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historiaxvanserra · 2 months

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All That is Dark Within Me

Pairing: Azriel x Rhys!Sister Reader

Summary: In the wake of Nesta's sacrifice something ancient and long dead awakens, and you with it.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, and death, grief and longing. lots of dream sequences to keep things extra confusing.

The visions come in flashes of age-worn and the glimmer of Illyrian steel; thinly bladed and lethal, and through the blanket of the dark, the glare of cerulean light pierces the veil of obsidian shadow.

Death came to you as a girl; ravenous and heinous as it feasts upon you. Until all that is left is an assortment of crow-picked bones, interred in some unforgiving blue-darkness, further than Hel. And from that blue-darkness you find breath:

The fetor of decay is thick on your tongue; putrid and so palpable that you can taste it. It lingers there. Festering fruit-flesh in the damp heat and hemlock flowers arch out to kiss the skin that crawls from you. There, in the dark; all maggots and rot in the grave dirt, rebirth calls to you. A hand reaching through the veil of the black.

And you reach back.

The soul; the uneasy ally of the body, nameless as a river, creeps in like the sunlight as it comes back to you with the swiftness of the dawn; golden and ephemeral. It coils itself around you like the ribbons of shadowed sunbeams that come with the first light.

You emerge from your earthly tomb. Arms open. Waiting to become the shadowed ribbons of the firstlight. You are born anew; reaching and aching. Savage and sentimental. Searching for some semblance of touch as you break the surface of the wintry earth. The winter sun dawns over the valley and the earth grieves the loss of you. Sunlight spills onto your body all at once. You are painted in the colors of some celestial body; ichor and carnelian as the heaven-yellow light kisses its way up your spine.

You feel a tremor in the velvet of the earth. You falter with it and a cataclysmic vein of power ripples through the stagnant air; resurrected with you, amongst the dying moonflowers and jasmine, some fallow power.

It wakes from its dormant slumber and rages.

It calls to you.

In fleeting images of age worn bone and a shroud of shadow.

Speaks to you in a language long dead. So old that only the earth itself might infer some meaning from those words whispered on a westward wind. Words so sacred, told in the green tongues of the wilds. It grows in you and festers there. Taking root in your body. A slow, manifesting ache that spreads through you like disease.

Like rot.

The hum of the emerald wilderness lulls you into a misty sense of consciousness as breath comes to you like a bitter memory. That first breath of life burns like cold death as it crawls its brutal way down your throat. The next few tear through you in sporadic succession until you’re choking on the glacial breeze.

The morning air tastes like firewood and fruit flesh as your heart plateaus to a strong, steady rhythm that coaxes movement from you. Unfurling from your fetal position in the dirt you see the world as it once had been; the press of the winter sun into your skin, the draw of the wind as it flutters through the canopy the emerald forest, the darkening horizon and the shadows from the mountain that veil the valley in a misty shroud as the firstlight reigns golden over all.

You crawl from your grave, through the dying jasmine flowers, your fingertips arching and desperate to touch them. To feel the soft velvet of the petals as they give way beneath your trembling fingers. Their descent into decay; a testament to your own rebirth.

It takes a few moments of half-formed joints and muscle coming together to forge you anew but when you stand to your full height you realize that the fleeting remnants of rot and ruin have gone from you.

And in its place; resurrection.

Your girlhood and the innocence of your youth died long ago and what comes back is born wrong. With the knowledge of the ancient darkness from which we are born; and to which we will one day return.

In the distance, through the brush of the fir trees and Illyrian wilderness, a small fire burns golden against the first slivers of morning light, and the dying embers cling desperately to life. Smoky tendrils arch over the tops of the trees guiding you home. You press into the shade of the forest, the thick canopy is dappled in jewel tones; amber, gold, ruby and pale emerald that grant you shelter from the elements as the world turns silent and still.

Feigning peace.

The trees loom ominous overhead, foreboding and resolute, the sounds of the forest having died moments ago. Anxiety weighs heavy on you then, staring out into the dark edges of the forest, you are utterly alone.

You retreat into the darker recess of your mind in the knowledge that, whatever lies beyond, you must face it on your own.

Instinctually, like some archaic muscle memory you bid your wings to come and shield you from the world and the cruel wind. But as old muscles struggle with new life you find that your rebirth is marred with an air of barabarism that bids bile to rise in your throat. You’re brought to your knees in the dirt and a bone-deep sorrow nestles itself deep in the caverns of your chest; finding a home coiled around atrophied muscle and a aching heart.

You’re bereft, and screaming to the deaf stars when you feel the absence of the weight of membranous wings upon your back. The muscles in your back and shoulder blades sear in white-hot agony and trembling fingers trace the brutal scars etched into the skin there. You recoil in disgust and your body feels foreign under your careful hands. Unlike your own-- brutalized and butchered at the hands of the men; consuming and devouring, as they hacked and ravaged the expanse of your body like they had a right to it.

The world blurs at its edges and you remain there until the brush of the forest is cutting and brutal against the soft skin of your calves and thighs. Until you draw blood that falls like rubies at your feet; a testament to your resurrection.

The first of your tears begin to fall with the rain and you feel like the earth, that had held you for so long, is crying with you. Saltwater that purifies you, and your tears fall like moonlight on the Sidra; sparkling and sacred in the dying light of a new day.

As night begins to gather on the darkening horizon you feel exposed out here in the green expanse of the wilds. The temperatures begin to fall as rapidly with the encroaching night and the dying embers of the fire in the distance becomes a blaze in the dark-- a reckoning or a beacon.

You wrap yourself in the scraps of fabric that had shrouded your body in death and you know that you must face the forest and whatever lies within it. For the bitter wind holds you in its icy embrace and so, you press further into the Illyrian wilderness. The journey to the edge of the forest is long and the sounds of men in the distance is your guide to civilization. The forest becomes a dark symphony; the wind as it caresses the leaves of ancient oak trees and the rustling of the forest floor underfoot, it’s a cacophony of sensation that threatens to envelop you, beneath the leaves and fir trees, to lose yourself in its vastness until darkness descends upon you once more.

By the time you reach the edge of the forest you are close enough that, from your vantage point on the embankment, you can see the orange flames from the campfires as they climb high above the younger trees, the cinders rain down violently on the warriors camped below. These mountains always did have an austere beauty that called to you. Even then. Even as a girl, green and foolhardy with dreams of a life spent following your brothers and Azriel across continents. As a courtier in some distant land where the women were warrior-strong and softly beautiful. Somewhere Ramiel’s long, ghostly shadows could not reach you.

You never did outrun the shadows of the mountain that flanks the valley, you think as a shroud of darkness from the looming monolith blankets the world in a false twilight.

Burrowing down further into the valley of the embankment you find shelter nestled between a felled tree and the jagged moss-covered stone. You find comfort in the heady musky of fir and pine, and soaked to the skin by the morning mildew and blossoming bluebells. There in the valley, the hours pass strangely, against the backdrop of the desolate night, with only the songs of the forest and the sound of the warriors below in the distance to guide you into dreamless sleep.

The hum of the camp behind you lulls you into a sense of misty wakefulness, and every now and then you feel a tremor in the ground, a recollection of the darkness you had left behind. In these fleeting moments you wait beneath some strom-streaked cloud. A heavy velvet darkness descends upon the sky, extinguishing everything in its wake as you acquiesce to dreaming:

Death comes back to me veiled in shadow and flashes of age worn bone as it stakes its claim to me again.

The shadow of the mountain looms like some ill-fated omen over the valley and a red star bleeds into the twilight, casting Ramiel in a bloody halo. The mountain seems to tremble in your wake and the whispers of the Old Gods call your name like a prayer.

A great onyx monolith glitters in the amethyst moonglow and a vein of power hums on the westward wind. You reach out a hand to touch it and the world falls away from you again.Then there is a temple; carved into the stone of the mountain, a great antechamber, shaded in the musk of hemlock and incense as you pass between the sandstone pillars. The pillars themselves are shrouded in climbing ivy and blooming moonflowers that conceal the frescos on the walls.

You can vaguely make out the apparition of a man, cloaked in death. He wears it as some ancient King might. Proud, beautiful and lethal. His great dark wings spread across the landscape and the fae of old in the crowds kneel to him in reverence.

The onyx stalactites become entangled in the light that bleeds from the surface and you come to a stop at the foot of the altar when that myriad of dancing light falls onto you.

You are golden light, refracted and broken divinity-- the memory of some undying Goddess in the pale light.

Unearthly and ephemeral.

The emerald dias is littered with the remnants of the offerings left to a dying God; wilted jasmine and orchids, silver coins, minted with the faces of an ancient king, amphora’s of faerie wine. You sink to your knees at the foot of the altar and you swear you feel the whispers of the dead once more.

You run a fine-boned hand over the collection of offering laid in revereven, made in earnest.

That is when you notice the gleam of thinly drawn steel amongst the dying jasmine. Veiled in the shadows of the mountain; a bloody scythe. The hilt and pommel feel like cool marble in your hand as you raise it to the light that bleeds from the surface. The blade itself is coated crimson and rust and the ferrous smell of blood hangs heavy in the air.

Only false idols are worshiped in flowers and wine alone, you think.

True divinity requires sacrifice.

Out of the devastating darkness steps a figure; shaded in wretched shadows and a devouring black mass as he approaches the dias. As he steps to the altar all the sconces are afire with bluelight; sapphire and cerulean as his robe falls to reveal him in all his divine glory.

The saints whisper my name and his figure, wreathed in shadow and light materializes before you.

Tangible flesh and winged death.

Plumes of incense smoke, like salted-seafoam rise in the mountain air and the flickering blue flame douses me in its seraphic light. Like Venus born from the Kytherian sea. Or perhaps Persephone born again from the dark smoke of Hades.

Plumes of incense smoke, like salted-seafoam rise in the mountain air and the flickering blue flame douses you in its seraphic light. A priestess robed in pomegranate red, with milky, alabaster eyes rises steps from the smoke. The priestess looks like the apparition of a dark celestial body as she intones a mass and the thread that runs between your body and his grows taut, aching and agonizing as it burns through you like the first light.

“The thread of fate is severed and another is forged;

from my power I bestow power upon you,

and from my life-- life.”

The priestess chants and he touches you softly.

Your chest is tight and your muscles cannot be compelled to move. Your body is not your own and all autonomy is stripped from you as that thread that runs from your body to his glows pulsating, liquid gold.

“Stop,” Your voice is hoarse and strained, it echoes around the antechamber until his growl smothers all sound “please stop.” His touch grows cold against your skin and his grip on your arm is a bruising force. Bone crushing and cruel as he brings you harshly to your knees before him.

“Is it done?” His voice is harsh and laden with dark malice as he turns his piercing and deadly gaze upon the Priestess.

She eyes him and nods adamantly, “It is done, Lord.”

She leaves a trail of smoke and ash in her wake as she turns to dust and bone before your eyes. Terror fills you and your heart flutters wildly in your chest as he turns his cold gaze upon you once more.

Death takes your jaw roughly in his grasp, tilting your chin to look him in the eyes. Deep and reckoning, a twilight abyss so black that time and space itself falls away when you’re caught in the depths of his dark gaze. He runs a callous thumb over the sulk of your lip and the wet-heat of your tears fall at his feet.

“Oh, my love,” He coos menacingly, his voice a vacant echo as it ricochets around the chasm of the temple “resurrected from the grave dirt.”

It is a claiming; a devouring as he brings his cold lips to yours.

“To be brutal and mine.”

His words, like a sacred vow, are branded into your skin. There, between the valley of your breasts over your violent heart, in inky lines that same scythe-- age worn bone and blood.

An offering to an Old God. A holy sacrifice, you think as he runs a pointed finger over the hollow of your throat. His skin feels icy cold as he wraps those same fingers around you, pressing against the pulse point with practiced ease. This is it, you think. Death comes to you as an old friend. A darkness so deep that there is nothing before it and nothing beyond it.

But- a thread of light; blinding and golden against the black.

Suddenly Death’s face falters and a smirk spreads across his beautiful pale face when he feels the violent flutter of your heart in the cavern of your heaving chest. Death raises his scythe; a gleam of shadow and age-worn bone as he prepares to give you up in offering-- like a lamb led to the slaughter.

You will not return to the dark.

You are no sacrificial lamb; you are the shadow of a Goddess long forgotten and you will not bend to lesser men.

Nor submit to the will of some ill-fated deity.

You writhe in his hold; poised and ready all the while under the surface some raw divine power, like the light of a bleeding sun, pours out of you. It burns golden and sun-blushed as it spreads through you.

Wilful and ignorant in the face of his wrath you reach for that golden thread.

In a cataclysmic union of the dark and light, death is thrown down against the emerald dias. Brought to his knees before you. The amphora’s and trinkets laid in offering are strewn across the room in the fray and the merlot stains the marble wine red.

“Do not presume to touch me again” Your voice frantic and fragile echoes around the empty chamber and the ghost of his touch on your body makes your skin crawl.

The laugh that you tear from him is like death itself, cold and malignant as he turns his darkness upon you now. His shadows snake their way along the expanse of your limbs as you stumble backwards down the aisle. They curl into you, seeking out the light that bleeds from your skin in bursts of starlight and moonglow.

‘Death-touched girl’, they whisper to you. ‘Lovely bride, you belong to me’.

The temple trembles with a new wave of devastating force.

The mountain quakes and the world falls down around you; The climbing ivy is torn from the ancient and decaying fresco’s and the sandstone pillars give way, sinking and succumbing to Death’s cold wrath, like the trees that bend to the wind. Onyx stalactites fall like tangible night and pierce the earth, creating a cavern so great and so deep that you think it might be the opening to Hel itself.

A helmouth.

Looking down into that cavern. A deep blue-darkness that swallows everything in its wake. The jaws of Death open, awning and screaming as the temple is brought to its knees before you. Beyond the desecrated temple the Illyrian wilderness waits for you. Ramiel casts its long shadows over the valley and from the canopy of the emerald forest you hear a man screaming into the dark.

With only the light of a blood moon to guide you, you retreat into the twilight.

Your legs start moving before your mind has time to process it. So you run. You run. Until your heart is thunderous in your chest and each breath that is torn from you hurts. Still, you run.

Death’s voice whispers on the wind as it howls at a waning moon.

“You know me well, girl.” He says to you, his figure in the treeline like some voyeuristic ghost, “As I know you.”

Your calves burn but you push on, through the thicket and into a clearing. The moon wanes terrible and red at its peak in the night sky and you scream to the deaf stars. Crying for a God who had known your name once.

Only the Gods do not answer.

“Azriel.” You cry his name until your voice is hoarse. But he too does not answer the call.

Death-kissed shadows brush through the trees, appearing again at the edge of the clearing. There he stands, the perfect embodiment of a cruel God. Mercurial and furious as his dark wings spread across the expanse of his back.

Death is a beautiful creature.

His voice again cuts through the dark as you sink to your knees in the clearing, “I was there, waiting in the dark when you spilled your first blood.”

He stalks towards you and you scramble to your feet in some desperate attempt to evade him. He is shadow personified and dark eyes turn hazel and amber in the silver light of the moon.

“I am here with you now,” Death curls a shadow in his hand and smiles at you.

“as you run from me still.” He takes a step forward, cradling your jaw in his strong hand again. His thumb trails the line of your cheek.

The sound of a restless lake rings like birdsong in the air and you see the orange flames as they streak across the sky; a firebird as she soars over the shadow of the moon.

“You know my name.” He adds, half-amused as he brings his lips to meet yours in a cold, chaste kiss.

“Say it.” He commands.

You do not answer.

“Say.It.” Death spits venom through gritted teeth and you laugh as light floods the twilight forest.

“Azriel.” His name falls from your lips like some holy vow as light becomes you.

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic

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novlr · 10 months

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How to write the cold

The way we feel cold is universal, but the way we contextualise it is not. Cold has a variety of connotations for readers, so it's important to decide how to use it, and what mood you want to convey in your scene.

While cold is often associated with negative aspects in writing, if there's anything the winter season teaches us, is that it can be a positive thing as well. Rather than just using the word cold, in your next writing project, try to contextualise it. Describe the weather, the light on the snow, the comfort of warmth after an icy swim, or the fear and loneliness of the dark on a cold night.

Here are our quick tips on how to write the cold:

In nature

Clean mountain air

Glittering ice crystals

Unique wildlife, like snow hares or polar bears

Snow muffled sounds

Steam rising from hot springs

Icy water in rivers and lakes

Overcast and rainy

Bright sun on fresh snow

Icebergs, glaciers, and ice floes

Storms and blizzards

Branches moving and creaking

Frozen ponds

Morning frost on grass

Snowdrops pushing through snowdrifts

Crisp and clear night skies

Wolves howling in the dark

Bare branches scraping against windows

Eerie shadows

Foods and objects

The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg

Heavy winter coats and scarves

Rich, hot meals with lots of gravy

Tea or coffee left out too long

Ice-cream, sorbets, or ice-lollies

Metal that is cold to the touch (like pots and pans or door handles)

Cold beverages straight out of the fridge

An icy bath

Freezer trucks or walk-in refrigerators

Dry ice

Crisp, fresh sheets on cold nights

Ice sculptures

A tap with a drip that freezes in place

Frozen celebratory drinks (like daiquiris)

A single cube of ice floating in a whisky glass

A cold pack for an injury

Character moods

Isolated

Lonely

Aloof

Sad

Comfortable

Snuggly

Focused

Panicked

Indifferent

A lack of affection

Calm and calculated

Disengaged

Serene

Depressed

Awestruck

Anxious

Reverent

Melancholy

Nostalgic

Impatient

Frustrated

Reflective

Character body language

Hunched shoulders

Crossed arms

Shivering

Snuggling into something warm

Rub hands together for warmth

Tight or strained expression

Biting dry lips

Furrowing brow

Glaring against brightness

Tense and rigid stance

Stand close to others

Slow, deliberate steps

Move quickly to somewhere warm

Sitting relaxed in a warm space

Actions and events

Start a fire or build a shelter

Winter hikes

Outdoor activities like skating, skiing, or sledding

Traffic jams or snowed in cars

Frozen lakes cracking underfoot

Dodging icicles falling from rooftops

Going ice-fishing

Long sea voyages

Frostbite

Suffering from a cold, the flu, or pneumonia

Brainfreeze

Snuggling under a warm duvet

Sipping from a steaming hot drink for comfort

Cold-water swimming

Walking to work in the rain

Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere

Chrismas in July in the Southern Hemisphere

Reading a good book by the fire while it snows outside

Positive aspects

While cold is often associated with negative emotions, using it as a juxtaposition can often help to accentuate the positive feelings you want to convey.

If it's cold outside, a character enjoying a hot chocolate under their duvet will give a much more positive impression than if they were simply staying in bed.

The beauty of the natural world in winter, like snow, ice, and winter foliage can also be used to create a scene of happiness and wonder.

Negative aspects

Cold is often used to describe characters who are emotionally detached, calculating, or generally unfeeling. It's become an easy way to clue your readers in to how they're meant to feel about your character.

There are also more creative ways to use the cold, however, like describing the disappointment of forgetting about a hot drink you put down somewhere and only remembering when it's already gone cold, or the feeling of shock after you first step out of a warm shower.

Helpful synonyms

chilly

frigid

icy

wintry

frosty

cool

nippy

freezing

glacial

brisk

chilled

cool

polar

bitter

snowy

raw

refrigerated

arctic

rimy

draughty

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gentleanddamned · 7 months

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safe : werewolf/monster x black!fem reader

summary: Reverse of the "you bring a hurt dog home and nurse it back to health only to find it's a hot man" where you get injured or attacked and you wake briefly up all bandaged up in bed with what looks like a really big dog watching over you.

Each time you wake up progressively getting better snuggling the dog when you're in pain until one night a half naked man with fangs is checking you for a fever and the only thing you can concentrate on is the fact that he has a patch of white in his hair that reminds you of the white patch in your four legged friend's fur.

triggers: violence against reader, blood, injuries, hurt/comfort

"it's a small town, nothing bad happens here." be so fucking forreal.

this was supposed to be your fresh start, small town mountain views, coffee shop around the corner, the kindness that the big city seemed to be lacking with each day that passed.

how wrong you were.

the small town kindness you encounter one wintry night after work left you unconscious in the alleyway next to your favorite coffee shop and those mountain views must have been so damn good that no one seemed to see or hear you.

until someone did.

too much of your blood on the concrete made your vision blurry but you could still feel everything. warm, calloused fingers gently pressing into your neck, a dry jacket over your chilled body, and a bonfire of a voice hushing your pained whimpers, a whisper mantra in your ear with only word you could make out.

safe.

when your sight became clear again, you don't remember hospital rooms having flannel sheets or fireplaces.

or giant fucking dogs.

a colossal furry beast precariously nestled in a chair next to you raised its fluffy black head in what could only be strangely described as relief, quickly jumping down from the chair only to slowly walk towards the unfamiliar bed and gracefully leap upon it, scooting toward you.

the pain that came with consciousness prevented you from doing much more than stiffly raising a bandaged hand for the puppy to sniff, a small smile on your cracked lips.

you were not prepared for the dog to bypass your hand completely and put its weighty head on your chest.

the rise and fall of your chest became more steady as you ignored the spike of pain to run your hand over their side, stroking a patch of snow white fur, trying to keep your tears from falling with each pet.

with each remembered kick and cut, the spike soon became a tidal wave of hot agony, chest rising and falling too fast for the beast's liking, a series of panicked barks and licks upon your face the last things you heard and felt before the darkness crept back in.

in the in between you felt those hands again, winding and unwinding bandages, bringing cool water to your lips, replacing sweat drench pjs with clean ones, strong arms rocking you back and forth when tormented moans escaped from your mouth, urging you to breathe when you could not.

at one point you swear you can feel clawed fingers in your box braids, gently massaging shampoo into your bloody scalp only as instructed by the sounds of a way too familiar YouTube tutorial echoing in your ears.

when you wake again, the dog is there and this time you have the energy to pat the place next to you. as if you've known each other forever, you take your places, his head lounging over your heart, your hand softly petting that patch of white.

and when the pain and panic strike again like clockwork, you meet it with a Clydesdale size pup snuggled into your non-injured side, inhaling and exhaling with you till the panic fades. this time when the dark comes it is not due to trauma induced unconsciousness but sleepy peace.

those hands return once more to bring broth to your mouth and discard bandages, a deep voice speaking softly of your progress, tucking you in with care.

you urge yourself to get better if not for your own health, but for the chance to meet that voice and hold those hands.

the dog is there each and every time you wake with less and less pain, graduating from sitting on your chest to your lap all the way to walking by your side when you get out of bed all on your own. you're not quite sure if a growl can sound proud but you'll take it nonetheless.

and when the back of a hand meets your forehead, your eyes flutter open this time.

there's no dog in sight, just a man with dark curls and fangs peeking through soft lips curved in a gentle smile, a large hand on your cheek.

you're not afraid, why would you be?

your fingers intertwined in a patch of snow white curls on the crown of his head tells you everything you need to know.

safe.

#werewolf x reader #monster x reader #monster romance #monster x human #werewolf boyfriend #monster boyfriend

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myfairynuffstuff · 2 years

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Hans Uhl (1897 - c.1958) - Chamois in the Wintry Mountains.

#Hans Uhl #German #Winter #Mountains #Snow #Chamois #Animals in Art

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dailyadventureprompts · 10 months

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Planescape: The Inclementus Convolution

It is simple as hells go, there is the snow, the walls, and the shape of things that will haunt you for the rest of your days

It appears first as a troubling dream, endless anxious wanderings through a frigid and featureless maze. While most shrug off these visions others sink into a deep and restless malady, possessed by recurring feelings of being cold and lost. For some the dreams deepen, overtaking their waking life until they sink into an unwakung torpor, others are compelled to walk: seeking out winding alleys or wintry landscapes in the hope of finding a way OUT of the maze, only to find themselves transported to it bodily.

Occult scholars of dream and dimension have named this phenomenon the Inclementus Convolution, and conjectures on its purpose and original architects feature in many a forbidden tome. What these dabblers have failed to understand is that the convolution is not a thing of artifice but part of a great unknowable entity, which uses the maze to filter-feed from the multiverse the way a great whale uses baleen to trawl the sea. While the exact nature of this entity will be discussed below the cut, whats far more interesting is how the appearance of this dream labyrinth affects the lives of others.

A series of disappearances has the party tracing the city’s backstreets tracking rumours of a slaver gang or some kind of monstrous presence. Imagine their surprise when they not only find one of the lost individuals wandering in fevered confusion, standing before an alley from which unseasonable snow billows.

Nearly swept up in the convolution as a child, a minor noble has bent the wealth of her station towards determining the meaning of that traumatic vision, becoming a notable patron for adventurers as she sends them off to explore various ruins or gather scraps of potentially relevant lore. The party are hired by her for a mission, but weeks later when they return from their delve they find that her estate has fallen prey to an otherworldly influence. They’ll need to brave the twisting halls of her manorhome and the hedgemazes that sprawl across the grounds if they want to get paid, and maybe rescue their hapless benefactor in the process.

A fairly simple bounty mission to track down an occultist hiding in the mountains and bring him back alive quickly goes out of control after he opens a portal to the convolution inside his cell, transforming the surrounding guard barracks and its prisons into an eacheresque tangle backing onto an eldritch landscape. With other prisoners looking desperately to escape and panicking guards looking to arrest everyone they don’t recognize, will the party be able to escape before the whole structure is subsumed into nightmare?

The entity at the centre of the maze is seldom seen by those lost with the expanse as the upper reaches of the towering walls are obscured by an omnipresent cloud cover. As such no earthly name has been given to it, as the miles long tendrils it sends skulking through the corners are often confused for individual lifeforms which some call. It is not malicious, nor is it strictly sentient, it is simply a lifeform doing what it has always done to survive, nevermind that it involves pinching beings from across the cosmos. Creatures that die within the convolution desiccate, their bodies becoming dried out husks as the moisture within them is absorbed by the surrounding stone to feed the entity above and later join with the ever present snow, the built up condensation from innumerable victims across time.

Future Adventures:

Lost souls from many worlds have left marks on the walls of the convolution, pleas for help, attempts to map a way out, epitaphs and memorials from those that knew their end was near. One of these happened to be a sage with secret knowledge most relevant to the party's ongoing struggles, meaning if that they want to find it for themselves they're not only going to have to find their way into and through the labyrinth, but also Ariadne their way back out after finding and deciphering the message he left.

Though very little can survive long in the endless halls, there are some interdimensional oddities that have managed to persist around the fringes, carried from one world to the next as the Inclementus seeks out new victims.

The most fearful of these passengers are a remnants of an alien empire known as the Tssol who were led into the convolution when their god-prince decided to lead his people into the otherworld following a "holy vision" (and the encouragement by his less theisticly inclined siblings looking to clear a path to the throne). The survivors of this royal expedition have endured for centuries by by carving their city into the oldest walls of the labrynth, where the entity's fleshy stalks merge with the endless walls. They worship it, subsisting from the meat sloughed off as it grows and using the remains to feed fungal farms, counting themselves blessed for following the god-prince's vision. Those that stumble into the maze are of particular interest to them, as individuals affected by Inclementus influence are capable of wandering in and out of the aberrant realm allowing the Tssol warriors to ride out and launch raids on other worlds.

#dnd #d&d #mid level #low level #dungeon #lovecraftian #abberations #city #noble #planescape #hell #bounty #bounty hunting #occult #dungeons and dragons #ttprg #pathfinder #horror #spooky #eldritch

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anki-of-beleriand · 2 years

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A Heart Made Of Glass ch.1

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

This is a story I have been working on alongside my other stories, what can I say? I've been having a lot of inspiration to write Wanda/Reader stories and I'm enjoying it greatly and I hope you guys are enjoying reading them. This story is going to be a long one too, and will have both Scarlet and Wanda as well as America as part of the cast.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

Chapter 1

Norway

The road stretched out all the way to the mountain chain losing itself in a world of greys and whites. There was nothing much to see but a scenery born out of the cold temperatures and the wintry season. The heater inside the car made them forget about the cold outside, and the music playing through the speakers filled the silence they had shared ever since arriving to the airport.

The last couple of days had not been easy on either of them.

Both women had suffered loses that were almost impossible to forget, their paths had crossed by chance, and destiny had joined them by the working hand of Stephen Strange. He had planned this trip with care and cunning, he knew there was only one solution while they found out the source of witchcraft working around the multiverse to get her hands on America.

Strange had met the perfect candidate while trying to fight off Mordo once. If there was anyone ready to help America Chavez that was Wanda Maximoff and if there was someone that could really protected them and hide away their magical signature that had to be Y/N. There was no other way.

The mission then was protected America and the multiverse at all costs.

And Wanda had been chosen to carry on the torch at the moment.

Ten years.

Wanda had not seen Y/N for more than ten years, and now she was sent over to invade her personal space, unannounced and face a past she couldn’t forget. A past that had always had a tight grip on her heart.

In all honesty, she had seen you before. Just not in the right circumstances, and of course, without any single interaction. Wanda was pretty sure you didn’t even notice her there. It had been Steve’s funeral, and you had seemed so cozy with Carol Danvers and Natasha Romanoff that Wanda was pretty sure her own presence went unnoticed by everyone but Clint.

Wanda tightened her hold on the wheel, she had come all the way to Norway with a girl following her close behind to face a shadowy evil while also facing a past that was always haunting her some way or another. That day she had longed to approach you, to go to you and see you how life had treated you after everything that happened; but the memories and the many wounds in both of them prevent her to do such a foolish thing. Steve wouldn’t have liked that his funeral was became a spectacle of old resentments, and surfacing jealousies.

“Are we there yet?” America asked tiredly, her eyes drifting from the road to Wanda.

Wanda broke from her thoughts glancing around the road then giving America a pointed look. She was so tempted to give a sarcastic answer, but Wanda knew America was tired and rather moody after the long trip and the long days of no sleep and the trip through the multiverse. Besides, America didn’t have to pay for Wanda’s mistakes and stupid jealousy that had grown inside her after the funeral.

“Another hour.” Wanda answered tiredly. “We should be able to see the town soon.”

America sighed leaning back against the seat turning her attention to the gloomy world outside her window. Wanda couldn’t really blame the young woman sitting beside her, America had gotten to their world by accident chased by mythical creatures that wanted nothing more than to steal her abilities. At such a young age, America had known the bitterness of grief and treason leaving her alone in a multiverse that wasn’t always kind to her.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Wanda finally asked, she could feel the weight of the trip, and the last couple of days catching up to America.

The young woman tensed at the suggestion, memories of her waking up alone after having trusted that someone would stay with her still haunted her. America flinched when a hand settled on her shoulder, the gesture was supposed to be comforting but Wanda knew there were many wounds that had not been healed yet. Wanda offered a half smile when she read the fear behind America, she tried to offer reassurance but there was nothing much she could do to make America understand that she was not like the others. That they would not leave her behind. That they would never sacrifice her for the greater good.

“I won’t leave, America.” Wanda tried to reassure the young woman; America scoffed at her words but said nothing. “You should take a nap; you really look tired.”

America wished she could really trust the woman sitting in the driver’s seat. She wished a part of her still believed these lies disguised as reassurances, but the multiverse had showed her the portals were capricious and, on some occasions, she just fell into the wrong world. She had learnt the hard way that her abilities and even her age made her a target, a tool or a disposable ally. Even now in this new world, America was being a problem everyone needed to solve, she was just being tolerated and helped because the fate of the multiverse was at stake. Two tears rolled down her cheek, America look away not wanting to see pity in the other woman’s eyes, she clenched her jaw when the car pulled over, her lips quiver as she tried to hold onto her emotions.

If she didn’t think about it, then she didn’t feel it.

But it was too much, a couple of universes ago it had become too much.

Two strong arms wrapped tenderly around her, and America couldn’t help herself but let go until she was a child again crying in the comforting embrace of one of her mothers.

Wanda felt her own tears rolling down her cheeks, the thoughts coming from America had been so loud and so strong she couldn’t help but hear the desperation in the young woman. Wanda held America until she couldn’t cry any longer, her heart swelled painfully at the realization that America had been facing hell for a very long time all on her own. For a moment, Wanda was reminded of her own children, of the kids she had created out of the loneliness and desperation she had been feeling for quite some time. The children that had called her mom and Vision dad; even though they looked nothing like Vision. Even though, whenever she looked at them, she could see you and herself reflected in their eyes, in their appearance in their gestures and their behaviors. Tommy specially was the one that always made her think of you.

God, Wanda wished she could forget.

Wanda longed to forget and stopped feeling the way she did. She wished she could focus her attention on the problem they were facing at the moment, that this oncoming meeting was not making her anxious and scared of what could happen. Wanda lowered her gaze only to discover America had fallen asleep with tears still rolling down her cheeks.

Wanda made sure America was laying comfortably on the seat, the seat belt on and everything ready for them to continue with their trip. A hand went to put away some stray hairs from America’s face, Wanda cleaned up her face of the fresh tears that had fallen moment before and a wave of protectiveness overcame Wanda when she finally realized that America was just a teenager. Lost in within worlds, followed by an unknown danger and victim of her own powers.

Not for the first time, Wanda pointed at their similarities.

With a heavy sigh, and a storm taking over her mind Wanda went back to the driver’s seat. The music was still playing in the background, her eyes went for a moment to her phone that had been placed on the dashboard while projecting the map’s application. Wanda furrowed her brows when she realized there were several missed calls and some messages she hadn’t noticed until now, the name of Tony repeated itself several times, but the young woman merely ignored it while focusing her attention on the red dot on the screen.

Her heart hammered hard against her chest, her abdomen filled with a cold weight that made her sweat and worry her lower lip on her lips. She was getting closer to her destiny and that only meant she was getting closer to you. This time around there wasn’t a single chance for the both of you to avoid one another.

******

The city of Ulsteinvik was a small town facing the cold waters of the north, their houses were decorated to highlight the gloomy winters and celebrate the sunny summers. It was a mixture of colors and modernity that mixed with the industry of shipbuilding and fishing. Since it was a working day, the only people outside seemed to be the few tourists filling up the streets, and some other townspeople going around their normal life. Wanda couldn’t help but noticed this place was too quiet, too lonely and peaceful to be a place you might enjoy. But Wanda supposed your likes and dislikes might have changed…perhaps, this was what you were looking for right now…perhaps, this was the place where you finally found…

Wanda shook her head scaring those thoughts away. Thoughts she shouldn’t allow in her, that she wasn’t allowed to think because you and her had stopped being something a long time ago. The redhead turned to America, a gently hand pressed against the young woman’s shoulder and shook her lightly.

“America, we’re here.”

America stirred awake blinking away her sleepiness. She furrowed her brows glancing around the town before settling her eyes on Wanda

“I’m sorry, wasn’t supposed to fall asleep.” It was the first thing America could mumble, the memories of her tears and her breaking down in front of this unknown Wanda made her stirred uncomfortably. Wanda had never been the one America had been closest to on her last incursion to the multiverse, but this time around it seemed as if she didn’t have an option.

Though she had to admit, this Wanda was someone she was starting to like. In a motherly gesture, Wanda put another strand of hair behind her ear crunching up her nose while trying to offer the comfort of her presence without saying what she was really thinking. America offered a shaky smile, thankful with Wanda for not mentioning her tears or her own desperation.

“Don’t need to be sorry, I think you and I both are completely tired, but I won’t be able to rest until we have reached our destination.”

And even then, Wanda was not completely sure she would be able to rest. She was still apprehensive wondering how you would react to this unannounced visit. America furrowed her brows until she finally realized you two were in the city, not on their real destination.

“Where are we?” She finally straightened up fixing her hair and jacket while turning curious eyes around her.

“Ulsteinvik.” Wanda said without a single hint of hesitation. “I just thought we could eat something and ask for directions; the application is showing me an empty space and I’m not pretty sure if that’s the right location.”

America furrowed her brows when she realized Wanda’s tone had gotten a strange warmness in it, her green eyes were glancing at America with tenderness and something else. The young woman didn’t know what to think, she hated people feeling pity for her. She hated it even more when they thought they could empathize with her disgrace.

“Yeah, sure, I’m also hungry.”

America regretted her decision as soon as she left the protectiveness of the car. She never imagined this place would be as cold as it was. There was no snow, but it was obvious the winds of winter had already touched the land dropping the temperatures while threatening with the snowstorm. America put her arms around herself trying to warm a little, her lip started quivering and she was about to tell Wanda she would be back to the car when a heavy coat fell on your shoulders. The young woman lifted her stare and Wanda was glancing down at her with a reproachful stare.

“You really didn’t bring a jacket?”

America looked away rather embarrassed, she remembered she was offered the option but refused having found herself self-conscious of her lack of resources. The lack of money had never been an issue for her mainly because most of the things she got were either free or stolen; but in this world more like the previous one she didn’t have a chance to steal anything so she relied on what she was given.

“I didn’t know we were coming to a place like this one, and it wasn’t as if I have that many options on my wardrobe.” The answer came harsher than she intended she stepped aside from the witch, though she didn’t let go of the jacket that was offered.

Wanda let out a tired sigh knowing she had been messing up ever since meeting the young woman. Of course, America didn’t have more than the clothes she was wearing currently, she had arrived to their universe in the midst of a violent attack and survive by miracle said attack.

“I forgot about it, sorry.” Wanda apologized then as an afterthought. “Either way, you could have said something.”

“What was I supposed to say? Hey, I need clothes because these ones smell and are bloodied, and I don’t have anything else?” America made a face feeling foolish.

“For starters,” Wanda replied pressing her lips together rolling her eyes.

“Well, I was busy with other things, Wanda.” America finally snapped looking away from the witch. “Anyway, in this reality you have to pay for things, and I don’t have any money.”

The last part was said with a mumble, a light flush adorning those young features. Wanda pressed her lips together, this was not the first time she heard that comment, and a part of Wanda told her America was just lying. If she was always alone, jumping from one place to the other, it was possible she never had the right means to get what she needed.

“You can keep the jacket.” Wanda hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “When we had settled down we will come back and buy you some more clothes and anything else you may need.”

“You don’t have to do it. I can get a way to get my stuff.” America replied rather fast, there was an edge on her tone and her eyes hardened at the suggestion.

From her part, Wanda could do nothing more than softened at the sight. Finally understanding was starting to reach her mind.

“I know I don’t have to.” Wanda said firmly. “I want to, America, and you better prepare yourself because we’re coming once everything is ready. Now let’s go buy something to eat and ask for directions.”

The store was almost empty.

There was a single old lady sitting by the cash register while there was a young woman doing some daily purchases. Wanda watched with amusement as America went through the different snacks carefully selecting the ones she wanted to try out. For a moment, Wanda couldn’t help herself but remember Tommy and Billy whenever Wanda offered some new snacks to them. Wanda’s heart clenched at the memory; and she had to remember herself that everything had been fake. Everything she had created out of her own powers, nothing of that was real. Not Westview, no Vision…No Tommy and Billy. The loneliness and desperation told her not a single person in the world would ever understand how real it had been for her. How much she missed her boys.

“It’s that all?” Wanda asked teasingly, the woman at the cash register smiled gently as America blush lightly nodding and grumbling.

“You said to pick something for the both of us.” America finally said lifting her chin, Wanda snorted not remembering the young woman asking exactly if she wanted any of the things she had selected.

Soon the young woman that had been doing the daily purchases stood behind them with her cart, Wanda then put her phone out selecting the map and getting the money ready.

“Very well then, how much for all of this?” The old lady registered all the products and by the time Wanda was about to pay she leaned in with her phone ready. “I was meant to ask you, we’re here visiting, and I was wondering if you know how I can get to the Lighthouse?”

Wanda fixed the screen on her phone showing the spot where she was supposed to go to but that in reality was not showing on the map. If anything, it was as if the place was in the middle of the sea.

“I think this is supposed to be the place, but the application shows like an empty space…”

The old woman nodded understanding Wanda’s explanation, but her eyes drifted to the young woman waiting in line.

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” The other woman finally dared to speak up, her voice was heavy with a strange accent, but Wanda could perfectly understand the coldness behind the question.

“I’m looking for an old friend,” Wanda replied with her heart aching at the thought that at least the two of you were that. Friends. “Y/N? do you know her?”

The young woman finally took the time to give Wanda a complete checkup, something in those clear eyes gleamed in recognition and Wanda wondered for a moment if this woman recognized her as one of the Avengers.

“I’m Vera.” The young woman introduced herself presenting her hand to Wanda and a nice smile to America. This sudden changed seemed rather suspicious and Wanda had to wonder for a moment if perhaps she was one of your friends?

Not that Wanda cared much.

You could have as many friends as you wished.

“I thought you looked familiar,” Vera said breaking into a relief smile, Wanda raised an eyebrow at this. So, she really was a friend. “I think I recognized you but of course in the picture you look so much younger.”

Vera then opened her eyes shaking her head sheepishly, “not that you’re old, it’s just that in that picture you two were like teens or something. I think it was like Halloween though Y/N seems to hate that picture, even though she looked adorable in that suit she wore, and you were looking so pretty with the princess...”

The next words were lost to Wanda completely, the revelation that you had one of your pictures with Wanda was just too much, but that you had that picture and were showing it around while telling everyone you hated it…well, ouch.

“I’m sorry, I’m babbling, it’s just that…what a coincidence, are you visiting or…”

“Look I wish we could tell you about our plans, but we come from the States and we’re tired and hungry and just want to know if you know where the Lighthouse is.” America finally interrupted the babbling woman that had not taken noticed of the distress expression crossing Wanda’s eyes or the way she seemed to tense up with each word.

Vera felt her cheeks burn, and her eyebrows knitted together at the abruptness of America’s interruption. Wanda held back her smile, because really, she was not fancy hearing more about how much Y/N hated that picture and how Vera and you seemed to be in such good terms.

“Right, sorry I just…”

“No, please we are sorry,” Wanda intervened with a sweet tone. “It’s just the trip was long and the drive all the way from the airport to here was equally long.”

Vera nodded in understanding leaning in towards the phone pointing at the same location Wanda could not make any sense of.

“That’s the right location, actually.” Vera explained. “This was a former World War II bunker for the Soviet Army and many of those facilities are still there so applications won’t show them for security reasons. It’s not occupied at the moment, but you know…paranoia in our governments and what with all the enhance superheroes…”

Wanda tensed at the comment but said nothing else.

“So, just go straight ahead and there would be land and the house?”

“Yes, actually go straight ahead, no turns.” Vera said leaning back. “It’s the only house at the end of the line.”

******

It wasn’t until the city was left behind that America finally dared to make the question Wanda was dreading.

“So, you and Y/N, big story there, eh?” America made the comment with a roll of her eyes, she knew the story. At least the one she had witness back in another world.

“It was nothing.” Wanda replied rather fast, her eyes glazing over.

America wondered, not for the very first time, how many things had changed in this universe. How many more were just as messed up as the woman sitting beside her. Wanda heard the thought, scowling deeply at the questions growing in America’s head.

“It really is nothing.” Wanda insisted gripping the wheel tight.

“I get it. It’s an adult thing, a story behind a real story. I wouldn’t understand.” America snorted rolling her eyes. “This is the “you-know-who” of your life, got it. But you should have seen your face when she mentioned that picture…”

America could only chuckle with amusement when Wanda shot her a heated glare, for a moment America entertained the idea of merely no pushing the matter any longer. But she was curious, and she wanted to know why Wanda and Y/N hadn’t worked in this universe so she kept her eyes on Wanda until the woman could not ignore America any longer.

Wanda rolled her eyes shaking her head, she remembered that day so vividly.

“It was a stupid picture we took on a Halloween, we had escaped the compound that day to enjoy a wild night in New York. We ended up in a Frat house in a party Y/N got us invited to.”

Yes, Wanda remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. She dreamt of that day from time to time, you had made friends with a group of frat guys that allowed the both of you to go to a Halloween party, you had spent the night making sure Wanda enjoyed the perks of an American Halloween and after the alcohol and the dancing the both of you ended up in a room on the second floor. It had been your very first night together. Wanda’s first time. And it had been…special.

It was a night that haunted Wanda from time to time, and hearing a stranger said you hated the picture…well…

America furrowed her brows at the lame explanation, there was more story, but she wouldn’t press matters for now. The young woman had realized that there was a single constant in this world and that was regret and broken hearts, everyone seemed to have given up happiness for the greater good, as if they couldn’t have happiness and save the world at the same time.

The conversation died there, and Wanda and America continued the drive deep in thought. The meeting with you was coming closer and closer and both of them were equally nervous if for different reasons.

The redhead couldn’t stop the influx of memories that one mention of the Halloween picture brought to her. It was kind of unsettling how those images went right through her mind, it wasn’t only that night but the many nights in which Wanda was yours, the many moments in which the both of you shared smiles and conversations. Those secret dates, and the secret outings, the secret kisses, the secret nights of passion.

The secret itself.

The shadows that ended up consuming what the both of you felt for one another.

Wanda observed as the distance separating her from you shortened all of a sudden, after so many years of you never even once showing in her life, she was finally coming over to you. There was a tingling on her abdomen, a strange void on her chest while her hands started sweating. Wanda was really a mess at the moment, and this meeting was creating a whole myriad of emotions she thought forgotten. Her heart fluttered with longing at the memory of Y/N, her smile, her stubbornness, and her voice. The way she usually took everything in stride, thinking of all the possible outcomes while becoming stronger so she could protect the team. So, she could protect Wanda.

“I know you’re powerful, Little Witch, but my powers give me an advantage it doesn’t give everyone else. I can be shadows itself, and I can protect all of you. You in particular if needed it. I would never let anything bad happened to you.”

America stirred on her seat, her eyebrows coming together in a gesture of remembrance.

“I was in a world made of ice once.” Wanda glanced at America for a moment, hearing carefully as she narrated one of her adventures. “It was inhabited, cold and so lonely. I thought that was the last place I would ever be, and then…I was able to open a different portal and I realized that world was necessary to understand the next one.”

America didn’t say anything else, but it was obvious these two trips had affected her greatly. Wanda pressed her lips together; she imagined being capable of traveling the multiverse could bring many possibilities both good and bad. How many times had America be in danger of dying in a place that was not meant for her?

“Have you ever thought of staying in one place?” Wanda ventured with curiosity; America stiffened her eyes going wide for a moment.

“I never have a reason to.” She said and Wanda knew, for what she could glimpse on her mind, that America was lying.

The young woman straightened up leaning in, her lips breaking into a relief smile, there in the distance she could make out the form of a house and a lighthouse. Wanda clenched her jaw closed, her heart beating fast and her body feeling heavy with anticipation.

“We’re finally here.” Wanda let her eyes wandered to the shadowy figure of a lonely home in the middle of nowhere.

What came before her eyes was something Wanda could imagine you living in.

It was a house in the middle of nowhere surrounded by mountains and a current of water leading to the sea. The house was big, fancy and modern with all the things you had spoken of once, the chimney and the great windows were there as well as the greenhouse. The lighthouse right behind it was a surprised, but in general what Wanda was seeing was something she had been familiar with at some point. This only made her heart ached with longing and regret.

The place itself was surreal, and Wanda found herself smiling at how all of it fit what she had always known about you. Perhaps there was still hope that you haven’t changed that much, and Wanda still knew a thing or two about you.

“I can believe she lives here.” America said looking in awed the place. She was really impressed by what she was seeing, she returned her attention to Wanda only to notice right now the woman was looking like a statute. “Are you nervous? Why are you so nervous? Was she an ex or something?”

When Wanda blushed at the comment America knew she had won one round. In this world the both of you did have something, but it was over. America mused over this, was it over? Wanda’s reaction told the young woman that was not the case but whatever had happened was enough to create this tension she was feeling at the moment.

“So, it is an ex, eh?” America leaned in then returned her eyes to Wanda. “This is going to be awkward, right?”

“You have no idea.” Wanda mumbled finally able to park the car right on the front door. “They must know we’re already here.”

“How do you know?” America tried to see if there was someone on the window, crunching up her nose. Wanda kept her eyes to the door wriggling her fingers nervously.

“There were cameras along the road when we approached her terrain.” Wanda tilted her head, “I think they also have movement sensors at the gates we just crossed.”

America pursed her lips thinking about these details, her face fell when she realized this was something she should have noticed before. Her latest adventures taught her she shouldn’t trust easily and to always be ready for anything. Her life was at stake and these strangers were doing everything to keep her safe. She should be more alert, ready to be of help and not a dead weight for anyone.

“Stop berating yourself, America.” Wanda placed a hand on America’s shoulder, the young woman huffed looking away. “This kind of reflex take time, and it wasn’t until recently that your life was at any real danger and as long as you’re here it would be our duty to help you and protect you.”

For some reason, this only made America felt worse. She was once more a task, a mission they need to comply with. Once more she was being a problem everyone needed to fix.

The hand on her forearm squeezed tenderly, America lifted her stare to see soft green eyes looking at her. Always sad, always lonely, Wanda turned her attention to the door then back to America.

“Everything is going to be fine, and I am protecting you America, because I want to, because you need that protection, and I won’t leave you alone. Okay?” America swallowed down her response nodding curtly. Wanda offered a tender smile before she let out a heavy sight.

“Look, Y/N and I, we…”

“Have a rough break up?” America asked making a face. “Yeah, I could tell by the teen angsty music you put the whole trip.”

Wanda leaned back furrowing her brows, “my music was not angsty…”

America lifted a single eyebrow in disbelief, though there was some amusement in her eyes. Wanda gave the door one last glance before returning her attention to America.

“What I really wanted to say was that I haven’t talked to her in over ten years.” Wanda lowered her gaze, hating the cold pain that went right through her very soul at this. “The last time we talked…This meeting could go wrong on so many levels I just want you to be ready; mainly because she doesn’t know we’re here.”

Wanda winced observing the angered stare coming from America. The young woman felt like a problem, all over again, because they were about to request help to someone that apparently had a grudge against Wanda, and she hadn’t called before coming and perturbed her personal space.

“You told Strange she said yes.” America said in disbelief, Wanda closed her eyes before letting her shoulders drop in defeat.

“I know, I lied.” Wanda said softly. “But if she had known it was me the one coming, I’m pretty sure she would have said no.”

“How can you be so sure?” America exclaimed. “We’re here uninvited. And by the amount of pinning and depression coming from you I’m guessing not only this wasn’t a good breakup, but it was something to do with you and not her.”

Once more, America found herself facing strong emotions overwhelming her at the worst time. She was so tired of being a dead weight for everyone, wherever she went she was a problem and her actions as well as her presence usually ended with someone getting hurt. The last time the people she had started loving like a family, the world she thought she could stay in had gotten into a difficult situation because of her.

Soon America found herself wrapped in a comforting hug, Wanda put her close and her voice was just above a whisper.

“Everything it’s going to be okay, America.” Wanda clenched her eyes closed, her heart shrank at the memory of Tommy and Billy. Would they know what to do? Would they have Wanda nearby to protect them?

The young woman in her arms was trembling like a leaf, and Wanda didn’t dare to look into her mind since this kind of pain seemed more personal, not so hothead. Wanda was reminded of Stephen’s words just before they left.

“She is no more than a teenager, alone and lost, hiding behind the attitude.”

America had been doing this for far too long, she was forgetting how it was to have someone who cared for her, who could help carried the weight she usually seemed to be carrying.

“I’m just a problem adults need to fix,” she mumbled dropping her shoulders. “Sometimes, their solution is to dispose of me.”

“I’m not going to dispose of you, America.” Wanda leant back wiping away the tears from America’s cheeks.

“We will reach a resolution for this, and then if you want, you can stop running, America.” Wanda tried to offer a smile, to really show the confidence she wasn’t feeling at the moment.

America tensed when the offer was made, it was the second time she heard the same offer coming from the same woman. Different universes. Wanda offered another comforting smile turning towards the door neither of them had approached.

“Look, I know my relationship with Y/N ended horrible. But she is a hero at heart, and she will help. She always does.”

America could tell Wanda was not convince but right now it was obvious they didn’t have more options.

Gee, is there anyone in this world that doesn’t have any trouble with one another? At this rate you guys are going to come face to face with someone like Galactus or Khan and this universe is going to be ashes. Was all America could think off before shrugging and nodding.

“Well then, I guess we better stop stalling this meeting, if they really see us coming they must be waiting.”

Once more America put on a false façade of bravery, she dried her tears knowing that at the moment she also needed to be strong. Whatever was chasing her, would not stop anytime soon and the help they had been looking for might be right behind the door. With a resolution Wanda had become familiar with, America stood up the door before knocking three times.

Wanda held back her smile, she could imagine your face while opening the door and facing the teenager with Wanda right behind her. The attitude and the bravado was something you and Wanda could recognize quite easily…just like Wanda recognized the attitude behind Tommy and the wit behind Billy. The young witch smiled fondly at the memory, her eyes welling up when the emptiness in her heart and life came rushing in; she was supposed to go back to them, to meet with her boys…If only…the thought of the Darkhold poked at her mind, the screams she had heard while trying to reach peace, learning about herself and her powers…

Wanda clenched her jaw, there would be time for that. Her eyes fell on the form of America that was looking around the place before going to the door. Right now, her priority was America.

Wanda sighed stepping forward, it was time to face her past.

"There's no one home." America stepped back frowning at the lack of activity inside the place.

Wanda grabbed the knob, her eyes gleaming red before a click was heard and the door was open.

"Look at that, no locks." Wanda replied with a half-smile that America returned.

"You know in all universes that's called break in?" But even as she said this America went right into the house feeling the change of temperature.

The hall was neatly decorated with a table pressed against the wall, there was an empty bowl for the keys and a small mirror on the wall. Wanda closed the door behind her worrying her lip with her eyes glancing around the place.

It was empty.

The stood by the door for a moment, the walls were decorated with pictures and some paintings. Wanda watched as America went right in glancing around the pictures, furrowing her brows while trying to catch any sound coming from deeper inside the house.

There was nothing, and Wanda proceeded to follow the young woman. She had taken four steps further into the hall when the click of a gun broke the deep silence in the house, and Wanda felt the pressure of a gun against her head.

"You shouldn't be here, Wanda." The voice was familiar, husky and filled with amusement that Wanda had always found irritating. “Break in a private property is a felony in every country of our world.”

America turned around taking a fighting stance, her eyes went wide open when she noticed the other woman holding the gun. Wanda turned around slowly, her eyes gleaming red when she found herself facing Natasha Romanoff; Natasha smirked when she noticed the tension around those eyes, the anger written in the young woman’s features. She was even more amused at seeing the jealousy there.

“Natasha, why am not surprised that you’re here.” There was a bitter tinge in her tone, and she hated it because she wasn’t supposed to care, you had always told her Natasha was just like a mentor to you. Nothing else.

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes tuned cold and calculating evaluating the situation in front of her. Her green eyes went from America to Wanda, her eyebrows knitted together trying to find an explanation of the situation at hand.

How was it possible for Wanda to find your home? Why was she here? God, why did you have to leave your mobile that day precisely, there was no way Natasha could give you a heads up if you and Yelena never took your phones with you.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here and present yourself unannounced, Wanda.” Natasha couldn’t hide the annoyance in her tone, and her eyes were a clear indicator of his real mood.

The gun was still pointing directly into Wanda’s head, and while the young witch knew Natasha would never pull the trigger it didn’t make her feel better knowing Natasha Romanoff was in your house. As if she had been living there her whole life.

“I am surprised to see you here, Natasha.” Wanda’s voice had an angered edge Natasha was not familiar with, the young woman shook her head taking a deep breath. “We were wondering where you have gone to after the funeral. I guess it was only fitting, right?”

Natasha cocked her head, her lips curling slightly just as she lowered her gun.

“I’ve been leaving here for more than five years now, so yes…fitting.” Natasha put her gun away walking past Wanda, her eyes went once more to America then straight ahead. “Please, take your shoes off if you’re coming deeper into the house, we don’t want the floor to get dirty.”

Wanda scowled at this, and her glare went directly to America who was already taking her shoes off. The young woman shrugged nodding towards Natasha.

“I’m not about to disobey her.” She all but whispered, Wanda rolled her eyes following America’s example.

“Funny you said that, Y/N says the same thing about me every time.” Natasha chuckled making sure her tone of voice held a trace of innuendo while winking at Wanda.

It was almost impossible for Natasha to miss the flash of anger crossing those green eyes, but as soon as it was there it was replaced by a deep sadness. Wanda could pretend all she wanted in front of Vision and the others, but she had never been able of tricking Natasha. The Black Widow had always known, she had always seen it…and that was the reason why she made everything difficult for Wanda.

Because she was a coward.

Natasha went to the living room turning on the lights, she turned around, settling her eyes on Wanda and America.

"Want something to drink?"

America shook herself awake, "yes, thank you."

Natasha pursed her lips going to the kitchen moving around the place with a familiarity that made Wanda hurt. A bittersweet taste of realization hit Wanda making her dizzy, Natasha probably had been living there for quite some time with you. All this time Wanda had suspected Natasha knew your whereabouts, but the Black Widow had always denied it whenever Steve or anybody else would question her. Of course, Natasha knew, of all the people you trusted…

Wanda put her arms around herself, hating this surge of emotions she wasn’t allowed to experience.

"She is not here, by the way." Natasha explained coming over with a glass of orange juice she offered America and a glass of whisky she offered Wanda. “She is out, so you better start talking before she comes back, I’m know she won’t be please knowing you’re here.”

The young witch took the glass with a frown, America looked around the living room admiring the expensive setting and the paintings on the wall. She had never been here; she was still unsure as to why the hostility and how you would receive the both of them; though her own fan girl was getting overly excited to meet the Black Widow. Damn, she was beautiful.

When America returned her attention to Wanda she realized the redhead was completely stiffened, her eyes hard as steel glaring at Natasha who was torn between her own amusement and a calculating stance.

The tension could be cut with a knife.

"Where is she? I need to talk to her." Wanda finally asked, Natasha lifted a single eyebrow and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You can’t come here demanding anything at all, Wanda. I thought you knew this. You lost that right a long time ago." Natasha said calmly, eerily calm. "She is not as patient as I am and believe me when I tell you she is not going to be happy to see you here. So, what are you doing here?"

America took another sip from the glass on her hand, she furrowed her brows not understanding why the violence. As far as she knew, Natasha Romanoff was the best friend of Wanda. Of course, one version of Wanda… sometimes America wondered if perhaps it was better to just lose herself in one of the universes that had no humans or let whoever was after her get to her.

Every time she got to a new place it wasn't only to learn things, but also to meet people that did not always end up being good. She wondered just what happened to this universe, to this version of Wanda and Natasha to be so openly hostile to one another.

Wanda looked away before letting out a heavy breath. Her green eyes flashing dangerously at Natasha before she just took control of herself.

"Something happened, and I need her help." Wanda finally said knowing full well her words were not going to be welcomed.

"You have some nerve, Wanda." Natasha leaned back against the closest armchair; she emptied the glass of liquor in her hand before massaging her neck.

"Look, I know I don't have any right…" Wanda trailed off glancing back at the entrance door, the sound of a car pulling on the street calling her attention.

"She is not going to be happy, Wanda. I hope you're not waiting for her to say yes just because you asked."

Wanda clenched her jaw, tears pricking at her eyes. She couldn't help the wave of regret washing over her, the anxious beating of her heart. Her eyes flickered nervously to the door waiting for you to come in.

______________________________________________________________

“Dude, she was about ready to pounce on you.” Yelena drawled, her lips curling slightly while wriggling her eyebrows at you. “And I know you’re not that indifferent to her advances.”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes at her comment, your lips twitched slightly while you tried to shake your head. The both of you had been discussing the same topic ever since you left the school, Yelena had insisted early in the day to come with you and see you in action only to have her following you around and pairing you with every single woman that came across you during school hours.

It was a game Yelena liked to play, something the both of you did to pass the time but that at the end of the day was something she used to get your mind out of your misery. The misery that usually came around this time of the year.

"For someone that is not that interested in sex, you surely seemed interest in my sex life." You snorted when Yelena laughed cocking her head to glance at you.

"I may not find it interesting in me, doesn't mean I don't find it interesting in you."

You made a face blinking a couple of times before snickering.

"You're such a perv, try to say that slowly and think about what you're saying!"

Yelena opened her eyes before making a face, she slapped your arm laughing at you.

"You're the perv! What I mean is that I find it amusing to see you go through all of that!" Yelena tried to clarify rolling her eyes.

"You mean the sex?" Now you were confused, Yelena rolled her eyes though it was quite evident she was enjoying the absurdity of your banter.

"No, you idiot!" Yelena exclaimed exasperated. "I enjoyed seeing you squirm and trying to get away from all the attention when it is evident you need some!"

"Again, too much sex interest for someone like you."

"Again, it is not about me but you."

The conversation died for a moment, it was the wrong thing to say and Yelena realized it far too late. You shrugged offering a tiny smile to the blond woman.

"I really need to get laid?" That question broke the tension, Yelena laughed and soon you joined in.

Your house was coming into view, your eyes fell upon the single figure of an unknown car. You and Yelena leaned forward, both your postures changing for a moment.

"You do. You haven't done anything since that space chick left."

"Carol." You chimed in glancing at Yelena who was sitting straight in her seat, her eyes also on the car.

"Right, Carol." She teased whispering the name in a single enamoured whisper, you rolled your eyes while Yelena merely snickered. "That was disgusting, the amount of touching and kissing…I have to use my earphones all week."

Yelena made gagging noises while you rolled your eyes at her teasing. You knew for a fact Yelena had liked Carol and they got along pretty well which was strange because Yelena didn't like anyone.

"So, I take it we were not waiting for anyone today, right?" You finally inquired nodding to the parked car.

"Nope." Yelena popped her lips shaking her head, her hand grabbing the gun under the seat.

"Well, I don't think it's that bad, Nat would be out by now." You commented dryly, "unless, of course she is happy trashing the inside of my home?"

"Occupational hazard, Y/N, you should know that by now."

You made a noise at the back of your throat parking right behind the strange car.

"Really, that excuse would get old really soon, Lena." You shook your head turning to Yelena. “Last time, I have to take Tony’s scowling while he helped me fix everything, this time around I’m dragging both of you to do so if it happens again.”

“Last time it was Bucky’s fault.”

“Last time it was you, Natasha, Bucky and Carol.” You replied rather exasperate, “I can believe I have to come back to that disaster, and I left you guys only for two days.”

“In my defence, you never told us they were your friends.”

You snorted closing the door of the car while approaching the unknown one. Perhaps Yelena was right, you didn’t say anything and that was the reason why it ended up in a fight, you looked inside the car but there was nothing there that might reveal who the owner was. You turned to your house then back to Yelena, the young woman had her hand tightly attached to her weapon though nothing else in her posture had changed.

"You know? Now that we talk about it, I like Carol." Yelena mentioned out of the blue trying to go back to the real conversation you two had started back in the car, the young woman had a contemplative stare on her face. "But this Milf you found at school…it has its perks if you want children."

"I'm so no taking you with me next time, Lena…"

"What? I'm just saying Carol is good for a nice roll in the sack but this Mrs.IWantyoutifuckme is good for a happily ever after."

Yelena’s words resounded in the hall, you opened the door wide open your lips curled into a smile that froze in place the moment your eyes fell upon the single figure you hoped you would never have to see ever again.

Wanda Maximoff stood in all her glory right at the end of the hall, her long strawberry hair fell in waves behind her back and while there were bags under her eyes and tiredness was quite evident in her green eyes, she was looking as magnificent as the day you met her.

The young witch felt her heart skipped a beat, she made an attempt to go to you when all of a sudden the smile dropped from your face and your features change into disbelief and anger. A well-known anger you reserved only for her. Wanda hesitated, and you hated the way your voice waver and softened when you said her name.

"Wanda."

______________________________________________________________

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#Wanda Maximoff #Female Reader #Y/N #You #Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader #Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader #Wanda Maximoff x Reader #imagine wanda maximoff #MCU AU #Fanfiction #Reader insert #WandaxReader #WandaxFemale Reader #WandaxF!Reader #MoM AU

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ownedbythescribe · 10 months

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Liyue | Lost In You

ıllı Synopsis: Lost in your eyes, in your voice, and in your touch. Even with a simple turn, these men are captivated. For them, there is only you.

ıllı Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slight Angst-Comfort

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı Warnings: Use of pet names

ıllı A/N: It’s been so long since I wrote, and this is quite short. I hope I still did them justice. Enjoy!

🍁 BAIZHU — LAGENARIA

Winter was quite heavy this year, an unexpected affliction to the season. Liyue was covered in soft blankets of white in the morning with children playing outside much to their content. In the evening, snow would pelt down harshly, barring anyone from exiting their homes to travel or do work. Quite a predicament for adventurers and herb gatherers who longed to travel at night due to their commissions’ specifications or because certain herbs only bloom once the sun sat down. However, it did not deter you or Baizhu from going nonetheless.

With heavy coats and mittens on your person, you three (Changsheng included) ended up stuck in a cave as you wait for the wintry winds to pass. The road outside was impossible to see, and the thick coats could only handle so much. It was wise to let the snowstorm die down first before trotting the route ahead. While waiting, Changsheng and you fell asleep while Baizhu insisted on staying up to read his patient’s prescriptions. A worried look was plastered on your face, but he assured you that doing this relaxed him. Plus, he wished to see your peaceful face which caused your face to erupt in hundred shades of red.

“Seriously… Don’t worry, I’ll just take a short nap then I’ll be in charge after. Good…night.” You yawned, resting your body close to him. The greenhead smiled softly and pulled the blanket over to your neck. Changsheng hissed a goodnight as well before slithering from his left to your side for warmth. Baizhu lightly chuckled before kissing the crown of your head.

“Rest well, Darling.”

Time passed, and by the time you opened your eyes, dawn was just breaking out. Rising from your position, you turned to the man beside you, and it seemed like he must have fallen halfway through his reading. His notebook laid on his chest, and his eyeglasses were still on. You reached out to take it off and place the blanket on his person instead. Changsheng, who was around your neck, nuzzled on your cheeks and looked at her contractor. She snickered at how ridiculous his position was.

“Tssss, this guy. What a stubborn lover you have, (Y/N). Hayst, hmm, could you take me outside, Dear? The sun would feel wonderful on our skin.” The snake asked. You obliged and went out to meet the new day.

The sun had not fully risen, and the wind was biting as ever, but the rays slowly warmed up your and Changsheng’s skins. It was a nice feeling, and the gorgeous view of the mountain caused you to appreciate Liyue even more.

“I wish Baizhu could see this amazing view. Qiqi would have also loved this. Don’t you think so?” You asked your companion.

“Maybe. This view is nothing new to me, but seeing this with a dear friend makes me think this is the first time I’ve seen it. You really have a strange effect on others, (Y/N).” Changsheng replied, slithering around your stomach, causing you to giggle at how ticklish it felt. You two bathed in the sunlight for a long time before a rustle was heard from behind. You turned your head and saw Baizhu stretching, his hair flowing out like rivers. Not to mention, the ray enhanced his beauty.

‘I can’t believe I have such a hot man for my lover! Thank you, gods, for this blessing!’ You giddily thought. Smiling, you reached out to his arm and pulled him to your position to show the view outside.

“A beauty, right? Next time, maybe in spring, let’s come here again!” You grinned. He nodded and tucked a loose hair in your face before turning to stretch around. What he missed was the way your cheeks flushed at that. Changsheng simply snickered before slithering back to Baizhu who remained oblivious to your predicament.

“What a lovestruck fool. Tssss~ But what can I say, they’re a cute couple. Hehe~”

🍁 XIAO — ALATUS NEMEOSES

“Hmm? Qingyun Peak, Mount Aocang, and Huaguang Forest. The last one should be Mount Hulao for Jueyun Karst. After that, I can head to Luhua Pool!” You cheered, seeing that you were still on schedule with collecting regional specialties around Liyue for your journal.

“What are you doing here?” A cool voice from behind asked.

“Holy sh— Xiao!? You scared the Archons out of me. Please make some noise when you appear.” You heaved out a frightened sigh. He merely gave you a blank look before raising his question again. Blinking, you happily told him about the reason you were in Jueyun Karst.

Adepti and gods alike had lived for hundreds and thousands of years. They trudged through several civilizations with the responsibility to guide and lead. As an interstellar adeptus, it was your duty to guide and protect the people of Liyue at night using the wind and moonlight as your medium. Xiao had been your companion throughout those times. As memorable as it was, time progressed, and those little moments soon began to fade like wind brewing against dandelion flowers. You realized that with the ever-changing world, only by seeing through one’s own eyes and carrying pieces of those moments would they be preserved. Needless to say, memories also carried tragedy in their wake. The grief and loss brought by war still laced the mind, but you had already come to terms with them. Albeit not easily as it took centuries to fully move on.

Zhongli did once say that each being we meet along the way will shine like gold in our memories. He was right. Guizhong, Sky Bracer, Marchosius, and other gods lost to time left an impact on your mind.

“That’s why, I hope that with every piece I collect and put in this little scrapbook of mine, I get to remember the past. Oh, here, do you remember this sketch, Xiao? Hehehe~ I remember pestering a human to create this for me in memories of Menogias.” You recalled, softly smiling at the memories of the Geo General elaborating his design. Bosacius and Alatus barely listened while Bonanus and Indarias were busy picking out their favorites.

Just the thought of them squeezed your heart. The sound of their joyful peals of laughter rang in your ears, and tears immediately formed in your eyes. However, before one could fall, a finger gently wiped it away.

“Their dream of living as mortals may have been deserted, but protecting this very land until their very end was their pride and joy. What they shared with us will be our greatest treasure and this present, we should cherish. I hope that brought you a little comfort.” He voiced, lips turning upwards at the thought of his family wishing for them to see the future for what it was worth. The contented look plastered on his face caused you to break into a smile as well.

‘They’re smiling now. What a relief.’ He thought to himself.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, and the page of the scrapbook turned to another item you forgot you placed there. You gently caressed the item like it was a fragile object, which was definitely how it was considering the passage of time. Gently closing it, you turned to Xiao and pulled him down the mountain.

“I’m going to Mount Hulao to get some Qingxin flowers. Come with me.” You urged, pulling him with a grin. Startled, he let himself be dragged to the said place.

“Hey, slow down!”

“Thank you for everything, Xiao!” You shouted as you two fell. He shook his head at your antics before shifting your positions and carrying you in his arms.

“Reckless as always, but it’s because of that that I adore you.” He whispered in your ear, causing you to flush. Words like that were rarely uttered, and they would always make you feel like crystalflies fluttered inside your stomach.

🍁 ZHONGLI — LAPIS DEI

Night in Liyue Harbor remained bustling with people as the day merchants call out to sell the last of their products. Evening shops began to open and local diners started to become full as customers flood their establishments. On such night, the moon shone brightly on her people.

“All right! One more bottle, Master!” You shouted as you swing the empty bottle in your hand with vigor. Cheeks flushed and mind dazed in alcohol, you did not see a slight disappointment (and amusement) dancing in your companion’s eyes.

“Now, now, (Y/N). You might want to slow down on your alcohol. It’s not wise to get drunk when you’ve barely eaten anything.” Zhongli advised, gently taking the cup from your hands while signaling the master for a cup of water instead. You lightly pouted and told him that you ate a few fried vegetables here and there, but he knew better. The plate of the said dish was barely gobbled.

Laying your head on your right hand, your eyes drifted to the harbor below. Flickering lights danced in your eyes, and watching the people shop around joyfully warmed your heart.

“I’m so happy the people of Liyue are thriving well on their own. The Qixing did a good job leading them toward progress. But… do you regret living your post, dear Morax?” You asked, a lilt in your tone.

The refined man sipped his tea calmly before his piercing eyes reached yours. A small smile made its way to his face, a forlorn one that carried resignation. He replied that his ‘death’ might have been abrupt, ending his reign, but it was for Liyue’s sake. It was important for them to be able to stand on their own feet. After all, life was unpredictable and even a god like him could be slain with the right weapon.

“Hmm. I guess you are right. However, I must say, this is a nice change. No wonder Ping decided to live with the mortals.” You joked, stirring the cup in your hand.

Zhongli grabbed a fried lotus when the waiter came in to give your order which was fried squid. You immediately saw the way he recoiled at the dish making you laugh out loud. Taking your chopsticks out, you grabbed one and savored the taste. The seasonings were just right, and they ensured it did not taste fishy.

“Yum~ You’re missing out on these savories, Dearie. They taste absolutely fantastic.” You teased, but you were met with silence. Zhongli, who had his mouth lightly open, was astounded. The endearment you gave him was a first. Usually, you would not call him anything other than Li, Zhongli, Rex, or Stoney.

Glancing back, your eyes squinted at the flush present on his cheeks. Despite how muddled your mind was, the gears still worked, and a chuckle erupted from your lips.

“Li, Dear. Are you flustered because of that? Hayaa… So cute. Maybe, I should call you that just to get that adorable reaction!” You cheekily voiced, liking the unexpected outcome of your words. Unfortunately, you did not notice the way Zhongli stood up and face you until you felt something warm on your lips and the squid disappearing from your mouth.

“I am right. It still tastes awful as I remember, but it was quite bearable coming from you. Oh, Master, another cup of Jasmine Tea please.” He innocently called to the man of the establishment. It was now your turn to blush at his boldness. Immediately, you covered your face with your arms and even tried to hide it by resting your head above the table.

‘This idiot! That was uncalled for!’

Zhongli noticed it and simply chuckled. You were and would always be adorable in his eyes. He wished the master would hasten his brewing though. The squid was too rubbery for his liking.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #romance #fluff #baizhu #xiao #zhongli #baizhu x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader

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entishramblings · 11 months

Text

The Innocence of Brutality Pt. 7 [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: hey my preciouses. so im back from my hiatus with some pain and suffering for you all. this part was very hard to write as this story is a 10th walker. lol i struggle to follow an already created plot and not get bored writing—and that’s why I gotta add some twists and funky ass kicking Rámaitë Mahtar lore heh. anywaysss...enjoy!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is Rámaitë Mahtar, a warrior spirit race, and she meets the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the Rámaitë Mahtar is not canon as I made up Rámaitë Mahtar. Also, all elvish was translated from a translator site—it may not be accurate.

Word Count: 6.5k (i know I'm sorry i am a menace)

Warnings: nudity (not sex), mentions of war, mentions of torture, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, beard abuse (sorry gimli)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD | The Innocence of Brutality Masterlist | HERE for OC format

The fellowship and the Rámaite Mahtar spent hours upon hours enduring the biting lash of the snow's frigid touch and the piercing wail of the wind. The Pass of Caradhras fought against them, hard and strong. Relentless it was; as if the mountain itself was pained by their footsteps, doing all it could to shake them off and consign them to a frozen grave. Though they soon discovered that the mountain was not alone in pursuing their downfall.

Legolas frowned, squinting past the snowflakes that landed upon his lashes. It was hard to focus on anything but navigating through the blowing blizzard, for if he wavered his calculations, he and the fellowship would surely fall to their deaths. Yet still, something tugged at his mind, begging him to recognize its warning. The elf, determined to unravel what it was, let his senses settle into the air around him, absorbing all he could. That is when he heard it—a resonant voice murmuring curses into the wintry air.

The elven prince spun on his heel—so fast that he startled the dwarf behind him. Now facing the rest of his company, he cried out his cautionary statement. “Someone is aiding the storm. There is a fell voice upon the air.”

Gandalf met his eye, and only one word passed the wizard’s slips. “Saruman.”

(Y/N) turned to Legolas. Over the wind, she yelled her question to him. “Who is this man of saru?”

However, before any method of how he could even begin to articulate such a person even entered his mind, Aragorn and Boromir tones sprung into the air. Their voices grew insistent, advocating to return the way they came, only for Gandalf to fiercely argue against it.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) addressed again, not paying mind to the serious conversation behind her. “Who is this man of saru?”

“(Y/N),” he started. However, he was interrupted by a deep murmur that reverberated through the mountain’s core. That was the only warning the fellowship received. Seconds later, heavy clumps of snow came thundering down from the slopes above them. Legolas’ unfinished words were swept away by the mountain's rampage, lost amidst the chaotic dance of falling powder.

“Get back!” was briefly heard as Aragorn pressed his body against the side of the mountain. He attempted to take Frodo and Sam with him through a failed outreached hand grasping upon nothingness.

The Rámaite Mahtar’s eyes followed the motion, her instincts kicking in.

Her wings snapped open, tearing through the fabric and leather armor that clothed her. They extended outwards, providing a canopy over the four hobbits, just as the avalanche was to bury them.

(Y/N) grit her teeth, her form shaking slightly as the pressure hit.

Silent the hobbits were, no sound leaving their normally chatty lips, as the onslaught of snow railed upon (Y/N). Only awe was present upon their expressions as those four pairs of big, worried eyes looked up at her stern face.

The Rámaite Mahtar, however, took no notice to their concern. She held steady until no further weight was forced upon her wings.

Slowly, she lifted her head up—proud and strong—and her wings following suit. She shook them off. The snow she had caught tumbled from her feathery masses. It skipped off the edge of the mountain, leaving its longtime home.

Legolas emerged from beneath the snow rather quickly. A single glimpse of (Y/N)'s outstretched wings and the visible hobbits revealed to him what she had done. Knowing they were out of harm's way, he wasted no time in digging through the snow to unearth his other companions.

As the first hand broke the surface, Legolas seized hold of it and yanked. Spluttering, up came Aragorn. The two didn't need to speak to know what else needed to be done. They instantly began to sweep away the glistening snowflakes that continued to conceal their comrades. They hoped to retrieve them—one by one—from their frozen confinement.

(Y/N), seemingly deeming the two men competent enough to handle the task, moved closer to the hobbits. She patted Frodo’s head as she looked between the four of them. “Safe, safe, yes?”

Their responses consisted of small nods and drifting gazes, their minds still in shock.

Boromir and Gandalf soon emerged, though one member of their company was still not yet found.

“Gimli! Where is Gimli?” Legolas called out desperately.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows as her gaze scanned the snowy landscape. Meanwhile, the rest of the fellowship frantically dug, their efforts driven by urgency. (Y/N) took a few steps forward, her expression determined.

Suddenly, she began stomping in various spots on the fluffy snow bed.

Her companions, including Legolas, exchanged puzzled glances, unable to comprehend her actions. However, their confusion quickly dissipated when a muffled war cry echoed from beneath her feet. Without hesitation, (Y/N) plunged her hand deep into the snow and pulled hard. Emerging from the white depths, beard first, came Gimli, hollering and gasping for air.

Sighs of relief exited many lips before the arguing between the navigators started once again.

(Y/N) looked between them, watching, observing, trying and failing to understand the gravity of the situation. Though it seemed it wasn't really up to her to have to understand. The decision got passed down to Frodo and the small hobbit picked their dwarven friend’s option: The Mines of Moria.

Therefore, they wearily trudged down the mountain, their souls burdened and their bodies fatigued. (Y/N)'s wings guarded the hobbits, shielding them from the biting winds until they finally arrived before the sealed doors of the dwarven kingdom. And there they remained, seated in patient anticipation—for hours on end.

In the stillness, only the soft murmurs of Gandalf's whispered words and hushed conversations drifted among the fellowship, creating an atmosphere of quiet suspense.

Legolas perched beside Y/N, holding her leather armor layer in one hand and a sharp knife in the other. He was carefully carving the ripped section into a smoother line, ensuring easy exposure of her wings. Given their current lifestyle, he presumed it was crucial for her to retract and unveil her deadliest weapon effortlessly. Besides, they lacked the time and resources to stop in a town again, and even if they did, they wouldn't find suitable clothing to accommodate her unique form. The Rámaite Mahtar were not supposed to exist—not in this world at this time. She was an exception. She was a phenomenon. She was a secret—one that could get them all killed.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated. “Who is this man of saru?”

The elf briefly glanced up at her as he continued to work. This was the third time he was asked this question by her, and he knew she would ask it again if it was left unanswered. She was persistent like that. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember how we told you that there were some who intended to harm us and the people of this world?”

She nodded.

“Well,” he continued. “Saruman is one of them. He is aiding and orchestrating armies for Sauron.”

“Sauron?” (Y/N) questioned.

Legolas sighed, placing the leather down as he focused on (Y/N). He knew he would have to give her all his attention for this conversation. It wasn't one that you could have so casually. “Sauron is consumed by an insatiable thirst for power. He wants to enslave its people, create an empire of pain and suffering, and burn it down to ash and bone.”

“Why?” she asked, so innocently.

“(Y/N),” he stated softly, gazing into those goddamn brilliant, concerned, (e/c) eyes of hers. “Sauron…Sauron was a servant of Morgoth.”

The Rámaite Mahtar's lips parted, releasing a hushed gasp that was woven with fear and disbelief.

Legolas watched as these emotions shattered her soul and wreaked havoc in her heart. Her brows furrowed, her lips contorted, her gaze wandered, and her eyelids fluttered. Processing. That is what she was doing—absorbing the shock and dissecting its meaning.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, reaching for her hand. “(Y/N), Morgoth will not come here. He cannot come to this plane. The Valar would never permit it.”

She shook her head, pulling away from him. “Yes, he would. For me, he would. For me, they would let him.”

“(Y/N),” he said again, desperately.

She stood, shaking her head, her voice rising slightly. “You do not understand!!!”

Legolas, sensing her distress escalating, abandoned his seat and moved to stand with her. Gently, he took both her hands in his own. “(Y/N), help me understand.” He peered down into her wild eyes, searching for an answer. “Please, help me understand. I am here. I am listening.”

She glanced down at the ground below her feet, taking in a deep breath as she tried to gather herself—to regulate her emotions, Legolas perceived.

After a moment, she looked back to him. Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “I—I did things. B–before. When I was here long ago.”

The Prince nodded his head in encouragement.

She shut her eyes and withdrew her hands from his hold, letting her arms wrap around herself in what appeared to be a self-soothing state. “T–terrible things.” (Y/N) focused her gaze back onto Legolas. “They–they wanted it empty of some of the stuff they put in it.”

“What do you mean?” he inquired softly, his confusion deepening. “What did they want empty?”

(Y/N) frowned, her expression twitching as she tried to pick out the correct word to use. “The–the world.” She paused, just for a moment. “So, we emptied it. But–but we did not understand. I did not understand. There were peoples there.” As her words flowed on, she delicately extended her hand and brushed her fingertips against his ear. He fought the urge to flinch at the contact, but he did not stop her. Knowing how sincere and vulnerable she was in that moment, he wanted her to continue her truth. He didn't desire to give her any reason at all to halt her words. “Peoples like—like you, but not like you. Different.” She furthered, her hand then slid along the curve of his elvish ear until it was nothing but a ghost. (Y/N) looked down once again. “They screamed and cried, but we did not know, so we did not stop.”

“(Y/N),” he whispered, cupping her cheek and forcing her to look at him. “It was not your fault. The Valar did not teach you. They did not teach you of right and wrong.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, a tear escaping them. “It was my fault. I was the leader.”

Legolas’ thumb gently wiped away the water that ran down her cheek. “But you did not know, my starlight. You did not know.”

A quiet sob escaped her chest as she tried to look away from him. Though he would not let her. He would not let her suffer this guilt alone. Legolas pulled her form into his own. He enveloped her in his embrace, encircling his arm around her waist, while his other hand cradled the back of her head.

Instantly, she responded to this affection. Her hands—those small, deadly hands that had annihilated so many people—grasped onto his tunic, yanking at the threads. The ethereal glow of her wings enveloped him as well, as if just her arms were not enough to hug him back. And the pressure of her body against his was firm, almost urging him to anchor himself in case he lost balance. In that moment, with her face nestled against his chest, she sought solace and refuge in his embrace.

Softly, he pressed a kiss to her head as his hand moved in slow, soothing circles on her back.

Legolas knew the rest of the fellowship was trying, and failing, not to stare, but he did not care. This—this was important. This realization. This moment. This needed to happen. It represented her growth in the most pure and genuine way.

The embrace, however, was disturbed by the sound of a gentle plop that resonated in the air like a soft melody—though one very much out of place. One after another, the droplets of sound caressed their ears, intruding upon the intimate moment they shared. However, Aragorn’s chidding tone unintentionally attempted to give it back to them as he ordered Merry and Pippin to halt their actions.

Still, (Y/N) turned to look at the rippling of the water, watching as it moved with little rifts and smooth slides. The Rámaite Mahtar tilted her head, ignoring Frodo’s voice pipping up with a question regarding the door’s riddle. It wasn't directed at her anyways. She took a step closer to the water, and another, and another—until the sound of loud stone shifting claimed her and her companion’s attention.

The group gathered their belongings, (Y/N) folding in her wings and pulling the altered leather armor upon her form, before they flowed through the now opened doors. As they listened to Gimli rave of his cousins’ hospitality, they filed in. However, hospitality did not greet them. Nothing did. There were no torches. There were no cheers. There were no dwarven faces. Simply put: not a trace of life offered them a welcome and naught but dread stirred in their presence. As darkness wrapped around them, Gandalf lit his staff. That glow began to reflect light, allowing the fellowship to bear witness to the truth.

“This–this is no mine.” Boromir began, horror upon his tone. “It’s a tomb!”

Immediately, Gimli’s loud cries of despair echoed throughout the vast walls and the hobbits’ heavy breathing followed.

“We should never have come here. We must make for the Gap of Rohan!” Boromir exclaimed.

Rash shuffling from each member of the group followed as they began scrambling from the hallway of bones. Those bones, however, were immediately replaced by a new threat—one of tentacles and slime.

Before they even could escape the tomb, Frodo was clawing at the ground, his anguished cries for help piercing the air. The other hobbits urgently grasped his arms, straining with all their might to free him from the vile creature coiling around his legs. Yet his friends were only so strong. The creature drug the poor hobbit to the lake, flinging him through the air like a mere plaything.

Instantly, the fellowship, with weapons raised, were scrambling after him.

Though, the one that was the fastest was (Y/N). Her wings extended from her form, not breaking the newly crafted adjustments to her leather. With one strong push, she was in the air and weaving through the tentacles.

“By the Valar,” Aragorn whispered.

At his tone, Legolas’ gaze flickered from his aimed arrow and to his friend’s line of sight above the beast of the lake. Immediately, the elf’s lips parted in astonishment. Even after the months that they had known the Rámaite Mahtar, they had yet to see her fly. They had seen those beautiful wings act as blades, blankets, and canopies, but they hadn't seen them act for their intended purpose. They hadn't seen them serve as instruments of the wind. Legolas could not help but let his bow falter as he stared.

“She’s….she’s beautiful,” Legolas whispered.

Aragorn, his own shock subsiding, grabbed the elf’s arm and hissed a panicked order at him. “Legolas, cast aside your admiration and put an end to that vile beast!”

“Right, right,” he mumbled, drawing his arrow once again.

Aragorn ran into the water, slicing at the tentacles in desperate hope to free Frodo—and prevent his own capture.

(Y/N) maintained a relentless attack from above, using her wings as weapons to sever the slimy limbs impeding her path towards Frodo. With remarkable speed and precision, each stroke of her wings propelled her closer to the young hobbit, the distance shrinking inch by inch. However, just as she was closing in, the beast sent two tentacles her way. She spun quickly, her wings slicing them both, but it was the third to the back that she did not anticipate. It smacked against her shoulder blades, hard. Her body was launched backwards as if she was nothing but a gnat being batted away. The blow held such vigorous force that she crashed into the side of the mountain and tumbled with broken rock. Everything crumbled until she too joined the dust upon the ground.

Legolas, with fearful eyes, screamed her name. She did not answer.

The Prince continued firing arrow after arrow as he moved backwards towards the broken Rámaite Mahtar. Each forceful strike diverted the creature's attention. This distraction allowed Aragorn to slice the tentacle constricting Frodo, while Boromir swiftly caught him.

“Go, go, go!” Aragorn yelled, pushing Boromir and Frodo back onto the land. “Into the mines!”

The group darted through the entrance, Legolas scooping (Y/N) up into his arms as he did so.

The lake’s guardian tried to pursue them, its battered limbs slamming against the rugged mountain surface. However, in doing so, the squid-like creature lost its meal. In its desperate attempt to give chase, the fellowship’s fate was sealed. The attack caused the rocks to tremble and shudder. So much so, that the entrance to the passage crumbled and collapsed—entombing the alive with the dead.

Thick dust now drifted through the air, melding with the sounds of adrenalized breath and pounding hearts. They stood still as Gandalf lit his staff once more.

“We have now but one choice,” the wizard started as he began walking deeper into the mine. “We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world.”

“Mithrandir, wait.” Legolas called out, almost desperately.

All eyes shifted, only to be surprised to see the Rámaite Mahtar cradled in his arms. Before, she had appeared to be invincible. From the first day they encountered her, when she lifted the strongest member of the fellowship by the throat and nearly killed him, they had thought she was unstoppable. This belief was further reinforced as they witnessed her relentless prowess in battle. She ruthlessly obliterated a pack of orcs like it was nothing. She had annihilated them with sheer force that made even the elves look weak. A glimmer of possibility was instilled in them. Maybe their quest was not destined to fail after all? She was their hope. And now? Now that hope was a slumped, unmoving, bleeding form.

“(Y/N)?” Pippin whispered, his voice so quiet, so small.

“Is–is she alive?” Merry added, his tone mirroring his closest friend’s.

Legolas did not answer them as he gently laid her body onto the ground, kneeling next to her. With frantic lips murmuring a prayer in Sindarin, he reached to hold her face. Almost instantly, the Prince’s shaking hands were painted in her red blood. He tried to not focus on it as his nimble fingers found her carotid artery. He couldn't afford to think that she could be dead. Not now. Not ever.

The air was quiet and full of anxiety as they awaited his words—ones that would either break or heal their hearts.

“She’s alive.”

Sighs of relief left many’s lips, though Legolas did not hear one exit the wizard’s.

“I must treat her wounds.”

Gandalf huffed. “We cannot linger here.”

“Mithrandir!” Legolas called out, appalled. “She cannot be left to bleed—”

“Legolas, îdh, listo. (Legolas, calm, please.)” Aragorn stated, raising his hand. He then turned to the wizard. “Gandalf, Legolas is right. Without medical attention she could die. I understand you do not trust her yet, but she has saved our lives many times over. We need her.” He paused, nodding to the hobbits. “They need her.”

He huffed but dipped his head in agreement. He couldn't argue with that logic. “Ten minutes.”

Legolas was quick to pull his medical bag from his shoulder and began digging for supplies.

“Legolas, man tur- im ceri? (Legolas, what can I do?)” Aragorn stated as he knelt beside him.

The Prince passed him a small pouch as well as a mortar and pestle. “Mol hi into a sirith ir im heneb hen. (Grind this into a paste while I examine her.)”

Aragorn nodded, beginning the assigned task.

Legolas lifted her head, feeling the back of it, before speaking in the common tongue for the others to understand. “Swelling, but no blood from this blow. Seems it just knocked her out.” He twisted her face to see the bleeding cut above her brow. “This cut is pretty deep. I will need to stitch it so the skin mends properly.”

“Despite her ability to heal quickly? Cuts like this usually are gone within a day or so for her, correct?”

“Yes, but the flow is heavy and with the risk of infection—especially with all the grime in here…..” Legolas let his sentence trail off.

“Master elf,” Samwise interrupted softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

The Prince looked up at him. A gentle smile crossed his face for he knew of (Y/N)’s relationship with the hobbits. He knew how much she cared for them and they her. “Sam, if you could get Gandalf’s staff, maybe provide us with some better light?”

The hobbit nodded and quickly scurried off. Legolas could hear the soft conversation between the grumpy wizard and the innocent hobbit, though he was too focused on (Y/N) to pay attention. Regardless, Gandalf must have given in, for the hobbit returned seconds later with the light.

“Sam, hold it over here. I must check her wings.”

The light cascaded brightly above them, its luminosity filtering across the brilliant wings. The feathers absorbed and reflected those subtle colors, shining them back upon the three men. If the scene wasn't encased in blood and emotional turmoil, it would have been a radiant spectacle. But now, the once alluring silk-like texture bore the marks of horror—marks none would want to see freely.

“There does not appear to be any significant damage. Most of the blood is from the head wound or superficial cuts.” Legolas stated. “It looks worse than it really is.”

“But–but then why isn't she waking up?” Pippin inquired with unease.

Legolas did not answer, for he didn't have a reason to give the hobbit. Instead, he returned to the wound upon her brow. “Pass me that needle and threat.”

Soon enough, the Rámaite Mahtar’s cut was sealed and the blood upon her face was wiped clean. If they had not known of the events that had transpired, maybe she would have looked like she was sleeping peacefully. That, however, much to their dismay, was not the case.

Boromir, seeing (Y/N)'s treatment completed, spoke again. “We can take shifts carrying her.”

Legolas clenched his jaw, refusing to look at the Gondorian, as he gathered the winged warrior into his arms. “When her wings are exposed, it adds at least a hundred pounds to her weight. Without elven strength, you wouldn’t be able to carry her for long.”

Boromir scoffed lightly and sent a look at the elf.

Legolas wanted to snap back with another snarky reply, but he knew it would do no good. Hell, his previous comment was uncalled for—and he knew it. Boromir was a good, honorable man at heart. Legolas knew he would never do anything to harm (Y/N). The Gondorian respected her—as a woman, warrior, and friend. Besides, at this point, it was quite apparent that the Prince and Rámaite Mahtar’s souls were bound. So, Legolas kept his mouth shut as he pushed past Boromir and towards the front of the group.

Aragorn walked up beside the Gondorian. He gently patted the man’s shoulder. “Don’t take it personally. Elves tend to get quite possessive over their lovers, especially under dire circumstances.” The Ranger then chuckled. “Not one of their finer traits.”

Boromir snorted lightly in amusement, now not taking Legolas’ behavior to heart. “Indeed,” was his simple reply.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they continued their journey along the paths of the old dwarven corridors. The fellowship found themselves halted at a crossroads, a convergence of three diverging paths, where Gandalf stood at the forefront, evaluating which direction to proceed with.

Legolas settled himself on the ground, leaning his back against the cool stone surface. Keeping (Y/N) in his lap, he gently adjusted her position, allowing her head to rest upon his chest and shoulder, her face nestled against the curve of his neck. Finding a moment of reprieve, he let out a soft sigh and pressed his head against the wall behind him, shutting his eyes. With a soothing touch, he traced gentle strokes along the Rámaite Mahtar's cheek, passing the time with rest.

It felt like only minutes, even though he knew it was hours, when Gandalf called for them to follow. Legolas begrudgingly stood with (Y/N) in his arms.

“Legolas,” Aragorn’s voice softly sounded beside him. “Let me take her.”

The elf turned to face his friend. “It’s alright. I’ve got her.”

The Ranger shook his head. “You must keep some strength if we are to make it through this mine. Exhaustion will do you no good. I will watch over her, even if it’s just for a little while.”

Legolas exhaled slowly but dipped his head in agreement. He knew Aragorn was right. As an elf, he had senses that would allow him to slay twice as many servants of darkness. If they were to come across any enemies, they would need him—especially with their strongest weapon now unconscious. Therefore, he passed (Y/N) to Aragorn.

The Ranger was careful as he took her into his arms, her wings hanging limp around him and brushing upon the dusty floor. “Valar—“ he mumbled. “You weren’t kidding about her weight.”

Legolas smirked lightly. “If she is too heavy, I can take her back.”

The Ranger grunted. “No, no. I’m fine.”

The elf raised his brows but followed the others.

Legolas kept an eye on Aragorn and (Y/N) as they moved. Though it wasn't out of distrust or jealousy, it was out of concern. He could sense, as the minutes passed and as the terrain roughened, the Ranger began to tire. However, it seemed he was not the only one who could tell.

Boromir approached Aragorn. “You look like you could use a break. I will carry her.”

Aragorn let out a low—and slightly strained—laugh. “Are you certain? Legolas wasn’t mistaken about her weight.”

The Gondorian bobbed his head. “I hardly believe she is that much to bear.”

“Suit yourself,” the Ranger replied as he passed the winged warrior to the other man.

“By the Creator….” Boromir immediately gruffed out.

Now it was Aragorn’s turn to tease. “I warned you.”

“That you did,” the Gondorian grunted. He then nodded ahead. “We don’t want to get left behind. Let’s keep moving.”

However, it wasn’t long before Boromir approached Legolas. “I won’t ever doubt the strength of you and your people again,” he expressed, accompanied by a warm smile. “Are you able to carry your girl again?”

Legolas nodded, guilt flickering in his heart for his previous rude demeanor towards the man. “Yes. Thank you, Boromir. I appreciate your help.”

The Gondorian nodded in understanding before he passed (Y/N) back towards the elf.

…..

As the days passed, (Y/N) still hadn’t woken, which proved to be worrisome. The wound upon her forehead had healed, leaving only a light scar that Legolas knew would disappear in a couple days. The swelling upon the back of her head vanished as well, providing even more confusion to her still unconscious state. She would stir here and there, but never did those curious, (e/c) eyes open. If she had survived a fall from the Valar’s incarceration, why was she remaining unconscious from a strike of the lake’s beast?

Still, they could not wait on her to wake. They had to push further. So, the fellowship continued to pass through Moria in secret, observing the dwarven wonders as they did so. However, it was ignorant to hope that that secrecy would last—and as soon as the corpse of an old dwarf tumbled down that well, they knew they were discovered.

It all happened so fast.

Legolas barely had time to place (Y/N)’s form down against Balin’s tomb before the doors were splintering, revealing orc faces dripping with evil desire.

However, at the first clank of a sword, there came at least one good act.

A large gasp, loud and alarm-filled, struck the air. The Rámaite Mahtar jolted upright. In an instant, her wings snapped back to life, shedding their previously limp state, and surged outward with lethal swiftness. As they unfurled, they decapitated three nearby orcs.

Legolas could only manage to call out her name in relief before he too was consumed by the battle.

With (Y/N) ripping the vile creatures into pieces, even faster than the elf, the fellowship had thought they had a chance. Well, that was until one sentence left the Gondorian’s lips.

“They have a fucking cave troll.”

From then on, it was a blur. Each member of the group was fighting for their lives—including the hobbits. Though all their hearts stopped when Frodo called out in pain and crumbled to the ground. Shrieks of fear left every member’s lips as Aragorn desperately rushed to his body. Those heartaching cries, however, quieted when Frodo’s small voice sang out clearly. “It’s alright. I’m not hurt.”

Then they were running again, and again, and again.

The immense chamber teemed with a horde of orcs, swarming across every surface—the ground, walls, and ceiling. So much so, that the members of the quest were encircled by them, barely having room to breathe. A sort of stalemate settled in, both sides waiting for the other to make the first move.

(Y/N)’s wings twitched as she rotated, readying herself.

Though a fight did not come—not from the thousands of revolting beings.

Badum, badum, badum.

Each member of the fellowship spun and turned at that sound.

Badum, badum, badum.

The orcs faltered and swiveled their heads.

Badum, badum, badum.

Panic then erupted. The grotesque creatures scrambled to flee. They shoved and pushed one and other as their gangly forms scurried away—back to the hellhole that they came from.

Badum, badum, badum.

“What is this new devilry?” Boromir whispered.

Badum, badum, badum.

Gandalf sucked in a deep breath. “A balrog of Morgoth.”

(Y/N)’s heart froze.

“A demon of the ancient world,” Gandalf continued. “This foe is beyond any of you. RUN!”

It was here that the fellowship mimicked the goblins—though with more care for one another. They took off down the vast hallway as they made for the Bridge of Khazad Dum. Their legs moved quicker than they ever would have thought possible—stopping only when there was a gap in a path above the fiery abyss.

Legolas was the first to leap across, his nimble form making it appear easy. Gandalf was the next to make the jump. Merry and Pippin were to follow with Boromir; however, they were halted as arrows shot at their feet—just nearly missing.

(Y/N) whipped her head around, just in time to see another projectile whizzing straight towards Boromir.

The Rámaite Mahtar was quick to lift her wing in front of him. The fine tip pierced her instantly, causing a deep grunt of pain to exit her lips. The arrow went through the feathery flesh, but halted as it got stuck in tight muscle—only inches away from Boromir’s forehead.

The Gondorian’s wide eyes shifted to her—in thanks, in shock, in guilt.

Legolas quickly turned and fired his bow, taking out the archer.

“Go!” (Y/N) shouted as she lowered her wing.

With that, Boromir grabbed Merry and Pippin and leaped onto the other side. His feet landed just before the section they had previously stood on collapsed.

(Y/N) was next. She lifted her wings slightly, despite the pain, to give herself more of a drift. As she landed she shuffled close to Merry and Pippin and ripped the arrow from her wing with a groan.

As Legolas caught Sam and then Gimli—by the beard—another arrow whizzed past the hobbits’ head.

Once again, the Rámaite Mahtar shielded them—earning two more arrows in the wing.

By the time Frodo and Aragorn finagled their way across the ever growing gap, the Balrog was upon them.

The fellowship were fleeing as fast as they possibly could. A few brave souls dared to steal a glance behind, their hearts pounding in their chests. Among them was Frodo, and as his eyes locked onto the fiery menace descending upon Gandalf, a cry of terror escaped his lips. The collective gaze of the group shifted at that, now drawn to the scene unfolding before them. They then bore witness.

The wizard stood strong. His deep voice, full of power and protection, echoed through the cavern. “You cannot pass.”

The Balrog attacked. Gandalf defended.

“I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow!”

Once again, the Balrog attacked. Gandalf defended.

The wizard brought his sword and staff crashing down upon the bridge, a resounding boom echoing through the air. His voice then thundered, filled with unwavering determination. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Those words seemed to reverberate through the chamber, carrying the weight of his command across the stone. In that moment, he stood as a barrier, defying the very force that sought to destroy them and their mission.

The bridge began to crumble. Piece by piece, the stone began to fall, taking the Balrog with it.

Gandalf inhaled deeply.

It was done.

The whip, however, lashed out one final time. With a swift motion, it coiled around the wizard's ankle, forcefully pulling him off his feet. In a fleeting moment, he was airborne, his body suspended before gravity claimed its prize. Gandalf’s hands flailed, desperately reaching out for anything to anchor him to the bridge's edge. His fingers found the stone and his nails dug in. Though, he knew he had no chance. He wished only to leave a message for the one who looked up to him the most.

Frodo cried out once again, lunging for his mentor and friend.

Boromir, however, wrapped a strong arm around him and held him back.

The little hobbit, sobbing, held eye contact with the wizard.

“Fly you fools,” Gandalf whispered.

Then, he too, was gone.

Frodo screamed, his cry intertwining with that of his fellow hobbits, creating a symphony of despair that echoed through the burning darkness.

However, they weren’t the only ones to have a profound reaction.

Surprisingly, (Y/N) rushed forward. She sprinted down the bridge, her legs carrying her fast, but she wasn’t fast enough. Legolas anticipated what she was going to do. He saw how her strides stretched wide and how her wings extended. She was gonna jump. Reacting swiftly, he took off after her. His paces were wider and his speed was quick. Just as she was about to push herself into the air, Legolas grabbed onto her waist and yanked her backward. The unstable bridge trembled under the sudden motion, threatening to give way, but the elf maintained his balance and steadied the winged woman in his grasp.

“LEGOLAS!” she snapped in fierce anger. Her threatening gaze—one that he had only seen directed towards enemies—poured into him, almost incinerating his soul.

“IT’S TOO LATE!” He barked back, ignoring the startlement that just flushed his veins and choosing to focus on the bridge crumbling beneath their feet. “RUN!”

With that he tugged her in the opposite direction, following the remaining members of the fellowship.

When they burst from the mines, their souls shattered like fragile glass. The hobbits collapsed upon the stony ground, their tears flowing freely, their sorrow reverberating through their chests. Agonized grimaces etched themselves onto the faces of Gimli and Boromir. Aragorn tried his best to conceal his pain, though his grey eyes betrayed him with hidden turmoil. And Legolas? He stood motionless, disbelief written across his face.

(Y/N), however, snapped him out of it. She pushed her palms against his chest, hard. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

He twisted to look at her. “What?”

“Why did you stop me?!” The Rámaite Mahtar quipped back aggressively. She grasped onto the two arrows still embedded in her wing. She yanked them out. “I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!”

Legolas shook his head, his tone calm and full of despair. “No, (Y/N). No, you could not.”

Her hands ran through her hair, frantically and angrily, the strands tangled and pulled on as she sought release from the overwhelming emotions rippling through her blood. A frustrated scream escaped her lips—a raw manifestation of these turbulent feelings surging. With a sudden burst, she spun back around, facing him with eyes ablaze. “I have killed one of those–those balrogs!” She took an enraged step towards him. “My legion and I bleed one dry of its fire! And you—”

Legolas interrupted her, his tone now picking up. “And I stopped you from killing yourself! You and your legion—”

“Legolas!—”

He grabbed onto her shoulders as his next words raced across the stones, silencing the area from all but tears. “YOUR LEGION ISN'T HERE!”

The wind skipped through the leaves of the trees, uneasy at the elf’s sudden tone. It blew gently upon the despairing people, begging to kiss their skin with some kind of hope, but only succeeding in tearing their hearts further. Still, it continued its melancholic dance. Seemingly carrying the weight of their shattered souls with its whispering of sorrowful melodies.

Nature itself mourned alongside (Y/N) as she stared, bewildered, at Legolas.

The Prince closed his eyes and lowered his head. He inhaled deeply, regretting his tone. After a moment, now returned to his normal steady and calm temperament, he gazed into her eyes and spoke again. “(Y/N), your legion is not here and they will remain absent. They were not present to help you defeat this Balrog and they will not come to help you fight others. They are imprisoned, beyond your reach. They won't escape as you did—not now, not after you have. The chains will have been fortified and the gates sealed with blood. You are the sole Rámaite Mahtar that will ever step on these lands.” He paused, his tone now a whisper. “You are alone.”

(Y/N)’s expression distorted. Her brows crinkled, her lips quivered, her eyes watered, and her form shook. Emotions whipped through her blood, boiling and freezing in the pain of realization and acceptance. She supposed a part of her had thought that her race would eventually return with her—join her in learning this plane. Though now that that secret hope was exposed and disproven, there was nothing else to be said. The truth stood liberated from the web of self-created falsehoods that had previously concealed it.

“(Y/N),” Legolas whispered, realizing the dream he had just shattered.

And that was all it took.

A loud sob escaped her throat and tears pooled down her face. She flung her form into his arms and cried.

She cried and she cried—as loudly as the hobbits.

And Legolas held her. He rocked her back and forth as he smoothed her hair, desperately trying to keep her safe from the pain, though he knew it was too late. He pressed a kiss to her head as he whispered into her ear. “Though you may be alone among your kind, I will forever be by your side.”

…..

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thewolfnessphotography · 2 years

Photo

Sneak peak.

High Tatras. Slovakia

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siyooungi · 9 months

Note

OKAY SO I HAD THIS DREAM AND I THINK ITS SUCH A CUTE SCENARIO IT NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN 😭 so, in the dream, i entered a shelter in a snowy area and went upstairs to an empty room where the person im visiting (jennifer) would usually be. there was a fireplace and a couch with a big lump of blankets and a big ass dog on it, yk the kind that rescues people in the mountains? yeah so i went over to pet it obv and suddenly a person revealed themselves from under the blankets and it was yunjin??? 😭😭😭 she had brown hair and was wearing a flannel shirt, we looked at each other and smiled, i said a shy hi, she responded the same way, i looked away, she invited me under the blankets and I WOKE UP. THIS IS SO CRUEL. I AM SO DOWN BAD FOR THIS WOMAN. if u decide to write it i would be forever indebted to u tysm 🫶🫶🫶

A/N: This was not entirely proofread so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!!

Pairing: Yunjin x Fem!Reader

Idol: Huh Yunjin (Le Sserafim)

Warning(s): None!

The snow fell gently outside as you found yourself seeking refuge in a cozy shelter nestled amidst the wintry landscape. The air was crisp and cold, causing you to shiver as you ventured further. You knocked on the front door, wondering if anyone would be inside. Receiving no response, you took your chance at twisting the handle. Surprisingly, it was open. You were met with darkness, the only light illuminating parts of the area being candles.

Not wanting to be down here any longer, you went up the creaking wooden stairs, your steps muffled by the thick carpet that covered the floor, and roamed through the hallway. There were more candles, thankfully, allowing you to spot another door in the distance. It seemed as if it was almost beckoning you in. You were sure no one occupied this place, but were still wary so you gently pushed the door open once you were close enough. The room was seemingly empty, but it looked so put together.

The room held a certain allure, with its crackling fireplace casting a warm glow that danced across the walls. A plush couch, adorned with a mound of blankets, sat invitingly in front of the fireplace. And there, nestled on the blankets, lay a majestic husky, its eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Your heart swelled with delight at the sight of the adorable canine companion. Unable to resist, you approached the dog with a gentle smile and soft steps, ready to offer a comforting pat. However, just as your hand reached out, a figure emerged from beneath the blankets, startling you momentarily. You let out a surprised yelp and jumped back, quickly slamming your hand over your mouth.

The person looked at you with as much shock as you did with them. You didn’t say anything, and instead took the chance to get a good look at the stranger. It was a woman and she looked relatively young. She had brown hair and was dressed in a cozy flannel shirt. Her presence exuded warmth and comfort despite you initially being alarmed.

She tilted her head at your lack of vocalness, seemingly waiting for you to introduce yourself. Once you came back to your senses, you removed your hand from your mouth and apologized. “I’m so sorry for intruding! I’m Y/N..” You sent an apologetic smile her way, still keeping your distance.

Recovering from her initial shock, the beautiful stranger smiled reassuringly. “Yunjin.” She spoke as she held her hand out, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and delight. You quickly shuffling over to shake it, not wanting to leave her hanging. Your fingers intertwined briefly, creating an instant connection that seemed to bridge the gap between your worlds. The room suddenly felt cozier, as if the presence of another soul had breathed life into its walls.

“Your room is so pretty.” You complimented as you observed your surroundings, truly taking everything in. You couldn't help but be captivated by the tranquility it exuded. The crackling fire emitted a gentle warmth, casting a comforting ambiance in the room. The soft glow accentuated the beauty of their surroundings, illuminating the rustic charm of the wooden furniture and the intricate tapestries adorning the walls.

She followed your gaze, feeling proud at your statement. The brunette took pride in the way she handled herself and everything around her. “Thank you. I decorated it myself!” The look of astonishment never left your face, causing her to chuckle.

“Would you like to join me under the blankets?” She suggested, her voice gentle and kind. Your cheeks flushed slightly, but you couldn't resist the allure of sharing warmth with Yunjin. With a nod, you accepted the offer, sliding under the blankets beside her. As you sank into the softness of the blankets, a shared warmth enveloped you, cocooning you in a sanctuary of comfort. The husky snuggled closer, sensing the newfound bond between its owner and this new guest.

Wrapped in the cozy embrace of the blankets, you both found solace in each other's presence. The crackling fire and the soft sounds of the winter wind outside created a tranquil ambiance, fostering an atmosphere of intimacy and comfort.

You couldn’t resist the adorable puppy and took the chance to pet it. It leaned into your touch, immediately bringing a smile to your face. You scratched behind its ear and watched its tail go into overdrive. “His name is Ace.” Yunjin suddenly spoke up, causing his ears to perk up at the mention of his name. “Ace..” You repeated to yourself as you looked at him, watching as he got up and sat on top of your covered lap. He wasn’t the biggest but he was big enough to make you huff when he plopped down, causing Yunjin to giggle at your reaction.

“You’re such a good boy, Ace!” You used both of your hands to scratch him from his head to the rest of body, his tail wagging wildly and his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted joyfully. It must’ve been nice to have a new person around, especially after being with his owner for so long. The brunette smiled fondly at you as she observed the interaction.

As all three of you winded down, more so Ace considering it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, you couldn't help but steal glances at Yunjin, taking in the warmth of her smile and the way her eyes sparkled in the gentle flicker of the firelight. The silence was comfortable, though you wanted to know more about this stranger.

“So, how long have you lived here?” You asked, pulling her attention away from her sleeping puppy. She pondered about it before speaking, “A few months now. It’s my little refuge from the outside world.” You nodded understandably as you listened. You wish you could have a place to come back to when you didn’t feel like dealing with the public.

“Do you ever feel lonely, even with this cutie?” You petted Ace’s head, letting out a soft laugh at his ear twitch even in his sleep. Yunjin gazed at her loyal companion with a loving smile. “Well, he’s the best company. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, I do feel a tinge of loneliness.” She admitted, a sad smile plastered on her face. She isn’t as social as she once was, and it wasn’t a bad thing but she’s still human and humans need social interactions.

“Well, for the time being, I’m here.” You placed your hand on top of hers, squeezing it reassuringly. The action revealed a genuine smile from the brunette, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of hers. It was contagious, really. She already loved having you as company and a part of her wanted you to just stay with her. She already grew fond of you within this short period of time and vice versa. Despite just meeting her, it felt like she was someone you’ve know forever. Everything about her brought you at ease, whether it be her voice or how she acted.

Inside the sheltered haven, time seemed to stand still as you and Yunjin reveled in the peacefulness and the company you found in one another. You discovered common interests, shared dreams, and vulnerabilities the more you spoke to each other, forging a bond that transcended the wintry landscape outside.

Your connection blossomed like a winter flower, delicate yet resilient, as you embraced the softness of your shared moments. And as the snowflakes continued to dance outside, your hearts danced in harmony, savoring the enchantment of a winter's tale that had only just begun.

Yunjin's laughter filled the air as you took turns cracking jokes about yourselves and reminiscing about embarrassing moments. It was a melodic symphony that resonated deep within your heart.

“What brought you here?” The latter questioned as she rested her head on her pillow, her head turned to face you. “I just wanted to get away.” She hummed in acknowledgment, understanding where you were coming from even without further explanation. “Well, I’m glad you ended up here out of all places.” Yunjin humored, evoking a chuckle out of you.

In the midst of your conversation, you found yourself growing tired and inching closer to the girl. As she was speaking, you rested your head gently against her shoulder. “Tired?” She asked, to which you hummed as you closed your eyes. Yunjin responded by wrapping her arm around them, offering a silent reassurance. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the safest you’ve felt in awhile, and the world outside ceased to exist.

The gentle rhythm of Yunjin's breathing and the soothing sound of her voice lulled you into a state of peace. Your eyes grew heavy, and eventually, the exhaustion took over, causing you to drift off to sleep. Due to your lack of response, Yunjin looked down at you, sending that you had fallen into a peaceful slumber and couldn't help but smile. She adjusted her position slightly, ensuring you were well-supported and comfortable against her side.

As time passed, Yunjin's arm, which was still wrapped around, began to tingle and lose sensation. Though, she didn't mind and bared with the slight discomfort. She was content and was cherishing the closeness she shared with you for the time being, not wanting to disturb your much needed sleep.

However, as the night wore on, Yunjin herself grew tired. Despite her best efforts to stay awake, exhaustion finally caught up with her. She carefully leaned back, shifting her arm from beneath you, hoping not to wake you. You stirred slightly, instinctively seeking the warmth and comfort that had been surrounding you. Your arms wrapped around Yunjin’s abdomen, causing her to freeze. There was no escaping now, and that made her feel strangely at ease. She made a move to adjust herself again, earning a mumble from you in your sleep. Not wanting to take a chance at interrupting your rest, she settled and played with your hair until she felt herself slowly dozing off.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep as well, enjoying the warmth you provided on top of the heat from the fireplace. She didn’t want this to end and hoped that when she woke up, you would still be here.

Unbeknownst to her, you didn’t plan on leaving.

#fem reader #le sserafim #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin imagines #yunjin x reader #kpop #kpop girl groups #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim imagines #lesserafim scenarios #siyooungi

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ya-zz · 4 months

Text

Merry Christmas

This was a thank you to @yore-donatsu for taking time out of her schedule to sketch some Ramattra stuff for me which I still adore and smile at each time I open my phone or log into my pc 😭

Thank you again, and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas!

~~~

Ramattra x reader (gen)

Word count: 4715

The sun was beginning to set over the village in Nepal, and the sky’s ablaze with color; warm oranges and reds peek over the mountains as the night fades in. The air is crisp and cold, and the stars are beginning to twinkle in the dark abyss that’s approaching quickly. It’s a peaceful and serene night without many disturbances. The stars shine brightly in the sky, and the moon casts its silvery light over the village.

The winter evenings in the Nepal village are a time for rest and relaxation whilst the monks in the monastery gather together to prepare a small event as they talk about their day, tell stories, and laugh together. The evenings are a time to forget about the stresses of life and to simply enjoy the company of loved ones.

Whilst the village below was bustling with life, the monastery just as vibrant and while many of them did not celebrate the idea of Christmas, they were happy to indulge those who were. Decorations were drawn up, holly and tinsel lining the walls and in the main entrance way stood tall a tree littered with baubles and ornaments that were gifted from the villagers.

Candles were lit, illuminating every dark area inside, somehow never going out despite the wintry breezes that pass by. The stone floor was icy, human feet would freeze should they walk on it. The omnics could feel the cold, but it wasn’t detrimental to their systems so they didn’t mind, however they would always ensure that any human that visits would wear shoes to protect their feet at this time of year.

The monastery was warm, certain rooms warmer than others and one of which was your room. With the fire on and the snow falling outside, it looked like a scene out of a movie. Bundled up on the chair beside the fire, you sat there with your mind focussed on your work. There were exactly six days before Christmas Day, six days before the monastery held that small gathering between the monks and of course, you were invited among the group.

For once, you felt like you belonged. They were always there when you needed support, a shoulder to cry on or even just a friendly chat in the morning or evening. Someone was always there for you.

One omnic more than others.

Although… you hadn’t seen him for a few days and that worry was growing with each passing day. Ramattra had been out of the monastery, whether he was avoiding the holidays, the monks or you, it was a thought that constantly crossed your mind.

All you could do was help the monks prepare, lending a hand when they needed it and accepting theirs when you needed it. You were doing what you could to take your mind away from the missing omnic. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, something that reminded you of home; being a child and helping decorate the tree, running around the stores with your parents getting the last minute gifts, accidentally smashing a bauble but the spirits were high that you didn’t get yelled at.

If only you knew what Ramattra was doing and where he was. It wasn’t like him to wander off without a reason, especially without telling you his plans. Ever since you grew close to the omnic, Ramattra would talk to you almost every day and he’d tell you his schedule should it conflict with yours.

Looking out of the window, you sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around your body. The clouds were growing thicker, a storm was approaching.

It wasn’t his first Christmas, definitely wasn’t his last, but this year it was different for him.

He didn’t want to tell you what he was doing, he made sure nobody knew. It was a surprise, and he was making sure that there were no obstacles in the way of his plan. So far, everything was going smoothly.

As the snow continued to fall, covering the villages of Nepal in a thick blanket that only grew within the coming hours, Ramattra began his return to the monastery. He was two days travel away, but with the constant snowfall, he knew it was going to take longer.

Ramattra had to plan accordingly. His model wasn’t necessarily made for wandering in deep snow, he figured that out the hard way a few years prior. His cooling was verging on freezing, system error coming up critical. He was lucky to have made it back inside before the worst had happened and he shut off.

By his calculations, he had three hours before his cooling completely freezes, he had to be somewhere warm before those three hours were up and while he had his cowl to keep him warm, the cold still pierced through to his chassis which in turn began to lock up his joints.

His monk robes clung to him, wet and freezing as he started his walk back, staff in hand to help him move up the cobbled roads. Ramattra passed several humans, each wrapped up warm with coats, hats and scarves, gloves protecting their fragile hands. He looks down at the bag he was carrying, hoping that what he had picked out for you was correct in size, but also something you would wear with pride, something you would love because he got it for you.

A gift, for you.

Ramattra had never bought a gift for anyone in his life, but you were someone special, someone who he held close to his circuits. You wandered into his life and he had never once regretted it. Despite some misunderstandings and debates, you are one he doesn’t want to lose.

He would protect you. Though his disregard and hatred is high for the human species, you were the exception. Ramattra would make sure you were happy, that you were healthy. He would make sure you were safe, no matter the cost. Should he be decommissioned against his will, he would hope and pray to the Iris that you were safe.

He pauses in thought for a moment, optics looking ahead yet not looking at anything in particular. His system alerts him, cutting his thought short.

[ WEATHER WARNING. SEVERE SNOW STORM ]

The omnic looks up to the sky, now noticing how dark it had become since he started his travel. His hand twitches around his staff as he looks back down and continues to walk along the road, the snow getting heavier, thicker with every passing minute.

He was close to the village edge and the moment he decides to walk past those stone pillars, there is no protection from the cold, no shelter until the next village which was under three hours away by foot.

Ramattra sighs, entering a small inn and paying for a room for the night, the omnic innkeeper escorting Ramattra to his room. It was too risky to go out when a storm was coming. He sits down on the bed and stares out of the window as his processors work to figure out a new plan should the storm last too long.

He looks down at the bag, servos tracing the metal pad on the back of his hand. For once, the omnic was nervous, worried that he may not make it back to the monastery in time.

Ever so slowly, his plan started falling apart.

—

Commotion could be heard all throughout the monastery as the monks rushed around to cover up the windows to keep the heat in, but also to protect themselves and everything inside from the harshness of the storm.

The clanking of feet outside of your door startles you before it fades off, the monks rushing past your room as they keep working. Meanwhile, you stay seated, bundled up warm beside the fire that heated your cheeks. You were too comfortable, too cosy to move in fact.

Your room was warm despite the open window where thoughts escaped from and where worries left. However, the warm room felt lonely without Ramattra seated in front of you on the floor. Hands craved to be tangled in his cabled hair whilst he meditates before they slip down and tilt his head back so you could smile down at him, reassuring him that you cared and that he was safe with you.

The fire burns your eyes as you stare into it, cheeks hot as you wonder where Ramattra was. Something wasn’t right but you couldn’t quite place it but as the storm continues, winds howling outside and snow sticking to everything it touches, you could only fear the worse. He was out there.

You had two options; wait it out and hope that he got home to you safely, or venture out there in hopes to find him… but that came with great risk to your life. You’d have to plan accordingly, know where shelter is, know where he had gone. One plan you could do easily was the travel; there’s inns dotted around the village, many didn’t require payment to stay if you’re sheltering in the main living area, but the second part, finding where Ramattra went, was the tricky part.

He never said he was leaving. Never mentioned it to you or any of the other monks. One hour he was there and then the next he was nowhere to be seen. One monk pointed out that he had left through the main door, everyone including you, assuming he was going down to the village to visit the library or pick up some parts for his projects that he was tinkering with.

But then that begs the question; why didn’t he ask you to come with him?

Ramattra would always come to you first and ask if you wanted to join him on a small trip to the village, a walk in the garden, join him in meditation or even just sitting in silence in the small monastery library. You were the first to come to mind and system with him. You were the one whom he wanted to spend time with. You were special to him.

A human and a ravager - an unlikely and blossoming friendship.

Turning your gaze back to the window, tears pricking your eyes from staring too long into the fire, you let out a shaky sigh as you watch the snow fall in large clumps. You think about venturing out there to find the missing omnic, but then that means risking your life. The storm had claimed many lives in the past, human and omnic alike. Even those fully prepared don’t make it to their destination without careful and precise planning.

“Where are you, Ramattra…?” You sigh, holding your mug a little tighter, feeling the slight tingle as it burns your palms. “Please be safe…”

…

Three days had passed and there was still no sign on the missing omnic. Many of the monks were getting concerned, others were still prepping for the event in three days.

You had gathered what you could, layered on several shirts and coats, the thickest pants and socks you could find and the winter boots you were gifted earlier on in the year by another monk. Your hat, scarf and gloves were snug, keeping your fragile hands and ears warm as you ventured out into the icy weather, the storm still strong as it battered your cheeks.

The backpack was heavy on your back, as you tread carefully down the slippery monastery steps. Everything was telling you to head back, to go back inside where it was warm and safe, where your life wouldn’t be on the line.

All you were hoping was that Ramattra was safe, that he hadn’t succumbed to the harsh winter storm, buried under several feet of snow. The thought makes you shiver.

“Please be okay…”

You repeated the same three words over the last three days; when you woke up to an empty sofa, when you stared at the water in the cup before drinking it, when you showered and spaced out thinking the worst. He was the first thought when you woke up and the last one before you went to bed.

“Ramattra…”

Your quiet pleads were silenced by the wind as you stumble outside of the monastery walls and out of the first village after hearing that Ramattra was not here. There was no going back now, there were four hours of walking to go before you’d reach the next village. It would usually be a lot quicker, an hour and half at most but with the snow making the terrain uneven and unsafe, it added more time.

The snow continued to batter your body as you tread carefully along the edge of what you assumed was the path, following the walls and rope that travelled between the villages for this very purpose. A guide for travellers to follow.

A guide for you to find Ramattra.

Meanwhile, he was preparing to leave the second village, bag and staff in hand as he set the timer within his HUD the moment he stepped out of the door and into the harsh cold. His system was on high alert, the temperature below freezing as he started his walk into the white abyss.

The snow didn’t seem to let up at all, constantly falling and covering his shoulders and hooded head with a thin, sparkly sheet. He needed to get back and soon, this specific road was longer than the previous one and the longer he stayed outside, the riskier it was for the omnic. While the snow continued to fall, it was a miracle it never went any higher up his metal calves. The sun was still warm, slowly melting the top most layers.

His staff sunk deep into the snow, piercing holes that only filled up within minutes and his treadmarks that followed behind him followed the same agonising pattern. Left, right, left, right, and the only colour that surrounded him was white and grey with the occasional beige rope and grey brick. Monotone. Dull. He’d much rather be back within the confines of the monastery, back within your hold, soft hands caressing his frame and settling his mind. He needs the colour back…

He needs you.

Far off in the distance, his systems pick up faint movement. Something was approaching him slowly and no matter how hard he tried to single the entity out, the snow was too thick and continued to get in the way.

Ramattra deemed it another traveller, but then wondered why someone would be venturing out at this time knowing how bad the weather was.

It wasn’t until he got closer that he realised who it was. His systems went into overdrive as he heats up, rushing over with panic rising within his wires.

“[y/n]!” His hand drops the staff into the snow and reaches for your face, lifting your head up to face him. “What are you doing out here?” His tone was full of worry and concern. He notices how cold your body is despite the several layers you have on. “You are freezing!”

Through slurred and chattered words, you speak quietly to him. “Came to find you.”

Though touched, Ramattra shakes his head, turning to pick up his staff before looking back at you. “Your concern touches me, but you could hurt yourself.”

“Was worried.”

Ramattra notices the lack of words and takes another look at you, seeing the flushed cheeks and blue lips. Placing his staff in his other hand, he pulls back your hat and sees how red your ears are. His system flares up, warning him that frostbite had begun setting in for you.

“We need to get you back. Now.” There was urgency in his voice as he covers your ear back up. “Can you walk?”

You stare at him, your own head trying to process his words.

He sighs, dropping the bag and staff back into the snow as he takes off his cowl and draping it over your shoulders, pulling the hood over your head. He turns and kneels, allowing you to climb onto his back to which you do without questioning him. Before he stands, he grabs the bag and staff, hooking the bag into the crook of his arm and carrying the staff in his hand once more.

Before he starts walking, he slowly heats his back up and runs through several different plans on how to conserve what power he has remaining in order to get back to the monastery without too much damage.

There was roughly an hour left of the journey, however, with you on his back and the added weight of the clothes and whatever was in your backpack, he estimates another half an hour at a steady pace. I am pushing it… he thinks to himself, beginning the walk.

“Where did you go?” You mumble into his back.

“I had an errand I needed to run.” He states, the grip on your thighs was tight as he keeps you from falling from his back. He feels you nod and hum. “You are a fool.”

“I know.”

“Something could have happened to you.”

“I know.”

“This is serious. Your body isn’t made for these harsh climates. You should have stayed at the monastery.”

“I was worried.” You tighten your grip around his neck, feeling the warmth seep though your clothing from his back.

“You are making me worried right now. You have frostbite.” He sighs, trying to keep his pace fast.

You smile, nuzzling your head into his back, the cowl covering your face from the snow. “It’s nice to know you care.”

Ramattra squeezes your thigh once. “I have always cared about your wellbeing.”

“Liar.”

He chuckles. “Okay, maybe not all of the time, but more so since we got closer.”

“You’re nice when you’re soft.”

“I am not soft.”

…

The walk back to the monastery was slow, Ramattra having to make a quick stop in one of the local stores to pick up some hot tea for your hands to hold on the rest of the journey. He stayed silent, not muttering a word to you about where he had been and what he had been up to, and that irked you somewhat. After risking your life to look for him, you had hoped he’d be a little more forthcoming with his whereabouts.

When you two had arrived at the monastery, finally safe within the confines of the stone walls, the monks inside were relieved to see that the pair of you were okay. One monk handed you a hot drink after taking the other empty cup from your hands, whilst another was quick to pull you towards the nearby fire to warm up.

Ramattra watched on, a comforting feeling coursing within his wires as he realised just how much your presence meant to the others. He tilts his head towards you and if he could smile, he would be doing just that.

By the time the evening came around, the pair of you had wandered back to your shared living quarters, finally stripped free of the outdoor clothing. He sat with you, the usual spot of him on the floor and you sat behind him on the sofa. He let you keep wearing his cowl, marvelling in the way it made you look and bundled up in something he loved to wear made him feel warmer.

“I was worried about you.” You finally broke the silence you shared, hands tangled within his cabled hair.

“So you have said.” He chuckles. “You did not need to come looking for me.”

“What if you never made it back?”

“You do not need to worry about that. I planned accordingly.” He states.

“But-”

“I am here now, am I not?” He tilts his head up to look up at you. “Your concern for me is appreciated, but you did not need to risk your life.”

“I would risk everything just to make sure you were okay.” You smile down, thumb brushing the white faceplate of his. “Christmas wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“It is our first Christmas.” Ramattra shifts his optics, looking at the soft glow of the fire within your eyes.

“One of many, I would hope.” You could feel his head get a little heavier as he leans into your hands. You continue to speak, voice soft and loving. “I wish you would’ve said you were leaving. Everyone was worried about you.”

“I will remember that for next time, but as I said-”

“I do not need to worry.” You laugh, badly mimicking him.

Ramattra chuckles before looking forward again, the fire warming up his faceplate as he goes back to a meditative state.

“Are you charging again?” You whisper, pulling his cowl up around your arms.

“Yes.”

“How long do you have left?”

“Two days.”

“Why is it so long?”

“I have been in and out of this state for the last four days.” He states, fingers twitching on his lap. “I… May have dropped to below ten percent.”

“Ramattra!”

…

The omnic was in and out of conversation during the two days he was charging, but those two days lasted longer than either of you had wanted. Christmas morning came around and Ramattra was still sitting there on the floor.

The fire had been put out and relit several times over. Your hands stroked his wires while you sat there in silence, listening to the hum of his inner workings; and even now as you sat on the sofa in the exact same spot, Ramattra was still motionless on the floor.

Part of you worried, but the occasional twitch of his servos was all the indication you needed that he was still here.

He finally woke up in the early afternoon. His hands flexed before his fans picked up speed slightly which startled you out of the small nap you had fallen into. The room was a comfortable warm, dangerous even, as it pulled you under for the last hour.

“You’re awake.” You say, voice quiet as you sit up.

“So are you.” Ramattra chuckles. “My charge is finally complete.”

“I’m glad.” You reach up to him, pressing your forehead against his. “You were gone longer than two days.”

“I am sorry.” His own hands come up your jaw, pulling you in a little closer.

“You babble omnicode a lot.”

“I do?” He tilts his head in questioning.

You smile, letting out an airy laugh. “Yes. It’s quite funny.”

“I am glad you find humour in that.”

He doesn’t let go of you as he pulls his face back. “You are still wearing that.”

You look down at the cowl still draped around your shoulders. “Yes… It smells like you.”

He chuckles. “Keep it. It looks good on you.”

As you look up at him, Ramattra admires the way your face lights up before finally dropping his hands.

“And, I have this for you.” He steps away, heading for the bag that he had placed at the foot of the bed when he entered the room those two and a half days ago. He returns, handing the bag to you.

“Ramattra…” You look down at the bag and then back at him. “You really didn’t have to go out of your way-”

“I insist. It is the holidays after all.” He gestures for you to sit down on the sofa and sits besides you when you do.

He watches you, optics shifting their aperture as the fire flickers. When you pull out a soft sweater, carefully knit in your favourite colour, your cheeks heat up and not from the fire.

“Rama…” Your voice was gentle as you feel the knitted garment, fingers tracing over the soft fabric.

“I do hope it fits. I had to guess.” He admits, looking down at his hands.

You smile, tugging off the cowl and pulling on the sweater. The sleeves were long, bunching at the wrists. It was a size too big, but in the cold weather, it was perfect for snuggling up into. Straightening the fabric on the front of your body, you look back at him, a warm flush on your cheeks.

“I love it!” Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into an embrace.

His arms come up, hands caressing your back.

“I do hope it keeps you warm, even in the harshest of winters.” He mumbles into your neck.

“You went out of your way to get me this…” Tears prick your eyes. “You remembered.”

He chuckles. “It is hard for me to forget. We were walking through that village five months ago when you saw it in the window. There… Is also something else.” Ramattra feels you pull back and then look at him with confusion.

“Something else?”

“Yes.” He pulls you off of him and grabs the bag, pulling out a small box and handing it to you. “I… Had this one personally made.”

“What-” The shock was evident on your face as you stare at him. “Ramattra-”

He hushes you, holding onto your hips as he watches you open the box.

“Ramattra…” Your tone softens as your fingers touch the small necklace that sits in the cushioned box. “This is…”

“Merry Christmas, [y/n].” His thumbs gentle rub the sides of your body as he keeps his grasp on you.

“Thank you…”

“Anything for you, my dear.” He trails his hands up your sides before resting his palms on your jawline, pulling you in as he taps his forehead against yours.

“Promise me one thing?” You ask, placing the box down and holding onto the golden metal of his jaw, thumbs caressing it slowly.

“That highly depends on what that promise is.” He jests, moving his hands back down your body and squeezing your sides.

“Please tell me the next time you might be gone for a few days…”

Ramattra leans further into you, thumbs pressing into you. “You are insufferable. I promise.”

You laugh, tilting your head up and pressing your lips against the centre of his faceplate. “Thank you.”

His fans pick up, humming quietly in the silent room.

“Are you blushing?”

“Would you consider this blushing?” He tilts his head before looking away.

The smile on your face makes him turn away further. “You are blushing.”

His grip gets a little tighter which causes you to laugh more only for him to pull you flush against his chest.

“Ramattra!” Through the giggle fit, you wrap your arms around him, feeling his body vibrate as his inner workings get louder and faster.

He only chuckles in response, body warming up with every passing second you stay with him.

“[y/n]...” His vocaliser softens, optics staring out of the window as the snow falls outside.

You hum, slowly relaxing against him. “Yeah?”

Ramattra hesitates before speaking. “I love you.”

He feels you tighten your grip on his back and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. The sweater feels soft and warm in his hands as he rubs up and down your back.

“I love you too.”

You stay in his hold for a little while longer, revelling in the warmth he was emanating. Hands dipping in and over the metal braces that lined his chest and back. His body hums quietly alongside the fire and your breathing.

“Perhaps we should show ourselves to the other monks.” He tries to pull away but when you hold him just a little bit tighter, he stops talking altogether.

“They can wait a little longer…” Softly spoken by you, Ramattra chuckles in response, pushing you further into his chest.

He goes to speak but nothing comes close to the amount of love and comfort he was feeling.

Your breathing slows, body relaxing against him. “If this is how we spend this Christmas, I hope we spend the others like this too.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Just… Without the whole running off into a storm thing.” You laugh, leaning back and looking up at him.

“Your persistence about that issue continues to astound me.” He tilts his head to the side, hand coming up to caress your cheek to which you lean into.

“I love you, Ramattra. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. I love you, [y/n].”

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