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stellari-s · 1 year

Text

🥀

request; they are stories that were written for some friends in the ithaqua discord server! namely @ithaquakisser among others, hehe.

wc; 2089 (1087 + 1002).

tags; gn! reader, morningstar! ithaqua, dark romance, morningstar calls you a “marionette”, unhealthy relationship, mentions of the returned! tracy, blood and injury (on reader).

summary; you two have fallen too far. but at least, together you fall. this realization hits you as morningstar dances with you and gives you bloody kisses...

i. a bird in a cage

have you ever thought about the prospect of pricking your finger on a thorn of a deep, deep red rose, only for poison to spread across your body? have you felt that raw pain, simultaneously sharp and dull, so deep that it cuts your soul? it’s such a pitiful, beautiful prospect - so much so it sends euphoric shivers through your spine.

“i love you, morningstar.” a prim yet faux smile pulls on your lips as you grip the glass vase in your hand. through its fragile surface one can see the thorn-lathered roses: a blatant symbol of love. “more than you know - and more than i know, too. i love you from the bottom of my heart. will you take these flowers?”

morningstar is looking up at the sky: a navy blanket with flickering silver specks and the moon smiling wickedly as a crescent. it’s not unlike the smile the man wore now. while you can’t see his eyes through that ominous black mask, you know they are striking gold, like the sun.

he doesn’t accept your flowers, instead grabbing your wrist and pulling you in. his claws are like the thorns of roses in and of themselves, pricking into your (s/c) skin and drawing a little bit of blood. he then pulls you in, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“oh, my sweet little marionette, i must say you’ve gotten better at choosing your words. will you appease the masses with those lips of yours now?” he places an index finger on your lips for a fleeting moment before he steps back, arms releasing their oppressing hold from your waist. naturally, you step away, keeping one of your hands intertwined with his.

you start dancing with him, albeit against your will. you can only go with the other’s whims.

over time, you have come to realize that this man before you, while he looks almost like a god with that silver braided hair of his, that black mask that complemented his black attire and red cape, his character is twisted: apathetic to everything but that which he loathes, even words that were coated in sweet honey is laced with an icy undertone of indifference.

you find that fascinating about him, just as much as you find it frustrating.

“how do you know if my words are empty or not?”

he lets out a hum in thought, but as he lifts your arm to twirl you around, he chuckles. though it gives you mixed feelings to admit it, his voice makes your heart beat faster like being spiked with an electric shock.

“because you and i are not so different,” he finally replies following several moments of silence that feels as thick as molasses. “look at you now, being able to manipulate words like the back of your hand.” his voice is mocking - lathered with a sweet poison that you still have not grown immune to.

he spins you around once again, and when he steps to the right, you take a step to the left.

you two are always on opposite sides. it’s almost like you are always staring at a reflection of yourself: a version of what you could have ended up.

“you’ve fallen too far, like myself.”

“yet, we are different,” you reply, “unlike me, you are not ashamed of it at all, and that irritates me.” when he pulls you in again, you take this opportunity to reach for the dagger sheathe on his belt with your free hand. your movements are swift, having been trained by miss reznik before. everything happens in one motion: the unsheathing of the silver blade that ominously gleams in the night, followed by the sharp blade pressed dangerously close to the other’s throat. “so much that it makes me want to see your blood spill the floor.”

despite a knife being pressed to his throat this very moment, morningstar’s smile never fades. in fact, it seems to widen, as if this whole ordeal and being on the brink of death amuses him.

or perhaps he is just overconfident; dare you say that sounds like him as well.

“unlike you,” you continue, “i don’t drag out what doesn’t need to be dragged out.”

“yet your hand is trembling.” morningstar’s fingertips graze your hand. when you follow the slow, almost lethargic motion with your eyes, you see that like he had said, your hand is trembling.

it isn’t very noticeable, but given you two’s proximity, it’s probably more obvious.

“i…”

morningstar leans in, whispering in your ear. “let this ‘venerable one’ teach you what it’s really like to have the resolve to kill someone.”

in the blink of an eye, in a hauntingly quick yet graceful motion, he snatches his large halberd, adorned with a single lantern that emits a faint flickering glow like the stars above, and swings at you. he aims away from your heart - you aren’t sure if that’s on purpose or not, but you don’t want to think about it either with the imminent danger before you - but he still slashes from your shoulder down to the center of your chest.

the pain doesn’t even hit you immediately, as you are still recovering from shock.

that is just how quick morningstar is.

you try to hold back a whimper as your shock slowly subsides, replaced by the pain of the wound inflicted by the “god”-like human before you, but you can’t stop it from escaping your lips. eventually, your knees buckle, and you fall to your knees, probably scraping them on the hard stone floor. when you look down at your own clothes, you see the dark stains soaking your clothes.

with a lighthearted laugh, morningstar leans down so he’s at the same eye level as you. “you’ve fallen too low to come back up to the light, yet you still have such a long way to go. do you see now just how pitiful you are?” he cups his hands on your cheeks as though he cares for you, his smile turning deceptively gentle. “all you can do right now is stay by my side like a marionette.”

those words sink in your chest, making it difficult to breathe. he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring. the jewel adorning it is a bright red, akin to roses bathing in the sunlight.

a beautiful cage for a bird whose wings can no longer fly.

with a soft sigh, you lift your right hand, letting it fall limp as morningstar slides it on your ring finger.

ii. bloody kisses

through the silent night is the sound of hacking.

at first, you aren’t completely sure who it is that’s coughing so unceremoniously, desperately clinging onto whatever little life they have left. eventually, though, you come to a realization: a terrifying one, yet one that simultaneously calms the stormy waves raging within the vestiges of your unsettled heart.

that voice belongs to you. you know because the salty tang of blood starts to force its way up past your throat.

“you look so vile right now that it’s beautiful, my dear marionette.”

pain spreads all over your body, fluctuating between dull throbs and sharp pangs that nearly bring you to the verge of tears as you move around. you can’t speak, not in your current condition, but hearing a voice and feeling a presence next to you provides a much-needed distraction.

even if said voice and presence is someone you loathe in your heart.

though all words are stuck in your throat by the clogged blood threatening to spill from your lips, and your breathing becomes even more ragged by the moment, your eyes meet with those golden ones, reminiscent of the sun - morningstar.

you try glaring at him, but he only smiles back, his eyes narrowing.

“surrounded by roses” - the smell reminds you of a sickeningly sweet perfume - “and beneath the night of the full moon” - he tilts his head, his lips stretching into a smirk that isn’t necessarily mocking you, but still drips with his narcissistic nature - “how long i’ve dreamed of this day.”

for a moment, you hold his stare, but then you close your eyes.

if i stare at him any longer, i’ll have to deal with both blood and bile.

you don’t like how he calls you “marionette” - a doll meant to be controlled - but at the same time you can’t help but feel drawn to the way he talks. it’s almost endearing in a way, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he actually cares for you from his heart.

but this is morningstar: he has already fallen too low, even while sitting upon a gilded throne on top of a “glorious” tower. you honestly don’t think he’s capable of such feelings anymore.

as you try to cough out some more blood that’s clogging in your throat, you hear him chuckle as he sits before you on his knees so you are at the same eye level. he plucks a nearby rose by its stem and plucks its petals, one by one. “i was waiting for the day you’d rebel against me, so i could see you like this.”

he stops plucking in the middle, instead putting the rose in the locks of your hair. those pale, slender fingers of his brushes along your cheek as they do, grazing it with a small cut with how sharp his claws are.

you open your mouth: while you can’t speak out loud, you can at least mouth some words in response.

to your surprise, though, morningstar places an index finger gently over your lips. he leans down so you can feel some strands of his braided platinum hair tickle your cheeks and coos, “shh, marionettes shouldn’t speak out.”

your eyes widen as he leans down even more, his lips nearing yours. your lips waver as your body remains petrified before his god-like presence.

like a drum, your heart beats faster and faster, filling your ears to the point it drowns out all other sounds.

time slows down, nearly stopping completely in place. going through the flow of time feels like walking through molasses. it slows more and more... until his lips brush on yours.

at first, it’s light kisses that don’t go beyond feather-like pecks that you can barely feel. it’s like he’s teasing you, hoping to make you beg for more.

perhaps he wants to see me cry too.

much to your chagrin, though, it seems crying is a natural reaction to him kissing you. you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re disgusted or overwhelmed with some other emotion you can’t really name.

“as i thought, tears suit you the most.” his fingers cup your cheeks before your lips meet once again.

unlike the first time, this kiss is deeper - it feels as though he is drowning you in a sick sense of euphoria that you can’t help but want more of.

it’s a feeling akin to being spiked with a drug that blurs your thoughts with pleasure, destroying and burying any rationality six feet under.

you can’t think - only overwhelming feelings drown your senses, numbing them and overflowing them at the same time.

it makes your body tremble, and you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to contain your feelings that you can’t put into words until he lets go.

you open your eyes, and though your vision is blurred by tears, you can still make out morningstar’s figure: his hair that resembles the moonlight, that black attire with a dark red cape, his striking golden eyes and... slightly blood-stained lips.

for a moment you can’t think of anything - your mind is empty after having been kissed so deeply like that, by morningstar no less. You can only stare at him blankly with your mind in a euphoric daze, not bothering to blink out the tears stuck in your eyes.

his hands withdraw from your cheek, moving to his own lips as he smiles, licking the blood staining his lips from having kissed you.

“you are most beautiful like this.”

his words bring you out of your daze, and with shaking hands and sweat tracing the side of your face, you reach for your ring finger, where a sickeningly familiar crimson ring is bound snugly around.

a breath later, you pull it out and throw it to the ground, watching as all the crimson colors blur together to a puddle of sins.

morningstar seems nothing less than amused, though, for he knows the truth.

at this point, you’ve both fallen too far.

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stellari-s · 1 year

Note

How about a Yandere Ithaqua x reader? I think that an interesting story could be made out of this. And I know you've already had a story that you were involved in at some level Ithaqua as a Yandere. But i really wanna a see more yandere Ithaqua if it's not a problem. 😅

But you don't have to do it if you don't want to. Thank you for reading this 💕

P. S. : I love your stories and I hope you will continue to write such good stories.💕

🌹

hey, anon! thank you so much, your words mean so much to me 💝 so sorry this took a hot minute, haha. it also is a bit short too... but i hope i managed to put in some heart pounding moments in exchange! also i suggest reading this first if you haven't already, since this is meant to be a continuation-

request; yes, by anon! feel free to send in your ideas, as my inbox should be open✨

wc; 626 (+ 1 015).

tags; yandere! morningstar! ithaqua, gn! survivor! reader, mild depiction of blood, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship dynamic, possessiveness.

summary; someone had hurt you, and you refuse to tell who. it frustrates ithaqua to no end, to the point even sweet nothings become a comfort...

“who hurt you?”

the hunter - whose name you had later learned was “helel” - is standing before you while you sit on a bench, the wood somewhat worn down by time. you are gripping your arm to the point your palm is stained red. you don’t even need to grit your teeth to distract yourself, as it’s a mere cut you had gotten in another “game” you were forced to play.

at first, you were looking down on the ground with blank eyes, but eventually you slowly lift your head until your eyes meet his golden ones. they remind you of the sun, but at the same time they are like ice. a mix of hot and cold that elicits shivers down your spine.

“...i just scraped my arm on some thorns on the way here. it’s not a big deal.”

his eyes seem to swirl with a multitude of emotions. mostly anger - perhaps at you, or maybe whoever had actually hurt you - but call yourself delusional, but you feel there is also some worry shadowing his otherwise cold expression as well. his eyes remain frigid as he chuckles.

“oh, (y/n),” helel says, “how i love it when you lie to me, trembling like that.” his fingertips brush your cheek in an almost tender motion. “but don’t be afraid to tell me the truth.”

“what will you do if you know?” you ask, though you can already guess the answer.

helel smirks. “simple - i’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.”

the implications of his words sink down in your heart, and you soak it in like a sponge absorbing water.

“you might make things more complicated if you do, helel.”

“and that doesn’t matter. what does matter is that someone here has laid their hands on what doesn’t belong to them. doesn’t that alone warrant a punishment?” his fingertips trace your wound, and it feels as though he might dig his fingers in at any moment.

it is definitely something he could do if he wants.

but he doesn’t - instead, he leans in so you can see every miniscule detail of the faced sun attached to the center of his black mask. his voice, albeit a whisper, is low. “tell. me,” he demands, “the only one who can lay their hands on you is me. i’m the only one who can touch you, hurt you; make you feel alive. nobody can hold a finger to that. do not ever forget that.”

helel’s voice wavers slightly, perhaps in frustration.

hearing his tone, you realize something: at first glance, anyone from the outside would guess that it’s ithaqua who has full control over you, what with how possessive he is.

but arguably, that’s not completely the case.

this time it’s your fingers that caress his pale cheek, and after some thought, you reply, “i won’t tell you.” you see helel is about to retort, so you continue, not letting him have a chance to talk over you. “you don’t need to know, but you don’t have to worry, since this wound is trivial.” your hands trace down his neck, then his shoulders, before they find their way down his arm and to his hand until your pinky hits the orange ring on his finger. “but we can change that, can’t we?”

you flash him a small smile. the lantern hanging from that halberd he carries seems to go still. “in the future, don’t let yourself get hurt like this. don’t ever let such careless, dirty hands touch you again.”

as the pain becomes more raw, you wrap your arms around him. “i can assure you from the bottom of my heart the only person i hold in my heart is you, and only you, helel.”

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