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celestial-fucking-weeb · 3 years

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NAGĀ!SERO

Hey y’all! This is a part of the Citrus Server Hybrid!AU Collab! The masterlist is HERE, please please please go check everyone’s pieces out!

A/N: I am fully aware that this is all over the place, ya girl is off her meds and will edit later. Please don’t tell me it sucks, I already know and I hate it, too.

SERO HANTA X F!READER

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, angst, smut, double penetration, aphrodisiac, interspecies miscommunication, size kink, breeding kink, mating, idk tell me if i missed anything

You had always heard stories about creatures in the forest; ones that eat humans, ones kidnap children, ones that would hurt you if you ever ran off by yourself. You didn’t believe them… Or maybe you did, but either way, the creatures could never be as scary as the life you already lived.

You had been taken prisoner when your coastal village was raided by pirates. Your clan’s viking warriors were off on a journey, leaving all of you oh so vulnerable with depleted numbers. They were going to kill you, like they did most of the others, but the pirate setting fire to everything in his path halted when he found you trembling under the rubble.

“Tomura, come see the new toy I found. Don’t you wanna keep her?”

“You sadistic bastard, how you get off to them crying like that never fails to make me sick. I don’t care what you do with her, Dabi, but I’m not cleaning up after you this time.”

They hauled you back to their ship, stripped you of everything and chained you in the hull. People came in and out, always different but always vile. You never spoke, you knew they wanted your screams. Overhaul, the captain, was the worst. You never knew when he was coming, and once he was there, you wondered what he wanted from you at all. Chained up, never touching you with anything but knives and his boots, not looking for your reactions… You wondered if he’d even notice if you stopped breathing. You dissociated for most of it, choosing instead to safeguard your mind, plan an escape.

About a year later, you found an opportunity in the carelessness of one of your captors. You docked someplace warm, someplace humid, maybe tropical? Toga had left your chains too loose after your last “date”, and had tossed the keys just a bit too close. As soon as she left, you had slipped your wrists out of the restraints, strained for the keys, and unlocked the shackles around your ankles. Not taking a moment to revel in the surreal feeling of being unchained, you listened until the heavy footsteps above you all faded into nothing, leaving the ship and most importantly: leaving you alone.

You ran. You ran so steadily, somehow comforted by the sounds of destruction getting further and further away. You found yourself blindly sprinting into a forest that looked nothing like your own, so damp and bright and warm. You kept running until you heard shuffling behind you, causing you to find the first thick vine hanging in your vicinity and clung to it as you climbed. Looking back, you see a simple boar grazing the forest floor. Sighing in relief, you relaxed a bit too soon, as the vine you had wrapped yourself around began to move.

Before you could react, you were wrapped up tightly in bands of muscle and brought towards the head of the- wait…- man? You had heard of nagā before, but the ones from your village’s stories were never described as so… tan, muscular, handsome. He didn’t look all that mean from the waist up, just the black, orange, and yellow scales trailing down his massive, strong tail seemed intimidating. He looked confused, concerned even, by your nakedness and panic stricken silence. Forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, smelling the blood and the abuse on your skin, seeing your quickly defeated body give up, and your mind resign itself to the comfort that at least you died free of your captors.

“Are you… okay?” The giant snake rumbles, human hand reaching towards your face and recoiling when you flinch.

You haven't spoken in months, your silence having been a security blanket, and you’re not ready to give that up. You do nothing, just look into his eyes and search for any sort of indication as to what he’s going to do. He loosens his grip a bit, just enough to slip down from his tree and head towards his hide- an old cave covered in ivy, moss, and little orange blossoms. He brings you in, and places you down on the ground before turning away to rummage through his things. He brings out water and bandages, along with some kind of salve that looks like a mixture of plants. You don’t reach for the water when he sets it near you, so he resorts to using the tip of his tail to bring it to your lips while his hands are busy tending to your wounds and gently rubbing the salve over your poorly healed scars. He offers you food, very confused when you don't seem to know what to do with the forest rodent he’s brought you, and decides on fruits he’s found. You don’t seem to want to do anything, not even going to sunbathe even though you’re obviously shivering.

THAT’S IT!!! SHE’S COLD! He thinks to himself, before wrapping his tail around you once more and bringing you outside to the rock where he typically warms himself. He gently places you down, uncoils you from his grasp, and gives you enough space to move as you please. You blink a few times, slowly realizing you’re free. He helped you? For no reason? He doesn’t know you…

“H-Hi… Thank… Thank you.” You mutter, looking away and blushing.

Cute… He thinks. “YOU TALK!!! What’s your name? I’m Sero, but you can call me Hanta! I was worried about you! Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here?”

The line of questioning makes your head spin, and you try your best to answer before looking down and realizing you never found clothes. Blushing once again, you meekly gesture to your body and ask, “C-Clothes. I need clothes.” Hanta looks confused, but retreats to the cave and returns, bringing you a large piece of cloth that somewhat resembles a hemp blanket. It smells like oranges and spice, and you unconsciously snuggle into its comfort. Sero notices your calmed reaction to his scent and approaches you, gingerly grasps your ankle and picks up your leg, never having been so close to a human, and explores the strange angles your appendages bend.

“What are you doing?” You seem embarrassed, despite the number of people who've touched you before. This is too familiar, too intimate, almost too gentle.

“Tiny… Humans are… Small…”

You let him bend your limbs and play with your squish, strangely calm and trusting in his presence. He seems so enthralled by your body and how you move, so intrigued. That is, until he makes his way to massaging your plush thighs, causing a rush of arousal you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He prys opens your legs to continue his ministrations, not knowing the smell of your lust would have him flicking his tongue out and his eyes turning to hyper-focused slits. He suddenly releases your legs, slithers around your back, and presses against you. He taps the top of your head with his chin and waits for your response. Not knowing what this means, but wanting him to continue his exploration, you lean back into him and whine quietly.

You have no idea what you’ve started.

Hanta leans down, pressing sweet kisses down the column of your throat and leaving scathing bites in all the right places. Aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins, you don’t even register his muscular arms wrapping around your body and lifting you, carrying you back into his cave and up into his hammock. He wraps his strong tail completely around your torso and takes his time kissing and groping your soft body, mumbling “mate, mate, mate” into your heated flesh. He finally makes his way down to your mound, prying your thighs apart and diving straight in before you could question his reverent gaze.

“HANTAAA~” You practically screamed as his long tongue slipped between your folds, running along your clit and down to your clenching hole, his saliva increasing the heat coursing through your core. “M-More, please… More~”

“More, what?” He smirks against your heat. “Say it. Tell me I’m your mate and I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb, yeah? My pretty little mate.”

You stutter for a moment, getting more desperate the longer his fingers drag along your wetness. “Mate… Please! I need you… I’m yours!”

“Good mate~” His tongue wriggles back into your cunt, and his fingers slowly move further down to stretch your tight ass, making you squeal in surprise. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, all thoughts abandoning your mind as you ride out your high on his face and fingers.

“Are you ready, little one?” He growls lowly, lining up two long, thick cocks with each hole. Your eyes widen in surprise, head clearing for a moment after your climax.

“T-two?! Wait wait wait, I’ve never… I can’t! Two?!”

“Oh, little mate, but you can and you will!” He punctuates his statement by spitting down onto your cunt, thick venom slipping down to your tight rim. You moan and grind against his cocks, aphrodisiac leading your body into a blissed out state of submission. “Gonna fill you up so good. I promise you’ll be so full, feel so good, little mate. Trust me?”

“Y-yes! Wanna be full, want my mate!” You beg and plead for him to push into you, hips bucking against him, trying to get him to satiate the burning want he’d created. It isn’t until you thread your fingers through his hair and wrap your legs around his waist that he thrusts into you completely.

“That’s it, wrap around me like that. So tight, so warm… Fuuuck!~” Sero pants, chest pressed tightly to yours and face tucked into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking deep marks over your pulse point.

You’ve never felt so full, your body strangely welcoming the pleasurable stretch of your holes, pulling him deeper and deeper until you can feel him in your belly with every roll of his powerful hips. Your whimpers and tears only seem to spur him on, drawing orgasm after orgasm from your body.

“S-Shit, keep squeezing around me like that. Come on, little one, I know you have one more for me. Cum with me, I wanna feel you cum one more time. Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so good. Come on, pretty mate- fuck- cum for me~” He reaches down and pinches your overstimulated clit between two fingers and bites down on your neck one last time, sending you over the edge with a cry of “breed me, breed me, breed me!” and nails digging into his back.

“Mine! My mate, pretty little mate. Breed mate, all mine!! Gonna- gonna… Ah~” Hanta’s words steadily fell from his lips as he released deep inside your holes, belly bulging from the sheer amount of seed he spilled into you.

Utterly exhausted and dreamily floating off, you cling to him. Sero wraps you up in his tail and lays back into his hammock, keeping you as close as he can. When you snuggle into him, he whispers little praises into your hairline, a constant stream of “so good, pretty mate, all mine, i love you, so perfect, did so well, took me so well, such a good mate”.

The next day, you wake up surrounded by soft cloth, feathers, fruits, fluffy furs, a dozen shiny objects and pretty dried flowers. You sit up, looking around frantically for your mate before your eyes settle on a sheepish-looking Sero, wiggling nervously around the cave.

“Um… Do you… like it? I made it for you… I just- please tell me you like it!” He shrinks himself a bit, arm coming up to palm the back of his neck.

“Oh, is this a… nest? It’s- It’s very nice. Thank you, Hanta!” You smile softly at him, curling up into your nest and reaching out for him.

“MATE!!! I’m so happy you like it, I was so nervous!!! My mate. You can stay here all the time, so I can protect you, forever! My pretty little mate.~” He climbs into the nest and coils himself around you, content to guard you.

Maybe this time, being kept isn’t so bad.

#sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.”

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

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spideyanakin · 3 years

Text

Far From Home - Part 1

Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis; Coming from another reality yourself, what will happen when you see straight through the lies of the mysterious Quentin Beck.

Part of the dialogue inspired by @thekamiiiworld //idk if you’ve seen the disney hercules movie but there’s a scene where hercules meets meg and meg says “i’m a damsel, i’m in distress, i can handle it. have a nice day!” maybe spiderman finds the reader in a bad situation and she says those lines cuz she’s a badass? do whatever with the rest of the plot. thanks!

Series Masterlist 🍒

Normal Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Your thoughts lingered to the day you had arrived in Peter's reality as you stared at the clouds from above. The memories slowly coming back up and you felt like the day you had failed your mission was happening all over again.

Your earth had been destroyed to pieces when a monster that thirsted for everything that lived had come from nowhere turning everything into bits.

You didn't even know how you managed to survive. You were holding on tight to your last piece of your lost family wishing that the storm ready to take you would go away and let you live. You used the last bit of strength inside your veins to create a dome of branches and vines, trying your best to protect the last survivors.

The last thing you remembered seeing on your earth was a skyscraper crashing. You watched from the small gaps in your dome of protection as it tumbled to the ground tears falling as you realized it was the end for you.

But suddenly some light sparks of orange came right near your face. The circle opened to reveal Kayland. You watched the familiar face and a smile had forced its way to your lips as hope lightened your chest seeing that a friendly face had survived.

"They've accepted." Was all he said before holding onto the portal, signing for the people who you had protected to jump through it.

You felt the tears about to come down more than they currently were. You sobbed as you felt the weight of dying coming off your shoulders, the few 20 people or so you were protecting slowly fading into a new reality.

"And they couldn't have earlier." You sobbed almost falling as you let go of using your powers, the branches shielding you from the chaos that rained slowly disappearing back into the ground.

"C'mon." Kayland took you in his arms as you limped your way to the portal, your body crashing to the floor in pain as you watched the fumes from the closing portal.

As the portal fully closed, the only thing you could feel from your new home in the universe was the hard wooden floor. You let out a large sob as you realized it meant the end of everything you had ever known.

You stayed on the floor, a voice was talking with the rest of the survivors but you seemed to completely block it out as all you could think of was how you failed to save your reality. The one that was currently crumbling to pieces by the hands of a mad creature.

"Y/n! Hey!" Peter snapped his fingers in front of your face, giving you a light smile as your eyes focused on him.

"Sorry." You shook your head swallowing hard as your eyes slowly reddened. "I got lost in my thoughts again." You rubbed your eyes slowly coming back to Peter, looking at him with your tight smile. Everything about that day seemed like a distant memory that was still fresh in your mind. Even tho it had been a while, and even more than a while for others. The traumas were still here and fully engraved in your memory.

"It's alright." Peter smiled as he placed a strand of hair behind your ear. "This year hasn't been the kindest to us." He chuckled trying to make you feel better as he held on tight to your hand. Placing his head on your shoulder as he heard your heartbeat quicken.

Peter knew how much those events had broken you. Fighting Thanos and losing most of your new friends barely above a year after you had lost your planet had pilled up in your mind, scaring you even more than you had been. The only thing that Peter thanked was the fact that you had blipped together.

"Yeah." You scrunched up your face in order to push away the tears that were fighting to fall. "I really need a break." You sighed flopping your head down onto the plane seat.

"I think you mean we" He chuckled "We finally are..." You opened your eyes and met with Peter's brown orbs smiling at the contact.

"Finally." You smiled before pecking his lips and bringing him into a warmful hug, glad you finally had some time to relax.

You closed your eyes and took in his scent, never thinking you could get tired of Peter's hugs.

"Peter?" You questioned opening your eyes just to look at him. "Could you tell me a story...?" You eyed everywhere but his eyes as you told him your peculiar request. "I want to sleep before we get to Venice... And I don't think I would be able to on my own." You played with the strings of his stolen hoodie that you were wearing a little ashamed of your request. You dodge his eyes as he stayed quiet, Peter thinking of how cute your question was.

A smile crept its way to Peter's lips as he watched your shy body fumbling around the cramped seat.

"Yes," He smiled. "But let's get comfortable so you can sleep first." He made grabby hands towards you as he took you into a new hug all your worries slipping away. You snuggled into his side, Peter placing his arm tight around you.

"Alright." He chuckled as a smile formed on your lips as you lightly pushed your body even more against his, sighing in content when you were settled in.

"A story," Peter clicked his tongue as he tried to think of something to tell you. "A long ago in a Galax-"

"And it better not be Star Wars related or im going to push you in a canal once we get there." You grumbled and felt Peter's body vibrate as he let out a puff of soft laughter.

"Alright. You got me..." He paused for a second wondering what he could possibly say next. "So." He smirked as the perfect story came to his mind. "Once Upon A Time, two soulmates from completely different earths met..." He went on and you let the sound of his voice guide you into peaceful sleep. "Some say it was yesterday, but someday it was years ago. " He lingered the words as he looked down to you, your closed eyes showing no sign of dislike to his story.

"It was a quiet night in the streets of New York," Peter recalled as the words that fell out of his mouth faded into images flashing in both your minds.

The streets of the stretched out city couldn't have been quieter. It was rare for Queens Peter told himself as he swung across the streets for his nightly patrol.

He eyed one cat who made a soft noise as he jumped on the ground, barely audible even for Peter. A soft meow rang through into into his ears as he jumped from a building to another, landing on the edge of an apartment complex.

Suddenly he heard a strong door, the sound making it seem as though it was built in strong bulletproof metal. It made a loud squeak and a large boom as it closed again, followed by the knocking of heels ringing on the pavement floor. He watched closely his sharp eyes scanning the figure that walked out.

A girl had come out, shivering as she made her way towards the bridge leading into Manhattan, pocketing her gloved hands before letting out a sharp breath, the cold air sending a new shiver down her spine.

Peter could have sworn her gloves were shining in four different colors before they disappeared into her empty pockets. Her large boots looked similar to Black Widow's but Peter didn't let that thought linger too much in his mind.

You sighed as you walked a little faster, feeling multiple pairs of eyes on you. The rhythm of your heeled boots made faster sounds as you felt the air around you change, feeling a presence a few meters away. You thought once again about what you had to do before snapping your head around, now facing a tall thin man, his long shoulder-length red hair waving in front of his face as he pushed you inside an empty alley, knocking you against a wall.

He pushed his large gun to your temple, leaving a non-permantent mark as he did. You felt the cold of the gun on you as he stared at you with a wicked smile, grinning as he pushed you even more into the wall.

"You think you can outsmart me? Freak." He spat in your face, pushing his elbow into your side.

"You underestimate me." You said focusing part of your energy on the bullet of the gun, placing a puff of stong air and a coat of unbreakable ice inside making the gun unusable.

"It was your little friend who I underestimated. Your nothing but a pray." He harshly whispered making you smile.

"Well, that's exactly what I mean. You underestima-" You pushed him with a blast of wind, dropping your coat on the floor revealing your jet black suit, bright neon lines of blue, white, red, and green darting through your shoulders down to the tip of your fingers. Your timing being at the same time as a flash of white darted across you sending the man against the wall.

You stayed baffled for a second as you turned your head towards who had knocked your target unconscious. You saw a man awkwardly standing in front of your, your mouth still wide open as though you were trying to catch flies.

"What did you just do?" You pointed to the knocked down guy you were desperate to get information from as you looked at the person all dressed in red.

"Aren't you... A- A damsel in distress?" Peter asked his voice a little wavy as he watched your pretty traits.

"I'm a damsel, I'm in distress, I can handle this. have a nice day!" You waved as you approached the guy glued to the wall, trying to reach for his pocket.

Peter watched you a little dumbfounded as you minded your own business.

You clicked a button near your neck sending a strick of neon colors flashing through your neck just to reach your eyes, a mask melting on around them, leaving the bottom of your face bare.

"Meg do you know anything about this white thing?" You asked your AI as you turned around the guy.

"Yes. These are web fluids used by a Super Hero called Spider-Man." An image of the man who was standing behind you popped into your eyes. "Would you like me to tell you about its chemical properties?"

"No that's alright. Ice or Heat if I want to break this?"

"Ice."

"Alright." You nodded Peter still watching you with a shocked expression on his face as you formed ice on every part of the webs, turning it so cold it snaped into million pieces, making the man fall to the floor.

You turned around and fumbled through his pockets, catching a few pieces of paper with your fingers.

"How did you do that?" Peter asked dumbfounded as he watched you scan the content of the pages, a content smile painted on your face.

"Well, how can you stick to walls and swing around town Spider-Man?" You asked looking up to the bright white eyes of his mask, who opened even more in surprise as he thought of something to say to you.

"Radioactive Spider-" He said barely above a whisper.

"Well, I was born with it." You let out a sarcastic smile; your smile making Peter blush under the bright red spandex that covered his face. "Now move it, Junior, I don't need your help. I got this." You shook your head and waved for him to move away. "Can you believe it? The man is dumb enough to have stolen the wrong pages." You chuckled mainly to your AI not expecting a response from the boy standing behind you.

"Hey, how do you know im not older than you?" Peter defended as you touched the man's hand, slowly making his body freeze.

"Because your not." You chuckled eyeing him before looking back to your target. "You're my age. Everything about you screams my age. Your voice, the way you stand, talk." You rolled your eyes as you slowly watched the men that was on the ground slowly turning blue. Peter looked at the men in panic as your face stayed neutral, a smile even forming on your lips.

"Don't worry." You chuckled. "He's just going to be frozen for a few years. Nothing to worry about." You smiled as you stood back up, Peter being frozen to his feet as he scanned your figure once again. "Now. You've seen me without my mask, and I know you have night vision and your AI probably films everything you see. So hear me out Spider-guy, if you see me in the streets don't talk to me I don't need trouble. Ok?"

Peter nodded hanging on to every word you spoke. You kept eye contact nodding towards Peter as a way to seal the deal. Once you were content with the situation you took a few steps back to grab your coat that was still scattered on the floor.

"Wait. Before you go can I at least get your name?" He wondered, liking the way you made him feel a little too much for him to let you slip away without a name.

"They call me Nymph." You smiled as you tied your coat, hiding your suit from the rest of the world

"Why aren't you with the Avengers Nymph. I mean look at what you can do!?" Peter raised his voice in amazement.

"I don't know..." You realized. "I don't think they know who I am." You frowned as you folded the pages that you held tight between your fingers. You delicately stuffed them in your pocket and clicked the little button on your neck, making the mask that hid your eyes fall back.

As Peter's eyes focused on yours a shiver tumbled down his spine making him blush as he took in every feature of your face, not even caring if he didn't know your real name.

"Well, Nymph. Im sure I could introduce you!" His high-pitched voice rang through your ears and a slight smile formed on your lips.

"You know the Avengers?"

-TagList-

#peter parker #peter #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x y/n #spider man #spiderman x reader #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spider man x reader #series #far from ome #spiderman #spider man far from home

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malereader-inserts · 4 years

Text

broken crown | xi.

Jumping over some fallen tree as you landed, the ground beneath you started to spontaneously grow roots, latching onto the feet of some snatchers - the roots growing quickly and ultimately wrapping around their necks, you were glad you did not have to watch how the life drained from their eyes.

Word Count: 2,691 ((it’s a long one))

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“I don’t blame him,” You mumbled, barely escaping the attack at Lovegood’s house, “We can’t out him and his action, he’s just desperate.”

Ron was annoyed though, but, he had reconsidered only because everyone had seemed to silently agree to you. There was no lead to the next horcrux which left Harry frustrated. As Ron went to do enchantments and Hermione the tent, you pat Harry on the shoulder.

“It’ll be a new year soon, H,” You hummed, throwing your arm over his shoulder, “We’ll be facing new beginnings, I can already tell.”

Harry looked at you, and clashed his shoulder to your chest as you pretended to be wounded with his actions. Hermione, finishing putting the tent up, watches her two best friend just being them. She smiled to herself, noticing how Harry reaches out for you, holding your hand and squeezing it.

She watches how your other hand rest upon Harry’s cheek, your thumb rubbing against his skin. Hermione’s shoulder deflate as she sees both her best friend madly in love with each other, melting in each other’s touch. She, then, looks at Ron, who was slowly finishing with the enchantments.

She adored the love you and Harry shared between each other. It was natural, soft yet fiery. It seem to be a love that was sublet but yet so powerful. Often times, many cannot believe that Harry could snag such a charming man like you. You had boy and girls fawning over your smirks and the twinkle in your eyes. Whilst you were similar to your dad, often at times, your friends see a Lupin who is wilder than your dad. But, behind your mysterious personality, your friends truly saw you for what you were.

Mad, in a sense, curious about everything and most definitely ambitious. Hermione smiles to herself as words you often uttered had escaped into her mind: “You need a little bit of insanity to do great things.”

“What’s got you smiling there, Hermione Granger?” You asked, sitting by her, “Thinking about a certain someone?” You had teased, bumping shoulders.

“Shut up!”

You laughed, throwing your head back. Harry, sometimes loses faith and hope, but when he sees you - there’s just that little hope you give him to hang on a little bit more.

“You’re an IDIOT!”

You have had a quiet few months, with dead ends to where the next Horcrux could be. You had time to evaluate yourself and you were at the final stretch, in fact you’ve been doing extra magic around camp. Even started to make a healing spell but the only downside was the fact that some cuts would turn into scars instantly.

Harry had been wondering what offensive magic you had under your arsenal, after all, he had heard tales that Merlin was vicious in battle, fury within him whenever harm had touched his friends and it was no different to you.

But, currently, the four of you were running because your idiotic boyfriend had accidentally said Voldemort name, triggering the taboo. So, you were running from the snatcher and Fenrir Greyback, who had it in for you.

“Oh, you’ve got to teach me that!” Ron says, very impressed as you were unimpressed with his comment.

“Absolutely not!”

Truth be told, Fenrir wanted you, the moment he had noticed you were there he wanted blood. After Lyall Lupin, your grandfather had insulted werewolves it seemed like Fenrir had a grudge against your family. He didn’t even want to sink his teeth in you, in fact, he wanted to scar you - to remind you that you were forever be on his list to torment.

As you get cornered in the forest, Fenrir was quick to incapacitate you, two of his claws scratches your face, making your fall to the floor, stomach against the floor. You could hear voices around you, drowned out as you try to heal yourself. Cringing as you touch the scratch, which you were thankful it wasn’t deep as Bill’s or your dad. There was one scratch from your eyebrow over your left eye to your nose, the second scratch was just your upper lip. Then another scratch had come out of nowhere, three cuts down the back of your neck.

You were lucky, Fenrir had terrible aim.

“This one’s a Lupin-” You heard over the muzziness, “I get to keep this one.”

“SHUT HIM UP!” Bellatrix voice had echoed through the manor.

Draco gulping as he watched Hermione get tortured by his aunt and the werewolf having fun with you. Hermione was screaming, but you were begging. Draco couldn’t look at you because you were just bloody. Both your arms full with long cuts wrapping around your forearm, Draco was convinced the werewolf was trying to make his torture like a work of art.

But, Draco could see the frustration in the werewolf, as your wounds would start to heal by itself. Draco couldn’t believe his eyes, no one had ever pulled magic like that. Fenrir was smart enough not to bite you, he didn’t want you to have the cravings of a werewolf, he wanted to damage you, with scars that barely fade to remind you that you were the grandson who insulted the werewolves.

“Expellliarmus!” You heard Harry’s voice, you could see from the bright lights over you there was a battle going on.

You had mustered as much magic as you can to knock Fenrir off you, as you slowly sat up. Feeling weak in yourself as you see Bellatrix pick Hermione off the floor whilst holding a knife to her neck.

“Stop! Drop your wands,” Bellatrix had commanded, looking over to them, “I said, drop them!” There were thuds of Ron and Harry dropping their wands, as Bellatrix looked at her nephew, “Pick them up, Draco, now.”

Draco slowly picks up Harry’s and Ron’s wand, standing off to the side. She smirked as the stinging jinx had started to fade from Harry’s face, revealing him. There was a triumph in her that her family could impress the dark lord in bringing Harry to him

“Well, well, well, look what we have here. It's Harry Potter! He's all bright and shiny and new again, just in time for the Dark Lord,” There was a sinister glee to her tone as you lean against a table to pick yourself up, “Call him.”

Her order was directed to Draco, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. These were people in his year, people who did good. When Draco hesitated, his father stepped up, flashing his mark to the group, as he was to call the dark lord, everyone stopped as they heard squeaking.

Everyone looked up to see Dobby unscrewing the chandelier, as it drops. Bellatrix lets go of Hermione, who lunges forward to Ron’s arms. Harry quickly grabs the wands from Draco’s hand.

“Stupefy!” Harry cast the spell, aiming to Lucius, before grabbing you in his arms.

He allowed you to lean over him as he groups you up with Dobby, Hermione, Ron and Griphook.

“Stupid elf,” Bellatrix hisses before exclaiming loudly, “You could've killed me.”

“Dobby never meant to kill,” Dobby proclaimed, “Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure.”

As Narcissa waves her wand to cast a spell, Dobby snaps his fingers. The wand flying straight into his hands as his old master looked dumbfounded.

“How dare you take a witch's wand?” Bellatrix screamed in fury, “How dare you defy your masters?”

Dobby straightens his back and looked at Bellatrix’s in the eye with no fear, “Dobby has no master. Dobby is a free elf. And Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends.”

You all grip onto Dobby, who starts to apparate out of the Malfoy Manor. Landing on a beach. Landing on your knees as Hermione had held onto you, who was being held by Ron.

“(Y/n)!” Harry exclaimed as he got up from lying down, “Hermione!”

He had approached the two of you, clearly shaken. He placed a comforting arm around you, his eyes flickering to the closed cuts on your arms, noticing they were line vines, wrapping around your arms. You had swallowed as you gripped your boyfriend.

“You're all right. We're safe,” Harry reassured you, then looking at Hermione and Ron, “We're all safe.”

“Harry Potter...” A little voice had spoken, everyone had turned to see Dobby, impaled with Bellatrix’s knife.

In a hurry, Harry quickly goes to Dobby’s aid and Ron took noticed of Bill and Luna coming down towards the hill. As Bill ushered everyone, you see Luna and Harry talking and seeing Dobby, limp in his arms. Harry buries him with Ron and Hermione, but you stayed indoors with Bill who was examining your scars.

“Scars from Fenrir don’t heal that quickly or easily,” He says, tenderly holding your arm as you sat down in the kitchen as Fleur comes downstairs and takes over from her husband, they weren’t scars but closed wounds slowly healing. But, Fleur took initiation to clean the blood from your arms.

“It’s beautiful here,” Luna compliments

“It was our Aunt’s. We used to come here as kids. The Order uses it now as a safe house -- what’s left of us, at least...”

Bill and Fleur allowed everyone to stay, you had healed over quite nicely and you got out lucky with werewolf scratches to fade. They still were very prominent but your friends, especially Harry had noticed that you kept your sleeves down mostly. Harry mustered up a plan for once, breaking into Gringotts whilst Hermione transformed into Bellatrix from plucking her hair back at the manor.

“You think it’ll work?” Hermione asked, everyone had often found you sitting outside, just close to the back door, Bill and Fleur hadn’t understood why.

But, your best friends had understood that during that night at Malfoy Manor, it was the first time you had used a lot of powerful magic beyond your years. You were recharging, but you were stubborn, believing if you continue to use it, you’ll get used to it.

“I like to believe so,” You say as Hermione sits by you, watching you grow flowers in the sand before promptly killing them, “Can you believe it’s Easter now?”

“Time flies, it seemed like yesterday we were in Xenophilius house asking about the deathly hallows.”

“I do wonder if I could pull off his dress sense, you think I could, Hermione?”

She cracks a smile, “Absolutely, I think you’ll be in your truest form, Merlin.”

You give her a narrowed look, rolling your eyes promptly, “I’m not Merlin.”

Hermione sighs, “No,” watching you play with your magic, seeing how you’ve gathered a lot of strength with your magic. Not even her could believe that you show such great power with ease, “But you’re (Y/n) Lupin. And that’s even better.”

By mid-April, with preparation half-way to being done for the heist, everyone was eating in the Cottage. You had lost appetite, going out to the garden, leaning against the fencing.

“What’s wrong with (Y/n)?” Bill has asked looking at the three.

“He’s preoccupied that’s all.”

Your back to the cottage, you got caught up messing about with your compass. Mumbling Latin words under your breath, trying to think what purpose it should hold to you. Not hearing the commotion inside the cottage.

“It is I, Remus John Lupin!” called a voice over the howling wind. “I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency!”

“Lupin,” muttered Bill, and he ran to the door and wrenched it open.

Remus fell over the threshold. He was white-faced, wrapped in a travelling cloak, his greying hair windswept. He straightened up, looked around the room, making sure of who was there, then cried aloud, “It’s a boy! We’ve named him Ted, after Dora’s father!”

Hermione shrieked. “Wha—? Tonks – Tonks has had the baby?”

“Yes, yes, she’s had the baby!” shouted Remus.

All around the table came cries of delight, sighs of relief: Hermione and Fleur both squealed, "Congratulations!” and Ron said, “Blimey, a baby!” as if he had never heard of such a thing before.

“Yes – yes – a boy,” said Remus again, who seemed dazed by his own happiness. He strode around the table and hugged Harry.

He had let go of Harry, once again examining everyone indoors. His eyes flicker to Hermione then Ron then to Harry. His happiness seemed to wear off for a second as Harry looked confused.

“Remus-?” He question.

“Where’s my boy, Harry?” Remus asked, trying to conceal the urge of hurry within his voice, desperately wanting a hug from you.

Harry’s eyes flicker to the back door, “He’s outside.”

Remus looks at the others, “Go, we’ll celebrate in a bit, go see him,” Bill shoos him off as he exited through the back door.

He hears you humming and looking down. Noticing your eyebrows furrowed and you watch the pointer spin rapidly.

“What is your heart desiring?” You jumped at his voice, “Still Harry?”

You pointer had stopped in the direction of your dad’s voice, you slam it shut. Turning around to look at him, he takes a good look at you, hoping to burn it in his mind. He hopes that you have forgiven him, he doesn’t know if you remember what happened months ago.

“Dad!” You exclaimed, a smile beaming upon your face, lunging to hug him as he catches you effortlessly, “What are you doing here? How’s Dora? How’s Sirius?”

Remus chuckles, “And to think, you missed me,” He leans you out of the hug, “Sirius is alright, Dora is great, she’s given birth to a baby boy.”

“A baby?” You responded dumbfounded as Remus’ smile reaches his ears.

“You’re a big brother, (Y/n), you have a little brother!”

As you snap out of your shock, “What’s his name?”

“Named after Dora’s dad, after-” You nodded, knowing he didn’t need to vocalise the death of Ted Tonks, “Teddy Remus Lupin.”

“Seems fitting,” You chuckled, as Remus’ smile drop as he noticed something.

You looked at him with knitted eyebrows as he placed a gentle hand on your cheek, delicately tilting your head to see the scar from the snake attack. He felt you shift uncomfortably as his eyes flickered down to your arms.

“What happened-?”

“Freak accident,” You responded almost immediately that you cringed as Remus raised an eyebrow, “Well, this one,” pointing to the front of your neck, “Was a snake attack and these,” motioning to your arms, “Fenrir Greyback.”

“Who?” Venom had dripped from your father’s words, as you stiffen.

“Never mind that, that’s a story for another time, but for now we have to celebrate, Teddy!” You changed the subject tugging your dad to the indoors, “Come along.”

“Wait, (Y/n),” He stops, as you looked at him with a tilted head, “I’m sorry about the-”

“Don’t apologise, it’s worth it,” You responded, shrugging your shoulders, “You went back to Dora and that’s the forgiveness you needed the most.”

“You took your time, Moony!” Sirius greeted his best friend’s arrival.

Tonks came downstairs, “How’s Bill and Fleur?”

“They’re doing well,” Remus answered, removing his cloak, the Black relatives noticed there was a spring in Remus’ step and was a little bit more overjoyed than usual, “Of course, as well as Harry, Hermione, Ron and (Y/n).”

Sirius and Tonks’ got excited with the mention of Harry’s and your’s name, beckoning Remus to the living room to talk about the interaction. Sirius shoulders relaxing upon hearing the state of Harry, he was alive. Tonks, caring for Harry obviously was more concerned with you. But, by the looks of Remus, Tonks could relax thinking you were alright.

“I’ve had a few drinks so bear with me-”

Tagged

@carefulthatsharassment-sir @lanlanlan020202 @hanniejji @dumbssbtch @lea-the-foxe @stan-joonies @littertortilla @purpleshusbandd

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin x male reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x male reader #x male reader #broken crown

179 notes · View notes

writingbakery · 4 years

Text

“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

#bnha shinsou #bnha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #shinso x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #boku no hero fluff #bnha fluff #evywrites

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Cover of Darkness.”

Good morning everyone. Hope you enjoy the story,. :)

“The Duos Seems to be doing better.”

“Yes, yes we are very relieved. We think it was stress related, nothing to take it out on.”

“And the puzzles weren’t working?”

“No, food doesn't seem to be a good motivator for this creature.” The scientist shook her large head and neck, the entire body wiggling with the distributed energy.

“Than why did it stop?”

She sighed, “We cannot be sure, though perhaps it has grown used to its new environment. It may have just been early on.”

The two of them walked through the park, mostly closed now except for the cleaning drones.

“And the other creatures.”

“They seem alright.” Together they moved to the side where they could see into one of the other new enclosures, where the small plant-like creature was floating at its center. This one didn’t move much, for it didn’t really need to, and inside the cage -- which was heavily climate controlled -- it didn’t have to worry much, “I am most worried about the duos. It has taken to hiding at the top of the cage.”

“The top?”

“Yes, it hangs from the upper bars upside down. If it were to fall, I am worried what might happen. I did some calculations, and I don’t think the creature was meant to be doing that. Based on it’s current anatomy, I would consider it a ground-based animal.”

“That is strange. Do you think it is stress related?”

“I believe so?” She responded, the two of them walking past the other enclosures and towards the duos cage, which was down towards the center of the park.

They stopped just outside the enclosure.

“You see it, just right there?”

“Huh, that is strange.”

“IT likes to hook its legs through the bars.”

They shook their head, “That cannot be comfortable, can it?”

“I wouldn’t imagine so. We think it is trying to get away from the crowds. So we are thinking about building a little tower for it, so it can be high up without causing harm to itself?”

“That sounds like a good idea, do that.”

“Yes, right away.”

***

I didn’t exactly expert my plan to work of course, but it turned out better than expected. For the last few days, I had been spending time up at the high far end of the cage furthest away from the cameras. I was sort of hoping that they would take note and do something about the situation, because my legs and hands were getting soar as hell. I knew I could pull off my plan without their intervention of course, but a little unwitting help was nice.

Imagine my gleeful surprise when the cleaning drones came into the pen, and started rigging up a tarp from the top of the cage bars. They even went and filled that bitch with leaves and shit. They pretty much made me a hammock thirty or fourty feet in the air, which would have been cool to sleep in, but was even cooler when considering my escape plan.

I crawled over, and tested it after they were gone, pleased with how secure it was.

Then I did a bit of building myself, grabbing some leaves and vines and making a sort of curtain in the direction of the cameras. After that, I slept for most of the day, making sure to go down a few times to get food, so my sudden absence wouldn’t arouse suspicion. I wanted them to think I was nice and comfortable, and I wanted myself ready for that night.

For tonight was my great escape.

I went out one more time late that night. I know it was probably spiteful of me, and very childish, but I definitely peed on the viewing window. Not that anyone was there to view, but it made me feel better, and they would have to clean it up if they wanted to use the pen again. I imagine that would be the least of their worries by the end of tonight.

Lying up there in my hammock, I waited a few minutes listening and watching for the late night drone activity. Predictably, a drone came and left from my pen and then the neighboring one, cleaning up after us. It even came to check on me with it’s cameras.

I made to look asleep, and it flew off.

Once it was gone I rolled onto my hands and knees, and began piling leaves in a human-shape towards it’s center.

With that done, I rolled onto my back reaching up to grab the bars with my hands and then pressing against another with my feet.

I took a few quick, breaths and then pushed.

At first, nothing happened. It was just me straining against metal, but sensing the increased activity and the straining, the iron eye suit booted up with a sharp hiss. The pneumatic actuators on the legs and arms strained with me. I dropped off the pressure for a second, and waited. A sharp rumbling started up in the next pen over, and with one sharp movement, and a burst of power from the actuators and slammed my feet against the metal straining with my back and arms as leverage.

There was a sharp squeal, and I nearly pulled something in my leg as the bar gave way.

I had to stop myself from shouting in triumph, and quickly hunkered down, listening to make sure no one had been alerted by the noise. In the other pen, that large creature let off from its moaning, and the zoo grew quiet once again.

Heart hammering in my chest, and hands tingling, I turned towards where my feet had been and peered at the broken and bent bars. It would probably be just barely big enough.

And when I say just barely big enough, I mean, getting through that hole was like pulling on a pair of wet skin tight jeans, where you have to practically do a rain dance to the god of clothing in order to get out. By the time I was crouched on top of the cage, my back and arms were marred with livid red marks from where my skin had scraped against the bars.

Crouched atop the structure, I looked around at the zoo for the first time, and what I saw there made my jaw drop to the cage floor forty feet below. The place was huge, stretching on in all directions for miles and miles. I couldn’t see the end. And in all that,I could hear a thousand animal calls from all areas of the enclosure.

I had to quickly pick my jaw up off the floor and quietly scramble across the top of the enclosure, dropping down to one of the viewing pathways quietly knees bending with cat-like stealth.

The Iron eyes suit helped to cushion the fall, and I quickly moved up the path, avoiding some cleaning drones, and moving over to the next cage.

I wanted me to be the last thing they had to worry about.

I knew what the locking mechanism looked like, and it wasn’t anything complicated. It required a series of patterned actions to open, too complex for animals, and to complex for park guests to manage, but I had been watching from the cage.

I grabbed the locking mechanism and began pushing the pieces into position.

WIth a soft hiss, the door opened, and I hurried off in the other direction, not entirely sure what I had just let out of its cage.

I went around like that, under cover of darkness, opening cages and working to create mayhem.

Most of the animals didn’t notice the open doors at first, which was all fine and good for me. The last thing I needed was to be noticed by something that could eat my face.

The first animal I saw wonder by was some kind of large bird, about the size of my chest and with a thick beak and large stumpy feet.

I only had to make an expeditious retreat once , up the side of an enclosure, when a massive ass snake thing came chagrin up the pathway. It slithered past as I clung to the bars and continued on its merry way.

“Whose there!”

The voice froze me in place,and with my eyes wide, I turned down to look into the cage hardly able to believe my eyes.

***

The battle on the ground was going more poorly than the battle in the air.

Burg warships and their stealth capabilities made it much easier to fight the invasion force from space.

Seven GA ships had been destroyed, one of them a human ship, and one of them --- to the glee of the Burg -- a Celzex ship, but despite GA losses, it was clear who was going to win, and it was not the burg.

If anything, the battle on the ground would decide what was happening. Large swaths of the burg population had already surrendered and were being occupied by human shock troopers, a large number of which, who had not died despite grievous injury in some cases.

They were still a distance form the main hive, and pushing forward was becoming harder and harder as the burg fell back and began to rally. Of course none of that really mattered for the small group of insurgents that had dropped down behind enemy lines. Most of the burg had pushed forward to defend their queen and central hub against attack, leaving much of the middle ground open for attackers.

Sunny was the first down into the cave system, sliding over slimy rocks and plants into the darkness of the burg cave.

Behind her came Ramirez and Maverick, shadowed at the rear by Thomas and Cannon.

Sunny landed on her knees nearly silent, spear held tight in one hand behind her back and at the ready.

The other two slid into a kneeling position beside her, their guns held up.

She motioned forward with one hand, and the group of them quietly moved forward into the darkness. Voices, from further inward, and Sunny motioned them all into a side passage as a burg troop marched by.

They hurried from their cover as the group passed, heading silently inwards, through the dripping tunnels, occasionally cut through by warm beams of light which somehow managed to make their way through cracks in the cave walls and ceiling.

A burg century stood guard just up ahead blocking the path.

Sunny held up a hand, but Maverick was already moving.

She cut silently over the rocks coming up behind the burg.

Before the creature knew what was happening, the sharp steel of a blade snaked around front and cut a quick slash over the creature’s throat. Maverick knew what she was doing, for it severed the creature’s voice mechanism, making it unable to scream as she finished the job with a hard jab to the back of the head.

The body was concealed, and they continued forward.

Ramirez nodded with an impressed look on his face, Sunny shot them a look.

Thomas was wide eyed and open mouthed staring at Maverick who just grinned wolfishly.

They moved through another few passageways heading towards their target, when they heard another group of voices coming up the hall. This time it wasn’t just a small patrol, but the shouted voices of troops heading towards the front, what must have been an entire company of them as their voices rattled through the cave.

Even with their skill, there was no way they would survive that.

They had to act fast, and it was Sunny who first spotted the open crack in the nearest wall, and ushered the others through. Luckily it was just big enough for Cannon, and they all made it through into the small tunnel as the burg passed by, marching feet causing stones and droplets of water to trickle from the ceiling. At the front of the group, Sunny quietly motioned them forward. Hurrying them further down the path so as not to be spotted.

They cut through another small crack forced to push a large rock aside as they spilled into a large, dark room.

There was hardly any light here, only a small illumination catching them from behind and filtering in across the floor.

A large white green mushroom sat before them, and as Sunny moved forward to examine it, the mushroom began to glow softly, diffused green light spilling out across the room.

Sunny stepped back as another mushroom winked on not some distance off, followed by another, and another and another until the entire room was lit.

Sunny and the others stepped back as the entire room began to move, the floor churning and the walls shifting.

A sharp shuffling rose up through the interior of the cavern.

And the churning walls coalesced into shapes

Moving

Shapes

Before them, a mass sitting next to a mushroom shifted and turned.

A Large yellow eye glittered at them from the darkness and antenna wriggled above its head.

Ramirez and Maverick raised their weapons, Thomas cursed violently.

Cannon and Sunny drew their spears.

A murmuring rose up around the room as a thousand bright yellow eyes fell upon them.

And then.

“You seem to have taken a wrong turn.”

The burg’s voice rose up before them, and they raised their weapons. Sunny cursed inwardly knowing that she had killed them all.

The light form the mushrooms continued to brighten.

Until a shape coalesced form the darkness.

Their weapons quivered in their hands in confusion as the shape walked towards them from the darkness

IT had shiny black carapace, large golden eyes, eight appendages, two long antenna and two gently folded, magnificently colored wings.

The thing, the burg, or the thing that spoke burg stopped in front of them, its hands folded before it.

“I assume you are the advance force to the invading army?”

When they did not answer it simply waved its antenna.

It didn’t seem concerned.

“Welcome to the burg capital. I don’t suppose you have a few moments to spare?”

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utilitycaster · 4 years

Text

inspired in part by this post about Melora helping Artagan cast revivify and that Jester is an archfey’s cleric and Fjord is a deity’s warlock; to be edited and put up on AO3, probably.

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It had been a long time since a member of the Clay family had passed, and a sudden flare of worry caught Her. Yes, even this tradition of worship would one day cease, for that was the way of things, but it was too soon, too soon for the family and too soon for this one, with a few (centuries, She thought? mortals remember time, gods need to think back on it) left and the rest of the family frozen. He never asked, so his companions would be left with no clues to find the rest of them. And to die like this? Accidental? He hadn’t even -

The ritual didn’t call for Her, but it called for Her cleric, her Clay. She felt a rush of relief as she sent a ghost of her aspect to his side.

She could see one of Her cleric’s companions on her knees in the mud. So small, blue like a summer sky, a green cloak of fine fabric but heavily weather-stained deep in this well. Her face was set as she held out the diamond over Clay, marked with arrow shrapnel and blood on the ground.

She saw another figure. A tall and thin one, green-cloaked as well, his face panicked.

“Shit! I’d just gotten a handle on the healing! I don’t know how to defy life and death itself! Fuck!” He looked up and saw Her.

“Do you you know how to do this?”

She did not speak aloud, but made Herself heard in the mind of this being. Archfey, She could tell. Archfey and something else slowly growing within him, a symbiotic vine that was beginning to become part of the tree. She made a note to consider this later as she put the images in his mind. His already wide eyes became wider and the green was brilliant. The specters of her hands engulfed the specters of his, which in turn surrounded the small blue woman, and together they sent breath back into Her cleric.

“Thank you,” said the Archfey-and-something-else. “Good to know for next time.”

You owe me, She thought to him. It seemed...small of Her, even as She thought it. The anxiety was passing and with it came an irritation - what if She had not shown him?

“Oh I am well aware. Although technically I did bring yours back. But your cleric, and his delightful color scheme, may one day save mine so I suppose I don’t want to hedge my bets...Jester bringing him back doesn’t count?”

you know it does not, Archfey.

“I owe you one favor, my Lady,” he said, dropping into an impossibly low stance that included both a bow and curtsy.

I will call on you when the time comes, She thought, gazing on Clay, breathing slowly, a little dazed but safe, as she pulled her aspect back from this plane....

....something dark and briny and hateful by Her tree, wrapped around the heart one of the companions of Clay, but something fighting it from within even as he slept.

He had potential, when She began looking for it. Few mortals can resist such a call but he was trying, harder than most. She could feel sleepless nights and skipped heartbeats in this one.

She was here to provide more visions for Her cleric, and She did, visions to save his home, to find his family, to end the blight that was slowly choking Her gift and Her creation. She saw Clay’s chest rise and fall, and a slight smile in his sleep, and then she turned back to the restless one.

He deserved a chance. She could not act on his behalf, but She could grant a reprieve, a few good nights, a second chance.

And Her grass grew within the circle where both of them slept...

...bleeding and burning in Her temple, where the Dust family lived, his arm impossibly steady, so close but it had to be his choice. The rules that bound Her were not the same as those for that Archfey but there were rules nonetheless. The mortals make their own choices.

But at least She could help him make it with a few less distractions; stopping pain was like halting the growth of a vine and he paused and loosed the sword and went to find Her cleric, and they stood by the fire and gazed on her symbol...

...there were questions, from Her cleric and from this new one, over the next few days, and then back at Her temple as Her sword was being made anew he sat outside and waited for Her, and when She invited him, he followed.

She thought She heard a strange laugh, as She gave this one Her power, that did not come from the depths...

...summoning demons? She could, if She had to, but given time. Somehow this one had landed on something new, and he was no cleric, he was a man of pacts and promises, She had rules nonetheless-

-the strange laugh appeared again, louder, and She saw the Archfey, a smug smile on his face as he watched his cleric shadow and shelter the party.

“They don’t actually care if it’s a demon, just a large bestial creature will do. I’ve given mine all manner of the lesser fey in all manner of shapes, although I think your green man asked for some kind of ape.”

I know what a barlgura is, Archfey

“Think of it as camouflage. Some fey forest spirit in whatever form your boy wants.“

She created the creature and Her paladin’s shoulders steadied as he began to command it.

“Oh my...are you new to this?” said the Archfey. “Are you realizing what your little sworn swordsman is used to? Is it difficult for you? Patronage is far more than a mere palette swap, you know” he said, grinning with glee.

Mortals surprise us Archfey, you would know

“Oh of course, but this one is new to you and his faith is still so very...fragile, and even the skinny arcane mortal can summon fey creatures I mean, Mother of the Wilds, I know you’re behind the godproof gate but surely-”

You, you know no gates you roam free on this plane against the will of all the Courts and you play dangerous games, Archfey

“Easy, the beasts are but one of your aspects, be a gentle breeze for me, will you? You showed me how to grant life. I have shown you how to think laterally. And because I reluctantly admit I feel better knowing your two are here to heal my Jester - I’ve been stretched a little thin as of late - and because I need the vines of this plane to bend and the flowers of this plane to bloom in my presence at times, I will assist you when your seafoam green knight asks for strange gifts. You didn’t call, but consider this my payment. I think it follows all the rules, but ask your girlfriend if you’re not sure.”

...yes, the terms are met. Though you, like your kind, do all that you can to twist them, I must thank you for your assistance.

“Oh you’re so welcome, Melora! You’ve been doing very well, actually. The spray of snow from the sword is a good touch. I may borrow it when I have the time to make pacts again.”

You are pushing your luck, Archfey.

“Anything less would be boring. Anyway, we’re even,” he said, and disappeared with the flick of a green cloak.

#critical role #my fic #artagan #melora

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Text

Longview - Chapter 3

Trying something a lil different! My current notes/commentary in blue right after. It's not like this stuff is so great there's a big flow to interrupt.

CW: attacked by a teacher, food mention, memory loss, implied dark secrets.

The next thing that Nick knew, there was a tall stewardess shaking him awake. His eyes opened to her standing over him, and he struggled momentarily before he realized where he was and what was happening. The stewardess smiled another fake smile,

"We have arrived. Welcome to Longview." Nick stretched and looked out the windows. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The entire window was covered with a red brick pattern. The plane was directly next to a large wall. (I don’t know why that made me SCREAM but it did omg what the hell)

"With our student's abilities, we here at Longview like to keep away from prying eyes," said the stewardess as she helped him out of the plane. There stood an old Victorian style building. The main hall was surrounded on both sides by two other buildings. Nick could tell that there was more buildings, but he couldn't see them from where he was. (wow. It’s like I’m there /s)

The stewardess got off of plan with him, and walked with him up to the first Victorian looking building. There were kids everywhere, and all of them were doing something different. There were older kids having snowball fights with fireballs, (I don’t think you can have a “snowball” fight with “fireballs” but go off sis.) girls sitting by a large fountain talking with their hair braiding itself, or two people randomly changing into different animals. Nick was trying to look in all the directions without staring when a tall girl stepped into their way. Yet another fake smile was plastered onto her face and her eyes where blank.

"Hi there! My name is Nickie, and I will be your tour guide of our wonderful school, Longview." Her voice was sticky sweet, and Nick was taken back by it. He turned, but the stewardess was gone already. (Every like, Kid Character is based off a friend of mine at the time. Except one is based off of Zuko from ATLA but we’re not gonna talk about that.)

"And this way we have the main hall. Our school was founded in 1937, by our creator, Herald Longview. He had abilities, and wanted there to be place where people who were different to live and learn." Nickie walked away quickly, and Nick tried to follow her. She was spewing out facts, and Nick didn't try to catch any, he was too busy looking around. There was kids running in and out of classrooms, and walking around the halls. Well, most were walked. The halls had high ceilings, and there was a fair amount of students flying around up there. While walking down the hall, Nick had various items dropped on his head. (how many people are just DROPPING things whatever.)

"Here is your school schedule, and this is your binder someone will drop a uniform. I hope you will like it here! See you around!" Nickie disappeared into the rush of people, leaving Nick alone. People are just disappearing today, thought Nick. He unfolded the paper that she had given him, but his jaw dropped when he tried to read it over. Thermodynamics of Human Flame? Psychology? Human Biology and Autonomy? (Lmao I think I meant anatomy not autonomy. Ugh) The crowd of people was getting thicker, and Nick had no clue where he was going. Okay, first stop, Thermodynamics of Human Flame: room 973. He looked up to the door he was next to. Technology, 253. Nick groaned and his head fell back.

"Lost?" asked a voice from beside him. There was a boy who looked about fourteen standing looking at him. He had short brown hair, glasses, and a knowing expression on his face. Nick took a double take at his eyes, they glowed.

"Um, yeah. I'm supposed to be in classroom 973, but I have no clue how to get there." The boy smiled.

"Hey! I'm going that way! I'll show you." He held out his hand.

"My name is Michael." Nick shook it. (Michael is based off my friend Josef.)

"Nick. So," he said as they started to walk down the hallway, "what can you do?" Michael smiled secretly.

"Laser vision," he said tapping his glasses. "For some reason, I can't fire through normal glass. You?" That explains the glowing eyes,

"Regeneration." Michael stopped.

"Really? Woah. There's never been a regenitve at this school before! It must be super cool to be the first." The two boys weaved in and out of the to people in the hall until they got to room 973.

"Well, this is your stop. Lucky you, you get to start last class on a Friday. I'll find you again at dinner. Later!" Said Michael with a wave. Nick took a deep breath and walked into the room. Just walking in, there was a small wave of heat that flew up into his face. There was already a lot of people there, but the class hadn't started yet. Nick gulped. The room was filled with large kids wearing leather with dyed hair. They seemed to all be around a tall thin boy who was lounging in one of the desks. His black hair was half covering his face, and there was a bright red streak running down it.

"Seats!" yelled a voice. The kids scrambled back to their chairs and a man walked up to the front of the room.

"Now class, we will be talking about," he stopped and glared at Nick, "and who are you?" All eyes turned to him, and the room started to heat up. At first, Nick though that it was just him, but he soon realized that he could see waves in the air.

"I, I'm Nick. I'm new." The teacher rolled his eyes and gestured to the desks. The back of the room was filled up, and the only seat that was open was in the front row. Nick cringed and sat down. All that he had was the binder that Nickie had given him. As the rest of the class pulled out paper and pencil, Nick stared very closely at his hands. (okay SAME BRO) The teacher started to ramble on about things that Nick couldn't even start to understand, so he started to study the room around him. There was name plate on the teacher's desk, Mr. Ferno, but nothing else. The room was orange, and there were burn marks all over the walls. (I would like to formally apologize for naming him fucking Mr. Ferno I have no excuse I am so sorry)

"You, late comer, make a spherical size two fireball and demonstrate what I am talking about." Nick looked up. Mr. Ferno was waiting for him.

"I haven't got all day." Nick gulped. Now or never.

"I, I can't," he admitted. The rest of the class started to snicker, but Mr. Ferno's face turned red with anger.

"And why not? Were you not paying attention?" he said sternly.

"No, I was," lied Nick, "but I can't make flames. That's not my power, ability, thing." Mr. Ferno was shocked.

"Then why are you in this class? And what is?" Nick didn't know the answer to the first question, so he answered to second.

"I regenerate." The room was plunged into silence. It was eire, and Nick wished someone would make some sort of noise. He squirmed in his chair, waiting.

"Come up." Nick slowly stood up and shuffled up to Mr. Ferno. He looked up, but as he did, a burst of fire came straight towards him. Nick ducked, but only slightly too late. Some of the fire burned his arm.

"Ah! What was that for?!" Mr. Ferno grabbed Nick's arm and watched. Almost at once, the burn started to grow smaller until it disappeared. Mr. Ferno threw Nick's arm down, and pointed to the door.

"I have no use for you in my class. Get out. Go to Human Biology in room 462. Now." Nick picked up his left as quickly as he could. As he left, Mr. Ferno slammed the door after him. The halls were empty now, and Nick started to try to find room 462. Man, what a hot head, thought Nick. He stopped and tried not to laugh; hot head. Nick walked around the halls, looking into the rooms and looking for room 462. He had finally found it, but was too nervous to knock on it and disrupt the class. He slunk down against the wall and decided he would wait until the class got out. Just as he was having this thought, the door opened suddenly and a tall thin woman stepped into the hallway.

"There you are, Melody said she read someone outside. Come on in," she said. Nick stood carefully and followed. (Melody is based off my friend Breauna)

"What happened to your shirt?" asked the teacher. Nick cringed and looked down, the edges of his shirt were burnt.

"Uh, Mr. Ferno. He kinda threw me out his class." The teacher smiled.

"He is very, well, stressed. Don't take it the wrong way. I am guessing that you are not a fire holder?" Nick looked down to his feet. When I tell people here, they aways seem to put my power to the test. The teacher smiles kindly again.

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot. You can go and sit down." Nick turned to the desks and saw Michael wave to him from the back of the class. There were more open seats there, and Nick took one in the middle of classroom. Mrs. Brentfield, the teacher, was kind and didn't call on him the entire class. The teaching styles were so much different that Nick couldn't believe that they were even at the same school. When the bell ran, Michael ran up to him.

"Hey! So Mr. Ferno kicked you out of his class? He does that a lot. But now we have a class together." Nick smiled.

"Yeah, he is kinda a hothead." Michael burst out laughing, and showed Nick were he dinning hall was. (The joke is very stupid but I like that he thought of it earlier and then told it later. good job little Raccoon) The hall was huge, with many large round tables. All of the tables were different. There were a few that were coved with books, some that were up in the air, one that looked like it had been broken and fixed many times, and some that were burned black. Like everywhere, there were tall ceilings, and large windows. Michael lead him through the crowds of people until they got to a corner table far from the rest of the students. This table was old and cracked. It would have fallen apart if it wasn't for vines and branches holding it together. There was already three people sitting there, two girls and a boy.

"Chase, Treauna, Melody, this is Nick," said Michael. They looked to the newcomer and smiled. Nick looked, and the boy was gone from the table. (Chase is based off my friend James. Treauna is me lol)

"Hi," said a voice from behind him. Nick spun around to the see the boy. One of the girls at the table gave a small cry of surprise.

"Chase! You almost gave me a heart attack!" said the girl. Chase's face turned red as he held out a hand.

"Oops. Sorry about that. I'm Chase." Nick shook his hand. He was blond, and smiled again before disappearing. Nick heard a slap and Chase cry out from the other side of the table.

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry, Treauna. I can't help it! But you don't have to hit me!"

"It's a reaction!" (The “IT”S A REACTION” with me hitting James (aka Chase) was a common occurrence we still joke about (i startle VERY easily)

Nick, Michael, and the other girl laughed and Nick turned to sit down at the table. The girl who gave the cry waved.

"I'm Treauna." Nick got a better look at her. She had long brown hair that had little flowers growing in it. He eyes were blue, but her face was covered with a layer of dirt. She looked like she had been out side and fell asleep with her face smack down in the ground. She proudly showed a huge smile, but her eyes portrayed that she almosst wasn't all there. (YEUP. If you ever want to know how I would describe myself this. This is it lmao)

"And that makes me Melody," said the last girl. She also had brown hair, but her's was curly and frizzy. Her eyes were a dark hazel, and she smiled wide.

"So, what is your ability?" asked Chase, "I have speed."

"I control plants," said Treauna.

"I'm telekinetic," piped up Melody.

"I regenerate," answered Nick. The others were amazed.

"That is so cool!" exclaimed Chase. It was then that some waiter walked up to their table and gave them a plate of food. They were having hamburgers, and it smelled delicious. Nick was hungry and eagerly picked up his burger.

"Wait!" cried out Melody. Her voice high and scared and Nick dropped his food.

"Don't eat the food," she said quickly. Her eyes were wide, and she looked around quickly. Nick's stomach tied itself into a knot. Melody looked different, she was more focused, and more life like.

"Why?! What's wrong with it?" Melody looked quickly to Nick, but slowly her eyes started to drift past drearily. Nick turned to Michael, but he was doing the same. Chase and Treauna were also frozen staring into nothing. Nick didn't know what to do, but he didn't have to wait for long. At the same time, all four snapped back and started talking again like nothing happened.

"What was that?" Nick asked Melody. She was busy eating her hamburger.

"What was what?" she asked back. Well, truly she said, "Wha whas wa?" with her mouth full of food, but Nick was guessing. Nick was startled.

"You said not to eat the food." Melody swallowed.

"Why would I say that? The food is great. You should try it." She took another bite out of her food, but Nick had lost his appetite. Slowly, pushed his food away. (I mean like so would I.)

"So," he said cautiously, "what is this school really like?" Chase shrugged.

"It's okay if you ignore Strength Force, and Stealth Force,"

"Also Shape Force, Control Force, Water Force," sighed Treauna.

"Plus Mind Force," groaned Melody.

"You can't forget Flight Force, Blaze Force, and Earth Force," finished Michael. The three stopped eating and stared down at their food. Nick could tell that this was a touchy subject, but was still trying to figure out what they were talking about.

"Wait, what are forces?"

"Oh, I thought that they would have told you. There are different groups, or clubs, that students go into according to their ability," started Michael. Nick got the idea that Michael wanted to run the school one day, with all of the information he had collected on it.

"Yeah. Like if you could fly, you would try for Flight Force. Or if you were super strong, you might go for Strength," interrupted Treauna. Michael glared at her. Explaining the workings of Longview was one of his favorite things to do.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth, "That is what I have been saying." Treauna rolled her eyes.

"I know. But you always take so long. It's just so much faster when I explain it," shrugged Treauna. Michael and Treauna started a glaring match, and Nick started to look between them. Chase started to snicker, and Melody leaned over to Nick.

"Ignore them. There are ten different forces; Strength, Mind, Control, Shape, Flight, Water, Earth, Stealth, Blaze, and United." Nick had started to count on his fingers the forces that he was told to ignore. (i did just double check to make sure there were really ten because having only 9 would be a VERY me thing to accidently pull)

"You said to ignore nine out of the ten except for the last one." Melody grimaced.

"Yeah. For us, we kinda have too,"

"You could probably get into any force with your ability. It's the only one in this school, like, ever," said Treauna. Her and Michael's glaring match was over, and she was finishing up her dinner.

"You keep talking about trying out, or getting in. Do you have to try out for forces?" he questioned. Nick was starting to get nervous. The three students at the table started look down at their food, and avoided Nick's question. He looked around at them, waiting for their answer.

"Yeah, you do. But don't worry. You really could try out for any force, and they would let you in," responded Chase. The table fell quiet, and more severs came and took away what was left of the food.

"What force are you guys?" Nick was trying to change the subject of trying out, but he couldn't think of anything else o talk about.

"We're the United Force. We all have different abilities, which makes us-"

"Makes you what no one else wanted. The mis-fits," a different voice interrupted. (OH MY GOD JUST NOOOOOOooOOOoOoOOO)

Chase, Michael, Melody, and Treauna tensed up and Nick could tell that there was a lot of bad blood between them and the speaker.

#longview #this is so funny #I'm 14 and this is DEEP #the rest will be out and posted today

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lunarthedragon · 4 years

Text

Demon!Jaskier moments because it won’t leave my head!

+++

The meat suit ages around him. He can feel it grow every passing year, stretching and contorting over a too-big entity.

The original soul died far before it was born into this world. It allowed him to step in and takes its place. His brethren are like vines that choke out trees, retaining their shape even as the mighty oaks or pines wither and die beneath them.

He is like a weed with a lovely flower atop it. Mistaken for something meant for a bouquet, but even when identified, still plucked for flower crowns or innocent gifts.

Eventually this body will fail and he will move on, finding a new host. He remembers all his previous, and he will continue to remember. He likes mischief, not malice. The physical world already has enough of the latter and he finds himself falling more and more in love with this world with every life.

+++

He calls himself Jaskier in this life. He always gives himself another name. He’s a bard this time, traveling and experiencing with a song on his lips.

He meets all kinds of people. Some are so kind and jovial. Some want to spread love in ways he never understood but feels deep in his bones.

Some try to hurt him. Swindle him. Take what little he has. Cut him down and make off with the meager coin in his pocket and lute on his back.

With black eyes and black veins and fingers and claws as dark as night he faces these people down and leaves them as nothing more than stains on the side of the road.

+++

Jaskier likes Geralt of Rivia. He has liked many individuals within his lives, but Geralt is unique. That is rare, to find someone that stands out through thousands of years of lives.

Geralt thinks he’s a nuisance, but sometimes looks at him strangely. Like he can’t figure him out.

The Witcher can tell something is wrong. Can smell the sulfur deep under Jaskier’s flowerier scents. He doesn’t understand it, though, because Jaskier doesn’t act like a threat. He simply wants to experience life and see every corner of the world.

“You’re not quite... right...” Geralt says once and Jaskier doesn’t look up. Doesn’t quit playing his lute, even when the beds of his nails turn black.

“Not quite wrong, either,” he says back and Geralt is silent.

+++

Jaskier has no sway on physical monsters, but the incorporeal? They fear him. They know something is not quite right with him. An ancient darkness that lurks, too big a shadow for too small a frame.

Some have called him energumen before, but he is too old for that. Too powerful. He still walks in the shadows of fallen castles. Bones ache from cries of battles long fought. Eyes burn from the conjunction of the spheres, like it happened only yesterday.

He is not energumen. He is not a hag or a spirit. He is not a monster.

He is Jaskier. At least... this iteration is.

+++

His bodies always fail from old age or when they are too damaged for even he to mend. It is rare for the damage to be too great, for earthly weapons can leave no permanent damage.

He has held his severed head atop his shoulders and forced the skin to knit back together. He has shoved his heart back into his chest then pressed his ribcage back together. He has grown new eyes and limbs when absolutely needed.

Every time, his blood runs black, he stinks like volcanic rock, and all the sounds around him die out in fear for the entity that does-not-belong-too-much-too-little-too-cold-hot-choking-screaming-maiming-mending.

+++

The art of holy infusion has been lost to time... Which is nice for him. Holy weapons are the only things that can do him harm. Not his body. Him.

But with a shift in beliefs, a change in knowledge, a war and “cleansing” of the lands, the practice is no more. It makes his journeys far less worrying. It is still not pleasant to be run out of towns or stabbed in his sleep or shot in the back with arrows, but he at least knows he will not perish.

He still has a scar on his right thigh, a deep gash, from an angelic blade suffered millennia ago. It follows him in every body he takes, a permanent marking he will always carry.

+++

He can smell the magic wafting off the princess the moment he and Geralt walk into Cintra’s court. It is rancid with untapped potential, forced down deep into her body, crying out for release, and growing sour and sharp with every passing day.

He knows it will hurt her if she does not let it out.

He thinks the magics of this time are a step backward from what they once were, but if he said that outloud he fears he would sound like a crotchety old man. And, after accusing Geralt of being just that, he’d rather not.

So he plays, avoids angry spouses, flaunts about, avoids a few more angry spouses, and does his job as a famous bard.

Queen Calanthe reeks of chaos, too. Not the magical kind. The kind one chooses to wield. As if, rather than inheriting the magic, she harnessed it in her blades and armor. In her words and decrees.

She does not hold it back, either, and it sends cold shivers down his spine.

He plays some more. Only bright, playful jigs, at the queen’s request.

When the knight arrives Jaskier can feel the curse, like the air before a lightning storm, long before the helmet is removed.

Duny does not wield chaos. It coats him like chains. It tethers him down to a manmade fate. It feels wrong, but more like a sore on your arm that wasn’t there before. Something to be mended. To be treated.

Not wrong-but-right like Jaskier.

He tries not to get involved, even when Geralt jumps in. The Witcher is heroic to a fault, no matter how much he says he isn’t. It may be one of the reasons Jaskier finds himself infatuated with him.

Not in love. Not yet.

But when the fighting slows, seemingly ending, and Jaskier can feel the chaos whirling around Calanthe’s intentions, he knows things are not yet done.

When Princess Pavetta screams, the pent up, acrid stink of her chaos erupting into something thick and crushing, everyone is knocked away. Except him.

He forgets to be knocked down. He stands right where he started, whirlwind ripping apart the room around them, enamored with the way Pavetta’s chaos changed upon release. It is beautiful, in a way. It makes his skin tingle like mint.

As he steps forward, unbothered by the maelstrom, his eyes turning black, he approaches the floating couple with a smile. He takes ahold of the princesses ankle and gives a gentle tug, somehow managing to gain her attention. She’s in a daze, enraptured with the cursed knight, and when she looks down at the black-eyed bard, she isn’t afraid.

“I think you have made your point,” he says, not raising his voice yet somehow still heard over the storm.

Pavetta stares. And stares. And stares. Then nods before she and Duny begin to sink to the ground and the storm dies out around them.

Geralt won’t stop staring at him, even though his eyes are no longer black. He offers no answer, only keeps smiling, and Geralt is only distracted when Duny speaks of returning a debt.

When Geralt - exhausted and confused and ready to be done with the evening - calls for the Law of Surprise, Jaskier tilts his head curiously. He can feel the two souls within Pavetta long before she vomits onto the floor. Not a possession. Definitely not a possession.

Jaskier slips away before anyone can recover from the shock and ask him questions he doesn’t feel like answering.

+++

Jaskier does not see Geralt for a year after that. They travel on their own, yet Jaskier can always feel the Witcher hot on his heels. Not that he is being purposefully tracked and followed, more like a tugging of souls. Heart strings tied together and pulling each other along.

They will meet again, he knows, so he is in no rush.

He travels to places long, long forgotten. To corners of the world not meant for mortal eyes. To pockets of space hidden away from wandering fools.

He travels.

+++

“Jaskier,” Geralt heaves, breathless and covered in blood, both his own and the monsters’. He’s gasping for breath, sword held in one fist hanging low at his side. The night is lit only by a sliver of a moon, but Geralt can surely see everything, what with Cat running in his veins. His eyes are pitch black, skin ashen, and black veins creep over his face.

Jaskier’s own black eyes stare back at him, monster blood dripping from black hands held loosely at his sides, black veins arching over his shoulders and neck and chest.

A hoard of wyverns, a nest of them, lay dead at his feet. Some dropped dead, seemingly with no injury, others with chests burst open from the inside, others still cut clean in half.

All with their heads intact, so Geralt can collect what he needs. Jaskier knows the drill.

“I always liked this look,” Jaskier says, waggling his claws at Geralt, a smile on his face. “Copying my style, I mean. Very flattering.”

Geralt stares, seemingly unaware of the multiple injuries coating his body. Adrenaline is surely running high, along with whatever other potions he’s consumed prior to Jaskier happening upon him.

He doesn’t mind traveling at night. He needs no sleep and nothing in this world frightens him. No monster or blade, anyway.

It was how he happened upon Geralt fighting a losing battle and he had to step in.

He tilts his head when the Witcher says nothing but keeps staring. “Allow me to treat those wounds, then, yes? You’re in no state to do much of anything but sit there and look pretty.”

He takes a step forward but stops when Geralt raises his silver blade at him. The glare leveled at him is hot, black eyes meeting black eyes. “What are you? What have you done to Jaskier?”

He huffs and sets his hands on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed. “I am and always have been Jaskier,” he says, Geralt’s brows furrowing and his nose flaring.

“Sulfur,” Geralt says slowly, beginning to piece things together. “You’re an energumen.”

“Close, but no.”

Geralt’s eyes narrow. “Are you not a demon possessing a human body, then?”

“This body was stillborn when I stepped in, and I suppose the closest qualification for me, in broad terms, is ‘demon,’ but energumen is a modern term. I am older than such labels and I do not, quite, fit,” he says flippantly. “Not quite wrong. Not quite right.”

Geralt stares at him in silence, attempting to determine what his next course of action should be, and Jaskier grows tired of waiting.

“Enough with the sword, too. Silver. Steel. Platinum. Iron. Doesn’t matter. None of them will work on me,” he says and, suddenly, he’s in front of Geralt and the silver blade is back in its sheath. The Witcher’s arm is still extended and he flexes his empty hand in surprise, before lurching back.

“What--”

“Stop moving so much!” Jaskier snaps, grabbing hold of Geralt’s shoulders and shoving him to sit on the ground. “You’ll aggravate your wounds, you big lug. Let me see.” He doesn’t wait for a response, blackened hands moving to remove armor.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Geralt demands as Jaskier treats his wounds, cleaning them as best he can with no stream nearby.

“My apologies, my dear,” he says brightly, offering a thin smile, “But, do tell me, is revealing I am an otherworldly, eldritch horror, parading around in a new flesh bag every lifetime, with powers long dead to your world something I should reveal on the first or second date? I know I’m meant to save sex for the third, but I was never good at following that rule.”

Geralt glares at him and he keeps smiling, unfazed.

The silence stretches on for a bit until Jaskier gets Geralt standing again and making their way towards where he can sense Roach’s presence. They will fetch the wyvern heads later.

“I wouldn’t have killed you,” Geralt says on a whisper, beginning to sound tired a his potions wear off.

“You couldn’t have,” Jaskier replies.

“I wouldn’t have tried.”

“Good to know, but I enjoy living a normal life. The physical plain is an intriguing and lovely place. I do not find sharing my true nature to be of the utmost importance.”

“How long have you been alive?”

“This body has been alive for 28 years.”

“Not the body... you.”

“I am not alive.”

Geralt takes a deep breath, clearly getting frustrated, and Jaskier smiles to himself.

“How long have you been around?” the Witcher growls through clenched teeth.

“Long, long before the most recent conjunction of the spheres.”

“Most recent...?”

But Jaskier waves him off as they reach Roach. The Witcher’s face has returned to its natural color, the veins are gone, and his eyes are golden once more. Jaskier, on the other hand, hasn’t changed back and Roach whinnies in alarm. It’s a little insulting, but Jaskier just pauses to lock eyes with the horse and push some of his own essence towards her until she calms in recognition.

He smiles, pleased, then digs out the rest of the medical supplies from a saddle bag to finish patching his Witcher up.

+++

Part two to come? Maybe?

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #nonhuman jaskier #demon jaskier #fanfic #geraskier

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infini-tree · 3 years

Text

FANFIC: against all odds - part 2

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Summary: One time they dwell on the thought of being caught, and the one time they were. It all works out, kind of. (Piqua Mystery Dungeon)

A/N: ‘i make no promises,’ i say, immediately writing the third fic for this au in one week? have I ever mentioned that the first thing I made fancontent of was the first pmd game?

Also, this really is just an opportunity to practice writing more scenes with the boys and figure out their tone.

_____________________________

George recalled a time when his dad called him precocious.

What does that mean, he remembered saying.

It means that you’re very smart for your age, his dad replied with a grin. You already get basic type matchups and dungeon theory better than most groups your mom’s mentoring in the guild she’s workin’ with!

The snivy had let out a laugh at the mental image of himself trouncing a bunch of grown-ups. Whoa, really?

Swear on the Lake Trio’s jewels, he said, putting up a hand to his chest, and he let out a little giggle as he lifted him up, up, up.

Experiencing the real thing was a bit of a-- well, maybe disappointment wasn’t the right word. Accurate, but not fitting. Tedious, maybe. The long stretches of nothing in-between took up more time than the actual dungeons themselves. He looked over to Harold, and he knew he felt the same.

The walk was silent and oppressive. George unfurled his vine-tie slightly and something fell out and onto his palm. It was a shiny half of a disc, but upon closer inspection its lustre had flaked away to reveal the clay underneath.

Sometimes he would turn the thing over in his hands, but if he had to be honest he had no idea why he kept the remains of the novelty hypno pendulum.

When the snivy first used it, he hadn’t expected anything to happen. He heard tales of the line being able to hypnotize its foes to sleep, and in the more outlandish stories suggest them to do something. Ultimately, it was a desperate act, and maybe that desperation was the thing that made it work.

It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that happened to them, but it had the distinction of being one of the first.

The latest strange thing was the quiet. Him and Harold knew Krupp-- knew how to get under his skin in record time, how to avoid him, the works. They knew how explosive his temper was-- even for an ice-type!

They also know that he was at its worst when he was quiet, so when the abomasnow didn’t react to the bombshell that was being Captain Underpants, it was... unnerving.

For the past few minutes, the boys were giving each other a Look, nudging the other into asking what was on both of their minds. Eventually, hesitance wore into mild frustration. George sighed, then pointed a glance Harold-wards that meant you owe me before breaking the silence with a long “Uuuuuuuh...”

“Yes?” Krupp cut in.

The snivy flipped the pendulum piece to his other hand. “Aren’t you mad?”

“About what?”

“About, you know-- hypnotizing you?” When no answer came, he prodded with, “Being Captain Underpants?”

The pine needles on his arm adjusted themselves in agitation. The snow on it sloughed off at the sudden motion and the boys had to step around the snow drift that was now on the middle of the road.

“You are mad!” Harold interjected.

The abomasnow’s tail slammed to the ground. “Of course I’m mad.”

“What he means is, we kind of expected, I dunno, yelling?” George explained. “Something about how we’re literally the worst-- anything!”

His pace slowed down. Krupp finally looked back at them for the first time since they explained the whole thing, but the expression was all wrong. His brow was more pinched in confusion than frustration. “What, you want me to yell at you?”

“No, but we’re kind of expecting it and would like to get it over with,” the snivy said with a shrug.

The temperature dropped several degrees. There was the frustration. Harold brought himself closer to George, and he leaned into the fluffy warmth.

“Get it over with--” Krupp spluttered. “We are literally being hunted down by every team this side of the region. Someone claiming to be one of my students from the future is spearheading that hunt and not only are pokemon listening to that, but he ripped my guildmaster title from me in what is essentially a forceful takeover.”

A thin layer of frost began forming on the path.

“I’m sorry I’m not dedicating every moment of my time being the World’s Worst Guildmaster, but some of us here have priorities. Like, say keeping himself and two children from not dying on his watch? From not getting caught?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what they’re going to do to us if they catch us?

“I know those idiotic comics were a parody of the actual stories, but do you know what you’re parodying in the first place?” Puffs of frost breath punctuated each breath. “I know neither of you like applying yourselves, but you have to be at least a little aware.”

Harold had taken to picking at the ground with one of his front hooves. George traced a digit over the edge of the broken piece anxiously. Neither of them spoke up.

“Are you satisfied with that lecture?” And just like that, the frost started to melt. It slowly got warmer. “Because I’m not.”

(The boys never liked the quiet in general. Maybe that was why they were always so offput whenever he was.)

_____________________________

It wasn’t long before Krupp and Captain Underpants started talking. They kind of expected that. More often than not, they would wake up to scratching noises as one of them tried to write in the dirt with one of their pine needles.

What was more surprising was how quickly they had compromised on the whole switching thing.

“I’m good at fighting, and Guildmaster is good at planning travel stuff,” Captain explained as he floated them over to where the stairs were. “Neither of us are good at puzzles, but at least we haven’t encountered any!”

“Just like that?” Harold tilted his head.

The abomasnow ground his teeth in what was his attempt at a grimace. It looked weird on his face. “He said it was a matter of practicality, and working with what we’re good at makes sens-- ACH!”

His body tensed up in pain, and he instinctively held them closer to protect them. Harold began to struggle in his tight grip, eyes darting in every direction to figure out what had hit them.

“Captain? What’s wrong?” Panic began to creep into George’s tone.

“Hey, guys,” a familiar voice cut in.

George and Harold paled at the sight of Erica clambering up on the abomasnow’s shoulder. Even in the gloom of the dungeon, the violet crest around her neck glinted.

And Captain was going down, down, down. They braced for impact.

_____________________________

Erica, out of the boys’ circle of friends, was one of the ones who was more in-tune into their misadventures and ready to lend a helping hand. Erica was also the scariest guildmember-slash-student they’ve ever met; she had a cool head and popped up where you least expected.

It was honestly no surprise that out of everyone, she was the first one who cornered them, and right between the stairs out of this place, too!

“What did you do to him?” Harold yelled, nudging the abomasnow to his feet.

Captain looked, for a lack of a better word-- terrible. He looked like one more hit would do him in. While landing face-first would definitely leave a mark, they knew him long enough that it shouldn’t leave him straining.

And that’s when George finally noticed what was in the axew’s hands. In one hand was the three-pronged pounce wand that brought her up there with them, whining as the last vestiges of its power left it. In the other, the spiked two-edged wand also making a dying down noise-- it was most likely the thing that brought them down.

“Relax, I just didn’t want you guys to immediately fly off.”

Still, there were more pressing questions, like, “Why are you helping Melvinborg?” George made a face like the name was as bitter as the duosion’s personality.

“We all... kinda got no choice,” Erica replied with the nonchalance of listing off the day’s errands. The only thing that betrayed her was how she gripped the now-defunct wands in a vicegrip. Then, belatedly, “Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, wait, um-- uh--” Captain rushed forward in front of them, his arms spread out to protect them despite his fatigue. His face was scrunched up in the way he does when he was overthinking and none of them could tell whether it was because of the abomasnow’s fatigue or because he really didn’t know that he settled on, “Before you, uh-- take us in-- Plungerina can we talk, one human-turned-pokemon to another?”

To Erica’s credit, she was only tripped up for a moment before she steeled herself for a bit of improv. “Sure, right after I catch you.” She lunged forward and--

Tripped. Somehow. She poked her head up to look at the one entrance to the room, then seeing that no one was there, she opened her backpack and threw a box at their feet.

“Oh no, I am petrified,” she said, practically announced for all the floor to hear. Then, in a more regular speaking volume, “I hope they don’t take the care package I dropped that has supplies and letters from their friends and family.”

There was a moment of silence as the three of them processed what she said. And when they did, George put it in his satchel. “I... thanks, Erica.”

“You’re not welcome, because you stole from me, remember?” she said with a conspiratorial wink. She turned her attention to Captain. “You got one question before the rest catch up.”

“Do you know what they’re going to do to us once you turn us in?” The abomasnow was concerned, to put it mildly. But his tone reminded Harold of the same one he had when he asked long ago where dad went. Naïve, but you knew deep down.

Considering his talks with Krupp, he probably knows in some capacity.

“I figured you’ve been in tough scrapes like this, but I suppose maybe not?” His arms lowered. Harold looked at him worriedly; his pine needles were still shot up and pierced through his cape, despite the lull.

The axew appraised him for a moment, and she noticed the needles, too. “It’s weird to see you think this hard about anything.”

The boys grimaced at how blunt she was, but its definitely crossed their minds.

“It’s weird to think hard about anything!” Captain laughed.

“To answer your question, no, I don’t,” she frowned. “Knowing Melvin, and by extension Melvinborg, it’s probably something else than the, uh... standard. You know how he is with tinkering dungeon items to be more potent.”

And just like that, Captain’s cheery mood was back, even if it was a little more sedate than usual. The needles settled to its more natural position. “Okey-dokey, thanks Plungerina!”

All four of them tensed up at the sudden sound of shouting.

“Time’s up,” she gave a half-smirk half-smile. “Also, there’s a petrify orb in the package. Gotta make this look convincing, you know?”

“O-- oh!” George floundered for a moment before opening the box and taking it out. It let out a low hum.

“Don’t expect this to be a repeat thing,” she added, in the tone of voice that mean to definitely expect it. She stared at him, sensing his hesitance. “Relax, I’ll be fine-- the other teams are coming up and will bring me back first before getting to you. It’ll buy you a bit more time.”

The snivy was still a bit unsure about the whole prospect, but he held it high anyway. It flashed and it froze Erica in place before disappearing in a puff of smoke. And then they ran for the stairs.

(And then they continued to run.)

#mellsian fanfics #captain underpants #piqua mystery dungeon #me holding up the three (3) fics i made for this au in just a week: LOOK AT IT #its rambly but i ltierally wrote this in a day. WACK #i probably should have rewatched tetocu for this but SSSSSSH

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dcnatural · 4 years

Text

Don’t Blame Me

Word Count: 2130

Pairing: Reader x Poison Ivy

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: You work at Gotham's Botanical Garden, and one night, you run into Poison Ivy

Love is a drug. And a powerful one. You had learned that the hard way.

You were fresh out of high school, in the summer before university started. You had found a job as a caretaker for Gotham’s Botanical Garden, a large area filled with flowers and trees that barely ever got any visitors. You liked working there, you watered the plants, pruned the bushes, and got to enjoy the quietness of the garden reading a book on the sunlight.

She was young and brilliant. Her genius had granted her a great scientific career even at an early age. A career which abruptly ended, marking the beginning of a new life of crime. She had conned and killed many of Gotham’s rich and famous, her beauty was fatal, but irresistible nevertheless. She loved the nature, and the Botanical Garden had always been one of her favorites places in the city, so when she escaped Arkham, she sought refuge there.

Love is a poison. It burns through your veins, going directly to your heart, from where it kills you, little by little.

* * *

It was around the middle of June. You woke up late in the afternoon, back against the hard stone bench, in which you had fallen asleep. Looking up, you could see the faint outline of the moon beginning to show in the sky, as the sun descended. The noises from the rush hour invaded your precious sanctuary: cars engines, vehicles horns, wheels scraping on the asphalt.

You being to make your way back to the visitor’s centre, where you leave your stuff during the day, planning to change clothes, lock the park and go home, but, as you walk through the heart of the garden, a low humming catches your attention. You had believed to be alone, your few co-workers having long left, but from where you stood, the noises from the outside world couldn’t reach you, the song had to be coming from inside the park. Curious, you looked around, trying to find its source, but as far as you could view, you were all by yourself.

You were about to resume your journey when you felt something tangle itself on your left ankle. You instinctively pulled away, but the thing had grabbed you tightly. You scream as you notice the large vine keeping you in place, it’s grip becoming tighter every second. Before you can bow down to free yourself, matching plants take hold of your arms and right leg. There’s a shuffle as a woman comes down from the tree tops, balancing herself in a swing made of vines.

Her long scarlet hair cascades down her back, her skin is slightly greenish, just enough to differentiate her from a normal person. You recognize her immediately: Poison Ivy.

You try to speak, but the words won’t leave your mouth. If it wasn’t by the vines keeping you in place, you would be shaking. A small smile forms in her dark green lips as she walks gracefully towards you. The way she moves her hips is hypnotizing. As she approaches, she brings with her the smell of flowers, which floods your nostrils. You can’t pinpoint which flower is it, and perhaps it’s a scent yet unknown to mankind.

She holds your chin in her soft hands, tilting your head to one side and then another. Her greens eyes lock into yours, her gaze penetrating your soul. Now you understand why men would do anything for her: she is beautiful.

"What do we have here?", she whispers, eyes still looking into you. Her voice is sweet and melodic. You still can’t bring yourself to speak, but that’s okay, as the question was more for herself than for you.

She walks around you, her sharp fingernails never leaving your skin. She evaluated you like a hunter looking at its prey. You shiver.

“What are you doing here?”, she asks, facing you.

“Uhh, I wo-work here”, you stutter.

She presses her finger on the Botanical Garden logo embroidered in your t-shirt. “Right. The park is closed. What are you still doing here?”, she hisses.

“Well, you shouldn’t be here either”, as soon as the words leave your mouth you want to swallow them back.

Her eyes narrow and you are sure she’s going to kill you, but then, she laughs. The vines hold on you begin to loosen and they crawl back from wherever they had come from. You fall forward, but Ivy’s arm catch you and help you regain your balance.

“I fell asleep…and woke up just now”, you confess, you voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just going to pick up my things and get out of here. I swear I didn’t even know you were here”, you tell her, hoping she would let you go.

She runs a hand along your jaw bone, caressing your skin. “Are you scared?”

“Yes”, you admit.

She throws her head back in a laugh. “I promise I won’t poison you. Now, I was singing to the plants, it’s good for their health. Would you like to join?” With a gesture she brings back the swing and hops on it, reaching out her hand for you to take.

You consider your options: going back to your empty house or staying there with a psychopath. The answer is obvious. You take her hand and let her pull you to the vine swing, which rises slowly under her command. You sit by her side on a thick branch and let her sweet voice fills your ears.

* * *

Love makes you do crazy things. It drives you insane. It’s the worst obsession one could ever have.

You begin to leave the park later every night, wanting to spend all the time you could with Ivy. You talked and learned you had a lot in common: movies, music, book, food and, of course, your shared love for the nature. You told her that you would study biology at Gotham’s University when the summer was over. She told you how she hoped to clean the Earth from those who hurt it.

In high school, you would flirt with the popular kids and go out in dates just to fit in, you wanted to be around the cool kids, but you never cared for them. Now, for the first time, in this dark little paradise that was your midnight garden, you were beginning to fall in love. And you knew she was falling for you.

Love is strange. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for it, and yet, it almost never gives you anything.

* * *

It was the beginning of July, you and Ivy were laying in the grass covered ground, looking at the stars and eating the candies you had brought her.

“Camila”, she calls. You flip your head to look at her. She was beautiful like always, the moonlight illuminating her soft features, her hair spread under her head like a fan, a few droplets of rain speckled on her skin.

“Yes?”

“Why do you stay here? You should be out there with your friends”, she stretches her hand as if she is going to touch you, but pulls back before she reaches you.

“You are my friend”, this time you reach to touch her, and places your hand over hers.

“You know what I mean. You must have better things to do than hanging out with a criminal.”

“And you must have better things to do than hang out with someone as mundane as me.” She laughs. You move closer to her. So close you can hear her beating heart. “Pamela”, you begin, using her real name, “I like you. I really like you.”

The words hang in the air between the two of you. For a moment you wonder what she will do. Will she reject you? Or will she kiss you? She seems to contemplate that too. The seconds feel like hours. And then she finally closes the gap between you and kiss you. Her lips are soft and she tastes like fresh peaches. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you into a tight hug and you let yourself melt under her.

* * *

Love is like a fire, burning bright and fast, consuming everything on its way.

You saw her when you closed your eyes, ached for her touch when you were alone, her voice echoed in your head even while you slept. You spent the days wishing that the night came faster. Because at night, under the trees and stars, you two made love. She was sweet and caring. For you, she wasn’t a poison ivy, she was a daisy.

You couldn’t tell anyone. She was still a fugitive of the law, and if Batman knew where to find her, he would come and take her away. You vowed to not let anyone take Pamela from you. You knew she was plotting something big, an attack to a Gotham-based oil company, she talked about it with you, but you didn’t care. You were sure her targets deserved what was coming.

Love is wonderful. It give you a reason to live, but nothing good lasts forever.

* * *

It was almost August. Ivy struck during the day. You heard it from a co-worker before opening Twitter to double check if it was true. It was. All over your feed pictures of a building covered in vines were being posted and retweeted. Fifty dead. Ten on their way to the hospital. No one knew where Poison Ivy was. But you knew where she would be. You went with your day as usual, and when the clocked ticked 6 p.m., you closed the gates of the garden and you ran to her.

“We need to get out of Gotham”, you tell her, before she can even say ‘hi’.

“I know,” she says, her voice unusually flat. You couldn't read her, she was expression-less.

“I just need to go home and pack, I can meet you here in a hour.”

“Camila…”, she begins, shaking her head. You can see tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “I can’t ask you to come with me.”

You hold both of her hands into yours, “Why not? I want to.”

“It’s not fair. You have a future”, she pulls away from you and turns her back to you. She isn’t strong enough to say this looking into your eyes. “This is just a summer fling, don’t throw your life away because of it.”

Before you can answer a shadow cuts through the tree line and your lover is pushed to the ground. “Pamela!”, you scream, jumping to help her back to her feet.

Then you it. Standing in the shadows, a man dressed in black, his dark cape fluttering in the wind. Batman. You stand between him and Pamela.

“You won’t hurt her”, you tell him, surprisingly calm. Behind him, you see the trees moving under Ivy’s command.

“Camila, go, now. Please, my love”, she begs, lips in your ear. You don’t move a inch.

Batman is fast and cuts the vines before they can get a hold of him. You barely register what happens next. They move quickly, like a dance. She throws plants at him, he gets free. He tries to catch her, she twists away form his hold. They have done this before. There’s nothing you can do, you are not a fighter. And even though you want to protect Ivy, you know she can take care of herself.

You hear the sirens from the police coming closer. Then they stop. And main gate is slammed open. Heavy footsteps approach.

“Poison Ivy, put your hands in the air and surrender”, a mechanical voice announces. “We will use lethal force.”

She doesn’t even flinch. She knows the cops are nothing, that Batman is the real problem. But you think different. Especially when you see the moonlight reflecting on the metal of a gun.

“PAMELA!”, you scream again, full of panic. She looks at you, puzzled at why you are so afraid. She doesn’t notice the trigger being pulled, but you do. You jump in front of her and the projectile hits you on the chest, just below the heart.

It pierces your skin, tearing your muscles apart. It hurts. It burns. Her eyes widen. Even Batman stops and shouts something you can’t hear. You can’t hear anything. You feel the blood running from the wound. Pamela tries to press the bullet hole to avoid blood loss, but it’s too late, you know it.

“Pammy,”, you whisper. You sight is blurred. You can’t breathe correctly. “I love you. You will love you to the rest of my life.”

Her warm tears falls on your skin. That’s the last thing you feel before darkness takes hold of you.

#poison ivy #pamela isley #poison ivy x reader #poison ivy imagine #reader #dc

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ladylore97 · 3 years

Text

SU FF Deleted Scene: Making Amends, Chapter 11

Words: 2790 (it was a long one to cut!) Summary: Steven and Spinel are established friends. Steven invites Spinel to stay over and have a slumber party. Spinel has a nightmare and Steven comforts her. Warnings: Panic attack, nightmares. Ships: One-sided Stevinel(?). Spinel has a big fat crush on Steven, and Steven is in a happy relationship with Connie. Nothing that deviates from canon other than the fact that they are close friends.

You can read the full story on AO3 or on FF.net

(I literally don’t remember what dialogue I took out before this but basically it’s getting late and Steven and Spinel are deciding what to do)

“You can take the pad upstairs back to Homeworld if you want. Or you can spend the night. I won’t be doing much, though. Humans have to sleep for about eight hours every day to recharge. If we don’t we get really slow and cranky and could even get sick.” Eight hours every day? That sounded inconvenient.

“What’s sleep?”

“Oh, it’s when you close your eyes and get comfy and let your brain shut off for a bit.”

“Oh! I did that sometimes. Never that long, though.” Not until after the initial 3,000 years, when Spinel dared to occupy herself with any activity that would hurt her chances of hearing that desired sound of a warp pad activating. She had learned to be the lightest of resters, closing her eyes for only a few minutes, ears vigilantly trained to hear even the slightest sound from the warp pad.

“You can try it if you want, and if you don’t like it you can use the warp to go back home or hang out in Little Homeworld or whatever you want to do while I sleep.”

“I’ll…try it,”she said after a moment of thought, “Yeah, who knows? It might be fun.” Steven beamed, and her doubts were instantaneously lifted.

“Alright, slumber party! I’ll get out a sleeping bag.” She followed him around the house with an air of excitement, nervously anticipating a different experience with rest than the one she had before. With the comfort of Steven in the room and nothing to vigilantly listen for, nothing to keep her from snapping back awake, maybe Spinel would actually enjoy sleeping.

“Here you go! I even found my old cuddle buddy for you – M.C. Bear Bear! He was a favorite back in the day,”he said, proudly handing her a stuffed….well, Spinel didn’t quite know what it was. But it was soft in her hand, and the fact that it was a treasured object of Steven’s made her smile. She held it against her chest while Steven arranged her pillows, privately taking a moment to inhale its scent. It smelled distinctly of Steven mixed with the must of dust.

“All set! First time sleepers, get comfy and warm under the blankets, close your eyes and try to think of nothing. Or count backwards from 100. Math always tires me out.” Spinel did as he suggested and apprehensively watched him climb into his own bed, then she laid down on the sleeping bag on the floor. She laid her head on the pillow the way he did, curling her body toward Steven’s bed and holding his bear tightly against her, her nose buried into the back of its head.

“I’m going to go to sleep now. If you can’t or wake up before me, you’re welcome to get up and do whatever you want. Just try to be quiet if you can. Night, Spinel.”

“Good night…” She listened intently, curiously waiting for a sign that would tell her what to expect from sleeping. She found it when Steven’s breathing began to even out and he had stopped moving as much. Spinel let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, realizing it was her turn. Closing her eyes, she tried to get comfortable. The room was dark, like the garden had been, but she wasn’t alone this time. There was nothing to fear here, she reminded herself. Nothing she had to stay awake for. Nothing she had to force her eyes open to see. Steven was here, and she could rest.

Spinel didn’t realize she had slipped into sleep until she was met by a vision entirely different than the floor of Steven’s room. She was back in the garden, her feet tethered to the ground by familiar vines and grassy debris. A beam of light ahead of her made Spinel’s gem feel like it had leapt out of her chest.

Pink Diamond walked slowly toward her, the frown on her face deep and impossible to ignore.

“You couldn’t do it, could you? You couldn’t even do one simply thing for me. Even though they were such easy rules.”

“Pink! I’ve stood still this whole time, just like you said. I-I’ve been good, I promise I have!” The elation of finally seeing her friend’s face was drowned out by the sudden terror that seized her. Pink was looking at her with such disappointment.

“You lost, Spinel. And now…” The stars in the sky began to blink out, one by one, until it was just Spinel and Pink, swallowed by darkness. From the dark, a pink shape emerged, larger and larger until Spinel’s injector filled her vision, its sheathed base hovering threateningly above her.

“…I don’t need this garden any more than I need you.”

“Pink…” Her diamond turned, and Spinel was helpless to run after her as the vines around her legs tightened their grip. The injector rotated above her, its drill head emerging and taking aim, but Spinel hardly noticed it. For all her power, she suddenly couldn’t stretch, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but watch Pink walk back to the warp pad. Her hands remained locked tight in the position she had waited in, impossible to move.

“PINK!”she screamed, but nothing came out, and the injector made its mark. Spinel sat up with a start, her face already streaked with tears as she looked around Steven’s room. A choked sob burst from her throat before she could slap her hand over her mouth, remembering too late that she needed to be quiet to let Steven sleep. Steven stirred slightly from his place in his bed.

“Spinel? Spinel, are you okay?” Spinel couldn’t move, her hands tightly pressed against her mouth, silent and speechless as she was in her dream. A dim light illuminated the room next to them as Steven reached for his salt lamp in the dark. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t turn her head to see the surprise on his face.

“Spinel! What happened?” She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. The very particles in the air around her seemed to have frozen, sound suspended, time stopped.

“…Did you have a bad dream?” Steven’s voice was drifting, muddled and distant, as if he was speaking underwater. She clung to it, faint as it was. A dream? What was he talking about?

“…I can’t move,”she whispered, so softly he barely heard her over the muffle of her hand over her mouth.

“You can move now. It was just a dream, Spinel.” She could barely hear him. Her legs felt like lead, too heavy to lift, a permanent fixture to the floor. Fear flooded her as she wondered if this was just part of Pink’s punishment, to keep her from moving forever, trapped in one place for all eternity.

“I-I can’t move,”she repeated, voicing the only piece of truth in her otherwise disorienting world. Her vision swam, the world veiled in distortion as tears burned her eyes. Though she couldn’t see, she could feel someone’s hands, big and warm, coming up to gently tug her hands away from her mouth. His voice sounded far, far away, as inaccessible as the warp pad had been, even though both Steven and the portal were right in front of her.

“…-ome on, that’s it. It’s okay, Spinel. Just look at me and breathe.” Except she couldn’t. She couldn’t move, couldn’t see or hear Steven, and the more she tried, the more she panicked. Vaguely she registered a firm warmth wrapping around her, and a faint voice whispering in her ear. Tears streamed down her face as she focused on that voice – the only sound that felt remotely real.

“It’s okay, I’m here,”it was saying, “Just breathe in and out with me. I’ll count.” And then she heard numbers. Yes, she could focus on numbers. Numbers were familiar – a counting game she knew well how to play. She let the voice count for her, squeezing her eyes shut to anything else, letting its warmth and deep cadences gently relax her. It didn’t matter what the voice was saying. It didn’t matter if she had to wait a little longer, she tried to tell herself. Do what you did countless nights when the worry and the fear became too much. Just count. Count until you forget your place, and then start again. Nothing else matters except for the next number. Forget your worries, forget your sadness. Just count. Spinel closed her eyes and focused.

She had lost count of what number she had ended up on when she realized the warmth she had felt was Steven holding her. The voice, she finally recognized, was Steven’s, still gently whispering soothing assurances to her. Other sensations began to register as well – the fact that she had been crying, the wetness on his shoulder where her cheek rested, the tightness in her hands as she clenched fistfuls of his pajama shirt. He must have sensed that something in her had shifted, because he gently released her to lean back and look at her. Her tears welled and spilled over, freeing her vision to see Steven’s concerned face. Steven’s eyes, reflecting hers. Steven’s hands, holding hers. It was the most welcome sight in the world, she thought with a shaking sigh of relief. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter where she was, or whether she was stuck in it or not. If Steven was here, she would be okay.

“…There you are,”he sighed with relief, gently cupping her face with his hand. The gesture was too much in her sensitive state - so painfully sweet, and so undeserved for such a wreck like her. Her welled-up tears spilled over onto already damp cheeks as she leaned into his hand, a soft whimper escaping her throat before she could stop it. He was too good, much too good for her. He deserved so much more than his mother’s hand-me-down broken toy, and yet… Her fingers had curled around his without realizing, anchoring her worthless, unwanted self to him, as if she had any right. With a half-broken sob she fell face forward into his chest, the silk of his pajamas soaking up her tears and her arms instinctually wrapping tightly around him.

“I’m sorry,”she sobbed, though of what, she couldn’t say. There was simply too much to be sorry for. For being such a fool, for being so forgettable, for being such a mess and a bother – he could take his pick. His arms came around her regardless, encasing her in his warmth.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you just had a little panic attack. You’re okay. Whatever you saw when you were sleeping, it’s not real. They’re just pictures in your head when you sleep.”

“You didn’t tell me that could happen,”she accused, her fingers clenching tightly around the fabric of his pajamas. She felt his hand gently touch the back of her head.

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think your first dream would be a nightmare.”

“I d-don’t wanna ever d-do that again,”she sobbed, hiding her face in his shoulder. Steven held her against him, tiredly petting her hair as she sobbed, her arms coiling tighter around him of their own volition.

“You don’t have to. You’re safe now.”

“She was so angry and disappointed with me,”she blurted out without thinking, “She wanted me shattered.” Steven squeezed her tighter, knowing full well who she was talking about.

“She’s not here anymore. It’s just us, now.” Spinel’s arms made another loop around his shoulders.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be anywhere she touched right now.” Steven thought for a moment. Tired as he was, even he knew Spinel wasn’t in any state to wait quietly in the dark for him to sleep, and he wasn’t in any state to pull an all-nighter staying up with her.

Exhaustion smashed any reservations. “Just stay here tonight. You can stay by me until I wake up. You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to.” Spinel slowly sat up to look at him, her eyes still wet and glassy.

“You won’t leave?”

“Of course not. I promise, I’ll stay right here with you.” He patted the space above them, motioning for her to join him at the edge of the bed. It took a long while until she was calm enough to move, but when she did she followed him onto his bed, looking apprehensive as he resumed his position laying down, their hands still tightly connected. He looked over to see she hadn’t moved to lie down yet, staring at him with glassy, frightened eyes.

“What’s wrong? You look scared.”

“Are you going to leave to a different place when you start dreaming?” Steven yawned, too tired for the philosophical implications of the question. He motioned for her other hand and gently guided her down to his side.

“Nobody disappears, Spinel. Dreams are just stories projected in your head. My body won’t move if I start dreaming, so I’ll be right here.” His answer didn’t seem to ease Spinel’s nerves. Steven could feel the pull of sleep weighing on him, heavy and thick.

“If you’re worried I’ll move, you can hold my hand while I sleep.”

“You won’t let go?”

“I won’t let go,”he promised, “Just, don’t talk too much, okay? I can’t talk and sleep at the same time.”

“…Okay,”she answered, her voice dropping down to a whisper as she stretched her hand to gently clasp his. In a matter of seconds his hand had gone limp in hers, but still she held on. His hand fit nicely in hers, large and warm and soft. Calloused fingertips, rough from years of playing guitar, gently curled around her gloved hand, a safe anchor in her otherwise tumultuous storm. She was safe here. She was safe with Steven.

Slowly she laid her head down on the bed, watching him studiously in the dim light of the stars from the window. His chest rose and fell evenly with each breath, hypnotic and calming. The sound was the only noise permeating the otherwise perfect quiet left behind by Spinel’s previous crying. Spinel couldn’t help but close her eyes and savor the sound - soothing, repetitive, grounding. The peace she felt laying by Steven was in such stark contrast to the panic just moments ago.

“You’re still shaking,”his voice cut through the silence, soft and sleepy. Shame filled her – she couldn’t even hold his hand without keeping him awake.

“M’sorry! I was starting to calm down a little, I promise. I’ll be quiet for you.” A beat of silence as Steven seemed to register what she said at half the normal processing speed. Then sluggishly he extended an arm to her, lazily wiggling his fingers to beckon her closer. She took the invitation with tentative surprise, scooting closer to the boy nodding off until they were just barely touching. Her figurative heart lurched a little as his arm came around her, cacooning her in a loose embrace.

“Better?”he mumbled, barely awake. She felt her cheeks flush at their proximity, all thoughts of fear and insecurity wiped from her mind instantaneously and replaced with the single all-consuming though: Steven is holding me.

“Y-yes,”Spinel stammered. She was surrounded on all sides by a comforting warmth that could only be Steven’s body heat. His arm around her back, his body protecting her front, there was nothing that could touch Spinel here. With nowhere else to put it, her free hand tentatively rested against his chest.

Daring herself to try to relax despite being wide awake now, Spinel allowed her head to very slowly lower onto Steven’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving her now sleeping companion. Absently her thumb stroked the back of the hand that was resting around her waist, attempting to calm herself with the simple grounding gesture, even though her senses felt on fire. It didn’t take long for her previous terror to melt away into something softer.

There was a stillness in sleep unmatched by any quiet Spinel had experienced before, even in the garden. She couldn’t help but stare, taking in the sight of her most important friend in the universe, trusting her to be so close to him at his most vulnerable. How many people got to see this – this total surrender and trust to someone when he was completely defenseless? Spinel hardly felt worthy of it – no, she knew she wasn’t worthy of it. And yet Steven gave it nonetheless, comforting her as best he could simply because he could. Her hand tightened around his instinctually, her thumb gently brushing over large, warm fingers. He was so kind, so good. She dared to lean in closer to allow their foreheads to touch, breathing in his warmth, his patience. She felt so safe, like the wounds of the past simply didn’t matter here.

(the ending is the same as in the full chapter, maybe go read it wink wink ;)

#making amends #fanfiction #stevinel #spineven #stevenxspinel #I never know what to tag it so fans of them just being buddies can find it #I feel like it's very black or white with this fandom you either hate it or love it

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bytheangell · 3 years

Text

(S3E1 inspired fic) (Read on AO3)

Meliorn stands beside the Seelie Queen, listening intently as she goes over her latest plan. He wonders if she notices the way his eyes widen for just a moment at the mention of Simon Lewis, or the way his grip tightens a little too much around his spear when he hears about his role in placing the Mark of Cain.

“Why me?” Meliorn asks. “Do you not want to do the honors yourself?”

The Queen greets his query with a small, knowing smile. “No. The honor is all yours - unless, of course, you have a problem with performing your duties?”

“I am perfectly capable of bestowing the mark, Your Highness,” Meliorn says, the words carefully crafted to avoid the actual question posed to him.

Because in truth, Meliorn does have a problem - a rather large one, which comes in the form of the feelings he’s developed for Simon.

---

It all started after Simon first came to the Seelie Realm with Jace and Clary - the day Simon learned the true nature of the Queen and her Realm. Unlike Clary, who hadn’t even noticed Simon leave after her kiss with Jace, Meliorn saw the emotions that crossed the vampire’s face. He saw the hurt of betrayal, the disappointment of misplaced trust, the heartbreak… but he also saw the way Simon looked at the Queen and her Knights with a mixture of fear and awe after such a cunning, yet cruel, display of power. Meliorn still to this day doesn’t know why he cared so much - about what Simon thought of him or how Simon felt after being humiliated - but he did.

So, after the Queen dismissed him and he was certain no one would notice his departure, Meliorn went to check in on Simon. Simon was, rightfully, wary of his intentions, but before long the vampire was rambling half his life story out to him, and Meliorn found himself increasingly drawn in by his disarming authenticity.

They met again several times, the visits made easier to arrange by Meliorn’s increasingly frequent trips to the city for Downworlder Council meetings. If he invented a few extra vampire-relation-specific trips as an excuse to go to the Dumort between meetings, well, no one questioned him on it. Talks turned into lingering glances, which turned into touches.

It started as a simple curiosity, then an interest Meliorn never planned to be anything more than casual.

The thing about Simon Lewis is that few things ever go as planned when it comes to him.

Meliorn didn’t realize how far gone he was for Simon until Simon made the deal with the Seelie Queen to free Maia.

“What were you thinking?” Meliorn demanded. He left the Seelie Realm to seek out Simon the first chance he got and found him lingering outside the portal as if waiting for him. Expecting Meliorn to come chasing after him. Had he grown so predictable?

“I didn’t have a choice,” Simon defended.

“You could have left her. You should have left her.” Meliorn knew it was cruel, that it wasn’t who Simon was and it never would be, but he didn’t care.

“No. You know I couldn’t, Mel,” Simon said. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. You have no idea what you just agreed to. I have no idea! I can protect you from a lot of things, Simon, but I cannot protect you from her.” He hated to admit it, but it was a truth he needed to make perfectly clear, now more than ever.

Meliorn knew he wasn’t angry at Simon for being so selfless, but angry at himself for not being able to do the same. And he was scared: scared for Simon, and for their relationship should the Queen ever find out about it to use as leverage against either - or both - of them. Meliorn tried to imagine what he might do if his hand was forced... if he might actually be capable of standing up to the Queen for Simon’s sake.

It was then that Meliorn realized that the feelings he held for Simon went so much deeper than he thought. The idea of anything happening to Simon made his stomach churn, and he wanted to wrap Simon up and put every bit of protection magic he knew on him to keep him safe forever.

“I love you,” Meliorn said the moment he realized it.

“I love you too,” Simon said back.

And for a little while, that was all that mattered.

Until now.

“Has the spear been prepared?”

The Queen knows. Meliorn can hear it in the lilt of her words, he can see it in the mischievous light dancing in her eyes. She knows about him and Simon, and this is a test.

It’s a test Meliorn is about to fail as he watches the fear cross Simon’s expression while he’s restrained and hears the panic in his voice. Simon’s addressing the Queen but his eyes dart behind her to where Meliorn stands, a silent plea for help that Meliorn can’t answer. Meliorn just barely resists the urge to cross the space between them and pull Simon from the guard’s grip to hold and comfort his lover the way he craves to… the way Simon deserves.

“It has, M’lady,” Meliorn says instead, his words cool and clipped behind barely concealed frustration.

He does all that he can to ease Simon’s mind in the moments that follow. Instead of allowing the other Knights to continue to restrain and escort Simon, Meliorn steps forward and takes Simon by the crook of his arm, following two other Knights that lead the escort to the Wander Woods with the Queen trailing behind them.

She’s close enough to hear anything he might try and whisper to Simon, so instead of reassuring him vocally, Meliorn allows his grip on Simon’s arm to loosen. It’s just enough for his fingers to trail back and forth, ever-so-slightly, in a calming pattern. I’ve got you. I’m right here. It’s going to be okay. He can’t speak the words but he tries his best to convey them with every touch and every glance.

“What are you planning on doing to me?” Simon asks again, and Meliorn wants nothing more than to simply tell him. Telling him won’t change what’s about to happen and maybe if he knows, maybe if he understands that in its own twisted way the Mark will keep him safe - that it’ll keep him protected in all the ways Meliorn always wished for (though not like this, never like this) - it might make this easier.

Instead, the Queen keeps him in the dark. Meliorn uses his own magic to wrap the vines around Simon to restrain him, hoping the familiar feel of it can serve as a small comfort. It’s the best he can do at the moment and, he’s painfully aware that his best is lacking. Simon looks to him briefly, then looks back to the Seelie Queen. Simon’s smart. He knows pleading to Meliorn won’t help him now; if there was anything Meliorn could do he would’ve done it already.

What Simon doesn’t know is that no amount of begging can change what’s already in motion and that his fate was sealed before he ever entered the Woods.

“Why are you gonna hurt me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’m a good guy. I sang you a song about nature!”

Meliorn loathes this. He hates the tremor in Simon’s voice, the wide-eyed look on his face, terrified and helpless. Most of all, he hates that he’s the cause of it. Him, standing there, spear in hand, is the thing causing all of Simon’s distress. Meliorn thinks he might be sick from the guilt of it all but holds himself together.

If refusing in an act of defiance would spare Simon then Meliorn would do it with no hesitation, no matter the cost to himself. But it wouldn’t help. Meliorn needs to do this, because if he doesn’t, if he can’t, then someone else will. Someone less kind. Someone without Simon’s best interests at heart in the process.

As much as Meliorn despises the idea of causing Simon even a second of pain, he wouldn’t dare let anyone else near him with this spear. Being in control of the ceremony is the only way Meliorn can guarantee Simon is as safe as possible and that nothing will go wrong. It’s the only way he knows how to protect him now.

“Do not fret. The hurt will be over before you know it.”

“So this is it? This is the end?”

Something in Meliorn breaks at the resignation in Simon’s voice, realizing that Simon doesn’t just think they’re here to mark him. Simon’s defeated acceptance is for the fact that he believes Meliorn is standing in front of him to kill him. How? How could he think Meliorn capable of that? He loves Simon, and if that were the task set before him then Meliorn would not be standing there with a spear at the ready. How does Simon not know that?

For the first time since this process was put into motion, Meliorn hesitates.

“Proceed.”

Meliorn flips the spear around so that the mark, red hot and burning, faces Simon now.

“What is that? What are you doing?”

There’s no time left to stall. Meliorn takes the final steps forward and touches the spear to Simon’s forehead.

Simon’s screams echo through the wood.

Meliorn wants to close his eyes against the sight of Simon’s twisted face, to retreat inward to muffle the cries of pain, but he doesn’t. He forces himself to watch, to listen, to be fully present in the agony he’s causing the man he loves. It only takes a few seconds but they feel like days, weeks, months stretching out in front of him as they pass. He wonders if it feels that way for Simon, too.

When it’s over Meliorn looks down as he steps back, unable to meet Simon’s eyes.

Only now does Meliorn allow himself to retreat inward, the conversation between Simon and the Seelie Queen growing muffled in the background of his thoughts.

Meliorn replays the chain of events over and over, trying to find a moment he could’ve done something different. He can’t think of any that wouldn’t end up with him locked away for betrayal, or maybe even killed. He’d done everything he could short of refusing to perform the ceremony. Hadn’t he?

The look of betrayal on Simon’s face as he walked toward him with the brand said otherwise. It’s a look Meliorn only ever saw on Simon’s face once, and one he never intended to have aimed at him. This is everything Meliorn had feared when he warned Simon that he wouldn’t be able to protect him from the Queen. Did Simon expect him to risk both of their lives by trying to flee with him?

...should he have?

The chances of them escaping the Queen indefinitely are practically zero, but there is a chance however slight, so should he have taken it?

No.

Does he wish the Queen had gone about it a different way? Or that he could’ve warned Simon ahead of time, or gotten his consent? Yes. Of course. But Simon was never in any actual danger. The Mark wouldn’t kill him, it wouldn’t even hurt him longer than those few seconds now that it’s in place. He just needs to explain that to Simon, to reassure him that he’d never been in any danger, that Meliorn would never willingly allow him to be.

“Anyone but you would be dead, dead, dead. Only a Daylighter can survive the ceremony.”

Those words bring Meliorn back into the moment because with them the Queen turns and begins to walk back to Court. This time Meliorn hesitates to follow.

“Allow me to escort the Daylighter out,” Meliorn suggests. If he can just talk to Simon, if he can explain, then maybe-

“No thanks,” Simon says before the Queen can answer. “I think I’m good on my own.”

The weight of that statement hangs heavy between them. Meliorn’s throat feels tight.

“Are you certain? The Wander Woods-”

“Then I’ll take one of the other guards as an escort,” Simon says, his voice flat.

Meliorn swallows thickly and nods. “As you wish.”

He can fix this, he knows he can, but first he has to convince Simon that he deserves the chance to. For now, all Meliorn can do is watch Simon leave: hoping that all he needs is a little time and praying that his last interaction with Simon isn’t one of pain and broken trust.

#simon lewis #meliorn #dayknighter #simon x meliorn #shadowhunters #I AM BEHIND BUT I AM CATCHING UP #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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alexius-fr · 4 years

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Chapter Two - By the River

What’s this, two lore posts in a week? YES IT IS

Click the link to follow it to the AO3 version, otherwise please enjoy it under the cut ^^

Early morning, dew still on the vines, Sanguine set out for a walk through the nearby bamboo forest. It was the one moment of the day where he'd be unbothered and alone, Silas still soundly asleep, and if he knew his brother, he would stay asleep until at least noon. Sanguine could not sleep that long anymore, he couldn't lie still long enough without pain in his scarred left shoulder. He stiffly stretched it as he walked out of the caverns, the sun just rising. He shook off the dust he'd gathered over night and headed over to the river to rinse himself clean. His scales had suffered on the long flight and he needed grooming badly. The quiet, early morning was perfect for that, Sanguine sitting himself down by the river after his bath.

It'd been a while since he had any personal time, Sanguine enjoying the peace and quiet, the water rushing in the river and the rustling of the bamboo in the wind while he groomed himself. Perhaps this place wasn't as terrible as he'd thought at first. Lazying in the morning sun after his grooming, he picked up movement a bit further down the stream, lifting his head to see better.

It was Zephyr, Sanguine recognized his striking green markings. He appeared to be fishing, head snapping down into the stream occasionally and coming back with his prize. He carried a great basket strapped to his midriff that was half full already. Quite the skilled fisher then. Sanguine watched, not wanting to disturb the young ridgeback in his activities, secretly envying his strenght of body. It'd been a long time ago when he could hunt like that. Zephyr noticed him, cocking his head curiously, Sanguine nodding solemnly as a greeting. Zephyr returned the greeting, then resumed his fishing with a bit more vigour.

His wet, verdant green hide glistened in the sunlight, a certain grace to his step as he walked up stream gingerly, holding still and tensing his muscles, ready for the attack. Sanguine watched with intrigue, Zephyr striking quick as a flash, coming back out of the water with a triumphant grin and a giant rainbow trout between his teeth. Sanguine smiled, not unimpressed. Zephyr was clearly competent, and showing it off too. He wasn't expecting the youngster to come over to him, but he did, still dripping wet, the trout still in his mouth until he dropped it gingerly in front of Sanguine, head low, a bit a cautious of his reaction. Sanguine just looked at him, placing one long nailed claw on the fish and putting it out of it's floppy misery, admitting that he was a little bit flattered. He granted Zephyr a small smile. To think he could be the object of someone's fancy in this poor state.

“Thought you might be hungry after a flight like that.” Zephyr said. “Alexius said you came from far.”

“Thank you.” Sanguine said. “I am quite hungry, actually.” “Enjoy.” Zephyr smiled, glad to see his offering be accepted. He left Sanguine to eat in peace, which Sanguine very much appreciated. The last thing he needed was for someone to watch him eat.

Instead he got to watch Zephyr show off his fishing skills some more, which wasn't exactly a punishment. Sanguine watched with attention, noticing how Zephyr kept glancing over to see if he was looking at him. His grin grew wider every time their eyes met, Sanguine catching himself in an indulgant smile as well. A strange little flicker started in his chest, spurring on an instinct he didn't know he had. He could perhaps not show off his hunting skills, but when he rose and stretched, he made sure to unfurl his wings to their full capacity, flexing their overworked muscles despite the strain it caused. He pretended to yawn lazily, curling back up on his little perch but he was far more aware of his position now, making sure to move with purpose and grace.

“I'll bet you were quite the hunter, before that injury.” Zephyr said, obviously admiring him. Sanguine smiled. “So I was. But it did not last long.”

“Why? What happened?” Zephyr asked, curious. Sanguine shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. It would only lower Zephyr's opinion of him.

“I'd rather talk about you.” he diverted the subject. “Me? I don't see how I could possibly be of interest.” Zephyr said, ceasing his fishing and joining Sanguine, if at a respectful distance.

“Tell me anyway. Then I'll decide for myself.” Sanguine invited him, Zephyr accepting with an open expression. He helped himself to one of the fish he'd caught, quickly devouring it before he started his story.

“Alright.. Well, I was born here, on the Spire. I've not seen much of the world, but I've heard many a tale from travelers coming through here. I serve Alexius at the temple, as their right hand. I make sure the pantry is well stocked and that there's money for our expenses. I guess I'm sort of a quartermaster.” Zephyr said. “Though what I'm catching today is for my parents' stall, at the market. You might have seen it when you arrived. You caused quite the commotion, by the way. Everyone's talking about you.”

“Good.” Sanguine grinned. “I like making a memorable impression.” “Well you've certainly succeeded at that.” Zephyr chuckled. “So..will you please tell me about yourself? I'm mighty curious.” “And very bad at hiding it.” Sanguine said, although he couldn't help but find it endearing.

“Sorry.” Zephyr grinned with a sense of guilt. “I've just never seen such a powerful looking dragon before, and I must confess myself a bit intrigued.”

“Alright, very well.” Sanguine caved, flattered by the interest and the compliment. Zephyr settled in for a good story, looking excited, Sanguine side eye-ing him with a cheeky smile, one Zephyr returned.

“Well, I was born in the Scarred Wasteland, to a clan called the Bloodborn. I barely knew my mother, and my father I never met. I wasn't in the clan for long. My mother stopped caring about me after two days. She left me and my clutchmate to fend for ourselves, to prove we could survive. Before long, I sacrificed my little sister to the vultures so I could eat them.” Sanguine gauged Zephyr's reaction to this crude retelling of his first days, but the youngster was fascinated, looking at him in awe. Sanguine frowned, surprised. He'd expected him to recoil, look disgusted, perhaps call him heartless. But Zephyr did none of those things, though he did look horrified.

“That's awful. I'm so sorry your mother did that.” he said.

Sanguine was so baffled he couldn't think of what to say next, blinking sheepishly. He'd never been pitied for his past before. Reviled, sure. He knew how to deal with that. But compassion? Never.

“Well- it's.. it made me stronger.” Sanguine managed to mumble.

“Stronger perhaps. But did it make you happy?” Zephyr asked, with eyes that looked too wise for his age. Sanguine recoiled, the question hitting too hard, too fast.

“That's no business of yours.” Sanguine rose to his feet, lip pulled up in a snarl, defensive walls being pulled up. Zephyr lowered his head cautiously, taking more distance from Sanguine.

“I'm sorry. I was too free. I'll listen quietly now, I promise.” Zephyr apologized. Sanguine considered it, a spark of irritation still in his chest. But the irritation wasn't aimed at Zephyr. He was only curious. A bit too familiar too fast maybe, but he wasn't malicious. No, he was annoyed with himself for how quickly he turned into a defensive, angry beast.

Into her.

“It's.. fine.” he sighed, strained. He shook his head and relaxed his claws, that had dug into the sand.

He forced himself to calm, breathing deep. Zephyr relaxed as well, though he remained careful. Sanguine laid himself back down, trying his best to look unfazed, but he suspected it was a miserable attempt. Still, Zephyr had the good sense to remain quiet, only observing him. He was right though. It hadn't made him happy. He thought it had, at the time. After all, what was there to strive for but survival and power? Although perhaps that wasn't all there was to life. Sanguine saw it in Zephyr's eyes. Life, joy, freedom. He had a choice. He'd always had a choice.

Sanguine leaned closer, the pale green of Zephyr's eyes drawing him in. Zephyr lightly cocked his head, but did not draw back. He looked curious, but to what, Sanguine couldn't discern. He flinched slightly when their noses gently touched as he leaned in a bit too far, but it was enough to snap him out of his thoughts.

“You've seen much.” Zephyr said, again with those wise eyes. “The darkness is in your eyes. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just..well I want you to know I think you're very strong, for going through all of it. And if you ever think you're ready to talk about it, I'll be right here.” he smiled kindly. Again the sympathy that Sanguine had no idea how to handle, so he just nodded.

“I oughta get back up there. The catch's gotta be fresh.” Zephyr stood up, shaking off the sand that had stuck to his wet hide. “Come see me up top sometime.” he invited Sanguine, before taking off and leaving a very confused Sanguine to his thoughts.

When Sanguine returned to the caverns, Silas was finally awake, although he was still lazying about on his roost.

“There you are. Are we leaving yet?” Silas asked, head hanging upside down from the ledge.

“No. Not yet.” Sanguine said. “In fact I think we'll stay here for a good while still.” “Aw, what?” Silas complained. “You mean I have to actually interact with the locals?”

“They're not so bad.” Sanguine said, with a little smile.

“'Not so bad'? Who are you and what have you done to my brother?” Silas frowned, the movement almost causing him to almost fall out of his nest. Sanguine rolled his eyes and started to explore deeper into the cavern. If they were staying, he'd better get to know their new lair.

And maybe, just maybe, he would indeed visit Zephyr up top.

#fr #flight rising #fr lore #flight rising lore #fr lore dragons

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