her friends dragged her to Gotham’s old cemetery for some Halloween ghost hunting fun, Y/N really didn’t think her life would end up changing like this.

Chapter Warnings - referenced/implied character death

Word Count - 3.3k

The cell phone on your nightstand buzzed incessantly as your friends continued to spam your messages. They had been doing so for the past hour or so. You were surprised that the damn thing hadn’t vibrated off of the nightstand yet. When it finally stopped, when you finally thought they had given up, you returned your attention to the document you had open on your laptop. Just as you were about to start typing again, your phone resumed its buzzing.

Huffing, you shut your laptop’s lid, placed it on the bed next to you, reached over and grabbed your phone off the nightstand. Over eighty messages both from your friends individually and within the group chat, begging you to come along with them to the old cemetery that sat outside of town. They wanted to go because it was Halloween and that meant it was the best time to go ghost hunting! And they wanted you to go along because of how you were usually drawn to this type of stuff. As well as how this type of stuff was also usually drawn to you.

Come on! For old time’s sake? Plus we’re going to have a much better chance at actually catching something if you come along!

The message was from your friend John, the ringleader of your group. The reason you and your friends had always gotten into trouble at school. Now he was trying to work his magic once again.

Only because I’m a meta with an uncomfortably close relationship with death…

As far as you knew, your powers were genetic instead of being caused by that arc reactor explosion that had given a lot of metas their powers. You were able to look past the “Veil”, as it was called, and see and interact with spirits on the other side. Not that you did so often or even liked to do. It creeped you out and you sometimes saw things that would certainly traumatize most people if they saw them. Not to mention the strain on your body and mind each time you did it.

Why the obsession with the old cemetery now?

It had been years since John had mentioned ghost hunting, let alone the old cemetery. Back during your last year of high school, it had been all John could talk about. He was convinced that it was where the “cool” ghosts would be hanging out. None of you had ever actually gone because your last year had passed surprisingly quickly and before you all knew it, you were all moving to different parts of the country for college. In all that time it had never been mentioned again. Until now.

Ha! She finally replies! I knew you wouldn’t leave us to scream into the void forever!

The next message was from Tom, your oldest friend. Unlike the others, you two had known each other since kindergarten. If anyone was capable of talking you into going, it was probably him.

It’s been years since all of us were in the same place at the same time! Not to mention it’s Halloween and a full moon! I don’t think it could be more perfect!

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

You know you want to come! And don’t you dare lie!

He wasn’t wrong about that either. You were a little curious. The cemetery was on the outskirts of Gotham City. According to the internet, the cemetery had members of Gotham’s oldest families buried there. If you were to use your powers there to look past the Veil, there was a chance some of those people could still be hanging around. It would certainly be an unique opportunity to converse with them and, perhaps, attempt to help move on. Or maybe you would find inspiration for your next short ghost story. You certainly had been struggling with inspiration recently so maybe this was exactly what you needed.

Okay! Fine! I’ll come!

You scoffed as you hit ‘send’. Once again, Tom had talked you into joining them. A small part of you was convinced he was a meta with some sort of manipulation power.

That’s great! ‘Cause we’re already outside your house!

John replied, causing you to roll your eyes. Of course they were already outside. Why wouldn’t they be?

You locked your phone, got up from your bed and slipped your phone into your pocket. You grabbed your jacket from your wardrobe and made your way out of your bedroom and down the stairs. You grabbed your keys from the bowl on the table, near the front door.

“Y/N? Where are you going at this hour sweetheart?” your grandma called from the living room.

“I’m going to meet up with some old friends. I’ll be back soon!” you replied. You didn’t tell her where you guys were going since you knew she would most definitely disapprove.

“Stay safe!”

“Will do!”

After your parents’ death, your grandma had not only raised you, but helped you learn how to use your abilities so that, should you choose to, you’d be able to use them. Not that she would approve of you constantly using them. Looking through the Veil could sometimes draw the attention of extremely unwanted creatures that were looking for a route to the physical world. You knew how to defend yourself from them, but that didn’t mean you really wanted to get into that situation to begin with. If you were going to use your abilities tonight, you were going to have to be extremely careful.

The entire drive there, your friends excitedly talked about what they could potentially capture on either video or audio. John was driving, Tom sat in the passenger seat next to him and you were sitting in the back with Rebecca.

A couple of hours later and the car finally pulled up in front of the cemetery. John turned off the engine and you all got out. Since it was pretty much pitch black out here, you all got out your phones and turned on your flashlights.

Tall stone walls covered in moss and vines surrounded the cemetery and an old rusted iron gate stopped the car from going any further. Threaded through the bars of the gate was large rusted chain with an equally rusted padlock. Even if you guys had the key, you seriously doubted it would have worked anyway.

“Are you kidding me?” asked Tom, as he useless pulled against the chain. “This is so unfair!”

“Uh, maybe we could try to scale the walls or something?” Rebecca suggested as she walked over to where the vines seemed at their thickest. She gave them a gentle tug. “Looks like it might hold our weight, if we go up one by one.”

Tom shook his head. “And get covered in spiders? Yeah, no thanks!”

Rebecca frowned as she used her phone’s light to have a closer look at the vines. “I can’t see any spiders.”

“That’s because you’re not looking in the right spots,” he replied as he walked over to her. He shone his own light up at the vines.

While you walked over to them, to get a better look at what Tom was trying to show her, John shook his head and walked back toward the car.

“See all of those tiny turquoise dots shinning back at us?” he asked her as he pointed above where there were a lot of tiny turquoise dots sparkling in the light.

“Yeah, they’re like little drops of moisture right?”

“You would think, but they’re not! Those are the eyes of all those horrid little spiders!”

Rebecca squealed and immediately backed away from the wall. “Tom! Why the fuck would you tell me that! Fuck! There’s probably going to be so many of them inside the actual cemetery! And now I know how to spot them!”

“I don’t think that’s going to be much of an issue considering we can’t get in anyway,” you said as you gestured toward the very locked gate. This whole thing was starting to feel like a massive waste of time.

“Oh! But we can!” John announced as he strode on over to you three with a large pair of bolt cutters in hand. He also had a backpack slung over his shoulder. As he cut the chain, John explained how he had swung by here earlier to see if there was anything that would stop you lot from getting in. When he saw the chain, he had gone to the hardware store, that was located in the worst part of the city, and bought these. “Only place I could find that had bolt cutters big enough for a chain like this!”

“Aren’t we like breaking the law or something right now?” Rebecca asked just as the cutters snipped through the chain and it clanged against the gate.

“Probably,” John replied very nonchalantly. “But we’re pretty much committed at this point now. Besides, look at this place! No one’s been here in years! I seriously doubt we’re going to get caught.”

The iron gate creaked loudly as it was pushed open and you all headed inside. The others walked ahead while you trailed behind. The way they were talking, discussing who was buried here and therefor who they could potentially “contact”, made you feel like you had time-travelled back to high school.

When you all got to the centre of the cemetery, John took the backpack off and opened it. It was filled with all sorts of equipment that was used in modern day ghost hunting. Voice recorders, emf meters, even a couple of high end night vision cameras. Damn, he had really gone all out for this. After the gear had been handed out, John began to give everyone directions as to where they were off to investigate.

Tom and Rebecca were going to be investigating the southwest of the cemetery, which was the newest part, John was headed up to the north, where some mausoleums were shaded by an old willow tree and you:

“And Y/N, you get the oldest part of the cemetery which is toward the east!”

“Right, of course, send the meta to the creepiest part of this place,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Well, you said it, not me! Good luck and we’ll meet back here in a couple of hours,” John replied. With that, you all split up and went your separate ways.

The cemetery was vastly overgrown. Most of the headstones were buried beneath the long unruly grass, brambles and vines. Every now and then your flashlight would catch a glimpse of the grey stone underneath. You also caught more glimpses of those glowing spider eyes and were doing your best to ignore them. You really hated Tom sometimes.

Thanks to all of the plants, you could barely see the path. The only thing that indicated you were walking on one was every now and then you could feel a stone slab shift underneath your feet.

The further east you walked, the darker and darker the cemetery seemed to get. It also seemed to get creepier and creepier, which was strange to you because you never really found cemeteries creepy. Instead you had always found them peaceful. A lot of people found you weird for that. There was also the feeling that something was watching you. The uneasiness that came along with that feeling was enough to prevent you from using either your recorder or your abilities. If there really was something watching you, you got the feeling that the last thing you wanted to do was attract its attention. After all, who knew what truly lurked here? Especially on the other side.

You eventually reached a group of mausoleums. Much like the rest of the cemetery, they were covered in bramble, vines and other plantlife. They were tall and the parts of them you could see, you could tell were certainly made of far more expensive stone than the rest of the place. This wasn’t just the oldest part, this was also the richest part.

You approached a few of the mausoleums and managed to clear away some of the plants covering the name plates. The majority of the names had been erased due to the elements, but not all of them. The names that were still readable were also names you recognised. Kane, Elliot, Crowne. Three of the First Families of Gotham.

You were about to approach another when you saw something large and black move, out of the corner of your eye. You spun around and shone your flashlight in the direction of the shadow, but there was nothing there.

“Hello?” you called out, which was probably a terrible idea, but it was the only thing you could think of doing. “Who’s there?” You waited for a reply, but no reply came.

Was your nerves making you see things? It couldn’t be a spirit; you weren’t using your powers. Unless… Throughout your life you had heard of non metas who had “seen” things in their peripheral vision. Sometimes they were spirits that had briefly broken through the Veil, other times it really was just people imagining things. Until now you had never experienced it before and you hated how impossible it was to tell which one it was.

Turning on your phone’s screen, you looked at the time. You still had an hour before you had to head back to meet back up with the others. Turning the screen off again, you looked back in the direction you had seen the shadow move toward. Did you follow? It sounded like an awful idea, but the only other thing you could do was head back early and then wait around for everyone else, and that sounded incredibly boring.

‘ Okay, guess I’m doing this then,’ you thought as you began to head down the path, in the direction the shadow had gone.

You had previously thought that there was no way this cemetery could be anymore overgrown than it already was. This new part you were now walking through proved you wrong. Extremely wrong.

Branches hanging low off of trees and thorns from the brambles tugged at your clothing as you passed them. You had to keep an extra careful eye out on where you were stepping so that you didn’t trip over and injure yourself. There were more mausoleums, but you could barely make their shapes out through all of the greenery.

As you walked, that feeling that something was watching you increased tenfold and you found yourself constantly glancing back. Each time you looked you were met with the same result. There was nothing there.

‘ It’s just my overactive imagination ,’ you told yourself, but that did nothing to soothe your growing fear. What if the thing you had seen had been an actual person? And not a good person at that. This was Gotham after all and for some reason Halloween was when most, if not all, the psychopaths suddenly came out to play. Were you about to become another notch in some serial killer’s knife hilt? Oh, you really hoped not. That was not how you wanted to go.

Before your mind could lead you down a dark path of all the vivid ways you could be brutally murdered right now, the path came to an end. At the end of it sat a lone mausoleum. This one didn’t look nearly as old as the others nor was it as covered in plants like the rest. As you walked over to it you saw one of the large iron doors had fallen off its hinges and now laid on the ground.

Cautiously, you approached the entrance. When you were close enough, you shone your light on the name plate. The name ‘Wayne’ was engraved on to it. You got a feeling that that was somehow important, but you really didn’t know why. Nor why you were so drawn to it. Almost as if you were now on autopilot, you stepped inside the mausoleum.

The first two names you saw were Martha and Thomas Wayne. Even years after their deaths, you knew the names well. Before their untimely deaths they had been trying to use their fortune to help the city and its more vulnerable citizens.

The next name you saw, you didn’t recognise. Jason Peter Todd. You were shocked when you saw his death date. “Fuck, you were barely sixteen years old,” you whispered. That was... that was not fair at all.

The last name was Bruce Wayne. It stood out to you a lot more than the others had. Almost as if it was…. Glowing? What? That made no sense. Okay, you were definitely just seeing things now. To prove that to yourself, you turned your flashlight off. The name continued to glow, in fact now it was a hell of a lot brighter.

“What the fuck?”

You peered closer to see if there was any small lights or something similar causing it to glow, but there wasn’t anything. The name was actually glowing! Freaked out, you took a picture of it (without the flash of course), and sent it to Tom. A few agonising minutes passed before he finally replied.

Why are you sending me a completely black photo?

What? You checked the picture you had sent and, yeah, the name was definitely visible.

Can’t you see the glowing name?

If Tom couldn’t see it, then what did that mean?

What are you on about? There’s nothing there. Are you okay?

Was this somehow related to your powers? Is that why Tom wasn’t able to see it? If that was the case, and with each passing second it seemed to be, then he or the others couldn’t help.

Yeah, I’m fine. Nevermind.

Sighing, you checked the time before you shut off you phone and slipped it into your pocket. Thirty minutes before you had to head back. You were on your own. If this was related to your powers then what exactly did you do with it? Your grandma had never mentioned anything like this before, so you had no clue. You still felt uneasy and this new discovery had done nothing to help so you really didn’t want to peer through the Veil, unless it was absolutely necessary.

Would anything happen if you reached out and touched it? You sometimes got flashes of memories or feelings when you touched some items. Maybe this could be the same? You supposed the only way to find out would be to touch the stone. Cautiously you reached out and pressed the palm of your hand against the cold stone.

Images flashed through your mind. Movie tickets, a pearl necklace, a gun. There was the sound of the gun firing, a child’s blood chilling scream and the loud wailing of police sirens. Then it was over and you were brought back to reality, with far more questions than you had previously started with.

Before you were able to question or make sense of what you had seen, your phone vibrated. Taking it out, you saw a text from John, as well as several others.

Are you nearly here?

We were supposed to meet up fifteen minutes ago. Where are you?

Did your phone die?

It did, didn’t it. Unless you’re currently doing one of your meta things?

So what had simply been mere seconds for you in reality had been forty five minutes for everyone else. Which wasn’t all that unusual for you, but could certainly make people that didn’t deal with it daily worry. With that in mind, you fingers flew across your keyboard as you typed out your reply.

Yeah, meta thing, sorry. I’m on my way back now.

You turned your flashlight back on and walked back to the entrance. Before leaving, you looked back to where the glowing of Bruce Wayne’s name was now slowly fading away. Whoever he had been, he was asking for your help. You were sure of it and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman #bruce wayne #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #metahuman!reader #the witching hour #my writing

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cinaja · 3 years

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Before the Wall part 60

Masterlist

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Queen Andromache of Angolere is no stranger to anger. Like most humans, she has never been short of reasons to be angry, and the last seven years of war, for all that they have improved the general situation, have done little to ease that. The general unfairness of life, arrogant allies, hypocritical assholes, people who hate her for being mortal – she’s had to deal with it all.

In all those years, she has never been this angry, though. Never felt this close to combusting. It’s like she swallowed a lump of magma and it’s not lying in her stomach, burning her up from the inside. Even two days after the fact, her anger shows no sign of lessening. Instead, it only seems to grow worse, perhaps because she has not yet found an opportunity to let it out.

When the news arrived two days ago, she didn’t believe it. Outright refused to even consider it. More than five hundred thousand people dead in the blink of an eye – the numbers were too big to consider possible. The idea that Miryam, Drakon, and Mor, Mor especially, were all dead from one day to the next was too horrifying to consider. The notion of something as terrible as this happening after the war had already ended downright impossible. And there were no bodies, no way to be sure.

Andromache spent that entire day curled up in her rooms, first trying to convince herself that this had been some terrible mistake, then struggling to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t. This was real.

The second set of news arrived that evening, chasing her out of her hiding place. The messages from four separate sources – three spies and the person in charge of Telique’s wards – arriving at roughly the same time, all brought the same news: What happened had been no terrible accident, no tragedy with no one to blame. It had been planned and brought about by their own allies. Shey. The Autumn Court. Others as well, many of them unnamed.

Again, Andromache refused to believe it. In general, it is her firm belief that one can never have too low an opinion of the Fae, but this… this still went too far. She could not wrap her mind around it, could not understand how anyone could do this.

Like most people in the Alliance, Andromache was well aware that Shey saw Miryam as a threat. But what she could not imagine no matter how hard she tried was what might have caused the level of hatred that would have been necessary to do something like this. Miryam had, as far as Andromache knew, never done anything that might have given her allies cause to hate her. Dislike, perhaps, but not hate. She certainly gave Shey and cause to hate so fiercely that her death wasn’t enough to satisfy him, that he had to have her killed in the cruellest way possible, killing most of the people she cared about, thousands of innocents, in the process and destroying what she spent most of her life working for.

“I don’t think it was hatred,” Nakia said when Andromache voiced her thoughts to her. “I think he just didn’t care. He wanted Miryam dead – everyone else was just collateral damage. Expendable.”

That was when the anger started.

Now, thirty-one hours later, Andromache feels ready to combust with the force of it. Still, her hands are surprisingly steady as she closes the straps of her armour. There will be an Alliance meeting in half an hour, the first one since Miryam and Drakon (and Mor, although no one but Andromache seems to care much about that crucial detail) died, and Andromache intends to use the opportunity to make the Fae regret it.

Her and the other humans met yesterday to agree on a plan. What they came up with isn’t ideal in Andromache’s mind – it doesn’t involve Shey dying painfully, which is truly a shame. It’s the best they could do in their situation, though, and Andromache sincerely hopes their demands will make the Fae regret their actions.

With one last look into the mirror, Andromache straightens and stalks out of the room. Her steps are firm as she walks through the palace’s halls towards the meeting chamber. A lucky side effect of the anger, she supposes. It doesn’t leave space for any other emotions. Otherwise, she would probably be dissolved in tears, unable to move or function. But even so, she can barely bear to think of Miryam and Drakon, and cannot think of Mor at all without feeling like someone punched her in the chest.

By the time she reaches the meeting chamber, it is already filled halfway. Usually, councilmembers would be chatting with each other before the meeting, the room buzzing with activity, but today, silence reins in the chamber. The tense atmosphere can almost be felt physically, like the air is thick as water and pressing anyone inside the room down with its weight.

Quietly, Andromache takes her seat. The silence is only broken by the ticking of the clock that has been places on the opposite wall. She watches the hand creep forward as more and more people arrive. The time when the meeting was set to begin is reached and passed without anyone stirring. Andromache realizes that everyone at the table is waiting for someone to open the meeting, but Miryam isn’t there and Andromache isn’t inclined to step in for her as she usually does.

Eventually, it is Shey who opens the meeting. When he starts spouting nonsense about what a “terrible tragedy” Miryam’s and Drakon’s death was (he doesn’t mention any of the other people who died) or how “devastated” he was by the news, Andromache immediately regrets not opening the meeting herself. When he starts talking about how much Miryam did for the Alliance and the war effort in general, Andromache briefly contemplates getting up and punching him in the face. It might help take the edge off her anger, but their plan is a different one and Andromache is forced to stick to it.

Finally, Shey seems to be done with his monologue of faked mourning and changes the subject. “Sad as we all are,” he says, “I think Miryam and Drakon, more than anyone else, would want us to focus on the future instead of dwelling on the past.”

Never mind. Andromache is actually going to punch him. “I think they mostly wouldn’t want to be dead along with thousands of their people, you fucking asshole,” she mutters, balling her hands into fists.

Shey’s eyes jump to her, narrowing slightly, but he seems to decide that she isn’t worthy of a reply. “I believe the treaty detailing what should happen now that the war is over is all but ready. All that’s left to do is to sign it.”

“If you think any of us are going to sign that contract after what happened, you’ve lost your mind,” Andromache snaps, louder this time. “Why would we want to work with any of you after this?”

Shey is far too well-trained to show any reaction, but Andromache hopes the bastard is shocked. He probably didn’t expect the stupid little mortals to figure out what he did.

“I don’t – “ he begins, but Andromache is already on her feet. The other human councilmembers rise with her.

“This Alliance is over,” she says, voice biting. “As far as I’m concerned, you can all go drown in an ocean.”

With that, she turns towards the door. As one, the human members of the Alliance walk out of the room. No one makes a move to stop them, no one even says a word. The Fae just remain sitting where they are, looking around the table like they are waiting for someone to find the words to fix the crack that is running through their alliance.

Had Miryam been here, she would have been the one to speak out now. She would have found the right words, maybe even managed to convince them all to keep working together. For the sake of the treaty she wanted so badly, she would probably have been willing to excuse even her own murder.

It’s really too bad for the Fae that they had Miryam killed. Because without her, there is no one there to stop the Alliance from shattering into a million pieces.

Without looking back, Andromache stalks out of the meeting chamber. When she returns to her rooms, she finds Mor sitting on her bed.

----

Mor never planned to simply vanish without a word to anyone, certainly not for an entire week. When first left the Black Land and winnowed straight to the Night Court, she only wanted to stay for a few hours, maybe spend the night in the cabin in the mountains to calm herself before returning to Telique.

But then, almost against her own will, she had found herself staying longer and longer. The cabin was so peaceful, and with each day she stayed, the thought of going back became more daunting. Going back would mean facing what Miryam had done, facing their argument. Probably facing Miryam herself. For all that she knew hiding would only make things worse in the long run, she simply hadn’t found it in herself to return.

So instead, she stayed. She visited Rhys a few times. Sat on the couch by the fire and read. Emptied bottle after bottle of wine and did her best not to think about water turning to blood, ice raining from the sky and the look on Miryam’s face before she left her standing alone in the sand. She didn’t want to return at all, but after a week, there was no way to put it off any further, not if she didn’t want to risk worrying her friends in Telique.

It might already have been too long, Mor thinks as she watches Andromache freeze in the doorway, staring at her like she is a ghost. Maybe she should have sent a letter. But surely Miryam told Andromache about what happened, and knowing that, it should have been clear to anyone that she was safe.

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she gets the chance, Andromache snaps out of her paralysis. Letting out a sound that sounds a bit like that of a wounded animal, she rushes towards Mor and sweeps her up in a hug. Her body is shaking, and Mor can feel her damp cheek against her neck. Awkwardly, she begins patting Andromache’s back.

“I’m alright,” she whispers, not entirely understanding why Andromache is this distraught. She wasn’t in any danger, Andromache must have known that. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Andromache lets go of her and holds her at arm’s length so that she can study her. She is still clinging on to Mor’s arms, though, like she is scared to let go.

“How did you get out?” She asks.

Mor frowns. She doesn’t entirely understand the question. “I winnowed,” she says, then quickly adds, “I’m sorry for not writing. I just… I just needed space.”

Now, it is Andromache who seems confused. “What do you mean?” She asks.

Mor can’t help the sinking feeling that they are not entirely on the same page. Could it be that Miryam didn’t tell her about the argument? She wouldn’t have had any reason to keep that information back, though.

“We argued,” she says hesitantly. “I just…” She shrugs. “With what Miryam did… I couldn’t stand it, and she wouldn’t stop. We got into a fight over it. And then I left.”

Andromache stands and stares at her, completely unblinking. Then, slowly, she lets her arms drop to her sides. “What Miryam did?” She repeats, voice dangerously soft. “What Miryam did?”

“Yes, what Miryam did!” Mor replies forcefully. She can’t believe that Andromache seems to be taking Miryam’s side on this. “She burned down an entire country, Andromache! Thousands of people died. She – “

“You’re acting like she did it for fun!” Andromache cuts her off. “There were reasons.”

“What reasons are good enough to murder thousands?” Mor asks, throwing her hands up into the air in desperation. “You weren’t there, Andromache. You don’t know what it was like. This was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen, and Miryam happily allowed it to happen.”

“Well, then you’ll be relieved to know that Miryam is dead,” Andromache snaps.

The words hit Mor like a punch to the stomach. She actually stumbles back a step, gasping. “What?” She whispers.

“Yes,” Andromache says, her voice cutting as a blade. “Her, Drakon and everyone else.”

No. No. It isn’t possible. None of them were in danger when she left. Miryam was just in the process of single-handedly taking down the entire country, with an army of thousands with her to protect her. She was days away from winning – and actually did win, from the last news Mor heard from an enraged Rhys who complained endlessly about the war ending before he had a chance to kill Amarantha.

They couldn’t have died. They couldn’t have.

Oh Cauldron. Her last conversation with Miryam and Drakon was an argument that ended with Mor storming off. She doesn’t remember what she said to them, only that she was furious and desperate, and that they were both yelling at each other and then Mor left. She left them alone and then they died and she…

Mor presses a hand to her stomach, trying to reign in a sob. “I…” She whispers, but doesn’t manage to finish the sentence. She promised to protect Miryam. And then she left. And Miryam died.

“Get out,” Andromache says, voice still deadly soft.

Mor starts shaking her head. “No, I…”

“What Miryam did?” Andromache throws her words back at her with enough anger that Mor actually flinches. “You’re no better than the others.” With that, she pulls open the door. “And now get out.”

Words are escaping Mor. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Tears are burning in her eyes, blurring her vision. Andromache is still staring at her, gaze hard, and so Mor ducks her head and rushes out of the room.

----

Andromache is shaking with fury. Pain and sorrow will come later, she knows, once she has calmed down enough for the reality of what just happened to sink through, but for the moment, she is just angry. Angry with the entire fucking world, but mostly with Mor, because from her, Andromache expected better.

How could she be so stupidly narrow-minded? What Miryam did. She sounded just like all these other Fae who called Miryam’s actions horrifying and then turned around and had her and five hundred thousand innocents murdered. What Miryam did. What about what the Fae did, now and for centuries prior?

She needs some way to let the anger out, or she might actually explode. With swift steps, she stalks through the room and to the cupboard that holds cups and plates. She is still aware enough of herself to avoid the expensive, gilded ones meant for formal occasions and sticks to the simpler pottery for private dinners.

One by one, she pulls them out of the cupboard and hurls them against a nearby wall, watching them shatter into a million pieces with grim satisfaction, hating the fact that this pointless act of rage is all she can do.

How she wishes she had Miryam’s abilities. If only she was able to turn blood into water, make the sky rein ice and fire and command the sun to stay away as she sees fit. Oh, how she would make them all pay for what they did. She’d show them horrifying.

A knock sounds at the door, interrupting Andromache’s fantasies of setting Shey’s palace on fire. She spins around, dropping the plate she had just pulled out of the shelf, and stalks over to the door. This better not be Mor…

It isn’t. When Andromache pulls open the door so hard it bangs against the wall, she instead comes face to face with Nakia.

“Oh,” she says, awkwardly running a hand through her hair. “Nakia.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Nakia asks drily. She glances over her shoulder into the room and raises her eyes at the mess. “Someone to help you clean up, perhaps?”

Andromache can feel her cheeks heating. “I will clean that myself,” she says. She won’t make any of the maids clean up a mess she created on purpose.

“Do that. It will have to wait, though. For the moment, you are needed for a meeting. The Fae asked for a meeting; their representative is already there.”

Andromache groans.

Andromache would have liked nothing better than to refuse the meeting outright and tell the Fae exactly where they can shove their offers, but unfortunately, that is not an option. There are matters to be discussed, and there is no getting around that necessity.

It was agreed well in advance that Andromache would represent the humans for the meeting, as Angolere is the country whose leader is usually in charge of foreign politics. Andromache only finds out who the Fae sent when she steps into the meeting chamber, though: It is Zeku.

Some part of Andromache realizes that this is likely meant as a peace offering. Ever since the founding of the Alliance, Zeku was one of the Fae who worked together with the humans most closely. He was Miryam’s most prominent Fae ally, her, him and Andromache spent more hours than she can count sitting together over proposals and strategies. The Fae likely assumed his presence would appease Andromache, and under different circumstances, it might have. As it is, though, his presence is just another slap to the face.

“Your Majesty,” Zeku greets her, bowing deeply.

“Zeku.”

Greeting him by name instead of title is a capital insult, but Andromache stopped caring about the Faes’ rules for politeness the moment these rules didn’t stop them from murdering more than five hundred thousand people. All these rules ever did was bar anyone who didn’t have a Fae noble’s education from being taken seriously in their political meetings. Andromache played by their rules for far too long.

Zeku ignores the insult and takes the seat opposite her. He opens his mouth to speak, but Andromache cuts in before he gets the chance. Every moment she has to spend in the presence of someone like him is one too much.

“To make this clear right at the beginning,” she says, “I’m not here to play games. There are some issues that need to be settled, and I have no interest in spending more time than absolutely necessary in your presence, so I’d appreciate if we could deal with this as quickly as possible.”

Zeku sighs. “Alright, then,” he says, “But before we begin, just allow me to say how terribly sorry I am about what happened.”

Yeah, sure. She believes that right away. Once that conversation is over, though, he might actually be sorry.

“Well, I believe it ought to be clear to anyone that the continuation of the Alliance is no longer possible. The treaty we worked on is a thing of the past, as are any agreements we came to. We can no longer trust you, and so working together is no longer an option.”

Zeku, at the very least, does her the favour of not pretending he doesn’t know what she is talking about. “I know what happened was unforgivable,” he says, “but Miryam wouldn’t want – “

“Don’t,” Andromache cuts him off, voice sharp as a whip. “Don’t you dare talk to me about what Miryam would have wanted.”

Zeku lifts his hands as if warding off a physical attack. “Alright,” he says. “Forgive me. But the point remains that we need to work together. The situation is far from ideal, but together, you and I could still turn it around.”

Andromache lets out a sharp laugh. “You and I? Together?” She shakes her head, laughing again. “No, thank you. With what happened to the last human who worked together with you, I have little interest. Maybe if you wanted this alliance, you should have made sure she stayed alive.”

“I had no involvement – “ Zeku begins, but Andromache cuts him off.

“Oh, spare me,” she snaps. “Miryam might been willing to listen to your explanation. She might have played along with your game, pretended she believed and trusted you and maybe even agreed to work together with you again in spite of everything. For peace. She really wanted that, you know? A world where humans and Fae could live together in peace and equality. For that, she might even have been willing to look past what your friends did. But I am not Miryam.”

“I am aware,” Zeku says quietly.

“Maybe, but you don’t seem to understand what it means.” None of the Fae ever understood, and they never bothered to try, either. “You and your Fae friends always thought that Miryam was the only one of us worthy of being taken seriously, didn’t you? That the rest of us were meek and harmless and unimportant, and that without Miryam, we would be lost. Because she was the only one who could play by these stupid rules for politics you had designed to keep anyone who isn’t Fae nobility from being taken seriously in politics. She could smile and talk and behave just right, and she had magic, and so you took her seriously and dismissed the rest of us.”

“I never dismissed you,” Zeku says. “And you were always quite willing to take a backseat while Miryam dealt with everything, so you have little grounds to complain about any conclusions people draw from that.”

Andromache presses her lips together. How dare he bring this up, act like what happened was somehow their fault for making Miryam get involved? As if the human leadership at the beginning of the war willingly decided that an eighteen-year-old was the perfect fit for emissary. The entire reason they had to give Miryam that position was that there had been no one else. Learning Fae politics was a matter of years, and the humans lacked diplomats skilled in the rules the Fae so valued. That they found someone who was able to fill the position at all was a minor miracle in itself.

She doesn’t say that they only let Miryam take the lead because she was the only one able to navigate the Fae political landscape that had been so skilfully designed to keep anyone but them out, though, because that would only be one part of the truth. The unimportant part, for this specific conversation.

“None of us ever wanted to work with the Fae, did you know that?” She gives him a sharp smile. “We didn’t trust you. It was Miryam who convinced us to give it a try. She said we needed allies, and that there would be Fae territories that would be willing to help us.”

“And she was right,” Shey says. “We helped you win this war.”

“Yes,” Andromache says softly. “Miryam was right – she managed to secure us the alliance she had promised, she managed to make things work, and so we went along with her plans. We ignored the countless offences your side committed against us because Miryam had her strategy and it was working. And then, when she insisted that the only way to get peace to work after the war was to find a way to work together, to build bridges between our people, we went along with that as well. Because we trusted her, because you seemed to respect her.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Do you understand now?” She asks. “We weren’t scared and meek without Miryam. She was the one who convinced us to work with you in the first place. But then, you killed her and you made it entirely clear that our lives are worthless to you, that no matter how much we try to work with you, you will never see us as equal.”

Zeku nods slowly. His face is grave. Now, he finally seems to understand. “So what now?” He asks.

Andromache leans back in her chair. “Miryam wanted to build bridges,” she says. “We were willing to go along with that, willing to give it a try, but then you killed her. So now what you are getting is a wall.”

----

Shey is waiting in one of the private meeting chambers. He is lounging on one of the chairs, idly flipping through the pages of a book that he snaps shut when Zeku enters.

“Your Highness,” he says with a slight smile, sitting up straighter. “How did the meeting with Their Majesties go?”

In answer, Zeku takes a slip of paper out of the pocket of his coat and throws it onto the table in front of Shey. “A list of discrete assassins and ways to contact them, since you don’t seem to know about the possibility of discrete assassinations yet,” he says. “You might want to look into it to save us any further scandals.”

Shey very deliberately places his book on the table. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he says.

“Kindly do me the favour and explain that to Andromache and the other human queens. That might be amusing.” He shakes his head. “They know. And they are none too pleased, if you will allow the understatement.”

Shey, at the very least, does him the favour of not denying his actions a second time. After the meeting he just had, he doesn’t think he would be able to stand Shey’s games. He just shrugs. “Forgive me if I’m not shaking with fear at the prospect.”

The longer this conversation lasts, the more does Zeku understand Andromache’s feelings towards Fae nobility and their politics. To think that there was a time when he enjoyed these games… Now, all he can feel is disgust.

“You went too far,” he says, shaking his head. “This time, you really went too far, Shey.”

Shey waves him off. “It was a neat solution,” he says. “Everyone who had any cause for interest in Miryam died with her.”

“There are literally millions of humans who have a cause for interest in Miryam.”

Shey snorts. “Oh, not these mortals and their exaggerated sense of solidarity or whatever they call it, acting like any harm done to one of them is somehow a direct attack on all of them. If you ask me, they are just using it as an excuse to make themselves into the victims and give themselves the moral high ground in any given situation. Or do you see any Fae complaining about Drakon and his soldiers getting killed?”

That he thinks this is a negative reflection on the humans, not the Fae, probably says everything that needs to be said about what kind of person he is. Zeku doesn’t want to imagine what it will do to the Alliance – the entire Continent – if he gets put in charge. Had Miryam only been a little bit smarter, a bit more willing to play to win… She had everything necessary to leave her in charge of the Continent after the war ended. But she didn’t have the nerve to go through with it, and how did it end? Her dead, everything she was working for in shambles and the Continent in Shey’s hands.

Zeku could scream at how stupidly unnecessary all of it is.

Instead, he merely offers the barest shrug at Shey’s comment. “Regardless of their motives, our human allies seem out for your head over this.”

“So what if they do?” Shey asks. “Miryam is dead. Without her, there is little they can do.”

“They seem to disagree,” Zeku says. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, he can’t help but feel a little smug. “Andromache says they have proof. And that she will happily make it public should you not meet their demands.” He smiles slightly. “Not only will you and your friends be revealed as honourless in front of the entire Continent for betraying your own allies, I also imagine that some people will be rather cross with you for murdering hundreds of thousands of innocent humans after we justified that entire war with wanting to save the humans.”

Shey doesn’t reply. Maybe he just considers for the first time that justifying a war with wanting the protect the humans and then turning around to casually murder five hundred thousand of them was not a particularly smart move. Not to mention that over the past years, Miryam became the face of the entire war effort, which not only brought her a whole lot of popularity, but also made her into a symbol. And turning against the symbol for the war they just won is political suicide.

For a brief moment, Shey’s calm demeanour cracks as he seems to realize that he just made a catastrophic mistake. Then, he catches himself, summoning a calm expression again.

“What is their price?” He asks, voice entirely business-like.

Zeku wonders what he is hoping for. What price would, in his mind, be able to make up for a betrayal like this, the loss of thousands of lives? Knowing Shey, he probably doesn’t imagine it will be too much. A bit of money, maybe, or land. Trading rights and favourable treaties. A small price, as is appropriate for lives that were entirely worthless to him.

“Half of our world,” Zeku counters calmly. And yes, he does enjoy the look on Shey’s face at the reply. “They are withdrawing their consent to the treaty I worked out with Andromache, Miryam and Drakon.” Well, mostly Drakon. “They no longer trust us to live side by side with them, so they have come up with their own solution: They want to divide the Continent in two. One half to the them, the other to us, and a wall in the middle. They’ll take the south.”

For a few heartbeats, Shey says nothing at all. Then, he asks very slowly, “Have these mortal fools completely lost their minds?”

Zeku shrugs again. “They don’t trust us anymore, not after what happened, and I honestly cannot blame them.”

“And they truly think they will get away with that?” Shey lets out a laugh and jumps to his feet. “I’ll have them assassinated before I meet these ridiculous demands.”

“I am sure they have plans for that scenario,” Zeku says. “And should this be made public, I imagine they would have quite a few supporters. Miryam was very popular, as you know, and you might find many Fae care more than you anticipated. Especially since there were also so many Fae amongst those you had killed.”

Shey wrinkles his nose in disdain. “Lesser faeries,” he says.

And what am I? Zeku thinks, fighting the sudden surge of anger. Anger at Shey. At himself. After all, he always knew what kind of person Shey was, and still, he chose the way he did. Withdrew support for Miryam and hoped… yes, what did he hope for? That Shey’s disregard for human and faerie lives wouldn’t carry on into his style of ruling? That he would follow through with the promises Miryam had made after replacing her?

Maybe he should have risked sticking up for Miryam. Should have made it clearer to her what was at stake, helped her work out a way to come out of this on top. Instead, he took the safe route and withdrew support, marked his wager in working with her down as failed and cut his losses.

A mistake. All of it was a mistake.

You’re a coward, Miryam’s voice says in his head. He can still see her so clearly, standing in that hallway with tears in her eyes and fury on her face. I hope this haunts you.

A bitter smile twists Zeku’s mouth. It will, he thinks. Don’t you worry, Miryam. It will.

“You would do better to do as they say,” Zeku says. “Because if you don’t – or if you get the brilliant idea to make them disappear the way you did with Miryam – I can assure you that you will have a problem. Should it come to war, I will be the first one to side with them against you, but I will not be the last.”

Shey stares at him in disbelief. He opens his mouth as if to reply, then closes it again. Of course. He isn’t used to getting push-back.

“You went too far,” Zeku repeats. “And it will always be my greatest shame that I didn’t stop you sooner. But if you think I will let you take this any further, you are dead-wrong.”

If him and Andromache were still allies, he might have begged her to allow him and his people to join them on their side of the wall that is soon to be built. But he lost that alliance the moment he decided to cut ties with Miryam and he knows perfectly well that there is no getting it back.

He played. And he lost. And now, he will have to pay.

----

Without corpses, there is no real need to hold a funeral. Unless, of course, you are Fae and want to make a grand gesture about how terribly sorry you are about the death of the people you had killed, and so the Fae seem to have made it their mission to hold the most dramatic funeral possible for Miryam, Drakon and the others, perhaps in a vain attempt to cover up their guilt.

Had the idea come from anyone else, Andromache might even have been willing to admit that she thinks holding some kind of ceremony is the right thing to do. As things are, though, it only feels like a cheap publicity stunt. Hundreds of thousands of pyres erected, one for every single person who died during that battle, all of them lit at the same time – this isn’t a show of respect, it’s a political spectacle and Andromache hates everything about it.

The worst part is that she wasn’t even able to argue against the idea, not without making it seem like she doesn’t want to honour Miryam and the other dead. So instead, she has decided to use the entire situation to her advantage. Shey wants to use this funeral to improve his image? Fine, then Andromache will ruin that plan as thoroughly as she can.

The good thing about ceremonies like that is that everything, down to the choice of clothes, sends a message. Shey has apparently decided to show to the entire world how much he mourns Miryam’s death and respected her. He is wearing black with blue details, showing his mourning and pretending to the entire world that he respected Miryam, looked up to her.

Andromache and the other human councilmembers appear entirely in red.

Their choice of clothes draws stares as they arrive at the ceremony together. Miryam wore red details on her dress for Jurian’s funeral, but that was a different matter – then, at least everyone knew who she wanted to get revenge at. Now, with the war over and Ravenia, who is officially responsible for every death that occurred, dead, no one understands why the entire human fraction of the Alliance is publicly declaring that they want revenge.

Shey steps in Andromache’s way before she reaches her place at the front of the assembled crowd. His face is almost as red as Andromache’s dress. “What do you think you are doing?” He snaps.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Andromache asks, then glances down at her dress like she is only now realizing what his problem might be. “Oh, that. Well, I thought the choice of colour in a dress should reflect our feelings regarding the death.” She frowns at Shey. “Although you don’t seem to have taken that all too seriously yourself. What colour says ‘I had the deceased assassinated’ again?”

“Will you be quiet?” Shey hisses, looking around frantically to see if anyone heard. “I agreed to your demands, and in return, you were meant to keep your silence. If you aren’t able to do that, our agreement is over.”

“You are the one who made this funeral into a farce!” Andromache snaps back. “This isn’t an opportunity for you to improve your image and if you had any sense of decency whatsoever, you would never have tried.”

With that, she shoulders past him and goes to take her place with the other humans.

“Remarkable show of restraint,” Nakia says by way of greeting. “I thought you’d break his nose.”

Andromache shrugs. “Might still, depending on his bad his speech is.”

The first speech isn’t Shey’s, though. It is hers.

Andromache struggled against the suggestion that she should hold the opening speech. To her, it felt like she would be assuming a position she never held. She was a close friend with both Miryam and Drakon, yes, but she was never closest to either of them, and she didn’t know most of the others who died at all. It was only when she realized that anyone who was closer to them than her had died in that battle that she agreed to hold the speech.

Slowly, she steps forward, red dress shifting around her feet. She will not have to light any of the pyres as would be human tradition; they will be magically lit at the end of her speech with her only needing to give a signal. It feels wrong, somehow. Pyres are meant to be lit by hand, the person who was closest to them doing them that final service and bidding them goodbye in doing so. Magic takes away all of the intimacy of the moment.

Everything about this funeral-that-isn’t-one feels wrong. It is unworthy. Miryam and Drakon and all these countless others would have deserved better.

They would also have deserved a better speech than the one Andromache ends up giving. She did her best to find the proper words, she truly did. What point is there in talking about all the things that were wonderful about them, as if putting into words all that she lost will somehow make it better. Why would she tell the world about all the things Miryam and Drakon and the others would have wanted and deserved from the future, as if the one thing they would have wanted and deserved wasn’t to be alive. How can she call this a tragedy when she knows that in truth, it was a crime?

The only words Andromache wants to say are ones made from anger, condemning the ones responsible for these deaths, but those, she cannot speak, and there are no other words that might mean anything in the face of such a terrible, senseless crime. She still tries, and she fails, and she knows she does even as she holds her speech.

She is relieved when she is finally done and gets to return to her place. The pyres are lit by magic and Andromache tries to comfort herself with the fact that there are no bodies, anyways, that Miryam and Drakon and all the others are dead and will never know about the farce that is their funeral. It is no comfort at all, though.

The rest of the ceremony passes far too slowly. Andromache stands in her place, stares at the flickering flames and ignores the speeches the others hold. She only notices it is finally over when people start moving around her. She leaves her place as well, wandering around aimlessly for a bit. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to eat, or drink. She cannot stand this.

Andromache turns away from the ceremony and stalks off into the darkness. Away from the crowds and the noise and the fire. Away from the empty pyres and the Fae pretending they care about the deaths that occurred.

For the first few steps, her posture remains stiff, her steps fast and firm with anger. But as she walks through the night, her anger seems to dissolve like smoke in the wind. It leaves her feeling cold and alone. Empty. Soon, her vision is blurry with tears and she is stumbling more than walking.

How could everything have gone wrong so quickly? Mere days ago, she was giddy with happiness, drinking to victory and a bright future with the others, but now… Now, Miryam and Drakon and so many others are dead, and she cannot imagine ever speaking to Mor again, much less spending the future together as they planned. Everything she had wanted for her future, blown apart in one terrible day.

She lets herself drop to the ground, not caring if the damp grass stains her dress, rests her head on her knees and cries.

There is a soft rustling in front of her. Andromache is on her feet within moments, hand going for the dagger she has hidden under her dress. She is suddenly acutely aware that she is all alone out here, no guards in sight, and almost unarmed.

“Who’s there?” She calls, slowly drawing her dagger.

No one answers, but there is another rustle. This time, Andromache can place where the noise is coming from. She looks down and finds a falcon sitting on a small rock a few feet away from her, staring at her from amber eyes. Andromache stares back.

Birds usually avoid people. They do not land mere feet away from them, or remain sitting this still. Andromache points her dagger at the bird, trying to shoo it away, but it merely cocks its head to the side and hops a step closer to her. There is something fastened around its neck.

Rationally, Andromache knows that there are several people who could be responsible for this. Miryam wasn’t the only witch in the world, and even discounting people who are able to control animals, there’s always the chance of some Fae or another being able to shapeshift into one to use its form to trick her. Rationally, Andromache knows perfectly well that it is a terrible idea to approach a weird animal with some item fastened around its neck. Unfortunately, that knowledge is overridden completely by the fact that the only person she ever met who had a particular affinity for animals was Miryam, and Miryam favoured falcons. And they didn’t find a body.

Slowly, Andromache steps towards the falcon. It doesn’t make a move to flee, merely looks up at her. Andromache crouches down and reaches for it. If I get ambushed now, that will be entirely on me, she things as she carefully unties the thin bit of rope fastened around its neck.

A small amulet falls into her waiting palm. It appears to be bronze, with a blue stone in the middle. Andromache frowns down at it, then at the falcon who is still watching her.

“And what am I supposed to do now?” She asks.

The bird clicks its beak and hops from one foot to the other. If there is any message hidden in that reaction, Andromache fails to understand it. She turns her attention back on the amulet, turns it around in her fingers. Nothing happens, but she notices that the stone seems slightly loose.

“What are the odds of me getting cursed from this?” She asks softly.

The bird offers no reply, and so Andromache reaches for the stone and turns it around once. There is a flash of light. When it recedes, Andromache is no longer standing on the soft forest floor, but on hard earth. She stumbles forward and might have fallen had there not been a hand ready to steady her.

Slowly, she looks up. Miryam and Drakon are standing in front of her, both very much alive.

----

An hour after the official part of the ceremony has ended, Mor is already drunk. She has foregone the food entirely and instead gone to the drinks directly after the last speech ended, and then proceeded to methodically empty one wine bottle after another.

By now, she is three-quarters through the third bottle and a merciful numbness in beginning to set in. Everything still sucks, but it no longer feels like someone is twisting a knife in her chest. She even manages to look over at Andromache, who looks particularly beautiful and just as furious in her red dress and ignores Mor entirely, without feeling like she is dying. Maybe with a few more bottles, it will stop hurting altogether.

She drains the rest of her bottle and makes for the table with the wine again, slightly unsteady on her feet. Once, she stumbles over her own feet and crashes into one of the other guests. With a mumbled “sorry” she continues on, finally reaching the safe haven of the table. She clings on to it with one hand as she carefully places the empty bottle on the table and reaches for a new one. Bounty in hand, she retreats back into the crowd.

The fires are still burning, and the light stings her eyes. So many fires… So many dead people… Miryam’s face flashes in her mind, the coldness in her eyes as they last spoke. Drakon telling her she went too far. Andromache, who isn’t dead but seems to wish Mor was, telling her she is no better than the rest.

She opens the bottle and goes back to drinking. Halfway through that bottle, the pain dulls to a soft throb and she begins to feel better about herself. Yes, everything is all horrible, but she sort of feels like she is floating, and the fires are very pretty. Like little glittering jewels.

Maybe she should talk to Andromache now. The prospect no longer feels as daunting as it did an hour ago. She will talk to her and tell her… well, she will think of something to tell her.

Mor drains the last of her bottle, letting it drop to the ground, and tries to stand up on her toes to scan the crowd for Andromache. Her sense of balance isn’t entirely up to the task anymore, though, because she begins to sway dangerously and stumbles. She would have fallen had there not been a pair of hands taking her by the shoulders and pushing her upright again.

“Oops,” Mor mutters.

The hands let go of her shoulders but remain nearby, as if waiting to catch her should she fall again. Mor looks around for the owner of the hands, finding a dark-skinned Fae standing in front of her. It takes her a few moments to work through the haze in her mind and place his face, then she smiles slowly.

“Helion. Want some wine?” She wants to offer him her bottle, but then realizes it’s not in her hands anymore. She looks around for it until she remembers that she dropped it earlier. “I’ll get us a new one.” Cauldron, forming words is difficult. Her tongue isn’t cooperating the way it should and the ground seems to have started swaying under her feet. She stumbles and Helion grips her by the shoulder again.

“No, thank you,” he says. “And you should probably switch to water for the rest of the evening, too.”

Mor shakes her head. “Spoilsport,” she mutters but doesn’t resist as Helion starts leading her towards the food.

“’m looking for An…” She stumbles over the name. Frowning with concentration, she tries again. “Andromache.” It comes out almost correctly. “She was very mean to me,” she adds. “Not nice at all. Not fair. Wasn’ my fault.”

Helion raises one eyebrow. “I think she left already,” he says, handing her a plate.

Mor looks down at the steaming food – and bursts out crying. It’s all so terribly sad. The entire world is sad and bad and hopeless, and Andromache hates her, and Miryam and Drakon are dead and it’s all because of her.

“’s my fault,” she mutters, words coming out even more unclearly now. “I was supposed to… to keep them safe and…”

Helion wraps an arm around her shoulders. His arm is very warm and very nice, and it makes more cry even harder.

“It isn’t your fault,” he says. “You couldn’t have known what would happen when you left – no one could have anticipated this.”

Mor buries her face in his jacked, sniffing. “But I said…” she begins. She would have continued the sentence, would have told him about all the horrible things she said as well as she remembers, but her mouth stops cooperating.

“Alright,” Helion says, and Mor feels herself lifted off her feet and picked up. “I’m bringing you to your rooms now, and tomorrow…” Helion hesitates. “Well, I’m sure things will look better tomorrow.”

There is a hint of bitterness in his voice, like he doesn’t believe what he is saying himself, but in her state, Mor doesn’t notice. She only vaguely registers that she is being carried up some stares and gently tucked into bed before she slips off into merciful oblivion.

----

For a few heartbeats, Andromache merely stands frozen in place and stares. A part of her wants to scream at them, shout her fury because how dare they scare her like that? Another part just wants to hug them, somehow convince herself that they are real.

“Andromache,” Miryam whispers and takes a step forward.

That breaks the spell. Andromache darts forward as well and wraps her arm around her neck. Hot tears sting on her cheeks.

“It’s alright,” Miryam whispers. “We’re alright.”

Andromache lets go of her and turns to hug Drakon. The first minutes after that are so hectic that Andromache only barely manages to keep track, the initial happiness giving way to fresh worry quickly. All three of them seem to be talking at once, questions and answers and more questions buzzing through the air. It would have gone far more quickly had they talked it through calmly, but they are all far from calm. Andromache can barely believe what she is hearing – the ocean parted, a battle on the ocean floor. It is a miracle that they all survived.

“Maybe we should go away from the camp for a bit,” Drakon suggests, nodding to the onlookers that have gathered.

“Good idea,” Andromache says, and Miryam, who has been unusually quiet after the initial excitement died down, nods as well.

They find a quiet place a bit away from the camp where the forest meets the ocean, only just within the bounds of the wards. Miryam leans against a tree, staring out at the ocean. Drakon sits down on the trunk of an upturned tree. Andromache remains standing.

“If you want, we can declare war that very day,” she says.

It’s an idea that has been passed back and forth between Nakia and Andromache ever since the news about what Shey did arrived. So far, they’ve always had to decide against it. They lack the military force to be able to successfully fight the Fae, and with so many of theirs newly freed from slavery, they cannot spare the resources. But with Miryam, who has shown herself capable of taking down entire countries by herself and who might be able to gather them support amongst the Fae… They would actually stand a chance.

Miryam doesn’t react at all, though. From the way she keeps staring at the ocean, unmoving, unblinking, Andromache almost thinks she didn’t hear her at all.

Drakon reacts, though. He spins around to her like she slapped him. “What?” He asks, managing to put all the disbelief in the world into the word.

“Declare war,” Andromache repeats. “That is the common reaction to a betrayal like this, isn’t it? Any Fae country on the Continent would do the same thing, so why shouldn’t we?”

“Because the only thing it would accomplish is get thousands of people killed and potentially undo years of work!” Drakon answers with more force than is usual for him. “What could you hope to accomplish?”

“What else could I do?” Andromache shoots back. “We need to react in some way, we can’t just allow them to walk all over us like that. They were willing to kill thousands of us. I wouldn’t expect you to understand – “

“Stop,” Miryam cuts her off, turning in a quick, precise motion away from the ocean. “They were willing to kill Drakon and his soldiers right alongside us – most of the people who actually did die were faeries.”

Andromache deflates slightly. She sighs and turns to Drakon. “Sorry,” she says. “I just…” She shrugs.

“You’re currently in the mood to strangle any Fae you come across?” Drakon suggests. “Understandable. No offence taken.”

Still, Miryam has a point. Maybe Andromache was wrong to draw the lines in this conflict simply as humans against Fae. In reality, the High Fae don’t have much more respect for faeries than for humans. There’s a total of two faerie rulers on the entire Continent, and for all that Shey just proved he didn’t care about killing thousands of humans to get what he wanted, he did the same to the faeries who were involved. Drakon’s status and the protection it should have offered stopped him as little as Miryam’s.

It’s an interesting thought. Isolated, it might be difficult for the humans to fight back, but if they were to work together with the faeries, if they realized that the differences between humans and faeries are far smaller than the ones between faeries and High Fae… An interesting thought indeed.

Unfortunately, Drakon’s thoughts don’t seem to go into that direction.

“War won’t make anything better, though,” he says. “This isn’t like this war where we had a clear, manageable goal: Ending slavery. That was simple. But how do you plan to win a war against the fact that they don’t see humans as equal?” He shakes his head. “Short of killing every one of them, what way is there to resolve this issue through war?”

He looks at Andromache like he expects her to say something. She remains silent. She hadn’t thought this far yet. Of course she doesn’t want to kill all Fae, not in the slightest. She doesn’t even hate them all, she just… How can Shey and the others get away with what they did?

“All a war would accomplish is kill millions of innocents,” Drakon says. “And we’ve already…” He shakes his head and starts over. “This war has already taken things so far. What lines are left that haven’t been crossed yet? And if we take this any further, if we now start a war with our former allies… it will tear this entire continent apart. And it will hardly even matter who wins, because either way, millions of innocent people will die and reconciliation or peace will be made impossible for generations to come.”

Andromache wrinkles her nose, but she is still unable to argue. That was also one of the reasons why Nakia especially argued against the idea of a military solution: To start a war now would mean to risk everything they have won.

“Drakon is right,” Miryam says. “War is not the solution. Too many innocents have already been dragged into this – I won’t allow for any more people to be made into collateral damage by jumping onto Shey’s game of trying to murder each other in the most catastrophic way possible.”

Andromache refrains from saying that this goes far beyond a political powerplay. She doesn’t want to argue with Miryam over something like that.

“The treaty is the best chance for peace we have,” Miryam says. “I won’t let Shey’s actions ruin that. I know circumstances are far from ideal, but we can still make it work.”

Andromache stares at her, not quite believing what she is hearing. After all that happened, how can Miryam still talk of her treaty? How does she not realize that this treaty died the second Shey betrayed them. Andromache wants to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she starts seeing sense. She has to forcefully remind herself that Miryam is likely still in shock from what happened and is desperately clinging to a solution that is no longer possible as a way to cope.

“That’s not happening,” she says as calmly as she can manage. “That treaty relied on mutual trust, and after what happened, I cannot see that coming about anytime soon.”

Miryam and Drakon both look like she slapped them. It actually makes Andromache feel bad for them. Her own stakes in that treaty were always low, she really mostly went along with it because Miryam and Drakon were so very convinced that it was the only way, but for them… She doesn’t want to imagine what it must feel like to watch a thing you believed in and spent years working for fall apart before your eyes.

“And what will you do instead?” Drakon asks.

“We have decided to split up the world. One half to the Fae, the other to the humans and a wall in the middle to keep us safe.”

Drakon frowns. “What kind of wall would that be?” He asks, but Miryam is staring at Andromache, wide-eyed.

“No,” she whispers. “No, Andromache. You cannot do that. Please. It isn’t necessary, there is still another way.”

The desperation on her face stings. Andromache wants nothing more than to give in, if only to wipe that look off her face, but she cannot. Not on this.

“I’m sorry,” she says, more softly this time. “But this is the way it is going to happen. You don’t want war, so I will not start one in your name. But after what happened, there cannot be peace either.”

Miryam shakes her head. Straightens. “Just give me one more chance,” she says. It’s the same tone she always has when she tries to convince people that she can handle a situation she cannot handle. “Let me talk to the Fae. I can still fix this.”

Andromache slowly shakes her head. “Are you out of your mind?” She asks. It is a struggle to keep her voice controlled. “They tried to kill you, Miryam. All of you. What do you think will happen if you go back?”

“This treaty needs to go through!” Miryam retorts. “This is important. It’s more important than… If we are to ever have peace, we need to find a way to live together. You – “

“Miryam stop,” Andromache snaps. Now, she actually does take her by the shoulders and shakes her slightly. “Do you truly want to die over this? Because this is what’s going to happen if you go back. They are going to kill you.”

“They already did,” Miryam mutters.

That throws Andromache off, but only for a moment. Chances are Miryam is just being dramatic, and if she wasn’t… well, then she will have to deal with that later.

“If you go back, you will die, and your death will be completely pointlessly,” she says, “You will not reach your goals, only get yourself killed. Is that truly what you want your life to be? Sixteen years as a slave, two years on the run and seven years of war. Killed at twenty-five in some pointless political struggle.”

Miryam starts to cry. Drakon makes to rise, but Andromache is faster, wrapping her arms around her.

“It doesn’t need to end like this,” she whispers. “You can still live, Miryam. You have won. Don’t just throw your life away like that.”

Miryam steps away from Andromache, already wiping her tears away again. She still looks completely miserable, though, as she lets herself drop onto the trunk next to Drakon.

“But what options do we have?” Drakon asks. He looks no less miserable than Miryam. “If we cannot go back, if we will never be safe after what happened, then what about the people in our camp? They are witnesses as much as we are. Some of these people have homes. Families. We have a home. We can’t just leave that, even if we had a way to vanish hundreds of thousands of people.”

Andromache bites her lip. She didn’t think of that yet. For the humans, she supposes she might be able to hide them amongst the other newly-freed slaves, since Fae never pay much attention to humans, but even then, there would be the problem of word of what Shey did getting around. And there is no hiding the Seraphim at all, not amongst the humans and not anywhere else. Miryam and Drakon alone might hope to hide somewhere, but what would the point be if their people were still left in danger?

She briefly contemplates saying that if they were to go to war, none of that would be a problem. But that would be a very cruel way to push Miryam and Drakon to take her side. Give up your home or agree to a war you know to be wrong is not a particularly fair choice, and certainly not one she should ask of her friends.

“We can’t just vanish,” Drakon continues. “And Andromache, you can’t just split the Continent in two and build a wall in the middle. How would that even work? Do you expect millions of people to get up and leave their countries to march to the other end of the Continent and settle down there? That’s a terrible idea, not to mention that the kind of wall you seem to be thinking of won’t be easy to get.”

Miryam seems distinctly uncomfortable in her skin. Apparently, she never told Drakon about the wall spell. Understandable, Andromache supposes. Until now, none of them ever thought that spell would become relevant.

“Let’s just assume that the wall is happening,” Andromache says. Let Miryam talk that one through with Drakon on her own. “The issue is what we do with you two.”

“No, that’s not the issue!” Miryam replies. “The issue is that this wall is a downright terrible idea and – “

“And not your choice to be made,” Andromache finishes. “The decision was unanimous, Miryam. I’m sorry, but even you cannot change that.”

Neither Miryam nor Drakon argue any further after this. Miryam merely reaches for Drakon’s hand, and then, they are sitting side by side in complete silence.

Andromache feels terrible about herself. The last thing she ever wanted was to hurt them with the solution she came up with, but there seems to be no way around it. She firmly believes that the wall is the only was to guarantee the humans’ safety in the long run, and for that to work out, Miryam, Drakon and their people need to disappear. It means that they will not get the future they wanted, and that Drakon and his people will have to give up their homes, and it is far from fair but Andromache doesn’t see a way around it so she simply stands around and stares down at her feet in shame.

Finally, it is Miryam who breaks the silence. “I think I know somewhere we could go,” she says softly. “Somewhere they would never find us. Where we would be safe.”

----

Tags: @femtopulsed @croissantcitysucks @aileywrites

#second-to-last chapter!!!#the fae are getting exactly what they deserve #i hope you'll like how i'm wrapping everything up #i feel kind of bad abt the way i have things end between mor and andromache (although this chapter isn't the end yet)#but well. canon dictates that their relationship ends and i like it better to have them break up than for them to be tragically seperated -#by the wall #before the wall #miryam #jurian #drakon

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 2

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Two: Interrogations

Historically, it is well known for males to experience the mating bond more viscerally, though this is no strict criterion. For example, in the case of two males being bonded, the mating bond appears to be less demanding and settles with more ease. It is males mated to females who appear to struggle. There are many theories for this, such as male/female bonding resulting in strong offspring which drives the males to copulate. Some even argue that the male’s desire comes from the Mother’s lover himself, who’s believed to have taken fire into his soul in order to reach the Motherland and mate her, and it is a bead of this fire which awakens in males when they feel the mating bond catalysed. As such, we find there being many social customs regarding mated males, such as being wary of their ease to anger and protectiveness and their overtly increased sex drive which-

“Good book?” Feyre flopped down next to Elain, Nyx having just been placed in his cradle which appeared more like a cage given the mesh wiring over the top, ‘just so he doesn’t get any ideas about flying away’, Feyre had grinned.

“It’s okay,” Elain smiled at her sister as she marked her place and set it down.

“Oh,” Feyre grinned as she eyed the title, “Interested in the bond are we?” She was just teasing, but Elain couldn’t stop the flush in her cheeks, particularly given her recent discovery on just how, physical, the bond was.

“Well considering I do have mate, I thought it was about time I looked into it.”

“You can ask me anything,” Feyre smiled kindly. “I mean, technically you could ask Nesta too but, she still isn’t the biggest fan of Lucien.” Even hearing his name on someone else’s tongue sent a bolt of energy through Elain.

“Well, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Are they really supposed to be your soulmate?”

“Well, yes and no. That’s the problem with mating bonds, they sort of mould themselves around the two people it’s attached to. It’s different with everyone. Like me and Rhys, we have a really clear mental communication, I can talk to him even if I was on the other side of Prythian, but that’s because we’re both dementias and the bond’s playing to that strength.

“Nesta and Cassian, well, I can’t speak for them, but it seems they connect on world view. Their lives are inherently interlinked with death and that’s what connects them…amongst, other, things,” Feyre giggled, “It really is different for everyone. And sometimes, yes, the bond connects two people who don’t seem to fit with one another, like Rhys’ parents for example. I don’t know if you’ve got to this section yet,” Feyre nodded to the book, “But some see the bond as not restrained to time. That’s why you and Lucien felt the bond snap into place even before you knew each other. Some people think that when you have ‘poor’ pairings, they not really bad matches but rather, the bond saw the two for their potential rather than what they were at the time.”

Elain’s brow furrowed. She’d wanted to read the book to make herself feel better, she’d never admit it to herself, but she was somewhat looking for a big flashing sign that pointed to Lucien and said ‘He’s your soulmate! You’re a perfect match! You’ll never have to worry about be alone again!’. But reading the book had only made it more complicated. The reality was, Lucien was to have a significant role in her life, whether she wanted him to or not.

“But…I don’t know…” Elain rolled her neck, “Is it worth it?”

“Is what worth it? The bond?”

“No…well, yes. I mean,” Elain thought for a moment, “I just don’t understand how the universe could expect me to fight for someone who I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I do see how that’s a bit unfair but, do you not think the bond’s doing that on purpose?”

“What do you mean?

“Well, it looks like the bond is demanding you take a leap of faith. Giving you Lucien the minute you set eyes on him is, well, it changed your whole world, right?”

“I know,” Elain huffed.

“No, what I mean is…maybe that’s the point?” Feyre was now more talking to herself. “Maybe…” Feyre trailed off before turning and eyeing her sister up and down.

“What?” Elain implored, and Feyre just shook her head, deep in thought.

“It’s just, I’ve been trying to figure it out y’know, you and Lucien, I think we all have.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, it’s just, he’s…well he’s loud and flirty and he can’t shut up for the life of him, it’s why he’s missing that damn eye. And you’re quiet and shy, and you just, you care about everything but…” Feyre was grinning now.

“What?”

“No, no, never mind. I just…” Feyre only smiled wider.

“No, I’m not going to say!” And then Feyre was up, collecting empty mugs from the coffee table.

“Feyre, you can’t leave, you haven’t helped me!”

“I know, I know, look, truth time,” Feyre turned back around, her smile now replaced by her High Lady look, “You’re right, you don’t know if it’s worth it. You and Lucien might turn out like Rhys’ parents, or worse…but he is your mate, and he’s not going anywhere.”

“So, what, I just proposition him next time he’s here?” Elain sighed, running a hand through her hair, feeling the same kernel of disappointment in her gut whenever she thought of Lucien on the other side of the country, avoiding the mating bond, avoiding her.

“Or you could go to him?” Elain snapped her head to her sister, who was wearing an easy smile.

“What?”

“You could go to the human lands and stay with him and his, what’s it, ‘Band of Exiles’.”

“What, just show up?”

“Actually, it’s not such a terrible idea,” Again, Feyre was now talking to herself, “Lucien’s been struggling to get the humans on board and you, well you might be perfect for the job. You understand how humans work and you had to deal with paperwork from father, not to mention the fact that quite literally no one can say no to you-”

“Lucien can,” Elain grumbled without thinking and Feyre grinned at her with a stupid, all-knowing smile.

“Elain, if you wanted, I’m sure you could have Lucien crawling around on all fours.” Elain looked away from her sister, ignoring the fact that the image popped into her mind before she could stop it, and especially ignoring the way her whole body seemed to flush in response.

“The only problem might be getting Rhys on board,” Feyre’s mind appeared to be working a mile a minute. “With what happened with Briallyn he’s a bit more, well, Rhysand than usual. And you know how he sees you.” Yes, the big brotherly talks had been slightly more regular given Nyx’s arrival. Elain supposed it was Rhysand’s subconscious way of reaching out.

“I’ll be fine if Lucien is there,” Elain shrugged non-committedly, though something zipped the length of her spine as she spoke his name aloud. One thing Elain, and everyone else could be certain of, is that Lucien would keep her safe.

“Look at you trying to manipulate around your High Lord.”

“Not manipulate-”

“I know, I know,” Feyre grinned as she peered over the edge of Nyx’s crib. “Look, on a serious note, there is work that needs doing down in the human lands if you’re up for it. After Briallyn we need a stronger base to represent the fae in the mortal world. Some more eyes and ears wouldn’t hurt and, quite frankly, whilst Lucien knows exactly how to work a court of fae, I don’t know how well he’s faring with councils of humans.”

Elain thought for a moment, truly considering what it would mean if she were to take on this role. It would mean accepting responsibility, being held accountable if she made a mistake, one that couldn’t fixed with some new seeds and freshly turned soil. She’d be on the other side of the world, away from her sisters – away from Nesta – for the first time, well, ever.

“I…” Elain began softly, “I think I’d like to go.”

“Really?” Despite Feyre’s enthusiasm in discussing Elain’s potential in leaving, it was clear that she was still mostly expecting Elain to pass on the opportunity.

“I can’t tend to my little gardens forever,” Elain shrugged, “With Lucien there I should be perfectly safe and, well, it’s human territory. I know those lands, arguably better than you and Nesta.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Feyre nodded furiously, though she seemed to not really be listening to her older sister, her mind was already helping Elain pack her dresses. “I’ll speak with Rhysand and sort out the particulars.”

“Will you,” Elain blushed without meaning to, “Will you warn Lucien? That I’m coming?” Feyre shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I don’t have to. Technically, as his High Lady I can do whatever I want, and he just has to roll with it.”

“Okay,” Elain let loose a breath, “Don’t tell him then. I’d just…I’m not sure. I suppose I’d just rather not spook him.”

“Whatever you say sis,” Feyre grinned, and Elain allowed her own lips to mirror her sisters, the excitement and reality of the adventure she was about to undertake truly setting in. Feyre turned to leave.

“Oh Feyre…let’s not tell Nesta…at least not till I’m already gone.”

***

“Hello, earth to Lucien?”

“What? Oh...sorry, go on,” Lucien muttered, shifting is attention back to Vassa whom he was supposed to be chatting to. This was their routine, when the sun finally dipped under the horizon and Vassa returned to her mortal form, she’d waltz into the manor before disappearing upstairs to change from the cloak she left out for herself into a queen’s gown. Today she’d come down wearing a deep crimson dress made of velvet, grumbling about how the storm that was currently beating against the windows, had quite literally ruffled her feathers. The evening was then to be spent in the Manor’s sitting room, sprawled on velvet couches as Jurian informed Vassa of the recent developments regarding the human councils, and Lucien told her of the fae lands.

Normally, Lucien would last till the early hours of the morning before leaving Vassa to whatever activities she wished to complete before the sun rose and her body was changed back into that of a firebird. But these past few nights Lucien had caught himself staying awake till almost sunrise, only getting an hour or two sleep before he was up again, his body alive with energy as he strode out into the woods in the early morning light.

Everything about Lucien felt unsettled and alive, and it had been that way since the previous week when Lucien had woke to his mate’s tears running down his cheeks. What could’ve upset her so badly? Had something happened at the Night Court? He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for a note from Rhysand or Feyre informing him of a terribly tragic event that had occurred when he was on the other side of the world. Even if nothing had happened, it could of, and Elain could’ve been seriously hurt. What was he doing on this side of the world? He should be there, even if she didn’t know what she wanted, at least he could keep her safe while she thought. But with no note, he didn’t know why sweet Elain was so agonisingly sad, and there was no reason besides the bond’s invasion of privacy for him to see her. But it seemed that he couldn’t relax until he found the cause of her pain. Found it and burned it to ashes.

“Lucien!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dinner, tomorrow evening, Nolan Manor – Mother did you get any of that?” Vassa’s eyes were light and her tone teasing, but Lucien was feeling more beast than man with his bond so wound up.

“No offence, Vassa, but I think you might be finally losing it if you think I’d be interested in dinner at the Nolan’s.” Lucien rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension as he looked back down at the book he’d been pretending to read for the past hour. He could feel Vassa’s eyes on him, assessing him as she always did whenever he came into conversation, which was far too often for his liking.

“Are you still on that?” Vassa eventually huffed, tucking her legs up under herself on the armchair. Lucien just raised a brow at her. Had anything changed? Was Graysen any less of a dickhead? If not, then yes, he supposed he was still on that.

“Our dear Lucien’s a mated male, Vassa,” Jurian quipped without raising his head from his paperwork. “It’s how these things work.”

“But it’s not really fair on Graysen is it?” Vassa flicked a fiery strand of hair over her shoulder.

“Not fair?” Lucien ground the two words out, feeling something animalistic rear its head inside of him. But beyond the primal urges of the bond and any threats to it, Lucien did genuinely dislike the boy. What he did to Elain was beyond cruel, and if he had done that to anyone Lucien would’ve still disliked the boy, granted he might not be baring his teeth at Vassa as he was doing now.

“He did give us the manor, Lucien,” the queen’s voice taunted him.

“One act of kindness doesn’t make him any less of an asshole,” Lucien’s own voice was low and daunting, as though he were daring Vassa to make another comment. Lucien hadn’t intended for his tone to turn brutal and dark, but Vassa clearly had no education in the expectations of a mated male.

“No, but he’s still the asshole putting a roof over our heads,” Vassa sighed, setting her book down. “Does it really upset you?”

“What?”

“Having him help us?”

“We don’t need his help.”

“No,” Vassa cocked her head, “But it’s certainly been of great use.”

“You like him?” Lucien spat, feeling something sour flood his gums as he pulled on his inner leash. Vassa was his friend. Vassa was supposed to be his friend, and Lockhart Manor was supposed to be the place in which he could escape from the demands of this bond.

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly, “In fact, all he’s been to me is kind and accommodating. Why should I have a problem with him?”

“You know why.” Something feral was awakening in Lucien as he spat those three words at the queen, and in response to the autumn son’s anger, the fire flared dangerously, filling the room with the sound of snapping wood.

“Really?” Vassa’s eyes widened slightly as she assessed Lucien, evidentially amused by his grip on the chair’s armrests and the deathly look in his eye. “That girl can do this to you when she hasn’t even shown her face in-”

“Vassa,” Jurian’s sing-song voice curled into the air from where he was hunched over the worktable, signing off contracts, “Whilst it’s delicious to poke the beast, you can only go so long before it’ll bite.”

“Maybe that’s what I was hoping for,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly as she inspected her nails. Lucien just glared into the fire, done with this conversation and done with his friends, at least for the night. Sometimes they forgot that he wasn’t like them, that he was fae, and he more or less operated in an entirely different world to them. He couldn’t blame them though, sometimes he forgot too.

Talking of Graysen had Lucien’s thoughts once more swirling of Elain. Though there was no concern in these thoughts, just admiration. He was picturing her in the cream gown she’d worn when he’d come one day to hand deliver a stack of reports to Rhysand. It was made of cotton and lace, the same hearty materials so often found in towns of Autumn. It was so unlike the favoured revealing cuts of Night Court fashion, and so Elain in every sense. The soft gold and white colours, the layered skirts and fluttering sleeves. Looking at her as she tucked herself into a small ball on a sofa, a hefty book balanced on her lap, Lucien had wished that he’d met Elain when she was human, when she was happy and content. Maybe then she would just see him for, well, him. Not a reminder of everything terrible that had happened to her.

“I’m sorry about prodding Lucien,” Vassa smiled at him, pulling him from his thoughts as her freckled cheeks dimpled. “Can I make it up to you by letting you beat me at cards?” She was baiting him, daring him to bite back that no one ‘let’ Lucien do anything but, tonight Lucien was tired. Of everything.

“I’m tapping out,” was all Lucien said in response, standing from his armchair and throwing his book down behind him. The storm was now torrential, and Lucien welcomed the chaos, somewhat comforted by the idea of lying down in the dark and listening to the rain batter against the windows as he brooded himself to sleep.

So, Lucien set off for the stairs, happy to leave his friends to themselves for the rest of the night, but he’d only managed to cross the room before a short, shy knock reverberated from the front door and sent a wave of cautious silence and shock throughout the room.

#elucien #elucien fic #elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain and lucien #elain/lucien #elain x lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien/elain #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fffaf

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luna-rainbow · 3 years

Text

the general cop out of TFATWS

Saw this fantastic thread pop up today but since this post would be talking about everything else apart from Bucky, I thought I'd start another post.

TFATWS brings up very complex issues and some very dark themes. Unlike Black Widow which by and large does it well, TFATWS does not give these issues the complexity they deserve. It wants to be a political show, but it shirks away from actually giving those issues the gravity and depth they deserve.

1) Racial injustice

My particular issue with the racial injustice theme is that the MCU does not actually align with the real world. I mean half the world has just come out of non-existence, that messes up the social psyche in major ways - so this is not the same as the post-Floyd US we know in the real world. Especially to people living outside the US, we're going to need a little more than a bank and a police scene to show us exactly how racial injustice pervades the MCU America to the point that Sam/Sarah denounces the country multiple times, particularly as it had never been established as an issue before this series (again, only lightly touched on in Black Panther). It is also a missed opportunity to actually educate people outside of the US why racial injustice in the US is a problem that needs the world community's support. Go hard and go deep. Make it without a doubt that Sam could've gotten a loan if he was white - just need a passing comment that someone else in the same situation easily got a loan. Make it clear that in the MCU world, there are also unjust deaths in custody which preferentially affects BIPOC, and this problem has become bigger because the lack of resources has driven up petty crime. Talk about BIPOC being passed over for opportunities, which are going to be massively limited in the post-Blip world. Talk about how people can't get jobs, can't go to college, can't go to school because the colour of their skin pushes them down the list of priorities. Which brings me to...

2) Post-Blip mess

This is criminally glossed over in the series, with a lot of handwaving lines about "the GRC" and "things were better before the Blip". Again, show/tell us the horrors. There won't be enough food and water. There won't be enough housing or accommodation. Don't show us refugees living in clean European mansions. Show us overcrowded, poorly constructed, unhygienic refugee camps (see below picture from Syria). The world's population doubled overnight with no increase in infrastructure. You're going to have a LOT of displaced people literally on the streets. Crime will soar, deaths and illness will soar, and overall dissent will soar.

3) Resource allocation

Even in a world that hasn't had to deal with half the population disappearing then returning within a short time frame, we are having issues with vaccine inequity. Here's a recent JAMA article about this very issue:

Approximately 1.2% of the global vaccine supply has been received by low-income countries and just 14% by lower-middle-income countries, which account for nearly 40% of the world’s population. In contrast, more than half the US adult population is fully vaccinated (...)

Vaccine inequity is driven by insufficient supply and unfair allocation. Powerful high-income countries prepurchased sufficient doses for their entire populations, sometimes twice the number needed. In contrast, COVAX, a global initiative to procure and equitably allocate vaccines, failed to secure enough doses even for its modest goal of covering 20% of lower-income country populations this year. Pfizer, for example, agreed to sell COVAX only 40 million doses, and had delivered just over 1 million by mid-May.

Now extrapolate this across all resources, including food, fuel, medicines, materials, manufacturing machinery etc. For example, recently parts of northern Chinese cities went dark for days in the middle of a freezing winter because the power grid didn't have enough coal to run. This is going to be made so much worse when the population had suddenly doubled. Greedy corporations will want to capitalise on the sudden surge in demand. Large numbers of people will be dying from all of these reasons, and if the GRC is driving the inequity by unfair allocation of resources, people are within their rights to protest or push for change.

4) Police/Government corruption

It's a fine line that separates a terrorist from a revolutionary, and TFATWS shied away from portraying the gritty reality that would have made Karli a real heroine in this post-apocalyptic world. This is a particularly missed opportunity because Karli's story isn't even set in America, and even as someone who doesn't keep up much with world news I know there are ongoing issues of military/government driven brutality going on throughout the world, which would be many times worse post-Blip because the population will become more expendable.

For anyone interested, here's China's forcing sterilisation/contraception in Uighurs. Here's Myanmar military shooting young people posting Tiktoks of pro-democracy songs. Here's China (again) arresting staff at a pro-democracy newspaper in Hong Kong and driving it into closure.

Get into the dark side. Tell us how the GRC is colluding with corrupt governments. Tell us about the slavery that has shot through the roof because human labour is now so cheap. Tell us how governments are banning their own people from having children because of overcrowding concerns, and how the GRC plays into that propaganda. Tell us how corrupt powers try to censor these issues from getting to the media, and how the GRC's musclemen (like Walker) are unknowingly or intentionally used to silence people who are trying to fight for their right to live.

5) "I believe we can do better"

Maybe because I'm more a doer than a talker, but I'm still trying to recover from the cringe caused by that speech. Again, I don't blame Sam for either this speech or his talk with Bucky in episode 5, I can only lay the blame at the writers who clearly weren't interested in any of the practical ramifications of what they're writing.

Firstly, establish what they were doing wrong (see above, and there's lots more that could be added with just a cursive research into world affairs). Second, "The only power I have is that I believe we can do better" is a terribly avoidant reply when someone is pointing out rightfully that the issues are complex. This is a time when people want solutions, not just nebulous ideas. I mean, who doesn't want things to be "better"?? But you haven't established the why or what and now you're just handwaving about the how.

Point out what they're doing wrong. Talk about equity in resource and opportunity allocation. Tell them how their policies are driving crime and death and corruption in lower income countries. Offer to be on the Council as a representative for the layperson. Sure, committees might not seem very superhero-like, but other heroes have sat in on international meetings with politicians with success - Nat, Tony, T'Challa to name a few.

I know it's easy to use the excuse that "they tried to pack too much so they can't address all this" and I agree to an extent. But by taking the handwaving cop-out route with these heavy issues, it undermined several scenes that should have held more emotional weight.

#tfatws critical #tfatws meta #rants #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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cedricslover · 3 years

Text

Troubled pt.5

Pairing: Cedric x Fem! Reader

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.6 (Final)

Series summary: A very unfortunate situation happened and it resulted in very unfortunate events. You had everything, a good boyfriend that everyone dreamed of, best friends that you got in a twin pack, and a loving school. It was a calm before a storm and in your sixth year the storm came. You faced the consequences your deceased parents run from, you were only left with your only family, your little brother. What would you do in order to save him? The answer is, everything, even if it means joining a terrorist group of wizards, joining THE DEATH EATERS…

Chapter Summary: 3 weeks have passed, you did get hate, but after a while it calmed down. Maybe because of the new “thing”, Cedric and Cho. They look good together and you tried your best to be happy for them. Not until the second task, Cho was important to him, you get it. As you headed back to the castle you were greeted by Dobby and took you to the residence of the Black family. You found out what your parents really did, and when you were on your way back to the castle after the talk you had with Remus and the others, Cedric suddenly appeared in front of you at Hogsmeade, and is that worry in his eyes?

Note: there is no specific house:))) i can make requests if y’all have one.

Warnings: Angst, torturing, mentions of death. And itty little fluff.

Word count: 3.9k

Sometimes, it would really hurt after you made the right choice, but you would always wonder, was it really the right choice if it cuts this much.

“Y/N?” George snapped his fingers that directed your attention to him. He was smiling sadly to you, “Fred and I brought you Cauldron Cakes.” he sat beside you and handed you a bag, it wasn’t just Cauldron Cakes, there were also Chocolate Frogs, Liquorice Wands, and Acid Pops.

“You didn’t have to bother George, I’m fine really. It’s been what? 2 or 3 weeks already, I’m doing great” you smiled widely at him, the corners of your eyes wrinkled as you tried your best. “Yeah alright” his face relaxed and shifted his view on what you were looking at earlier.

You were at the courtyard, sitting on a bench, you wanted to breathe fresh air after cramming. It felt good, just feeling the February breeze blowing your hair, giving you kisses, it was freedom being blown by the wind. You didn’t mind the chatter of the other students who were hanging out in the courtyard, their laughter wasn’t annoying at all, it felt natural, their smiles weren’t forced-but you know each one of them has or is still fighting a battle.

“You like it here now?” Fred arrived and sat at your other side, now you’re in the middle of the twins, “sort of” you scrunch your nose and titled your head, there was comfort seeing these people. It might sound weird because some of them hated you, although they must have forgotten about it already, you still received howlers and glares before. But after almost a month, they all seem to move on, you wished it was just that easy.

“Is something itchy Y/N?” George asked you as you were unconsciously scratching your left forearm, he was about to reach for it but you instantly avoided it but not in a suspicious way, thankful for the snitch that suddenly went in your direction.

You caught the snitch that’s why it was not suspicious, you would’ve kissed the person that owned that snitch but your mood changed in a snap as you saw who were walking towards you.

It was Cho, with Cedric.

“Oh hey, may I?” Cho pointed to your hand where the snitch is, your lips curved into a smile as you stood up and handed the snitch to Cho, you glanced at Cedric for a second and was greeted by his blank stare. You purse your lips as they start to walk away.

“They’ve been spending more time together” Fred muttered after one whole minute of silence after you sat down again. You saw in your peripheral vision that George was mouthing him to not say anything. You half smiled and pulled your head back and watched the sky, the clouds moving as they took unrecognizable shapes, the birds flying, and even a few of the students who were riding their brooms.

“It’s fine George, and yes, I know. Who wouldn’t notice. Not me” You inhaled the fresh air, images flashing before your eyes.

You walked back to your dorm and closed the door. Your roommates weren’t there yet. You took this opportunity to grab your trunk and open it. Hidden at the very bottom of it was a letter. At first look you would think that this was just an ordinary letter, but seeing that there was a hair purposely attached to the envelope, you know who it was from.

Dear Y/N,

Your brother is fine, I heard from a fly that there’s something that is going on in your life. End that now. Death Eaters don't do attachment unless it is attachment by blood. I have high expectations for you, my lovely subject. You don’t want to disappoint me right? My coming back is almost near and if you ruin that, then prepare to say farewell to your ickle brother.

You trembled as you read it. This letter came just before that picture of Cedric. You didn’t have the guts to read it before, until now. You had to make sacrifices, Cedric can find another girl, and it seems like he already did.

“Ced?” you called his name while you lay at his chest, “Yes, dove?” he sounded sleepy, his arms wrapping you. “If we broke up, would you find another girl?” you looked at him, he was just staring at the ceiling, his long lashes peeking at you, you pouted as you thought how unfair it was, why do men always have the long lashes.

“How about you?” he was now looking at your eyes, his stares were direct to your soul, in his eyes you can’t hide any secrets, it would all be naked.

“I don’t know” you shrugged, broke the eye contact, and reached for his hand and intertwined it with yours.

His chest was going up and down, you felt his warmth wrapping you “My answer would be,” he guided your face to look at him again, “no” he smiled sweetly, “I date to marry Y/N, and I don’t think I would love anyone like how I love you” he planted a kiss on your forehead.

Liar.

Another day and it was the day of the second task, you weren’t so sure as to why Harry was so off.

“Harry, you alright?” You walked up to him as you headed to the Black Lake, worry and anxiety was all over his face. He looked at you and you saw how he swallowed so excessively for many times, showing that he is not okay, “Have you seen Hermione and Ron?” Harry asked, his eyes can’t focus in one direction. You stopped and grabbed his shoulders.

“No. I haven’t seen them, but Harry, you need to focus.” you stared at his eyes, your brows furrowed. “You’ll do great, and I know Hermione and Ron are fine, they wouldn’t miss their bestfriend fight for 1000 galleons” you chuckled as the tense in his face slowly disappeared. “Come on” you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and headed to the shore.

“So what’s in the egg?” you asked him, he was still looking around and you understood him. Even if it was you who was in his shoes you would be anxious, this tournament can bring you death or glory. And your best friends, your supports, weren’t there, it must feel twice as heavy.

“‘come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching ponder this;

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour, the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.’.

That’s what it said-or more like sang” Harry looked at your confused face. “So they took something important or close to you?” your eyes squinted at the view of the twins who were still doing their gambling booth.

“I think so” he yawned, he must have gotten little sleep.

“Step up mates, don’t be shy!” you heard George and Fred calling the students, “Merlin, what’s the point of this?” you let go of Harry and he went to his classmates, while you headed to the twins.

“Oi! What’s the score?” you asked that made their heads turn to you in shock, their faces brightened up and told you the score.

“Shut up. Fleur’s great” you rolled your eyes and stood beside them. “Yeah we know” they both said and fixed their gaze on Fleur, Fred immediately removed it and continued to take the bets while George was busy staring at somewhere, it wasn’t Fleur, but perhaps her friend.

“You two doing fine?” you nudged George that made him slightly jump, he shook his head and smiled “got into an argument. Got any advice, lover girl?” he teased you, you laughed and pulled his ear, “If you continue this I swear to the founders of Hogwarts I am going to cut your ear off” you said while he chuckles and still saying ouch.

Someone cleared their throat that made you three stop, “Ah! Pretty boy, what is it that you need?” Fred asked while secretly pokes you. “I’m going to place a bet” he still has that cold stare whenever you’re around, completely different from that warm look he always had.

“To who?” George asked, raising his eyebrows, “To myself” he handed a sickle, after that he just turned his back to the three of you, it was complete silence, it was never expected.

“A confident lad we got there mate” George chuckled and handed the sickle to Fred who also laughed, you just plastered a smile on your face still observing Cedric’s back, he’s also tensed, you know him, but he’s just hiding that with his stupid smile. You never wished Cho to be here so much, where in the bloody Earth is that girl?

Your question was answered when you saw Cedric coming up from the water, Cho wrapped in his arm as they tried to inhale oxygen, your heart shattered at their sight.

So she’s the valuable one, the one he’ll sorely miss.

You smiled bitterly as the cheers grew louder. The two talked. Well if he’s with Cho, he won’t be risked to any danger.

“I hate you.” you whispered and made your way back to the castle, there were no tears that streamed down to your face and you hated it too. Your heart felt heavy, it was so hard to breathe that you had to stop just to compose yourself. Your hands resting on your knees you were alerted when you heard the leaves crunching. Immediately getting your wand and looked up, only to be greeted by Dobby.

“Dobby?” you slowly put down your hand and looked at the elf in front of you. “Hello Y/N Y/L/N. Dobby is here asked by Remus Lupin, Dobby can’t take you anywhere without your consent, will you come with me?” he was looking up at you, you treated Dobby like any other living thing, you never treated him as a slave, that’s why you’re part of S.P.E.W.

You observed his face and later on accepted his hand, you would rather go wherever Dobby would take you, other than this place.

“Sirius?” You were greeted by Sirius black when you and Dobby arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place, you weren’t familiar with this place but you know this was the residence of the Black family.

“How are you dear?” he hugged you, Sirius was sort of close with your family, well the Blacks to be specific. But you know your parents didn’t like most of them, they had a disagreement with most of the purebloods who sided with the Dark Lord.

“Let me go!” you shouted as the Carrow siblings held you and your parents. “Shh. You might wake your little brother, Y/N” Amycus peered at you and smiled devilishly. “Please. Don’t hurt my children” your father begged, your mother was now in tears as she looked at you, your lips were bleeding after Alecto slapped you. Thinking that would shut your mouth.

“Please” Your mother now looking at you apologetically, you just got home after getting a letter that your mother was ill, you got permission from school and this is what greeted you.

“Let her go. I beg you” your mother looking at Amycus, her eyes pleading, the color drained out her face. “Alright, we’ll let your children go. But after the story telling” he smirked and looked at you.

“You know, your father and mother, they were born in very influential and powerful families, pure blooded people. Until later on they were recruited to be on the Dark Lord’s side of course, they agreed but on one condition, no dark mark.” He looked at the forearms of your parents, true enough, there were none.

“The Dark Lord believed they were loyal subjects,” Alecto brushed the tip of her wand to your jaw, her nostrils flared at the sight of you. “But after a while, it seemed like the enemies always knew what was up on our sleeves. We tried to contact them again, but they were-poof! Gone” she laughed like a mad woman and it immediately changed to her teeths grinding. She threw a spell at random spots of your house that made loud noises, glass shattering, portraits falling, and many more.

Your shouts being overwhelmed by the chaotic noise. After a while, the noise stopped, “Don’t worry about little Theodore, he’s sleeping soundly. No, we didn’t kill the poor child, we're not murderers” Amycus giggled. You felt your stomach turned upside down, you were disgusted by them.

“Crucio!” Amycus pointed his wand to your parents, you screamed and screamed as you watched them wince in pain, their veins pulsing in their necks, trying their best to breathe.

“STOP! PLEASE STOP!” You cried, your face went pale as you saw their faces. Your parents are in pain and you cannot do anything. “Please” you whispered, head facing the floor, you felt the energy drain from you.

“Get your brother Y/N” your mother mouthed to you, the siblings not paying attention to them. She was still in pain, your eyes were blurry from the tears but you still nodded. You secretly reached for a big chunk of shattered glass and swiftly cut the rope that was tied to your wrist.

It was as fast as lightning that you got into Theodore’s room. You locked the door, it was nice that every room in this house was chanted with an anti-apparition charm except for the living room. You picked up the sleeping boy and headed to his wardrobe. You heard banging on the door but you chose to not be distracted by it.

The second wooden wardrobe looked normal on the outside, but it was not, it was an emergency door, while carrying your brother in your arms you also grabbed the emergency bag. Your parents always had an emergency plan and you never thought you would need it.

Stepping inside the wardrobe, you wanted to go back, but you can’t use magic, you don’t even know enough spells to defend your family from skilled killers.

You wiped your tears and continued. The sunlight immediately hit your face as soon as you stepped in the back of your house. With all the hesitation you have, you run, not minding the bag that has a dangling keychain where it says “With you, always and forever”.

You hated the idea that they might have expected this, that this is what they are meant to be, that this was meant to happen. Because as you run away from your comfort, from your home, you hear the words that made tears race down your face, words that made your throat dry, words that made you hug your brother tighter. The words,

Avada Kedavra.

“What?” you stood up from your seat as soon as Remus, Sirius, and Emmeline Vance revealed to you that your parents were double agents, they were with the Dark Lord for information and were really loyal to the Order of the Phoenix.

“When we heard what happened to them it was too late. Y/N I’m sorry” Emmeline went up to you and embraced you, she taps your back as you cried on her shoulder. You knew your parents weren’t bad people, you just needed confirmation, somehow a needle was removed from your chest, somehow you felt relieved, knowing that they fought for the many, for the good. It was a cry of relief but at the same time there was pain in there, you finally cried after weeks, it felt satisfying.

“I’m sorry” you worded out while you fidgeted your fingers, again, you four were sitting at the table. You know, you have to tell them. Tell them that you were forced to get the dark mark, that you didn’t have any choice, tell them that they have your brother. Tell them.

“Something is bothering you. Tell us” Remus said, your eyes darted on the glass that was on the table, you were uneasy, your hand was sweating and the voices in your head were starting again. Tell them. Don’t tell them. They would help you. They will hate you. It was so noisy, so loud, so crowded, you can’t control it. You were so in your head that you didn’t realize you broke the glass just by staring at it. They all flinched.

“I- I should go” you got up and was about to head to the door, but Sirius was fast enough to block the door while Emmeline held your wrist, “You can tell us Y/N, no one can hurt you here” she smiled to you, you sighed and slowly pulled the hem of your sleeve.

And there they saw it, fear crossed their faces first but after a second, sadness took over. “No” Sirius started shaking his head, trying to deny what he just saw, “When did you get that?” Remus asked, his eyes fixed on your forearm. “Summer” you answered. You heard Emmeline sniffed and Sirius turned his back on you, his shoulders shaking.

“Are you all crying right now?” you felt relieved that they didn’t hate you, or pushed you away. “Yes” they three answered, covering their faces with their hands. You wanted to chuckle, seeing grown ups cry, it was definitely not something you anticipated.

"You were just a child" Remus whispered but loud enough to fill the room, and there you realized, yeah, you were.

“They have my brother” you confessed as soon as they calmed down. “They blackmailed you?” Sirius asked while he wiped his nose with a tissue, you nodded as an answer. “Typical” his expression was dulled.

“You have to work with us Y/N. Let us help you” Sirius said and they all looked at you, waiting for your answer. “We will save you and your brother” they smiled at you, their smile had hope. That’s why you gave them the answer you knew was right. “Yes. I will work with you” your eyes gleamed, suddenly, you weren’t alone. It felt good.

Then, you told them all the information you got. Every.single.detail.

“Thank you sir Dobby” you flashed your teeth to the elf beside you as you two arrived at Hogsmeade. “Sir? Dobby likes that very much” the corners of Dobby’s mouth turned up. You giggled seeing his happy smile.

“You better go now Dobby, freedom awaits you” and so he did, he disappeared before your eyes after taking a look at your S.P.E.W. badge.

You walked now to Hogwarts, it was not that far and you could use a little time to think before you were greeted again by the smiles and laughs of people at the castle. Probably congratulating Cedric for saving Cho.

Hogsmeade was not silent, there were still people but not that many during Hogsmeade weekend trips, you did want to buy something but it seems like you didn’t bring any money with you. You wished that you should’ve asked the twins for a few sickles, they obviously had some.

Your eyes explored every store you passed as you walked, it felt carefree just walking to Hogsmeade freely, no students around, no yellings and such, it was just a fine afternoon. You didn’t notice that you spent hours at the Grimmauld Place, it was a nice chat with them and sooner, few arrived, such as Kingsley Shacklebot, and the new auror Nymphadora Tonks, she was fun to be with, especially given that she’s a metamorphmagus, that would be extremely cool and helpful at the same time.

The sky seemed to be clear, you breathed in and shutted your eyes, the wind must have taken that as a cue to blow you, unconsciously, you smiled, freely, not forced, not fake, the smile that you didn’t even notice until a voice made you open your eyes.

“I miss seeing that smile”

In front of you was the man you love, the man you dreamt of everyday, the man you decided to save, the man that has grey captivating eyes, chiseled jaw, and a stupid smile that will melt you.

Before you could even register that he was in front of you, he pulled you into a hug, tighter than ever, you wanted to go away from him, you wanted him to let you go, but your body said otherwise, because you wrapped your arms around his waist. Feeling his warmth. Feeling Cedric.

“Please don’t disappear like that again. I was so worried. Don’t do that again love. I don’t want to lose you” he muttered during your embrace, that's when you registered what was happening.

“No, no, no” you pushed him and took a step back. Your eyes pierced him, you didn’t know what to feel. You were confused, and by the looks of it, he was too.

“Y/N- “ he was pacing, his brows knitted and he washed his face with his hands. It was always his move to show frustration.

“Fuck.” he said and stopped, he stared at you and started saying things that made your stomach filled with butterflies, it made you feel bittersweet too. You still didn’t know what to feel.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t cheat on me, I know that decision we made during the night of Christmas was pure rubbish, and I don’t have any relationship with Cho. She likes my friend, and I was just helping her, she was also helping me…" he bites his lower lip, "to get back to you. That’s why I was shocked when she was the one I had to save. We were both confused, we don’t like each other" he continued.

"I miss you Y/N, you know that I would choose you over and over again because you’re my home, you’re my comfort, and I didn’t know what to do when you suddenly disappeared from my life. I also know how you can disappear anytime because of You Know Who, but I don’t care. I love you and I want to be by your side even now, I don’t want to protect you because I know you don’t need that but you need someone by your side, supporting you, and I want to be that person, I should be that person Y/N. I don’t want to regret anymore” Cedric’s eyes were filled with tears as he talked. It broke your heart seeing him like this.

“Ced” you slowly walked to him and held his face with one hand, his eyes closed and squeezed your hand, “I’m sorry. I love you too but it was the only way, they would hurt you. And I can’t imagine myself being the reason for your pain” your eyes getting moisty.

“How about you, weren’t you already in pain?” his eyes just looking at you, you two didn’t care about the location you're in, because in this moment you and Cedric only mattered.

"I can manage" you smiled despite both of your tears flowing down, "Liar" he pulled you and buried your head on his chest. Your hearts beating in sync, you didn't know if this was the right thing to do. But if you choose to be happy, if you choose the choices your parents made, then maybe, you can die without any regrets, you can die happily, knowing that you lived your life.

"Let's not do that anymore hmm?" Cedric strokes your hair while you just stand there, feeling and smelling him. He was so addicting.

Your nod was the answer.

Maybe you can save your brother and yourself at the same time. Maybe there's still a future, a bright one, waiting for you. Not just sacrifices, heartbreak, and death. Don't get lost in the dark they say, but the dark was your friend, and it won't let you get lost.

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory series #cedric diggory imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter boys #triwizard tournament #triwizard champions #series #troubled

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yetanotherpotterpage · 3 years

Text

the idea of loving you | 4

Being in love is never easy. Especially with a certain blonde-haired Slytherin around.. /4th year, Voldemort not coming back/

pairing: Draco x Ravenclaw reader

word count: 2300

warnings: bad language, smut (kinda)

a/n: Uni is kicking my butt, but I finally finished chapter 4. Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, I love you all <3

There was an awkward tension lingering between Cho and you as you were walking back to your dorm from the party. She was walking a bit ahead of you, so you didn't get to see the face she was making. You were scared. This was the worst possible outcome of the night. You wanted to talk it out with her, but you were too nervous to start speaking. You've already been through so much together the last few years, from small arguments because of your untidiness to full-on fights because her first boyfriend called you a bitch, and she did nothing. But still, you've solved everything. You've suddenly stopped walking when you realized that running from this was only making it worse. It was now only her footsteps that echoed on the empty stairs. When she noticed you stopped, she turned around to look at you. She didn't seem angry or mad. She seemed just as confused and scared as you did, and seeing that gave you the strength to talk.

"Cho... How are you feeling?" you asked sheepishly, fingers fidgeting with the rings you were wearing.

She took a long pause before answering. You felt your heart racing more and more with each passing second. "If it's about the kiss, it's all good y/n. You did what you had to do."

It was almost midnight. You figured your other roommate was already asleep, so you sat down on the top of the spiral staircase of the Ravenclaw tower. Cho immediately joined you .

"You know, I've always imagined my first kiss to be with Cedric," you started, eyes fixated on the cracks of the stairs. " I thought it's going to be in our garden on a summer afternoon with the blue sky above us while the sun warmed our skins. That we'd just lay there on the grass, and he'd finally steal a kiss. You have no idea how much I wanted this. I gave him so many opportunities, but he never took them. It hurt so bad, I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't wished to feel nothing at all. I thought that I'm never going to get over him. But when we kissed it wasn't like I imagined it to be. It was disappointing, really. It's not that the kiss itself was bad, I-I guess I'm just changing." you said, finally looking up, to see her reaction.

She looked at you, her tender eyes full of sympathy. "Telling me all this... I knew you're not a chicken," she chuckled softly, but her face turned serious as she continued. "I always wondered how much it hurts you that Cedric and me... you know, are dating. I was always so scared that you're going to break, even if you said it was okay. I live in constant guilt y/n." she said, trying to blink her tears away.

"I'm full of self-love, you've got to try harder if you want to break a person like me," you laughed, which made her smile.

You've talked for a little while, before deciding it was better to get going. That night you slept together in your bed. She fell asleep quickly but your thoughts kept you up. It was dark, the only source of illumination was the moonlight from your tall windows. You stared at the ceiling as you listened to her breathing. Life really was unfair, you thought.

The next day was chaotic. No one cared about the classes, since everyone was thrilled about the upcoming ball that day. Even the teachers looked excited, and most of them gave you permission to read quietly or study for other classes. Not Snape though, he seemed like he was over this whole ball thing, so you brew potions. You didn't mind it, it was something you were good at. There was just one little thing that annoyed you, and it was a blue pair of eyes that burned a hole in the back of your head. You turned around in annoyance, not wanting to put up with this anymore. But your angry eyes were met with a playful wink from his end. You rolled your eyes and turned back in your seat, trying to concentrate on your potion when you heard him call your name.

"Psst, y/l/n."

You let out an audible sigh, then turned to him. "What?"

"Hope you're looking good for me tonight darling, I wouldn't want to hang out with Pansy all night," he said with a grin.

Your blood was boiling at that point. Who does he think he is? Leaving you like that in the Three Broomsticks and making you feel like you're easily replaced as he's openly flirting with everyone in front of you, was not it. You're not even going to mention the fact that you were just a tool for him to get under Harry's skin. You seriously needed to do something about his cockiness. You needed to take the lead. And you needed to do it tonight.

Classes were finally over, so you ran to your dorm to meet up with your friends. You all decided that you're all going to get ready together. You were sitting on a chair, trying to put on your necklace as Marietta did your makeup. Or, at least she tried.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, y/n. Stop moving!" She said in a slightly annoyed tone. It was the fourth time she said that in the last 2 minutes.

"Sorry," you said. You realized you were very bad at sitting in one place for a longer period of time. You also realized that it hurts a lot when someone pokes your eyeball with a mascara wand.

After an hour of dolling you up, you were done, and you felt beautiful. Marietta did amazing on your makeup. It wasn't much, but it really enhanced your features, making you look the prettiest you've looked in a while. You did your own hair, and while you weren't the best at it, you've managed to do something presentable. Or so you thought before Cho offered to do it for you because she thought it was only half-done. You took her offer without hesitation.

"Merlin, look at us, we look so good," Cho said in awe after you were all done.

"Yeah, and look at our titties, we are full-grown women now," Marietta said while giving her boobs a squeeze. You agreed, looking at your own pair of boobs. All of you showed a little cleavage, except for Cho. She was a little more conservative in this field.

"Girls! You are intellectual women, and intellectual women don't talk about their tits," Cho laughed.

"Well, I guess we are intellectual women, who also love their tits," you compromised while trying to fix the strap of your dress.

When you went down to find Draco, you saw him already waiting for you. And Merlin, he looked immoral, with his perfectly styled hair and expensive tuxedo. When his eyes met yours you felt your cheeks heat up. No, you can't do this right now, you had to concentrate, you thought. But it was hard with him looking like that.

When you got closer to him, he let out a low whistle as he looked you up and down, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking you out. "You clean up well, y/l/n," he said, before taking your hand and kissing the back of it. Merlin, he made you so nervous, but you needed to loosen up for this to work. Tonight, you make him pay.

Entering the great hall, your jaw dropped. It had never looked better. Everything was white and silver, and it looked so elegant. There were a few circular tables on either side of the room, and each table had its own ice sculpture in the middle. The first two tables from the door served drinks and food, and at the very back of the room stood 3 snow-covered Christmas trees. It was beautiful, you thought.

The waltz went pretty well. Draco was a surprisingly good dancer, but the real fun started after the formalities. Luna told you, that some people mixed some Firewhiskey into the punch bowl. Some people being Fred and George. After hearing this, you quickly hopped to the table to pour yourself some. You've danced a lot that night, although you weren't sure if what you were doing could've been classified as dancing. You were mostly just jumping up and down and swinging your hip to the rhythm of the music. But the more punch you drank, you better you got at it. You were in the middle of slow dancing with Luna to a slower song when a hand grabbed your waist from behind. As you turned around you were met with none other than Draco himself. You kind of lost him after the waltz, since you went dancing with your friends, and he went off with his.

"Where were you?" you asked him as he put one of his hands on your lower back and pulled you close to him, while the other reached for your hand. You were dancing with him now.

"With Pansy," he said simply, as he spun you around. " It got boring too quickly though." His voice was low, and you were suddenly aware of the close proximity between you two.

"So you came back, to me," you drawled. "How noble." His hand on your back was dangerously low now.

He licked his lips "Don't worry, we didn't do anything bad. I'm all yours tonight." His voice hardly rose over a whisper. You wouldn't have survived this conversation if not for the alcohol in you.

"Oh is that true?" you teased. Your faces were so close, that one small push could easily end in your lips pressed together.

"Want me to show you?" he breathed, eyes never leaving yours.

"Oh, I don't know, I might need a bit more motivation," you said with a smirk. Everything happened quickly. He gave you a grin, then guided your hands to the back of his neck before he raised your chin with his fingers, there was a pause, while he looked you in the eye with a serious expression before he kissed you. Your body reacted instinctively, and you opened your mouth a little, letting him deepen the kiss. It wasn't an innocent, sweet one. No, it was heated, and full of passion. Merlin, you hated how good it felt. He let out a groan as you bit his lower lip and you felt like the world was spinning around you.

"Was this motivating enough?" he whispered into your ear as he ended the kiss.

You bit your lips in hesitation. What you were about to do was very stupid and reckless, but this was your chance. He's made a fool of you several times before, but not today. This time it was you that wanted to leave him wrecked. "Let's get out of here," you purred.

So there you were, in an empty, half-lit corridor that echoed of your panting. This whole situation was so sinful. Red, swollen lips and hungry eyes were the only things you saw. You curled your fingers in the hair at his nape and jerked your hips against his, which resulted in a low groan from him. His eyes greedy as he snaked an arm around your waist, resting it on the curve of your ass, to urge you closer. You didn't waste a second, as you rolled your hips against his, feeling his hardening length as you sucked bruises on his delicate skin. He threw his head back to the wall in pleasure, as he let out a groan before he started fidgeting with the zipper on your dress.

You chuckled lowly as you snapped his hand away, "Eager much?" you cooed.

"You're such a fucking tease," he smirked with heavy eyelids.

"I'm not this easy, you might need to persuade me a little more," you purred. You'd definitely be embarrassed at your behavior, but the combination of alcohol and seeing the Slytherin Prince a desperate mess under your hands made you shameless. When you were with Cedric, you felt like a girl, and you liked that feeling. But with Draco, you felt like a woman. You felt dangerous and desired and it drove you crazy.

Your lips parted as he brushed his thumb against your lower lip before his fingers followed a trail under your jaw, hooking a finger under your necklace to pull you closer to him. "Is this how you want to play, y/l/n?" lips brushing against yours as he spoke before he snapped his hips forward. He was so hot, you wanted nothing more than to finish what you've started. And you were sure, you will at some point, but this wasn't that night. He looked at you, with confusion in his eyes as you took a step back and cleared your throat.

"What are you doing?" he asked, in disbelief.

"Oh, I forgot I promised Harry a dance, and we certainly wouldn't want to make him wait now, do we?" you breathed, with a sly smile on your lips, before turning around to go back to the great hall.

He stood there in complete shock. He couldn't believe that this really just happened. You played him and left him with blue balls. He let out a laugh in disbelief when you had the audacity to turn around and send him a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

"Two can play at that game y/l/n," he said before he fixed himself, and headed back to the ball to find Pansy.

taglist: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @streetfighterrichie

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #cedric diggory #yule ball #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #gryffindor #slytherin #fanfiction #hogwarts

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inncomplete · 3 years

Text

( HEIDY, 23, SHE/THEY, CST. ) ☆ Open your hands and hope to catch a star, KIM JANGJUN, and it might just grant your wish. At TWENTY FIVE years old with an odd resemblance to SONG KANG, you don’t seem like the type who should be caught in a town like this, but who am I to judge? I’m sure there are others who are just as RETICENT yet MAGNANIMOUS and INSOUCIANT… although, really, I don’t think anyone else could remind me so much of RIPPED JEAN JACKETS, A SMILE NOT QUITE REACHING HIS EYES, and CAR DRIVES WITH NO DESTINATION. It seems you’ve lived here for ALL YOUR LIFE working as AN INNKEEPER AT DOTORI INN, but didn’t I overhear you wishing YOU COULD FIND YOUR LOVE FOR ART AGAIN the other night? Oh, I’m mistaken, hm? Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me; a little wish has never hurt anybody.

hello hello 😳 i'm heidy , twenty3 from the cst timezone , & i go by she / they pronouns ! veryvery excited to be here & share jangjun with u all , he’s truly a gift , but also very excited to be in a rp group again bc its been forever. umm anyway . apologies in advanced for how long this intro is probably gonna get i’m a virgo … we just don’t know when to shut up aha 🙈

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ QUICK STATS !

full name : kim jangjun

age : twenty five

zodiac : gemini

spoken languages : korean , english & just a LICK of french

sexuality : bisexual

alignment : lawful good

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ BACKSTORY !

son of kim seokcheon and jo minsu , their first born , pride n joy with shining qualities and the potential to become starlight bay’s shining light by the time he could talk. grinning ear to ear no matter the face that looked down at him and never once hesitating to stick his arms out for a hug.

grandson of kim minsoo and ahri , starlight bay’s actual pride n joy. the town’s favorite elderly couple aka owners of the dotori inn. these are the ones to thank for jangjun’s gracious upbringing. not that he had a negative relationship with his own parents , he loved them just as much as the next loved child , but any chance he’d gotten he’d run right down to the inn to greet the guests ( regulars and newcomers alike ) alongside his grandparents and quickly became seen as one of them.

for as long as he or anyone could remember , jangjun was a frequent enjoyer of the arts. painting , drawing , mixing water with mud to make his own modeling clay — you name it. the simplest and most accessible form of self expression and gateway for those growing emotions. instead of talking out his feelings in a way he didn’t know how or dealing with an emotion as heavy as they came , he’d use these various forms of art to center himself in any way they allowed. it became something he enjoyed so much that he knew from such a young age what he wanted to do. he wanted to take what he loved and use it to help people. it felt unique , like he’d discovered something no one had ever done before and was putting something into the world that could make such an impact it would change it. it wasn’t until he was older that he realized what he wanted to be was an art therapist.

for years , jangjun stood along his grandparents and helped around the inn whenever he could. his own room granted in the old house in which they stayed not far from it. he was happy to be in a place where he was always helping people as he was taught this was the most important thing you could do , not only for others , but for yourself. ‘ what you put into this world is what you will get back. treat others with tenderness and you will never have to wonder who you are. ’ words of wisdom passed down from his grandfather and practically engraved into the back of jangjun’s brain.

along working at the inn , jangjun focused intently on his studies , never once slipping away from his enjoyment of creating. a teasing rumor had it the kim’s cloned jangjun at birth to be a prodigy of some kind because you’d find him in so many places at once. dotori inn by sunrise , and as the day progressed , you’d catch him around every single corner of town , always on the go and always seen putting a smile on the face of anyone he passed by. by the time he graduated high school , jangjun was presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. he was granted a scholarship to nyu , such a prestigious school known for their sought after art program. as eager and excited as he could be ( and already two trips to new york under his belt ) jangjun felt like he was on his own path.

that is , until , his grandmother became sick. faced with the challenging predicament , jungjae already knew what lied ahead. the choices were unfair regardless , but he had two. continue on to nyu and allow his younger sister to hold back on her dreams to stick around the inn .. or give up his own and resume as the kim jangjun dotori inn knew and needed. for him , the decision was easy.

🚨 🚨 POSSIBLE CONNECTION MAYHAPS ? — saving his sister’s future was not the only thing holding jangjun back to starlight bay , but a lover. another person in his life that wasn’t so easy to leave behind but an easy consideration to stay. to make it even angstier ? they broke up not long after he gave up on nyu to stick around.

fast forward to current times and you’ll still find him present at dotori inn to this day. rumor has it he’ll be the one taking over ownership once his grandparents are no longer able to. but anyone that knows him well enough knows that’s not what he wants. anyone that knows jangjun to his true core notices how he no longer leaves home with the same paint residue on his clothes , no longer has that smile that reaches his eyes anytime they’re met and no longer carries that same passion that he once did. you’ll still find him helping around town and putting those in need above his own , of course. after all , it’s what he’s been taught his whole life to do. everyone always talks about the stars that fall over starlight bay and the wishes they grant you , but perhaps this is what was written for him in them all along.

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ PERSONALITY + TIDBITS !

sooooo as u could have guessed if u read any of the above gibberish is YEA jangjun puts everyone and anyone above him and would give you the shirt off his back if that was what u needed

he very much prides hard work though ?? like he’s not so much a pushover as he is just a very forgiving person and is willing to put issues to the side if it meant the greater good ....

if u are an asshole and ungrateful no he will not give u whatever u want or do anything u ask of him. he will simply tell u to learn how to do it on ur own BUT he will be willing to show u how <3

always outside .. always working on something or talking to someone .. always found absolutely anywhere and everywhere like seriously u just saw him at the inn an hour ago ? that’s great ur about to bump into him again at ur mom’s house because he agreed to help her fix a leak in her sink

ALSO HE HAS A DOG ... his little baby boy named cherry whom he plasters all over his social media. love cherry n jangjun loves u its a simple world we live in

a big part of his friendliness and eagerness to help others and make sure they are ok DOES come off as flirting i will nawt lie ? and u know what maybe he is just naturally a flirty person but he means well and wants people to feel like they have him whenever they need or want him ? SUE HIM ? SDDMDNCMCN

so sorry to the ones he lingers around a little too much and brings soup to ur door from his grandfather and always asks if u need help with whatever ur working on and u think there is something going on . no im sorry baby he just lives like that in 2021 can u believe

treasures his friends so greatly and yes , again , will bring u food twice a week and make sure ur eating well and not doing ur favorite activities alone i wish i had a jangjun truly 💔

UMMMMMM and .. umm and um ? he’s sweet and loves helping and he does it in a way that won’t let u take advantage of him and he just wishes for the growth and happiness of those around him. EXCEPT if ur mean / think u can just take and never give. if that’s the case then screw u - from jangjun

truly i hate this i wrote so much for no good reason … but anyway if ur like me & prefer discord for plotting u can add me @ heidykins#0016 and we can plot there ! but if discord is nawt ur jam we can plot over tumblr ims as well i just might be harder to reach there so pls be patient with me 🥺 anywayayayayyaya im SOO excited to be here & write with u all im so sry for the MESS of this intro she’s not so sexy but thats ok because i think jangjun makes up for it so um come plot with me <3trea

#str:intro #⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ OUT OF CHARACTER ⠀ ／ ⠀ * ⠀ notes.#i didnt proof read this if u see a typo ...... no u dont<3

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madara-fate · 3 years

Note

While i do know Gabi did eventually change ( thankfully) i think my general dislike came from her over the top hatred of the eldians ( her own people) and her worship of the people who oppressed her people.

Also the reason i mentioned the older warriors..Annie, Bertholt, and Reiner was because by the time we as readers saw who they really were.. they were already so conflicted about if they were right or not they were literally forgetting who they actually were, even when Bertholt called them devils its seems like he didn't believe it himself. Annie even cried when they had to kill Marco.

It might be because we already knew these characters and they never seemed hostile or bad people then when they did reveal themselves they were on the fence about it all and seemed to hate the position they were in, they were already seeing how horrible it all was and it tore them up to follow through with their plan. So thats probably why its easier with those three..

But when we first meet Gabi.. She was so up in your face with her dislike of her own race.. She very vocal about it when technically she was no different. She just seems so self hating and it rubs me the wrong way. We never really saw that blind eldian hatred from Annie, Bertholt and Reiner. Bertholt and Reiner i felt started self loathing not because they are eldian but because they realized the were wrong and were betraying their friends.

Also with Falco and the other candidates they were more calm about the whole thing and seemed to be just going with the flow and following orders to survive and hopefully better their family situation to not be seen in a negative light any longer.

But Gabi seemed different right from the get go she really believed her race were actual devils.. She seemed so self hating that she was willing to turn into the very thing that made her people devils and hated and ostracized in the first place.

But at the same time she came off as self righteous, due to her believing she ( even though she was also a "devil") that she was special enough to be one of the exceptions. Like i said the others weren't all in your face about it like she was...maybe that's what makes her more unlikable.

I certainly agree with the fact that Gabi's hatred of the Paradis Eldians was a lot more prominent than any other warrior, so readers obviously have more opportunities to call her out on her bullshit since she displayed her anti Paradis attitude a lot more frequently than the other warriors did. I just don't like it when people hate on her for being stubborn, stupid, gullible etc, all while giving the older warriors a pass, despite the fact that Gabi actually came to doubt her beliefs far sooner than they all did.

Furthermore, I wouldn't say that Gabi worshiped the Marleyans. Everything she did, she did for the sake of the Eldians on Marley who she was made to believe were the "good" Eldians. She wasn't striving to become a warrior out of love for the Marleyan people, she was doing so in order to free her fellow Eldians from the Internment Zone. They were her motivation, not Marley.

I understand in that sense, that it's easier to hate on Gabi for her views because that was your first impression of her, whereas with the other warriors, we got to know them as scouts before we knew them as the Marleyan warriors. I suppose it just grates on me a little bit because but it's still obviously unfair to throw more hate in Gabi's direction due to first impressions. All of their inner conflict came years later, Gabi's came after weeks. Yes, her hatred was a lot more pronounced which made her an easy target for reader discontent, but that's not only because her convictions were always a lot greater than their's (which is an admirable trait to have), but also because Gabi's hatred was being targeted towards characters we had grown to love, so it may also be a matter of perspective there. If we had been following Gabi and her peers since the beginning rather than the Survey Corps, I would love to see the drastic shift in her support.

Yeah, nothing more needs to be said really. Gabi was put in the unfortunate position of being introduced as being really passionate about the very harmful and prejudiced ideals she was brainwashed into believing, and this was at a time when the readers were all fully aware of what was going on. Therefore, it was really easy to get frustrated with her for believing what we all knew to be lies. I just don't think it's fair that Gabi gets far more hate for this than any of the older warriors, despite her coming to terms with the truth a lot sooner than they did. This is especially true when we consider just how determined and adamant about it she was as well. She displayed more tenacity towards her objectives and belief in the Marleyan brainwashing than any other warrior apart from maybe Reiner, and yet she came to terms with the truth a lot quicker than all of them other than Falco. I think she deserves plaudits for that.

I understand and agree with the point of finding it easier to criticise Gabi due to how vocal she was about her hatred for the Paradis Eldians. However, we did see that type of brainwashed infused hatred from Reiner, we just didn't have the opportunity to see it as much with him or any of the older warriors because the main story began after they had already started questioning themselves. That just links back my point regarding Gabi being put into an unfortunate position due to being introduced that way so late on.

They were definitely a lot calmer, no arguments there, and that just goes back to my point regarding the strength of Gabi's convictions. She and Eren had frightening levels of drive and motivation, but many fans didn't give her the credit she was due for that, simply because her motivations were towards a goal that was in opposition to the Paradis Eldians who we had grown attached to. If we had been seeing things from her perspective since the beginning, I'm all but certain that her fierce convictions would have garnered her praise, rather than near universal hatred from the fandom.

She was wiling to cross no man's land into enemy territory by herself, with nothing but hand grenades, in order to disable the armoured train, so that the 800 Eldians in the bunker didn't have to sacrifice themselves during the war.

She was willing to sacrifice herself to board the Paradis aircraft by herself, to get some measure of revenge in honour of her home town, which had just been devastated into oblivion.

If we just detach Gabi's character from her initial hatred of the Paradis Eldians, and observe these feats of mental fortitude, it is actually quite remarkable that her sense of purpose towards the Eldians on Marley and her home, was that strong.

As far as we know, apart from Falco, they all really believed that the Paradis Eldians were devils. She was more vocal about it, but I wouldn't say that she was any different. It also didn't help that probably every time a slight hint of doubt would accidentally creep into Gabi's mind, like when Reiner unwittingly described Paradis island as having many kinds of people rather than them being all bad, and Gabi questioned this, she had her aunt right there to ensure that she kept on believing what Marley wanted them to believe.

But that self righteousness that you're speaking of was a direct result of Marley's brainwashing. That wasn't something that she innately thought or naturally believed. Gabi believed that she was an exception to the Paradis Eldians because that's what she had been taught. That's why I can't really hate on her for that - because she was conditioned to think this way.

I definitely understand how frustrating it often was to listen to her spout shit about the "Eldian Devils" every other sentence, but I suppose I just found it a lot easier than most fans to separate the unnatural traits of her character that were drilled into her by the Marleyan brainwashing (like her belief that she was different from the Paradis Eldians), from the natural traits of her character that were always part of who she truly is (like her love for her home Liberio, her Eldian comrades on Marley, and her fiercely powerful convictions).

#Gabi Braun #Attack on Titan #Shingeki no Kyojin

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nikkithebard · 3 years

Text

Your Angel Ellipsis

Geraskier short fic, post S1E6, post mountain-break up, hurt/little comfort, fix-it-fic, angst, angsty thoughts, featuring HSK, open ending, 2.6k words

Rating: T (Mature language)

A/N: I am totally 100% open to fic ideas if anyone wants to share some. Feel free to send an ask with a prompt, I don’t mind in the slightest. (I have never uploaded my work here before)

The bard moved with about as much grace as a broken-legged turtle, holding his lute case close to his chest. It was the only thing around him that felt even remotely real. Everything else had faded into whispers across his skin. The wind, the dirt, the others who remained on the mountain still. The soles of his boots had been worn thin, slipping over the rocky dust of the ground. Jaskier ignored it. He was far too disinterested in anything that wasn’t the very person he was distancing himself from.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And all he had gotten was shouts, demeaning language, and a wish fit for a djinn.

Oh, how far he’d thrown himself into this wolf’s den. He feared he’d die of heartbreak--again--if he didn’t die from the hunger and dehydration that came with getting lost climbing down a fucking mountain. How far had he gone? Felt like he had been descending in circles rather than going straight down.

Jaskier heard his own words in his mind, reverberating.

You did your best. There’s nothing else you could have done.

Who would have known the words were better suited to him and not the witcher? But, it was true. There was nothing else the bard could have done to change the outcome of this dragon hunt. He tried to talk Geralt out of this, tried to convince him this was too dangerous a task. As per usual, Geralt cared little for Jaskier’s opinion and carried on. Was that his fault, too?

His foot slipped on a larger boulder and he fell. Catching himself before he could do any serious damage, Jaskier decided to take a seat, the sun beating down on his back. Rivulets of sweat pooled around the collar of his chemise. Opening the case, Jaskier made sure his lute was alright. Of course it was, but a peek wouldn’t hurt.

The lute, as it always did, sang back at him through its dark wood, enchanted to no end. Pointless to think it would ever break, really. He withdrew the instrument, strumming the melody he had been crafting for weeks now. It had started out as a metaphor for some sort of unrequited love. As of late, it had been slowly turning it into something much sourer. With naught but the help of a sorceress he watched portal herself away nearly an hour or two ago. Jaskier was still dumbfounded that Geralt was so entrenched in the most awful example of the fairer sex.

“The fairer sex,” Jaskier mumbled to himself, strumming to the opening melody of his latest tune. “How, when she’s as unfair as a thief? A bandit?” He tilted his head, pondering. “A crook?”

Very rarely did lyrics fall into his lap so perfectly, yet the poet learned early on in his life to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking out his pen and notebook, he scratched off the first line of his original ballad, writing in the better one.

Jaskier sighed, unable to keep his mouth shut even if there was no one around to listen, “Bollocks, there I go again, rewriting yet another love ballad. Not that it matters, when you spend over twenty years stooped in what others would refer to as a pile of shit, perhaps every tune comes off as identical, yeah? All the words collide and all the notes fall into unbridled repetition--” He stopped, his own voice crashing into his ears, “Twenty years? Is that right?” He scoffed, fingers absentmindedly moving over the strings of his lute, “Can’t be, I don’t even--I can’t be over forty, can I?” He tried to shake the thought from his mind, yet he simply couldn’t get away from the passage of time. The time he had spent trailing a witcher that threw him away like a tankard of spoiled ale. “What...am I doing?”

Over twenty years, Jaskier had spent chasing a man for nothing. For nothing, because there was nothing else he could have done. The years dripped into his mind, at first a simple leak. In seconds, a stream. In minutes, a broken dam of thoughts and images dancing across the landscape of his brain.

At first, he had only longed for a muse after a particular dry spell of wordless thoughts that had plagued him after he arrived in Posada all those years ago. Jaskier had been coming down from a small bout of fame he founded for himself and the money had run out too quickly. And it was then that he had caught sight of the White Wolf. Only, then, he had nary a clue of who the man was. Jaskier saw armor, swords, a very interesting shade of hair. He was intrigued. As the day passed and Jaskier crafted the song that shot both of their names into the stratosphere, he realized he cared little for the money, the recognition, the women. Yes, it was damn welcome, but he found himself missing something.

It didn’t take him very long to admit the thrill of the adventure--wanderlust, to be specific--was the answer to a question he asked himself too many times. And so, when he and Geralt found each other again, he made it a point to tag along. Geralt didn’t appear to care all that much and let Jaskier do as he pleased. Only when Jaskier droned on and on about any random crap that came to mind--which was purely to spur any sort of response from the silent witcher, he wanted to get to know him--did Geralt stir enough to shut him up.

As time went on, years apparently, Jaskier found himself caring less and less for the songs. He just wanted to follow the witcher. His friend, though Geralt refused to verbally reciprocate the fact. After a while, he only wished for his company, to hear the incredible feats and adventures that befell the witcher. It wasn’t until they started to become tight on money and ended up sharing rooms together that Jaskier realized his fascinations went beyond friendly. When they were alone, with a roof over their heads and safety in their minds, Geralt would always relax a bit. He would speak, joke, smile even.

Jaskier thought he was insane in the beginning. To think he could feel anything more than a curious nature. But, no, it became quite apparent.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And it had become his fatal flaw.

Geralt, it seemed, truly cared nothing for the troubadour that brought him fame and coin.

And it was painful. Of course it was. The two had fought a multitude of times in the past, but this was different somehow. To blame his own destiny on the bard that had only wanted to leave this damn mountain, to leave the witch to her inevitable demise, wanted the witcher to be safe.

Perhaps that was why he had very obviously confessed himself to the witcher. Using the excuse that he had to work out what pleased him when he had done so years before. All to stave off the knowledge that his confession had been viewed as material for his next song. That his love was nothing more than musings to be ignored.

Jaskier never thought he would be faced with his unrequited affection so harshly, though he figured it would come down on him eventually. He strummed the lute, an acute anger creeping up his spine.

The fairer sex, they often call it.

But, her love’s as unfair as a crook.

It steals all my reason,

Commit every treason

Of logic with naught but a look.

He had written a majority of it a night or two ago, when Sir Eyck had gone off to shit in the woods and Yennefer had gone off to “get her beauty sleep”. Scratching off lines and writing over them, as he had gotten so used to for a long time.

Never getting the chance to tell Geralt how he felt, what he wanted, what he needed. Came to a point where he no longer thought it was ever going to happen. Watching Borch, Téa, and Véa fall to their presumed deaths--and nearly watching Geralt follow suit--changed that. He knew there would never be such a delight as “the right time”, especially if this hunt had proven to be so deadly. Jaskier wanted to say his feelings outright, hoping a song would help him in that regard. Alas, nothing ever worked out that way.

Jaskier settled for asking Geralt to allow him the opportunity to prove himself as a worthy travel companion, stretching his tone across the word “companion” to give it a different meaning. Geralt did not catch on and if he did, made no move to show it. And he was shot down.

It made him upset, knowing he had lost the battle for the witcher’s affections long before the bard had even agreed to take part. Rigged and unjust, but he should have known better than to love someone he knew damn well now didn’t care.

A storm breaking on the horizon,

Of longing and heartache and lust

She’s always bad news,

It’s always lose, lose

So tell me love, tell me love,

How is that just?

But, Jaskier cared for the witcher before they had met the witch. And, still, he had lost. He had nothing else but their friendship, and even that was gone now. It wasn’t his fault. Not this time. All at once, everything had gone to shit, more so than it had before whenever Yennefer’s influence on Geralt made his vision turn red. Always lashing out at everyone, always angry, never ever good for him.

The lute was strummed harder, the instrument making the troubadour’s emotions known to anyone within range.

But the story is this,

She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss.

The bard repeated the line, filling the melody appropriately. There was nothing else he could do but let the song continue. He was a bard, all he knew was to let the music escape him, else he might explode. Jaskier heard rustling behind him and chose to ignore it, too caught up in his emotions to stop the tenor of his own voice. If he could just finish the damn song, he would feel better.

He wouldn’t be so angry that he had completely wasted over twenty years of his life. Destroyed his own path whilst following Geralt down his. Getting them free rooms, free meals, making him famous, helping him scrounge up coin for better armor, making him hair tie after hair tie from the leather of old strappings. Fixing baths, cleaning and stitching up wounds, sleeping in the same fucking bed together. And he still lost to a lusty bitch with a hankering for destruction.

Jaskier had lost to a woman that never spent more than a few hours with the witcher at a time. A woman that caused him pain, not healed him of it. A woman that would outlive him and still cause Geralt heartache without respite. Melitele damn her.

Her current is pulling you closer

And charging the hot, humid night.

The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool!

Better stay out of sight.

The troubadour's tune faltered, voice breaking as memories of the past flooded through him again. Asking Geralt a favor in bodyguarding him while being told he was not the White Wolf’s friend, which stung despite the bard’s nonchalance. Learning that Geralt needed nothing out of life. Jaskier telling the witcher that someone--the use of a gender-neutral pronoun had been a flirt, but still remained true to his heart--may want him. “I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting.” Jaskier’s tone changed, filling with longing and desire. He knew he had a penance for lofty things. Good clothing, fine wine, upstanding company. But, he steadily gave it all up, choosing a life of grime and dirt and blood. The rustling behind him came closer.

If this is the path I must trudge,

I welcome my sentence,

Give to you my penance,

Garrotter, jury, and judge.

And his chorus repeated over and over, driving home his emotional distress at losing the one person in this godsforsaken world that was still willing to deal with his bullshit. Jaskier knew, now, that Geralt had never truly been willing and was only ever acting in line with his morals. Geralt only saved him from the djinn because it was the right thing to do. Geralt chose not to harm Jaskier out of pure annoyance because it was simply wrong and unjust.

Yet, Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Geralt sometimes acted outside of his moral compass. The banquet, the event that had really changed the course of the witcher’s life, had been the only inexplicable act Jaskier could not explain. The witcher had helped him free of his coin, in the most minute way. Nothing in their initial understanding of the event had even the slightest to do with what was the textbook definition of a witcher.

Was it due to the fact that, even if Geralt would never admit it, they truly were friends?

Jaskier had little time to continue his reverie, a soft hum from behind breaking through his thoughts.

“I will never understand why I am oft referred to as a ‘garrotter’.” Gravelly voice, low toned, and calm. Jaskier froze, music stopping. How much had he heard? And even more, he caught on to the metaphor immediately.

Jaskier cleared his throat, refusing to look, “It also means ‘killer’ or ‘hunter’.” He said plainly. “Not to mention your name matches the sound of the word a bit.”

“Hmm.” Geralt said, “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

It was a wonder they were even speaking. Jaskier was always so quick to forgive the witcher, though. Yes, he was still hurt and angry. On the other hand, he would fight to keep their friendship and wouldn’t let their squabbles get the better of them. He would just have to bottle his pain, again. Well, maybe put the cork back on the bottle if he was being truthful. He’d let enough spill out of him over the last few days and the song didn’t help.

Geralt walked, moving in front of the bard, gear in hand, “The long way down is safer, but we have a lot of ground to cover.” Face emotionless, golden eyes stared down at the distraught bard.

The bard shook his head, not knowing how to proceed, “Geralt--”

“I’m sorry, Jaskier.” The witcher cut in before the troubadour could make a long-winded speech. His name always sounded intimate when it crossed over the witcher’s lips. Never casual, always private and personal.

Jaskier gave a pained smile, blue eyes still rimmed red with sadness, “Good, that’s all I wanted.” No, it wasn’t. He kept that bit to himself. He stood, placing the lute back into its case and placing the strap on his back.

Geralt gave him another straight look, but his eyes always displayed the man’s thoughts and emotions. He knew Jaskier was lying, especially if he had been paying attention enough to know the truth behind the bard’s lyrics, “Hmm.”

They continued down the mountain together, both silent for once. It wasn’t until they had reached the bottom that Jaskier finally fell into a mindless chatter. His thoughts were becoming too heavy and it wasn’t appropriate when he had company.

They didn’t talk about the song, not for a long time. And when they did, there was no turmoil or miscommunication on either end.

There was only an understanding.

#the witcher #geraskier #witcher fic #gerlion #geralt of rivia #jaskier #i dont normally post this stuff #fanficition but my work #witcher netflix #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #dandelion #my fic #wiedźmin #help the anxiety of posting this is killing me #i love these idiots #i made my own fucking apology for you geralt #fix it fic

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amive2567 · 3 years

Text

See you again

Summary: Soulmates are the people that truly belong to us, but sometimes life is not grateful and we have to wait for a life where we can meet them again.

AUs: SoulmateAU ReincarnationAU ProHeroAU

Warnings: fluffier than the others, blood, medical talk, harassment at work, swearing, protective Todoroki

Disclaimer: My Hero Academia and the characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

Words: about 2.180

Quirk: Cell regeneration ~ This quirk allows healing somebody. The host can regenerate and strengthen the cells. Therefore the host needs to touch the person they want to heal. The quirk replaces the damaged cells with the healthy ones of the host. The new cells multiply on their own and heal the injury.

Malfunctions are that through extended usage, the host gets dizzy, receives nosebleeds, and their skin can get dry.

A/N : We are slowly getting towards the end of the story, although I separated the last part into two. It would have been way too long for one part. So here is Part 1. I hope you like it. Oh, I will also correct the parts after I have finished the series.

A/N 2: In Japanese, last names come before first names. So I wrote the names like this.

previous part: Third life: 1970 next part: ~ coming soon

Series masterlist

Grand masterlist

Annoyed, you pressed the alarm until it finally stopped ringing. "And another day that has to pass," you whined. Just like every morning, you got up and cleaned your bed. You opened the window and let the fresh air in. After you brushed your teeth, you headed straight to your desired breakfast stop.

You opened the door of your favorite café. When you moved here, it became a routine to eat in the small, cozy coffee shop near your workplace, also known as the hospital. Even with a high amount of customers, it was always quiet and welcoming. But this morning, it seemed like no one was there.

"Good morning, L/N-sama. What would you like to have for breakfast today?" greeted you, Watayama Tomomi, the owner of the comfortable café. "Good morning. The usual, please." You ordered. With a wide grin, she disappeared into the kitchen.

In less than five minutes, she came back with your beloved breakfast. "I already thought that you would order the same as always, so I prepared it for you. Luckily, as always, you were punctual. So it's still warm." She explained in response to your questioning look. "That's very generous of you. Thank you Watayama-San." "Oh, I was happy to do that for you." She waved it aside and went back to work.

As always, while breakfast, you took out your phone and read the news.

Bank robbery in Musutafu city center.

A bank robbery took place in Musutafu city center. Several million yen were stolen in the process. Some civilians got hurt. The pro heroes one and two were gladly in the area and arrested the villains immediately. Shouto and Deku have once again shown a magnificent performance in which they soon caught the bank robbers and handed them over to the police.

....

If you want to read on, please sign up for a subscription.

You put your phone aside and focused on your miso soup. You took a sip of the broth and felt the soup warming your stomach from the inside. No matter how hot it could be, miso soup for breakfast promised an excellent start for the day.

Your gaze went back to the news article and stooped at the hero name Shouto. It was oddly familiar, but you didn't know why. It was just a name like everyone else's. Why did it felt like home reading these five letters? Why did it felt so familiar? You didn't even know him, neither did you ever saw him. You never dealt with this whole hero thing. It was just a regular career like every other. Of course, you were thankful that they risked their lives for the safety of the people. But that created a lot of work for others.

Your pager went off, and you groaned. Emergency room, it said. "Watayama-San, I have to go. Could you pack my breakfast so I can take it with me tonight?" you yelled through the empty café to the kitchen. “I like to do it L/N-sama. Have a successful day at work." she wished. You grabbed your stuff and headed straight to the hospital.

After you changed your clothes, you went to the E.R. In there, hell was going on. Nurses ran around, doctors stormed in and healed patients like on an assembly line. "L/N-san. We need your help." screamed a voice inside your head. You couldn't see anyone who might have called you, so it could only be one person, your colleague Sera Keiko. Her quirk allowed her to speak non-verbally to people far away. It was very efficient to gossip about various colleagues during the breaks.

You opened the door to the trauma room. A carnage greeted you with a Sera dripping in blood. "What happened?" you asked as you put on some gloves. "The bank robbery this morning did not take place without victims. This week we don't have so many staff to be able to cope with the size," She explained and pressed more effectively on the unconscious patient's wound. "Alright. We need more blood. Can someone get it, please?" you ordered. An assistant nodded and ran to the blood bank.

You took over the patient by pressing your hands on his wound and activating your quirk. "Why does he pass out every now and then? Did he hid his head?" you asked curiously. "I think so. We couldn't ask him, and there is no visible wound," reported Sera. "Did you ordered a C.T?" She inclined her head, embarrassed. "Then do it now," you demanded, and she called the tomography department. You focused on your quirk, so it healed the wound as concisely as possible. Blue sparks swirled around the bloodied skin. You felt how the effects started to work on your body. It felt like the world started spinning, but you wouldn't stop until you were sure that the cells would connect. "At the moment, they have no opportunity to take new patients," informed Sera. "Alright, then we need our wonderful neurosurgeon, doctor Tanabe," you said sarcastically. Sera nodded and dialed the pager number.

How you haded this arrogant, good-looking surgeon. Some people called him Mc. Hottie. Gross, you thought. As like your thoughts had summoned him, the door swung open, and he entered the room. "What do we have here?" Tanabe asked. "The patient passes out every now and then. We couldn't get a C.T, so we need your opinion," you told him professionally. "Of course you can have my opinion, babe." he winked at you. You rolled your eyes. He was a good doctor, but nothing more.

You felt how the bloody wound under your hand started to heal itself, so you could remove your hands. "L/N-san, your nose is bleeding. Here you are." Sera handed you a handkerchief. You cleaned your nose and thanked her with a smile. "When you're done here. I would take over," said doctor Tanabe. "You can have him," you said bluntly. With a last wink, he left the room with his new patient.

"Oh, he is such a douchebag," you complained loudly. "We need to inform someone related to him. Could you hand me his medical record?" you asked. Sera nodded and gave you the documents. "Thanks," you mumbled. "Do you want to grab a drink tomorrow?" asked Sera. "I would love to," you responded with a beaming smile. Sera started to smile simultaneously.

The door opened, and two men entered the room. "Excuse us..." started an unknown voice. "Sir, you can't enter this room. It's staff only..." your voice dropped as you looked into a pair of grey and turquoise eyes. A wave of memories hit you.

“It’s unfair.” you sniffed. The young prince pulled you into a closer hug and stroked your h/c hair. “I know, but we will meet in another life. That’s how it is with soulmates or not?"

“I hope so.” Your lips meet, the tears from both of you make the soulful kiss taste salty.

Even if I don’t come home, I will always remain a part of your heart, and we will meet again in the next life, just as we always have promised. We will be able to hug each other again and won’t have to let go. My love for you will never die, even if my body does not survive this war, my soul will always be with you.

“It’s fine, Shouto, we will meet in the next life. We will have a family and live until death will do us apart.” You wiggled your hand free from underneath the stone. With your bloody hand, you stroked his cheek. His eyes were filled with fear.

"You can’t leave me. I need you. We wanted to live a happy and long life together.“ he cried.

You felt how hot tears streamed down your cheeks. "Shou..." you mumbled, overwhelmed. "Y/N." he answered, as surprised as you were. You were attracted to each other like magnets. The world around you faded as you hugged each other. "I missed you," you mumbled, your voice choked with happy tears. "I missed you too, darling." His lips met yours, and you returned the loving kiss. The lonely feeling you felt your whole life disappeared at this moment. "Err, Todoroki, we still need to know what happened to your sidekick." stuttered a voice behind the two of you. You broke away from each other, and your cheeks turned a light red tone.

"Your right Midoryia, I am sorry. I just found my soulmate again," he said bluntly. "Oh, I don't want to be rude, but we really have to get going." said the green-haired man. "Do you happen to know where Mayeda Nobuo is?" asked Todoroki. "Oh yes, he was my patient. I bet we can ask doctor Tanabe if you can visit him. He had a severe wound and has probably a head injury. I healed the wound as best as I could, but the head injury still remains. Doctor Tanabe is the best neurosurgeon in Musutafu, so your sidekick is in good hands." you explained to them. "See you, Miyako-san." You let the two pro-heroes know that they should follow you.

As you reached the reception of neurology, you asked for doctor Tanabe. "He is at the tomography department." the receptionist explained. "Dang this idiot...," you mumbled under your breath. "Thank you." She nodded and went back to her work. I bet he was flirting with Oshiro Tomiko, head of the C.T. department, for an appointment, you thought.

You walked to the tomography department with the other two. There was a long queue in front of the C.T. And as it couldn't be otherwise, your object of desire was first in line. "Doctor Tanabe," you called him out. "What's up, sweety?" he asked flirtatiously. You rolled with your eyes. "Those two men would like to know how your patient is doing," you said professionally. "Oh I don't know it yet, but after the C.T we will recognize what's wrong," he said and stood close to you.

"Is he your boyfriend?" growled Todoroki. His eyes were gleaming furiously. You didn't even get the chance to answer. "I wish they were, but unfortunately, they always reject me. I need to say their sweet but has something," confessed Tanabe. His arm laid on your lower back. You pushed him away. "What did you just say?" asked Todoroki with a snarl. He looked down at doctor Tanabe with an expression that gave you goosebumps. Never had you seen him that angry. "I said that their but is cute," repeated Tanabe fearlessly. Todoroki grabbed him by the collar. "Don't you ever say that to my love again, understood asshole? And don't you ever make them uncomfortable again." He let go of him and took your hand. "Thanks for your help doctor," Todoroki spat contemptuously.

"Let's go." He dragged you away with Midoryia. You were surprised by his behavior. He was always this calm, collected guy, and now he was jealous? "Todoroki-Kun, don't you think you took it a bit too far," Midoriya asked carefully. "No, he molested my soulmate. This guy should get behind bars." Todoroki snarled.

He stopped in the entry hall and turned to you. "I apologize for my harsh behavior, darling, but I've lost too much in this life, and I can't lose you again." "You won't lose me. Especially not to an arse like Tanabe. I will always love you. No matter what will happen." you assured him.

The three of you talked for a while, and you go to know that Midoryia soulmate was the girl in the pink and black dress. Her name is Uraraka Ochako. Fortunately, they met in high school and trained together to become heroes. "Wasn't she your wife the last time we met?" you asked confusedly. The memories were still a bit blurry. "Exactly."

"We have to go back to work. Unfortunately, due to this incident, we have to sign some documents." noticed Todoroki. "Then I won't hold you back any longer. Good luck at work." you wished the two pro-heroes.

"Oh, and that I won't forget. Shoto, we still have to exchange numbers." His face lit up, and he handed you a piece of paper. You smiled at the note and saw that the numbers were neatly written down. "You still write your number on a piece of paper?" asked Midoryia confusedly. "Strangely enough, many women want my phone number, so I write it down on paper for faster inquiries," he answered bluntly. Jealousy grew in your stomach, but you knew he was attractive, and many women took advantage of his social awkwardness. "They find you attractive, which is true, but they want to um... " You whispered the rest of the sentence in his ear. His cheeks turned beet red. "Er, well, I don't want that they do that. I need to tell them." he stuttered. "I think so too. So then, I will see you two around." The two of you shared a kiss before the two pro-heroes went back to work, and so did you.

#shoto x reader #see you again #kinda fluffy #mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #pro hero au #pro hero shouto #pro hero izuku #soulmate au #Reincarnation AU

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another-snape-story · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas

Chapter XXI

The days that followed were tough. You happened to visit The Department of Magical Law Enforcement every once in a week – although you were beyond suspicion, they always had new questions.

“They call me again.” The words that made Snape’s heart sink each time they were spoken. Once annoyed, the other time despaired – “They call me again,” you announced over and over again. Of course, this couldn’t pass by unnoticed without affecting your emotional state which kept worsening after every new attendance.

Snape felt you were getting estranged – from him, from the world around. It was unbearable seeing vigorous glint of your eyes gradually die out. Knowing your passion for nature walks, he used to take you outside whenever possible. Snowy landscapes along with fresh air worked wonders, and you were back again – distressed, tired, but still alive.

Support Severus gave you was huge, substantial, able to bring you to tears, which in your current condition was easy as pie. Immensely grateful for his regard, you felt like giving him the whole world in return. The more time you spent together, the stronger grew your sentiment for the man, until you realized you could no longer imagine your days without him. Relieved in the solace his presence offered, you wished you could nestle under his protective wing, shielded from all the horrors of cruel reality, and doze off in a long deep peaceful slumber.

You hated the moment Snape left you at your door late in the evening, afraid to stay alone with your thoughts or just selfishly unwilling to let him go – sometimes you seemed to forget he wasn’t your possession and had other things to take care of apart from you. The man’s become an indispensable part of your life, a vital part of you, which, if taken, would cause a fatal outcome. Little did you know you’ve become the such for him as well.

Looking you in the eyes as he put you on train, Snape struggled with desire to cup your face and make that one last step towards the edge to let you know his heart was beating for you and you only, to assure you were not alone, that you could count on him whatever happened. However, being a man of a rational mind, he admitted he was no good match for you – with heavy burden of his past and a vague chance for future – what could he give you? Moreover, he wasn’t hoping you’d accept him. How pathetic thinking you would!

Snape felt uneasy letting you go to London alone. Having grown exceedingly protective of you he couldn’t find any peace until you returned, safe and unharmed. During hours of your absence, Snape questioned himself what if the court found you were involved by implication? What if you decided not to prolong your contract with Hogwarts and left the school once the term was over? What would his life be like without you?.. Intrusive thoughts that scratched in the back of his mind aggravated all of his unpleasant traits, and students got to suffer Snape’s ill temper more severely than usual every time you were away.

“It’s over,” wearied, emotionally drained, you informed Severus when he met you at the station in Hogsmeade as he’s done since the process started.

“You told everything like we’ve agreed?” anxiety bubbling inside his chest, Snape intently examined your face to detect the slightest change in your expression trying to foresee the probable answer before you could utter a word.

The question reminded you about the dispute you had before your departure. You nodded weakly. Although you’ve chosen to follow Snape’s advice, you still were uncertain if you did the right thing.

“Good,” he approved calmly as befitted his usual composure, while a sudden yet so much anticipated relief made him feel dizzy. No one would take you from him, now he knew it for sure.

“He’s been sentenced to ten years,” your voice bleak and lifeless. “I should’ve told the truth. Should’ve told them it was all my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Snape stepped closer, his hands reaching out for you.

“It’s unfair. That’s not what I intended.”

“Listen. It’s just the consequence of negligence,” he softly rubbed your shoulders. “Nothing more.”

“I know,” you sighed bitterly. “I know… But… I didn’t mean to ruin his life. Didn’t mean to…” you fell silent fighting back tears.

“He’d end up in prison anyway,” Snape stated with contempt, wishing the man who brought you so much trouble be damned. Snape realized you’d need time to finally get over all this and move on – and he was there to help you. “Let’s go back.” He led you along the platform covered with a thick layer of trampled snow dotted by hundreds of footprints.

“Have the students left already?” you asked indifferently just to switch the trail of thought.

“Yes. This morning.”

A ghost of a smile swept across your lips. “How was the feast?” sad notes in the tone of your voice revealed utter disappointment over a missed opportunity to attend one of the main school events.

“No trolls, no three-headed dogs,” he spoke apathetically. “Boring, in other words.” Snape could’ve probably been other opinion if you kept him company.

“Huh, I thought all the celebrations here had an element of surprise,” you sniggered recalling the night of Halloween. The night of Halloween! Quirrell… You knew Severus wouldn’t appreciate what you were going to tell him, but keeping it in secret after the risk taken would make no sense either way. Preparing for being told off, you listened to the snow creaking serenely under your feet.

“I saw Quirrell again,” you confided at last as you turned around the corner heading towards the carriage harnessed by a pair of Thestrals.

“And again you followed him?” Snape frowned disapprovingly, just as you would expect.

“Yes, but this t…”

“How many times have I told you not to mess with him?” he resented.

“And how many times have I mentioned I were not a child?”

“Leave him to me! Being ‘not a child’ isn’t enough!”

“Aren’t you even curious what I’ve seen?!” you huffed in disbelief. He’s never taken it so bad before.

“No! I’m not curious at all!” Snape raised his voice. “Merlin! He might be dangerous! Is it too complicated for your stubborn head to grasp the simple fact?”

“You speak this way to your students, not me!” you spat back. That was way too much. Who did he think he was?!

“I will speak to you the way you deserve unless you listen to me!” he hissed angrily.

“Oh is that what I deserve? Really?! After a month of interrogations with testifying at the trial on top of this SHIT-CAKE? Is that what I deserve?!” you burst out. “I listened to you and didn’t tell them it was me who purposely changed the data! And now I’ll have to LIVE with it!” yet you were shouting.

“At least you’ll live!” Snape growled in frustration. He shouldn’t have spoken to you this way. Living in constant fear for your fate, holding back all the doubts that ate on him while he played confidence assuring you everything was going to be all right, but actually having no idea how the things might’ve turned out was a real torture – no wonder, he still resembled a bare nerve when it came to the matter of your safety. Always composed and collected, this time Snape failed to restrain his emotions.

Although he regretted it immediately, it was too late for remorse. Exasperated, pissed with his tone, you rushed past the carriage. “I’ll walk!”

Trying to stop you, Snape grabbed your elbow. You spun around, shooting him a vicious look which shattered Snape’s puny hope you would accept his apology. “Get in,” he said calmly. “I will walk.”

“FINE.” You abruptly freed yourself from his grip and climbed inside.

The carriage set off.

You laid your head on the backrest, tears streaming down your cheeks. This scene was easy to be avoided, but, as ill luck would have it, everything came together at the breaking point. Of course, he was worrying about you. No one ever had. Yet he did. He placed your interests over his own. How many days, how many nights he has spent comforting you! Fixated on your problems, you’ve never taken into consideration when he has managed to keep up with his work… after spending hours and hours and hours with you… Anger struggling with an expanding feeling of guilt and gratitude tore your soul apart.

But his tone! You crossed your arms on your chest, still doubting whether to forgive him. His tone hurt!

The window hole offered a wonderful performance of trees and bushes garmented into gentle niveous covering slowly dancing along the road. As much as you loved winter, the other day you’d hardly be able to take your eyes off this fairy picture, but now it seemed to just dishearten you. You turned away – the vacant seat beside you gaped with pervasive emptiness – same that you felt inside. Severus used to take it, right next to you. Once, you’ve even fallen asleep on his shoulder… A memory brought a dolorous smile to your face. You missed him. You missed him so bad. What just happened wasn’t right. It should’ve been different. Moreover, on a day like this.

You gave a sign for the carriage to stop and stormed out – you haven’t gone too far – he’d catch up with you soon. Wading through the snow, you hurried back to reunite with the man so dear to your heart as soon as possible. In his black coat he should be an easy target to spot, but Snape was nowhere to be seen. Frozen to the bone, you found yourself standing on the place where you left him. Despaired, you looked around – not a single soul.

“Severus!” you called him desperately, a lump in your throat growing thicker as you tried to hold it in. “Sev…” Everything’s gone so wrong.

Lost the last bit of hope – despondent and wretched – you sobbed into the void, scoffing grievously at yourself, “Merry Christmas…” Perhaps, you deserved it indeed.

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Tag: @diaryofafan17 @yul-is-sparkling @fullmoonshadowwrites @forthehonourof @amywright @redrehab @space-helen @fluffymadamina nadiigh @theworldisugly-22 @lukaerith-morningstar @sighsinkhuzdul @67-chevy-baby @rustypotatospork @aquila-leo @dandyrua @majusketch @sevyythebeanqueen @writingmi @s00nhi @pinkininja @shizuethedragon @chocolattefrog awkwardaxelotl @bionic-otp @samnblack @sailorstupidsblog @purpledragonturtles @xwaterproofx @lokistann @psycho-howell @planetmystery @lovelyravenkite @taschaschwarz @grimrapper11 @xpissbabyx @lullabylike green-forest-dreams brujaporfavor @severuslovebot moonflower81 @yourbadnightmare @cyber-cry-baby @fandomfrickomg @azzle417 @primavera-allegoria @scarletflavour garsiri04

#snape #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction

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justleaf · 3 years

Text

Summary

Roche and Iorveth go on a date with Geralt as their chaperone (not the hat).

Content Background

This one is especially painful to yeet because it was already completed, together with 50% of the next chapter that was the smutty bits. It was finished right about the time I posted Chapter 5 and would have fit in as Chapter 11, but it just didn't make sense with all the additional plot points I'd shoved in.

I've redacted the parts that could potentially get my tumblr banned btw please donut laugh when you see it.

Original Fic

It Took Years

Length

2,300 words

_____________

“Geralt, remember when I released you from prison and saved you from the Nilfgaardians a year ago?”

The white wolf raised his eyebrows in surprise. Roche had never called in a favour for him, and he could tell that Geralt knew it was going to be quite significant. He had thought about it too many times and despite the embarrassment and possibly never being able to look the witcher in the eye, he simply had no other choice.

“Look, I just need you to help Iorveth and I create an alibi.”

“... Uh-huh?”

“We have a meeting with Dijkstra in Novigrad in a week's time, and I plan to…” he swallowed hard when the words became momentarily stuck in his throat. It took another second for him to gather his courage to speak, and the slight tremble in his voice was immediately noticeable.

“I plan to spend the night with Iorveth in one of the inns the night before. But we need someone to cover us.”

The white wolf seemed to grow even paler and his lips pressed together in contemplation.

“You know that I have enhanced senses.”

“I know, but I need to make sure that no one catches us. Not the Scoia'tael, Blue Stripes, Dijkstra’s spies, Redanian spies, any Nilfgaardian-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. You just need to make sure that everyone thinks that I invited you two for a drink and make sure that no one is listening in.”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you, but you’re the only one I can trust in this situation. I haven’t… Iorveth and I don’t have any other opportunities. I can’t even hold his hand without worrying that someone is watching.”

Geralt stared blankly at him and Roche’s heart began to pump harder. His worry must have shown on his face, for the witcher immediately sighed and shook his head.

“Come to the Chameleon. I’ll get you guys a suite. With a wall to separate the living area and the bedroom.”

Roche looked up at him and down a few times, wondering first if Geralt had misspoke, and then if he had misheard. When the witcher said nothing and shrugged, Roche finally accepted it with a nod.

“Thanks, Geralt. Drinks are on me,” he muttered and hung his head a little. Embarrassment was beginning to burn his cheeks.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.”

“Why are we here so early when Geralt only wanted to see us after sundown,” Iorveth whispered as they passed the guards that almost ripped their papers in half. Roche had smooth-talked his way in and Iorveth was impressed, even though he didn't let it show.

They had set aside their armour and entered the city dressed as merchants: Roche in a nondescript outfit that let him blend in with the rest of the nobles, and Iorveth draped in a cloak that obscured his elven features.

The sun was nowhere near setting when they arrived in the city. Roche had intended to take him on a date around the city, but didn’t want to admit it.

“I didn’t want to disappoint Geralt by being late.”

“Gwynbleidd would have understood.”

“Well, since we’re already here, we might as well explore the city. I heard of a tavern along the docks with an elven cook. Would you like to go there?”

The mention of food changed Iorveth’s expression immediately and Roche suppressed his laughter.

They dined at the Golden Sturgeon, where Iorveth immediately received preferential treatment from a redhead with freckles (it's Bea btw). She made sure to seat them in a relatively hidden corner and Roche could see the elf progressively relax as his shoulders began to sag. He even spotted the hints of a smile dancing on his lips when she put some strange fish dish in front of him.

Just when Roche thought that Iorveth was incapable of enjoying himself even more, he became increasingly pliant when they sat down at the Chameleon for a pint while a band played in the background. Roche didn't understand the first thing about music, but his two mugs of ale were enough to get him to keep his reservations.

Besides, he had something really cute to look at.

The elf's cloak was finally down and he could see the tips of his pointed ears twitch with every beat of the drum. He thought about how nice it would have been to pin him down to the bed and toy with his ears. His eyes trailed across the elf’s neck. If they didn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, he would have left bite marks across that smooth skin.

Mine, he thought, and he wanted the world to know once all this was over.

“You play the recorder don’t you,” Roche asked out of the blue. Their eyes met and Iorveth was slightly startled by the intensity of his gaze, but he didn’t back down.

“Yeah. There’s been too much going on recently and I haven’t had the chance to though.”

“You can practice with mine tonight.”

“Vernon,” Iorveth warned with a glare, and then quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone was within earshot. There wasn’t, but the tension in his body didn’t leave.

“I could polish yours all night too, you know.”

The elf flinched and could see the pink develop along the tops of Iorveth’s high cheekbones and the tips of his ear. Past his flustered expression however, there was a particular heat blossoming in his eyes. Roche didn’t let up, his curiosity driving him to see just how much he could take it.

“My carrying case is a bit small, but I’m sure yours will fit in with a bit of a shove."

This time, Iorveth couldn't resist the urge to push back. Dandelion's tavern was filled with his regulars who were deep in their own conversations, and they were just talking about music, right?

"So you admit that my instrument is bigger."

"Well the quality of the instrument doesn't matter if the musician has no idea how to handle it."

"I think we've proven that I'm the better player though."

"Our last few encounters haven't exactly been skewed in my favour and I still managed."

"There is no fairness in music and in battle. You should know this, Commander."

The way Iorveth said the word made his mouth go dry.

Now that was truly unfair, and his [banana] agreed. He was seconds away from tugging Iorveth upstairs when the doors swung open and in stepped the white wolf.

"Geralt!" he called out and waved a hand.

"Nice to see you both. I hope you didn't wait long."

The witcher took a few steps towards them, sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. He had this resigned look about him and Roche immediately knew that he could smell their arousal.

"Let's drink in my room," Geralt suggested and grabbed four mugs of ale from a passing waitress. She protested at first, but nodded and flashed him a huge smile when she saw who he was.

They headed up the stairs and Roche had to try very hard not to openly stare at Iorveth's ass. It [eggplant] and he had no choice but to stare ruefully at the ground.

As soon as he saw that the second floor was empty, he reached out and pinched the elf's behind. Iorveth jumped at the touch and almost spilled his own mug of ale, and Roche was treated to one of those embarrassed glares. They quietly ascended another flight of stairs and neared the room, and Roche could feel his heart race and his breathing grow ragged.

Finally, after two weeks of planning and trying to fit all the pieces together, it was happening. It had been a year since Dol Blathanna and months since they started seeing each other, and Roche was raring to go.

Geralt opened the door to a suite on the top floor that was exactly as he described: a small living area with a table for four and a few sparse furnishings, though it was far more comfortable than the arrangements he was used to. Partitioned off by a wall and door was a bedroom mostly occupied by a sizable bed and more pillows than he could count. A decision made by the bard, no doubt.

As soon as the door closed behind them and they set down their mugs, Roche grabbed Iorveth’s collar and shoved him towards the bedroom. The elf looked mortified and nearly lost his footing, but he recovered within the span of a few steps. He grabbed Roche’s arms and plucked them off him, then tried to shove him backwards but Roche held his ground.

“What the fuck, Roche?!”

Roche took a step back and considered Iorveth’s anger. The elf's gaze had grown sharp and alert, but he was mostly just shocked at the audacity of his actions. He just flashed him a devious smile and was returned a twitch of confusion.

“What? Didn’t you always like roughhousing me on the forest floor?”

“Not in front of Gwyn-”

Roche barely gave Iorveth a chance to answer. He charged forward, wrapped an arm around the elf’s waist, and threw him straight into bed. Iorveth went flying into the mattress with a groan and Roche climbed straight into his lap. Heavy footsteps thudded behind them and stopped by the door.

“Oil’s on the nightstand. Don’t get the sheets dirty and take your shoes off before you get in bed dammit. I can’t afford to pay for new sheets too.”

“Gwynbleidd, what is the meaning of this.”

“Just a little gift from me to the both of you. Have fun, Iorveth. Just try not to make too much noise.”

The door behind them closed and Iorveth just stared blankly at Roche, who was already taking off his top. No words came out of the elf’s gaping mouth, so Roche blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Enjoying the date so far?”

“Explain yourself Roche, I’m not-”

The elf had to pause when Roche began grinding in his lap. It worked until it didn't, and Iorveth grabbed onto his hips to still them. Roche just wanted to get to the fucking already, but the elf refused to be distracted no matter how much he tried.

“Did you plan all this? Coming to my camp to pick me up. Picking flowers for me along the path. Bringing me to the tavern for dinner. Having drinks. This fake meeting with Gwynbleidd.”

“Of course. When else was I going to get the opportunity to take you out on a date?”

Something in Iorveth cracked visibly and Roche went dead still with nervousness. The other lowered his gaze and Roche cupped his face in his hands, desperate for his elf to be okay. He stroked his cheek gently and tilted his head up to try and get a better look at that unreadable expression. This was the opposite of what he hoped would happen and worry began to pool in his stomach.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong. Talk to me,” he urged and placed a peck on the scarred cheek. There was no answer, so he continued fluttering kisses along his jawline. He felt like his world might come crashing down at any moment and resisted the urge to salvage the situation before he knew what was going on.

It felt like Iorveth was cycling through a thousand and one emotions. He cupped the elf's face in his hands and pulled back, where he was greeted by a vulnerability he had never seen before. The other had this dazed and awed look in his eyes, and if Roche wasn't so flustered by the sudden change of pace, he might he caught his surrender.

“Vernon…”

“I’m here. What is it? You can tell me.”

“It’s just...overwhelming.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

“Good way.”

Roche released the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. It was nice that the reaction was somewhat positive, but Roche’s poor heart couldn’t take the anticipation. Surprising Iorveth was turning out to be quite bad for his health.

“Well. Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“Mmn.”

“It's okay. We'll take it at your pace.”

“I just... need some time to process this. I’ve never been treated like this before. It's overwhelming.”

“Well you deserve it. Take the time you need, it’s okay,” Roche encouraged again and placed another peck on his nose as he undid the bandanna that obscured half his face.

This really wasn’t how he thought the evening would go, but he had to admit that it was nice. At the core of it, all he really wanted was to be able to kiss and hold Iorveth intimately without fear of someone catching them. Now they were in bed and there was someone trustworthy to watch their backs, he supposed he had achieved his goal. Maybe they could just hold off the fucking for a while more.

“Do you want to take a nap with me,” Roche offered after they'd sat in silence for a while.

“Yeah… I would like that very much.”

Iorveth tried to take off his cloak, but Roche shushed him and pushed his hands aside. The elf had a blank look on his face and hurt momentarily flashed across his eye.

"Let me," Roche rushed to salvage as he pulled loose the strings on his cloak.

“I can undress myself you know.”

“I know you can, but just let me pamper you a bit more.”

The tips of Iorveth's ears were bright red and Roche suppressed the urge to tease him about it. Slowly, he helped the elf strip down to his underwear and slipped him beneath the sheets. Then he took off his own garments and joined him, snuggling up to that warm and slender body that seemed to fit so perfectly with his.

Yeah, he could wait.

#cut content #iorveth x roche #iorveth #vernon roche #witcher 2 #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #drabbles #it took years

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mallickshah · 3 years

Text

A GATHERING

YEAR 2021 ; MAY 1ST

There was a gathering in a part of the club's faction that not many had ever been to. Behind the tavern that held the name of Yureif, Mallick’s brother, a name that not many knew of either. Mallick’s name had started to make its rounds through the faction though and not just on clubs' lands, but in the entirety of Kadeu. The main reason behind it, at first, had been his new gain of the title of Ace, of course. The manner in which it was obtained, who he had been associated with when it was obtained; the name of The Resistance muddled with the name of the Ace of clubs did not seem to please many, clubs included.

Despite all of that, the new Ace had kept quiet about his whereabouts for two entire weeks. The rumor mill might have enjoyed this absence, this lack of leadership, if it wasn’t for the small things that were also being done while he all but let himself be a simple whisper, or a harsh critic from the mouth of those who wanted this new impostor to reveal his cards. Mallick had learned many things from the man he’d been and the one he now was though, the most important rule he’d himself instilled in his own operations was to move in the shadows.

To many, this title would just be a power trip, something to hold onto while they barked orders and let the rest of the world see how much control they could exerce because of their rank. To many, this title would just be another way to subjugate an already overtaken faction. So Mallick had needed to think about the course of action to take before taking a different path. Because he would certainly not fall into the trap that had led him to fight the last Ace of clubs.

Things needed to be different; many conversations and consulting with his family afterwards had proven this fact correct. It didn’t matter how it was formulated, Mallick had a sense that even his parents had at one time dreamed of an opportunity as such. However, no matter how dire, how urgent it seemed to reveal what he had in his mind, what he knew would be better suited for clubs, without breaking the order of things in which they operated. Or rather, the disorder they thrived in. In order for him to do so, he had to mull, he had to think, to meditate on the matter, to play behind the curtains.

He’d let the rumor mill play its advocate, both for and against him, while Mallick simply let himself use connections he’d never known would find themselves useful for such a thing to tie himself further into this fate. It all brought it down to a statement plastered in clubs' streets, and only in clubs' streets. For one, they were not allowed in other factions, but even if they had been, Mallick would have still excluded all that were not part of this faction.

One sole goal ended up prevailing from the stapling of loose ends and the unifying of alliances needed to be of the same sound mind to better the lives of the people of his faction; their faction. Mallick was not alone in this, he had many other heads he could count, aside from the makeshift council that The Barbarians saw themselves create after the havoc they wrecked on the faction.

They had not been the easiest to reach, or to talk with, or to negotiate with, but Mallick had learned something about himself he’d always feared could rear itself back up. Something that had stayed dormant, and only manifested itself whenever Saiyah could not see him act upon them. Mallick had once been a very domineering young boy, and young man, but by the time he was all but embracing that step in his life, the woman he would never cease to love and adore waltzed in his life and shook the very core of that foundation.

During these two weeks, Mallick had admitted to himself that Saiyah was no longer and would never be again, so it was time for him to reconcile with the man he had been. The one who had been the cause of her death, for the foes that he’d gained along the way not forgetting his old ways. This man could now come at the forefront, and the ire he would instigate would be more than justified. It had once been unfair to try to coerce him out, but it was now the perfect fit for these gloves.

Or for this stand, among the clamoring of the crowd.

The sun was too high for it to be the beginning of May, but maybe this spoke to the urgency of the current situation. Mallick was aware of many things. One, the only reason why so many people were here was because of the allies he’d decided to take with him, his name only would not have been able to draw such a crowd. Two, the crowd was growing restless with the heat, their gaze too focused and their bodies would soon find themselves needing some type of action to relieve themselves of the heat they were enduring. Three, that release when it came to clubs would simply end up in a brawl rather than a quiet disapproving grumblings.

He knew these people, he was one of them. So it made him feel less and less apprehensive as he took his time to exit his brother’s tavern and walk up to the wooden stand. Yureif had taken some pride in his tavern being the place of the gathering, and Devjay had appointed himself as the man one would have to cross first before they could get to him. They were still debating on whether they should label him a right-hand, or a brother in arms. For now, he was simply all but Mallick’s shadow.

Mallick had only ever been a lover of the light, or rather, ever since a certain one slipped in uninvited and brought in even more than he’d ever thought could possibly be found. But he’d picked the black panther as his emblem for a good reason, Mallick had always been a man of the shadows.

It was commanding to see how the moment he stepped into view, the clamoring quieted, and when he rose behind the stand, the crowd took a stance. Mallick had made himself ready for what he knew of these people, his people. If a fight had to break while he was talking, or even before, he’d simply let it unfold and do this at another time.

However, a single line on the posters had advised them to not start a brawl if they wanted to be given anything they wished from the tavern, free of charge. Mallick had shamelessly bribed his way into making sure they behaved, or tried to at the very least. His brother might suffer a few losses for a bit, but it’d quickly come back compensated if this took flight the way Mallick hoped it would.

The heat of the day was now sitting atop his head, his shaved beard was no longer leaving him with a vulnerable feeling. He was long past that sensibility to the sight he was used to showing to his reflection.

Mallick started speaking and hoped to the gods that this would not derail in another civil war.

THE SPEECH (THE ACTIONS & REACTIONS)

I come to you with something we’ve never thought we could have, something none of us probably ever think of now, because we are not used to it being offered; peace. I do not mean peace by giving to others what we have and wishing that they treat us right, or giving up who we are and what we believe in to be the way they wish us to be. I mean peace in being ourselves, peace in giving to the people of this faction something better than the bloodshed they’ve been enduring, generation after generation. We are crumbling! But look at you, you are warriors, fighters, better than soldiers, some of you are the most fearless merchants! We have the power and we have the skills it takes to make us better together. That is where I want you to start, when you think about what can be done for the future.

(The crowd was still attentive, but some were slowly leaving their position, dispersing as Mallick stepped off the stand to walk among them; and as his voice grew louder, some did halt and turn around. Perhaps begrudgingly, perhaps simply to enjoy the spectacle, or who knows, get a pass in to take down this new Ace.)

I come in peace, because I realize I might not be the image of what you would think to be a strong representation of us, but I am not a weak man and no men in clubs are weak. None! WE are what WARRIORS were meant to be and WARRIORS do not fight dishonorably, nor do they kill for the thrill, we kill to feed our families, we FIGHT to show our strength. We can still do that and do it to have BETTER for all of US. Don’t you see it? The other factions do not care about us, they will jibe, they will insult, they will mock us and we let them do it by continuing to act like WE are NOTHING else but the WEAPONS WE CARRY.

(The crowd has not entirely dispersed, some newcomers have found themselves walking forward because of a sudden clamor of a lone man now carrying the hammer of another, Mallick is that lone man. He is all but arm wrapped around the shoulders of the weapon’s owner and somewhere, someone finally does something that shows less disinterest; a scream is heard.)

But first--I wish to say that it almost brought me to a path none wishes to carry. To work in the shadows of a rebellion that might have tainted my reputation for your eyes. But I did it for the union of this faction. Because I was a lost man, and for that, I will never use their name, because they should remain in the shadows, where they belong. WE do not belong in the shadow, we BELONG in a light that has long been shining on others because they casted us their clouds.

When I say WE, I mean all of us. The weak, the poor, the rich, and especially the STRONG.

(It has to come to this; Mallick walking among the crowd and the crowd walking with Mallick. They make rounds, they move with something akin to a trance. Maybe something has been sprayed in the air, maybe it is simply that the heat has finally gotten to them all. The Ace and the people, the ones that are left and the new ones, they might as well just mesh and become one.)

ARE YOU NOT TIRED OF BEING AT THE BOTTOM WHEN YOU ARE THE MIGHTIEST?

(Now the chaos is present; but it is not a chaos of weapons brandished against each other, it is of weapons held up and clinking, the way one would cheer with pints; not the delicate touch of a wine glass. Mallick was yanked somewhere in between; his brother all but wearing a disapproving scowl when all it did was make him laugh heartily. There’s this glee in his eyes that has Devjay letting him go then, there’s something more potent than anything else Mallick has ever felt in his life. It feels alive and like it will consume him, but if it comes to that, then he’ll let it be. The crowd quiets when the silence stretches for longer, without Mallick’s voice, without his words and suddenly as he’s back behind the stand, they all look confusedly for a second. Weapons are held, the tension seems to return. Mallick clears his throat and holds them with a steady gaze. He’s all but one man against a crowd, but there’s an undeniable power and confidence in him that tells them if he has to, he will fight every single one of them if they dared to challenge him. Mallick waits. The silence stretches. Then a grin pulls the corners of his lips.)

Well if you are TIRED, then rest assured that I’ll make sure to remind them they shouldn’t have underestimated you.

(The end might feel anticlimactic for many, but it is also the beginning of one promise being complied with. One promise that put them all right where they are needed, in the Panther’s den. As they gather in the tavern once it is made clear that they can by the owner of the tavern, Mallick follows suit; ready to put on his best suit; and gather all the information he can from the ones who he noticed stayed from the beginning to the end. It is not all the members of the faction that need convincing; it is the ones who could turn out to believe in him and in what he wants to do more than they would in anything else; those are the ones that he needs on his side. Mallick is aware of this and he will not lose this opportunity to build the threat that will lead him where he needs to get. Like his emblem of choice, The Black Panther prowls; stays quiet; strikes when it is ripe to do so.)

#the wounded widow (solo)#mallick thinks he's all that #year: 2021 #i am no politician. so that speech has more drama than truth.#don't shame my bb if he starts doing shady things...

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