#when he's in real pain or fear‚ touch is a powerful reassurance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sadnymi · 4 months

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「 ✦ Loml ✦ 」 p2,p3.

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary: You and Mattheo share a legendary love, the kind that makes you leave everything behind without regrets—your life, your friends, even your family. You're dead to them now, because how dare you be with the son of Voldemort? Everything seemed perfect until last night, when Mattheo didn't come home. When he finally did, you knew something terrible was about to happen.

Warnings: Angst , Angst , Angst ( you have been warned), smut , unprotected sex, strong language.

Words:4k

Mattheo didn’t come home last night, and I was losing my mind, worried sick about him. The hours dragged on, each minute a relentless torture of anxiety and fear. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Every creak of the house made my heart leap with hope, only to be disappointed each time. Where was he? What had happened?

It was well past midnight when I finally heard the front door creak open. my heart leaped into my throat. Relief washed over me, followed swiftly by a wave of emotions—anger, concern, love. Before I could say anything, he was there, his lips crashing onto mine in a desperate, hungry kiss.

“Mattheo,” I whispered against his mouth, but he silenced me with another kiss, more demanding this time. His hands roamed my body, pulling me closer as if he needed to reassure himself that I was real, that I was here.

"Mattheo, what's going on?" I tried to ask, but he silenced me with another fierce kiss, his fingers gripping my hips tightly.

"Mattheo," I whispered, cupping his cheek. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

He shook his head slightly, his expression pained but determined. "Just let me have this." he said softly, his voice cracking.

I nodded and opened my mouth trying to ask him what was bothering him but my words were cut off as he bent me over, his fingers curling around the waistband of my pants, yanking them down. His breath was hot against my neck

He thrust into me hard and fast, the intensity of his movements leaving me breathless. I could tell something was off, but the way he was taking me left no room for questions. He was usually vocal, but now, he was almost eerily silent, his focus solely on the act itself.

“Did something happen baby?” I managed to gasp out between thrusts, my hands gripping the sheets.

He didn’t answer, just increased his pace, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. The roughness of his touch, the ferocity of his rhythm—it was as if he was trying to drown out whatever was haunting him.

I could feel my orgasm building, the pressure inside me reaching a breaking point. “Mattheo, I’m gonna—”

My scream echoed through the room as I came, my body trembling with the force of it. He followed moments later, his release silent but powerful, his grip on me tightening as he shuddered against my back.

He pulled out and turned me around, lifting me onto the bed with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the roughness from before. His eyes were dark, filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

He kissed me softly, trailing down my body until his mouth was between my thighs. He licked and sucked, his tongue working magic as he brought me to another orgasm, my cries of pleasure mingling with his soft kisses.

When he was done, he moved back up, his lips brushing against every inch of my skin, his hands caressing me as if committing every curve to memory. He entered me again, this time slow and gentle, his eyes locked onto mine.

He held my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had formed. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” I replied, my heart aching with the intensity of my feelings.

He moved within me with deliberate slowness, each thrust a silent promise. I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as if he might disappear at any moment. We reached our climax together, the wave of pleasure washing over us in perfect sync.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly when we were done, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He didn’t answer, just held me tighter, his arms a protective cocoon around me. There was something in his silence, something heavy and unspoken.

“Mattheo,” I whispered again, but he simply kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual.

I wanted to push, to demand answers, but exhaustion overtook me. I fell asleep in his arms, my last conscious thought a prayer that whatever was haunting him, we would face it together.

The next morning, I woke up to find the space beside me empty. My heart sank, the unease from the night before creeping back in. I slipped out of bed and padded across the room, spotting Mattheo on the balcony. He was leaning against the railing, a cigarette in his hand, the early morning light casting a soft glow on his features.

I walked up to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Good morning," I murmured, wrapping my arms around him from behind and resting my head on his back. He didn't respond, just took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling upwards into the crisp air.

"Mattheo," I started, my voice tentative, "please talk to me. What's going on?"

Silence.

I tightened my arms around him slightly, trying to convey my concern and love through the embrace. "You were so distant last night. You scared me. I need to know what's bothering you."

Still, no answer.

"Is it something I did? Something that happened? Please, Mattheo, just tell me. We can face it together."

He remained quiet, staring out into the distance, his body tense against mine.

"Mattheo, please don't shut me out."

He took another slow drag, exhaling the smoke with a sigh, but said nothing. I could feel the wall between us, thicker than ever, and it broke my heart.

"Do you not trust me?" I asked, my voice cracking with emotion. "You said you love me, and I believe you. But if you don't let me in, how can fix whatever is bothering you now?"

He flicked the cigarette butt over the railing, watching it fall before finally turning to face me. His eyes were dark, filled with a turmoil I couldn't decipher. I reached up to touch his face, but he caught my hand, holding it tightly in his own.

His grip on my hand was firm as he turned away from the balcony, leading us back into the room. He sank into the couch. I stood there, watching him, my heart aching with the weight of his silence.

Memories flooded my mind, moments that defined us, that showcased the depth of our connection. I remembered the first time I saw him, standing in the shadows of Hogwarts' library. His eyes, dark and intense, met mine and I felt an inexplicable pull towards him. Despite his infamous last name, there was something in him that I couldn't ignore.

The wizarding world saw him in two extremes: as a legacy of power or as a monster. To me, he was neither. He was Mattheo, the boy who found solace in the pages of old books, who laughed freely with me by the Black Lake, and who kissed me tenderly in hidden corridors.

I remembered the night we decided to leave it all behind. The weight of his family's name haunted him, the expectations and fears others placed on him were suffocating. We chose love over legacy, escaping to a place where he wasn't seen as the heir to a dark throne, but simply as a man in love.

I remembered the first time he had said, **"You're the love of my life,"** when we were just kids. His words had been simple, but they had held a promise that resonated through the years and since then he won’t stop to remind me of it every chance he gets. We left the grandeur of wizarding society for a small, quiet life in the countryside. It was a decision that felt right, a decision I'd make a million times over without regret.

I moved to sit beside him on the couch. "Hey," I said softly, trying to catch his eye. "Baby, please, what is bothering you?"

He remained a statue, his body rigid, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor far beyond me. It was like staring into a stranger's eyes, devoid of the warmth and affection that used to light them up whenever he looked at me.

"Okay," I tried again, my voice cracking under the strain. "So... what about we go to that place you like tonight?Remember, we were talking about—"

"We are not going anywhere," he cut me off, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. It sent a fresh wave of ice crashing through my veins.

Panic clawed at my throat. "Okay, we can stay home," I stammered, desperately searching for anything to break the suffocating silence, "make some ________ "

He stood up abruptly, his movement so sudden it startled me. My breath hitched in my throat as his towering figure loomed over me. The playful glint in his eyes, the one that used to make my heart skip a beat, was replaced with a cold,hard glint of something far more sinister.

The words died in my mouth when I saw the look on his face. It was a mix of anger, frustration, and something else I couldn't quite place – a flicker of regret, maybe? But it was quickly overshadowed by the other emotions, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Don't you get it?" he spat, his voice laced with a bitterness I'd never heard before. "This was never supposed to be serious. It was fun, a distraction, but nothing more."

My breath hitched. Distraction?

"But... but I..." I stammered, the words catching in my throat.

"You what, Y/N?" He scoffed, the sound harsh and unforgiving. "Did you think being with me was some grand fairytale? You know who I am, Y/N. There's a legacy to uphold, a family to consider. Did you think you, with your… your ordinary life, could ever fit into that?"

His words, each one laced with disdain, ripped through me like a knife. Ordinary. Was that all I was to him?

"But…" I stammered, my voice choked with unshed tears. "We… we built a beautiful life together. We talked about our future we__"

He scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Future? Y/N, you left your life for me. Your family, your friends, everything. Did you really think I'd just abandon everything I have, my legacy, for… for you?"

"I… I never asked you to abandon anything," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. My voice was barely audible, a broken plea lost in the suffocating silence of the room.

"But you did," he countered, his voice growing colder with every word. "You disrupted the plan. You made me question everything."

"But I love you," I whispered, the words fragile and broken. "I gave up everything for you."

His answer was a cruel laugh. "Love? Don't be ridiculous. You were just young and naive, Y/N. You thought escaping your family drama meant finding some happily ever after. This isn't some storybook”

The pain was a physical entity now, a vise tightening around my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"Did you ever loved me, Mattheo? Or was it just another lie?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The question hung heavy in the air, a desperate plea for a shred of hope in the midst of this crushing despair.

He met my gaze, his eyes devoid of warmth, devoid of anything resembling the love I had seen reflected there countless times before. "No," he said, the word sharp and final. "I liked you, Y/N. I enjoyed the… distraction. But this? This isn't love."

I looked up at him, searching his eyes for a flicker of the warmth we once shared. I sank onto the couch, my tears falling uncontrollably.

He took a step back, his eyes holding a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like guilt. But it was quickly replaced by a cold indifference that sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over me.

"I'll leave," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You can stay here."

He grabbed his phone and keys from the coffee table, his movements mechanical, devoid of the warmth that used to characterize even his most mundane actions.

I sat there, numb, watching him walk towards the door. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the room, each reverberation a physical blow to my heart. It was then, as the final echo died down, that the dam broke.

A sob escaped my lips, a raw, primal sound that tore through the silence. I crumpled onto the couch, my body racked with sobs. The pain felt like a physical entity, a crushing weight in my chest, stealing my breath and blurring the world around me.

We almost had it all. Almost.

The space beside me in the bed remained stubbornly empty, a constant reminder of the gaping hole Mattheo's absence had ripped in my life. The night after he left, I lay there, a hollow shell staring at the ceiling. My body ached with a dull throb,the aftermath of the storm that had raged within me. Sleep was a distant dream, replaced by a relentless torrent of tears that threatened to drown me.

Days blurred into one another. I became a prisoner in my own apartment, trapped in the agonizing limbo of grief. Getting out of bed felt like a herculean task, the simple act of breathing a burden. Time stretched before me, an endless expanse of grey, devoid of colour or joy.

The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional choked sob that escaped my lips. The remnants of our life together mocked me - a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table, his abandoned toothbrush in the bathroom, the scent of his cologne that clung stubbornly to his favourite armchair.

Grief twisted within me, manifesting in a kaleidoscope of emotions. Rage surged through me in hot waves, followed by crushing despair that left me weak and breathless. I'd scream into pillows, the sound muffled and distorted, a hollow echo of the pain tearing at me.

In a fit of blind fury, I hurled a picture frame across the room, the glass shattering into a million pieces on impact. The sound was almost satisfying, a momentary release from the suffocating silence within. But even the destruction brought no solace. The room, once a symbol of our love, now mirrored the fractured state of my heart.

Exhaustion eventually claimed me, pulling me into a restless sleep. Dreams offered no solace, only a cruel twist of reality.I dreamt of Mattheo, his eyes filled with regret, his lips brushing against mine as he whispered apologies, promises that he didn't mean it, that he loved me.

Then, with a jolt, I woke up. The stark reality of the empty bed, the chilling silence, slammed back into me. It was a dream, a cruel mirage in the desert of my grief. Tears welled up again, hot and stinging, as the realization settled in - he wasn't coming back.

The sting of the hot water had done little to soothe the raw ache in my chest. Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel, the reflection in the mirror a stranger staring back. My eyes, once sparkling with life, were bloodshot and puffy from days of relentless crying. My skin, usually vibrant with a healthy glow, was pale and drawn. I barely recognized myself.

Back in the bedroom, the emptiness hit me with renewed force. Each creak of the floorboard, each tick of the clock echoed the hollowness within. My gaze fell on a crumpled piece of paper lying innocuously on my bed. A surge of confusion washed over me. I hadn't placed anything there.

Frantic, I searched the room, the silence broken only by the ragged gasps escaping my lips. There was no one here; Mattheo was gone. A bitter laugh escaped me, the irony laced with a fresh wave of tears. He'd warned me – never trust anyone. But where was he now, the one person I'd trusted with my entire heart?

Picking up the paper, I unfolded it, hands trembling. The words scrawled across the page were written in an ancient language, one I recognized from my dusty spellbooks. But what caught my eye was the line at the top – "From a friend." A friend? In the wreckage of my world, the concept felt alien.

The spell itself was simple, its purpose clear – to numb the pain. It promised a temporary reprieve from the agonizing ache that threatened to consume me. But a tiny voice whispered a warning deep within. Magic always came with a price and this spell must be forbidden for a reason.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the parchment. What was the worst that could happen?

Numbness. That's what I craved. It seemed like a small price to pay when compared to the excruciating pain that gnawed at my very core. Didn't I deserve some peace, even if it was temporary?

With a shaky hand, I reached for my wand. The familiar weight in my palm felt foreign, a stark reminder of the life I used to lead – a life filled with laughter, love, and magic. Now, it held the potential for oblivion, a desperate escape from the unbearable reality.

Taking a deep breath, I whispered the incantation, the ancient words tasting bitter on my tongue. A faint blue light emanated from the tip of my wand, engulfing me in a cool embrace. For a moment, there was nothing – no pain, no sorrow, just an emotionless void.

The first few days were a blur. I spent them curled up in bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling, the world fading into a muted backdrop. The spell wore off after a few hours, but the return of pain was a stronger than ever. So, I cast it again.

Then again.

And again.

What started as an occasional escape became a daily ritual. The once faint blue light became a familiar glow, casting an eerie light on my deteriorating world. Soon, once a day wasn't enough. Twice became the norm, then three, then a constant hum of magic thrummed in the air around me, a desperate attempt to outrun the pain.

A metallic tang filled my mouth, jolting me awake. Blood. My nose was bleeding, a crimson stain blooming down the front of my nightgown. Panic clawed at my throat, a sharp contrast to the dull ache that had become my constant companion.

This wasn't normal. The numbness, the shield I had built around my heart, it was slipping. The raw, agonizing grief threatened to consume me once more. But the familiar blue light, once my solace, refused to respond. My wand trembled in my hand, the incantation stumbling on my tongue, the ancient words feeling foreign and hollow.

A strange dizziness washed over me, the room tilting at an alarming angle. My vision blurred, the edges of the room dissolving into swirling colors. A wave of nausea hit me, bile rising in my throat. This wasn't just the pain returning; this was something different, something terrifyingly new.

My body, once numb to all sensation, ignited in protest. A dull ache that had become my baseline morphed into a searing pain that radiated from my core. My limbs grew heavy, a strange tingling sensation creeping up my extremities. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the fear coursing through me.

Tears, long forgotten, welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision even further. I stumbled out of bed, my legs shaky and uncoordinated. The world swam before me, the once-familiar room morphing into a maze of threatening shadows.

The next day dawned, bringing no relief. The symptoms, once a terrifying novelty, became a relentless onslaught. My body wracked with chills one moment, then burning with an internal fever the next. Blood, not just from my nose but also from my mouth, stained everything I touched, a grotesque reminder of my deteriorating state.

Weakness, crippling and pervasive, enveloped me. As I tried to rise from my bed, the world tilted violently, and my vision swam with black spots. A scream ripped from my throat, a scream, desperate plea for help that echoed unanswered in the empty apartment.

Then, darkness threatened to consume me. I felt myself falling, the floor rushing up to meet me. But just before the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness claimed me, a strong pair of hands gripped my body, arresting my fall.

Disoriented and delirious, I blinked, my vision blurry. Through the haze, a familiar face materialized.

"Y/N?Can you hear me love?" A voice, urgent and laced with panic, called my name. It sounded distant, muffled, as if filtered through water. But the warmth of the hand holding me, the metallic scent of my blood staining his fingers, these were real.

This wasn't a dream. It was him.

"What have you done, love?" Mattheo's voice, ragged with worry, reached me through the haze of pain engulfing my body. I wanted to answer, to tell him everything, but the words wouldn't form. The pain that had been a constant ache in my heart had become a monstrous beast clawing at every inch of me.

"It hurt so much," I managed to gasp, tears mixing with the blood trickling down my nose.

His hands were gentle but firm, cradling me, wiping away the blood and the tears with a tenderness that brought a flicker of warmth to the icy grip of fear that had taken hold. "I know, baby, I know," he murmured, desperation lacing his voice. "Just tell me, please, what have you done?"

"I just wanted it to stop," I rasped, pointing weakly at my heart, its every beat a thrumming ache. “ it hurt so much.”

My gaze drifted beyond his shoulder, and a flicker of disbelief sparked through the fog clouding my mind. There, in the doorway, stood the man whose name had only been whispered in hushed tones – the man who controlled Mattheo's destiny, his father.

"He… he's back?" My voice was a rasp, barely audible, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth.

"Shh, love, don't try to talk," Mattheo soothed, his grip tightening protectively around me.

"What have you done to her?" He turned to his father, his voice sharp as a knife.

"Just showed her a way to numb the pain," the man replied with chilling indifference. In that moment, the fear I felt transcended human comprehension.

He looked exactly like the villains from my childhood fairytales, the embodiment of pure evil.

So this was the reason behind the shift in Mattheo, the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

Fear clawed at me, but I managed to reach for Mattheo's hand, finding strength in his warm touch. His other hand stroking my hair grounded me.

"Don't be afraid, love," he murmured into my hair.

"It wasn't the deal!" Mattheo said, his voice laced with a fury I'd never witnessed before. "I told you I would leave her, I would leave everything, but you just had to leave her out of it!"

"I'm helping you, child," the man said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You pushed her away, but you love her. That cannot happen. You need to get rid of your weakness."

"Shut up!" Mattheo snarled, his eyes blazing. "Shut the fuck up. You leave her out of this!"

I choked on a fresh wave of blood, the world spinning wildly. This was too much, far too much. A terrible realization dawned on me – I was dying.

But at least I was dying in Mattheo's arms, and in that moment, I knew he didn't mean the cruel words he'd spoken. He was just trying to protect me.

"You're not dying," Mattheo whispered fiercely, as if reading my mind. "You're not dying, baby. I won't allow it."

"It's okay," I rasped, my voice barely audible.

"It's not!" he argued, his voice thick with desperation. I reached out, my trembling hand finding his. He squeezed it back, his touch a beacon of strength in the storm.

"Can you say it like you used to ? can you tell me that you love me?" My voice was barely a whisper. "I want to hear you say it one last time."

"No, because you are not dying," he insisted, turning his blazing gaze back to his father. "Save her, do something and save her or I swear, I won't just leave you. I will make sure to ruin you, ruin everything you built, kill you for good this time."

Another cough, another surge of blood. My vision blurred at the edges.

"Mattheo," I whispered, my voice weak but determined.

He looked down at me, his face etched with agony. "You're not dying," he repeated, his voice a desperate plea.

"Look at me, love," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Keep your eyes on me. Keep those beautiful eyes on me, baby."

With a final surge of strength, I mustered a smile. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you so much."

He cupped my face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You're the love of my life, and I love you more than life itself," he declared, his voice thick with emotion.

A weak smile touched my lips. Before darkness threatened to claim me, a single thought brought a sliver of peace. He loved me. That was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Do you think she will survive? 🙄

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xxspringmelodyxx · 7 months

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Never Doubt How Much I Love You~

Husband!Gojo Satoru x Reader

When he has a nightmare about you

As Satoru lay asleep beside you, his normally calm and confident demeanor dissolved into one of vulnerability. His usually composed expression contorted with anguish, and his gentle snores were replaced by the sounds of distress. As Satoru’s distress escalated, the sound of his groans and mumbled words stirred you from your own slumber. Your eyes fluttered open as you felt his grip around your waist tighten. The sight of him, caught in the throes of his nightmare, pierced through the haze of sleep, igniting a surge of concern within you.

In the dim light filtering through the curtains, you could see the faint glisten of tears on his cheeks, evidence of the turmoil plaguing his dreams. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, compelling you to reach out and comfort him, even if it meant stepping into the realm of his nightmares.

Gently, you reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your touch feather-light against his skin. "Satoru," you whispered softly, hoping to rouse him from the grips of his unsettling dream. But he remained ensnared, his troubled murmurs growing louder with each passing moment.

As Satoru continued to mumble incoherent words, you strained to make sense of his fragmented utterances. Amidst the jumble of syllables, a few phrases stood out with startling clarity.

“Y/n…Don’t leave me, please,” he whispered, his voice laced with desperation. His voice began to waver as the nightmare went on, each moment feeling painfully real.

“I…I need you.” He continued.

You quickly reached out to him, your hand finding his in the darkness, offering him the reassurance of your presence.

Feeling a sense of urgency, you shifted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his trembling form. "Hey, come on. Wake up, Satoru," you urged, your voice laced with concern.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. “I didn’t mean to make you go….”

But in his dream, his pleas fell on deaf ears. No matter how much he begged, you remained resolute, your departure leaving him stranded in a world devoid of light and warmth.

You continued to gently shake him, pressing gentle kisses against his forehead, hoping to anchor him to the present and pull him away from the darkness of his subconscious.

”Come on, Toru. Wake up. I’m right here.” You spoke gently, your voice laced with worry.

After a couple more seconds, his sobs stopped suddenly as he realized it was all a nightmare.

Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes clouded with lingering traces of fear. He blinked owlishly, confusion evident on his features as he struggled to orient himself in the wake of his nightmare.

“Y…Y/n?” He asked with hesitation, not sure if this was all a dream or not. It pained you to see him in such distress, and you vowed to do everything in your power to soothe his troubled mind.

"It’s okay, I’m right here." you murmured reassuringly, your words a comforting balm against his frayed nerves. You continued to hold him close, offering him the solace of your embrace as he gradually emerged from the depths of his troubled sleep.

As the last vestiges of his nightmare faded away, he turned to you, his gaze searching yours for solace. "I... I had a nightmare," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. His vulnerability pierced through the facade of invincibility he usually wore, laying bare the depths of his inner turmoil.

You pressed a tender kiss against his cheek, a silent gesture of reassurance and support. "Do you want to tell me about it?" you asked gently, your voice a steady anchor in the tumult of his emotions.

Satoru’s breath caught in his throat, his gaze distant as he struggled to find the words to articulate the horrors that had plagued his dreams. “It was…,” he began, his voice faltering as he grappled with the memories that still lingered in the recesses of his mind. “It felt so real.”

His grip around you tightened, as if he was scared you would disappear if he let you go.

“It was… it was about us,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You listened intently, your heart aching for him as he recounted the nightmarish scenes that had unfolded in his subconscious. “We… we got into a heated argument,” Satoru whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “It was the dumbest argument ever… yet in the moment, it felt like it was all that mattered.”

Satoru brows furrowing as he tried to recall the specifics of the dream that had left him so shaken. “I can’t even remember what it was about,” he admitted, a small chuckle leaving his mouth. “It was like… like everything was amplified, and nothing else existed except for the anger and frustration between us.”

Listening to him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of him going through such a tumultuous moment, even in his dreams. “And then what happened?” you prompted gently, urging him to continue.

“But… after we finished,” he continued, his voice wavering with emotion, “you… you just left.”

The heaviness of his words hung in the air, weighing down on both of you. In his dream, you had become the embodiment of his deepest fears, the person he loved most turning away from him in his moment of need.

“I begged you to stay,” he whispered, his voice cracking with sorrow. “I pleaded with you to rethink, to give us another chance. But no matter how much I begged, you wouldn’t listen.”

“You even threw off your wedding ring and told me it was over.” He finished, grabbing your left hand to play with the golden band around your ring finger.

”I felt so…lost. So hopeless…” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It was like… like I had lost the most important person in my life,” he admitted, his voice cracking with sorrow. “And no matter how much I begged and pleaded, I couldn’t change the outcome. I was powerless to stop you from leaving.”

After he finished, he chuckled a bit due to the relief of it all just being a nightmare. Suddenly, you felt a surge of determination welling up within you. “Satoru,” you began, your voice unwavering as you met his gaze. You placed your hand on his cheek, softly caressing it and placing soft kisses on his nose and cheeks, “I want you to know that I will never leave you, no matter what happens. I love you more than you will ever be able to understand.”

His eyes widened a bit in surprise at your declaration, his features softening as he took in your words. “Really? Even when I am super annoying and bug you to no end?” he asked, his voice tinged with a bit of playfulness.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips at his playful tone, the warmth of his presence filling the room. "Even then," you replied, chuckling softly. "Because even when you're annoying, you're still the person I love more than anything in this world."

Satoru's eyes sparkled with amusement, his playful demeanor melting away any lingering traces of tension. "Well, in that case, I guess I'll just have to work extra hard to be less annoying to make things easier for you," he teased, his voice laced with affection.

You laughed, the sound light and carefree, as you leaned in to press a tender kiss against his forehead. "Just promise me one thing," you said, your voice soft but firm.

"What's that?" he asked, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"That you'll never doubt how much I love you," you replied, your gaze unwavering as you met his eyes. "Because no matter what happens, my love for you will always remain steadfast and true."

Satoru's smile softened, a look of gratitude shining in his eyes as he pulled you close. "I promise," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "And I love you more than words can ever express."

As the playful banter faded into the background, you and Satoru found yourselves drawn to each other, seeking comfort in the warmth of each other's embrace. With a contented sigh, you nestled closer to him, the familiar feel of his arms around you enveloping you in a sense of security.

Your fingers traced delicate paths through the silken strands of his white hair, a gesture born of tenderness and affection. As you combed through his hair with gentle strokes, you felt his body relax as he quickly felt a sense of tranquility. It was a small gesture, perhaps, but in that moment, it spoke volumes of the depth of your love for him.

Satoru's touch was gentle and full of love as well, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back as you melted into his embrace. In the quiet of the room, the only sound that filled the air was the steady rhythm of your breaths, a comforting melody that echoed the depth of your connection.

With a soft smile, you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, the warmth of his eyes reflecting the love and adoration that filled your heart. Without a word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet passionate kiss that sent shivers down your spine.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the world fading away until there was nothing left but the two of you, bound together by the unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

As you both finally pulled away, breathless and filled with a sense of peace, you two snuggled in together, seeking the comforting embrace of sleep. The world around you faded into obscurity as you surrendered to the tranquility of the moment, letting the wonderful deep slumber take over. Wrapped in each other’s warmth, you found consolation and serenity, drifting into the realm of dreams with contented hearts and intertwined souls.

_____________________

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yan-lorkai · 4 months

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Hi Lorkai! I know you have so many requests and you're busy, so it's okay if you'll ignore this one. But it would really mean the world to me if you made this one for me, since i'm going through really hard time in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart 🙏🏻🥺❤️

Can you please write about Alucard being very protective and caring for his reader!Darling, who's been suffering from mental abuse from her alchoholic father for so many years? Sometimes this trauma comes back, leaving the reader a sobbing, trembling mess, unable to catch a breath.

I have always seen Alucard as my source of comfort and understanding, and as we have seen in Hellsing Ultimate, even he sheds tears when his traumatic past haunts him in his nightmares. That's why I like to imagine he would treat his beloved reader with great care and gentleness, trying to do everything in his power to keep his Darling safe and reassured that he'll always be there for her. He doesn't want the reader to suffer alone the way he did.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡A/N: Hi, darling. I'm truly sorry to hear that you're going through such a hard time right now and I want you to know that I'm here for you if you want to talk and vent. I'll hope that this can help you, even if only a little. I'm also sending you lots of strength and positivity! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

You clutched your chest, feeling your lungs rise and fall at a frantic pace, a rhythm you couldn't control no matter how hard you tried. Every breath you took felt like fire, scorching your lungs, your throat and your eyes. You knew you needed to breathe, to calm down, but you couldn't remember how. Was this a panic attack? Or was it a heart attack?

Were you dying? Were the screams still echoing through the hallway? Or this was only a nightmare?

You wanted to scream, to let the tears fall, but everything felt frozen. Reality seemed to blur and warp, too real and yet not real enough. The burning sensation intensified, consuming you, threatening to overwhelm you entirely. It felt like the world was closing in, trying to crush you, leaving you powerless and desperate.

If you could find the words, that's how you'd describe the sensation - a brutal, unyielding force.

A noise beside you snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, and you suddenly sensed his presence. Your beloved's presence, dark and oppressive yet strangely comforting, surrounded by shadows and having a startled expression on his face. You turned towards him, desperate, searching for the air that escaped you, searching for the comfort only he could give you.

The comfort he always gave you. Always present to soothe your fears and worries, always there to wipe your tear and hold you for as long as you need. Nothing, not even Integra could tear you two apart if you were having a bad time.

Alucard spent years dealing with his problems, completely alone. He forgot how the feeling is but he still remember the anguish, how draining it was, how difficult. There was no way he would let you deal with this alone.

"Darling, you're exhaling too much. Focus on my voice." Tears streamed down your cheeks, and he wiped them away with his gloveless fingers. His figure wavered before you, but his presence was unmistakable, his familiar cologne grounding you. "Breathe in, through your nose, little one."

Your eyes widened as the world seemed to crash down on your exhausted mind. You felt trapped in darkness, fumbling blindly for the light, searching for cracks on the walls and beneath doors. Searching for a way to stop the voices and the screams, wincing when Alucard's hands rested gently on your shoulders.

Stumbling through the tunnel's darkness, you saw no light, no end, no switch to bring relief. No tool to fix what was broken. Cold sweat clinged to your skin as you struggled to call for him.

His touch cool and steady, he knelt before you while he watched you. Watched pain and shame painting your face, how you bit your lips till they were bruised and bloody, eyelashes wet from your tears. "Listen to me," Alucard repeated softly, his voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Breathe in, through your nose, slowly."

You tried to follow his instructions, drawing in a shaky breath through your nose. The air felt thick, like it was fighting you, but you persisted, clinging to his voice, clinging to him as if without him beside you, you'd die. Alucard's presence was a safe haven, a stark contrast to the darkness that had you snared.

"Good," He murmured, his voice soothing. His hands were twiching, wanting to hold you but hesitant to do so. You needed space to breath and smothering you on his chest wouldn't do you any good. "Now hold it for a moment."

You held your breath, feeling your heart race as you struggled to maintain control. Alucard's fingers traced small, comforting circles on your back, trying to keep you on the present moment and not letting you sink back into your nightmare where you saw your drunk father pacing around the kitchen, slamming everything on the counter and screaming.

This was over, this was the past and here is the now, the place where you didn't have to fear.

"Now, let it out slowly, through your mouth." He whispered.

You exhaled, your breath trembling, but the burning began to ease just a little. Alucard's eyes, crimson and intense, never left yours. "Again," He urged gently, holding your hands tenderly.

You repeated the process, inhaling deeply, holding it then exhaling slowly. It was difficult and hard, relapsing every few seconds whenever your conscious remind you what your father used to scream. Yet each breath brought a tiny bit of relief, the panic slowly losing its grip though it's tendrils were still curled around your throat, holding it. Alucard's presence anchored you, his shadows swimming around you and all over you, like a giant blanket, enveloping you.

"That's it," He whispered, his voice like a soothing balm. "Keep going. You're doing well."

With each breath, the burning in your chest and throat began to subside. The world started to come back into focus, the overwhelming blur receding.

"You're safe, darling." It was true. With him, you were always safe. Always loved and protected. And you never knew fear from the day you started calling him yours. Your lover, your adorable vampire. "I'm here with you."

You nodded weakly, the tears still streaming down your face, but now because of the relief you felt. Alucard's words, his presence and his unwavering support slowly pulled you back from the edge. Like he did once, like he promised to do again and again, no matter how many time he need to.

After a few more breaths, the darkness wasn't completely gone but it was tolerable. You looked up at Alucard, exhaustion evident in your eyes as you let your head fall into his neck.

"Thank you," You whispered, your voice hoarse. Tired.

Alucard gave you a small, reassuring smile. "You're never alone, darling. Nothing can hurt, everything is fine now. You can rest now."

He gently pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you in a protective hold that felt like a fortress protecting you against the chaos within and around you. His embrace was firm, tender, and the warmth of his body seeped into yours.

You let yourself sink deeper into his arms, feeling the remnants of fear and panic gradually receding. The sensations that had overwhelmed you - burning lungs, blurring vision, the oppressive weight of dread - began to dissolve in the cocoon of his hug. The profound sense of safety and comfort he provided overshadowed everything else.

The world that had seemed so overwhelming and distorted slowly began to right itself. Colors sharpened, sounds became clearer, and the crushing weight on your chest lifted, replaced by the gentle pressure of your heart beating and Alucard humming slowly.

And for now, that was enough.

It was enough to be in his arms. It was enough when he pulled you to lie down again and arranged the covers around you. And it was enough when he let a little kiss on your temple, so reverent, so warm. For now, your heart was buzzing with warm feelings, your worries forgotten while you stared at his very beautiful red eyes.

#yandere hellsing #yandere hellsing ultimate #yandere alucard #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard x y/n #hellsing ultimate alucard #hellsing alucard #yandere hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x reader #tw yandere #lorkai imagine

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elysiaheaven · 9 days

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𝐀 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦-𝟎.𝟐-The Fox's wedding!

ꜰᴏʀ ᴊɪᴀᴏQɪᴜ, ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀᴏQɪɴɢ'ꜱ ᴍɪʟɪᴛᴀʀʏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴇɪxɪᴀᴏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇʀʟɪɴ'ꜱ ᴄʟᴀᴡ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴅᴠɪꜱᴏʀ. ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ɪꜱ ᴄᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴇɪxɪᴀᴏ'ꜱ ɪʟʟɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴅᴀɴᴇᴅ ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ɪɴɢʀᴇᴅɪᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴏ, ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ…ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇ.

Words:2457

Jiaoqiu's eyes fluttered open, his heart racing as the vivid images of the nightmare lingered in his mind. The eerie ceremony, the ghostly statues, the chilling kiss-all of it felt too real. But as he blinked, he realized he wasn't in that cursed place anymore. He was back in the abandoned ship on the Luofu, lying on the cold, hard floor.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu thought perhaps it had all been just a dream-a horrifying vision conjured by his exhausted mind. But as he sat up, his body ached, a dull pain in his head confirming that something very real had happened. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light filtering through the cracks in the ship, and he felt a strange presence beside him.

Turning his head, Jiaoqiu's breath caught in his throat. You were there, hovering just above the ground, your ethereal form adorned in the same wine-colored kimono you had worn in his dream. The black sashes and grey obi were as intricate and beautiful as they were ominous. Your golden fox mask hung by your side, revealing a face that, to his surprise, wasn't twisted in malice or cold indifference but instead bore a soft, caring expression.

"You're awake," you said gently, your voice devoid of the eerie echo it had held before. You leaned closer, your hand reaching out to touch his forehead as if checking for a fever. "How are you feeling? You fainted, and I was worried."

Jiaoqiu's mind raced. The contrast between the you in his nightmare and the you before him now was jarring. He couldn't find the words to respond, confusion and a lingering fear keeping him silent. All he could do was stare at you, trying to reconcile the terrifying spirit from the dream with the figure now hovering over him with genuine concern.

Your hand, cool and smooth, brushed against his cheek as you inspected him further, still floating gracefully above the ground. "You fell hard," you murmured, a hint of worry in your tone. "You should rest more, Jiaoqiu. I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

He pulled away slightly, his gaze shifting to Moze, who lay a short distance away, still unconscious but breathing steadily. The memory of you saving Moze flickered through his mind. It hadn't been just a dream; you had truly intervened, using your powers to protect his friend.

"Moze..." Jiaoqiu whispered, his voice finally finding strength. He moved toward his friend, needing to see for himself that Moze was indeed safe. As he knelt beside Moze, his hands trembling slightly, he checked for any injuries. Moze's chest rose and fell rhythmically, and though he bore some scrapes and bruises, he appeared to be out of immediate danger.

You floated closer, watching Jiaoqiu's every move with a mixture of curiosity and care. "He'll be fine," you assured him softly. "I made sure of that."

Jiaoqiu nodded slowly, his fingers brushing against Moze's arm to reassure himself that his friend was truly there, truly alive. The fear that had gripped his heart began to ease, replaced by a heavy sense of reality. He had made a deal with a spirit, a goddess of betrayal, and now she was his...wife?

The thought made his stomach turn, but when he looked up at you, expecting to see that same malicious glint in your eyes, he was met with something else entirely-sincerity, perhaps even affection. You weren't haunting him, at least not in the way he had feared. Instead, you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being.

"Why?" Jiaoqiu finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your smile was soft, almost melancholic. "I'm your wife now, Jiaoqiu. It's only natural for me to care about you," you replied.

Jiaoqiu's heart skipped a beat at your words, the confusion deepening. This wasn't the terrifying entity he had feared; this was someone...something else. But before he could process it further, you floated closer again, your presence overwhelming in its intensity.

"Please," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Let me help. You don't have to do everything alone anymore."

Jiaoqiu looked into your eyes, searching for any trace of deceit. But all he found was a strange, unsettling sincerity. He swallowed hard, unsure of how to feel, but with Moze still unconscious and the reality of their situation pressing down on him, he realized he had little choice.

Without another word, Jiaoqiu nodded. He rose unsteadily to his feet, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened. But as he moved to tend to Moze, you stayed close, your presence a constant reminder of the strange new bond that had formed between you.

You hovered close to Moze as he began to stir, your eyes soft with concern as you waved your hand gently over his body, a faint glow emanating from your fingertips. Moze groaned, slowly opening his eyes, and as he focused on you, he tensed, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Don't worry," you said softly, your voice soothing. "I'm just helping."

Moze glanced over at Jiaoqiu, who was standing nearby, still shaken but managing to keep his composure. "Why is she...?" Moze started to ask, but Jiaoqiu shook his head, a silent plea for Moze to not question it too much.

"She saved us," Jiaoqiu said quietly, his voice filled with mixed emotions. "We wouldn't have made it out if not for her."

Moze fell silent, his gaze shifting between you and Jiaoqiu, clearly conflicted. After a moment, he sighed and slowly sat up with your help, though he didn't make any attempt to thank you.

"We didn't get the herb," Moze muttered after a brief pause, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Everything we went through...and we came out empty-handed."

You tilted your head, puzzled by the sudden shift in their mood. "Herb?" you asked, your tone curious. "What herb?"

Jiaoqiu, noticing your confusion, quickly explained. "We came here looking for a rare herb to heal General Feixiao. It's supposed to grow in this area, but we haven't found it."

Your eyes lit up with understanding, and a wide smile spread across your face. "Oh! You should have said so earlier!" you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. Without hesitation, you started to float away, moving with an eager energy as you led them deeper into the ship.

Jiaoqiu and Moze exchanged glances, surprised by your sudden enthusiasm, but they followed you nonetheless. It wasn't long before you led them to a secluded, hidden corner of the ship. There, nestled in the shadows, was the herb they had been searching for-but it was wilted, shriveled, and barely recognizable.

Jiaoqiu's heart sank at the sight, and Moze's expression turned grim. "It's...it's rotten," Moze muttered, disappointment heavy in his voice.

Jiaoqiu could only stare at the withered plant, a sense of hopelessness washing over him. All that effort, all that risk-and they were still going to fail. He clenched his fists, frustration building inside him, but before he could speak, you stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the herb.

"No, it's not over yet," you said confidently. Your hand hovered above the herb, and with a deep breath, you focused your energy. A soft, shimmering light emanated from your palm, surrounding the herb in a gentle glow.

The withered leaves slowly began to uncurl, color returning to them as if life itself was being breathed back into the plant. Before their eyes, the herb was restored to its full, vibrant state, as if it had never been touched by decay.

Jiaoqiu and Moze watched in awe as you worked your magic, the despair they had felt moments ago replaced by a cautious hope. When you finished, the herb stood tall and healthy, ready to be harvested.

You turned to Jiaoqiu, your eyes shining with expectation. You had done what they couldn't-you had given them the herb they needed. Surely, now he would say something, acknowledge your help, perhaps even thank you.

But Jiaoqiu, still caught between gratitude and the unsettling reality of what you were, could only manage a small, uncertain smile. He carefully picked the herb, avoiding your gaze as he secured it in a pouch. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You hovered a little closer, your smile faltering slightly as you sensed his hesitation. "Is something wrong?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "Didn't I do well?"

Jiaoqiu hesitated, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he looked away again. "You did... You did well," he finally said, but the words felt heavy on his tongue, laden with the unspoken tension between you.

Moze, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat and stood up, dusting himself off. "We should get going," he said gruffly, trying to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable silence. "The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it gets."

You nodded, though the disappointment was clear in your expression. You had hoped for something more from Jiaoqiu, some sign that he was starting to accept you, but all you got was a reluctant acknowledgment. Still, you tried to keep your spirits up, reminding yourself that you had done your part.

The three of you prepared to leave, you stayed close to Jiaoqiu. You couldn't help but glance at him every so often, hoping for another smile, a word of kindness-anything to show that he was beginning to see you as more than just the spirit he was forced to marry.

But Jiaoqiu remained distant, focused on the task ahead, and you could only follow...

The three of you made your way toward the Luofu, a thick tension lingered in the air, with Jiaoqiu walking ahead of you and Moze trailing behind. Your natural state-floating-drew curious looks, though most people were too focused on their own lives to stop and stare for long. Still, Jiaoqiu's unease grew with every step.

"Can't you walk?" Jiaoqiu asked, turning back to you. His voice was strained, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of people noticing you. "People will think you're... different."

You smiled, the ghost of amusement flickering across your face as you floated beside him effortlessly. "I'm a spirit, remember?" you said teasingly, as if it were obvious. "Walking isn't exactly my thing."

Moze, who had been silent for most of the journey, suddenly interjected, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. "Then carry her."

The bluntness of his suggestion hit both you and Jiaoqiu like a shockwave. Your cheeks flushed slightly at the thought, the idea of being held by Jiaoqiu making you feel something unfamiliar, something soft. Meanwhile, Jiaoqiu's eyes widened in pure terror, as if the idea of touching you was somehow more frightening than facing an army of enemies.

"Carry her?" Jiaoqiu stammered, glancing between you and Moze as if hoping for a way out. "I... I can't-"

Moze sighed, rolling his eyes at Jiaoqiu's hesitation. "You're already married to her," he said, his tone sharp. "It's not like you have much of a choice now. If you want her to blend in, do it."

Jiaoqiu's face paled as Moze's words sank in, but after a moment, he nodded reluctantly. His hands trembled slightly as he reached out toward you, clearly unsure of how to hold you. For a moment, his fingers hovered just above your waist, hesitant.

You watched him with a soft smile, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as the reality of the situation dawned on you. Jiaoqiu looked terrified, but his effort to carry you-however awkward-was strangely endearing. As his hands finally settled on your waist, a faint shiver ran down your spine, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine that this was how a real marriage might feel.

With surprising care, Jiaoqiu lifted you off the ground, cradling you in his arms. It was a bit awkward, his grip not quite right, but he managed to support you nonetheless. You couldn't help but notice how close his face was to yours, and for a moment, your heart raced as you stared up at him.

Moze, meanwhile, looked on with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "You should get her some proper clothes," he said flatly. "She's drawing too much attention. Take her to the tailoring shop."

Jiaoqiu nodded, still too flustered to argue. "Y-yeah, good idea."

You perked up at the suggestion, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "A new kimono? How delightful!" you exclaimed. You gently tapped Jiaoqiu's chest, urging him to move forward. "Let's go Husband?!!!"

Jiaoqiu gulped, the word "husband" causing him to stiffen slightly. He nodded again, walking carefully as he carried you through the bustling streets. People glanced at the two of you, but with you in his arms, you looked more like an eccentric couple than a spirit and her reluctant groom.

When you finally arrived at the tailoring shop, the tailor greeted you both with a polite smile, his eyes quickly taking in your current attire. "Ah, it seems we have a special customer today," the tailor said, noting your floating posture even in Jiaoqiu's arms.

Jiaoqiu set you down carefully, his hands lingering for just a moment before he pulled away quickly, his face flushed with embarrassment. "She needs a kimono," he said, trying to regain his composure. "Something... traditional."

The tailor nodded, studying you carefully. "It seems you have a fondness for the old styles," he remarked, noticing your red wine-colored kimono. "I'll prepare something similar but with a modern twist."

"Eh?! You know kimonos?!"

"Yes, I have travelled different places, I know all the designs and not and culture included."

You smiled graciously, pleased by his attentiveness. "That would be perfect," you said. "I do love kimonos."

The tailor busied himself with preparing the fabric, you glanced over at Jiaoqiu, who was standing awkwardly by the entrance, avoiding eye contact. A small, playful smile crept onto your lips as you floated over to him.

"You know," you said softly, your voice teasing, "you make quite the husband. Carrying me like that... you were surprisingly gentle."

Jiaoqiu swallowed hard, still not used to your playful nature. "I-I was just doing what Moze said," he mumbled, clearly flustered by your comment.

You chuckled softly, enjoying how easy it was to make him squirm. "Well, I appreciate it," you said, your tone softening slightly. "Even if it was just to avoid attention, you still made me feel... cared for."

Jiaoqiu glanced at you, his expression softening for a brief moment before he quickly looked away. "I... I'm just trying to do what's right," he muttered, though his voice held a hint of uncertainty.

#hsr fanfic #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail fanfic #jiaoqiu x reader #hsr jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu hsr

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parznite · 1 year

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I finished my Dusk Strider Moon and Dawn Walker Sun designs for my DREAMWEAVER AU. You can find more of them under the tag "dreamweaver dca AU" More information below the cut or HERE

DREAMWEAVER ( A DCA AU)

The manifestation of Dreams and Nightmares, two deities that control the Dream and Nightmare Realm separately. Both entities, created by the cosmos to protect enlighten mortals of the reasons for their dreams. One of pure dream essence while the other condensed nightmare fuel. While the two deities are very opposite, they work together on the fine line of balance. The two of them having their own wisps that they send out to do their bidding for them while they discuss more important matters. Usually entering the mortal realm to take in the sights and observe the ways of mortals. Dawn Walker blessing those with wonderful thoughts of dreams and daydreaming fantasies. While Dusk Strider instils anxiety and fear, allowing doubts to shine for nightmares later.

Dawn Walker or Sundrop; is the protector and guardian of the Dream Realm. A positive deity with a love of watching others accomplish their wildest dreams and willing them to pursuit them. Dawn usually has his overly ambitions dreams twisted into partial nightmares when Dusk adds his own touch of terror. Dawn has Dream Wisps that carry onto mortals during the day so they may have fulfilling dreams. Similar to Dusks Nightmare Wisps, they are pure essence of which realm they carry. Sometimes colliding with one another, which is a good explanation for those dreams that take a sudden turn.

Dusk Strider or Moondrop; is the protector and guardian of the Nightmare Realm. A pessimistic optimist who dabbles doubts to one throughout the day so night terrors shine at night. Sometimes his nightmare fuel gets out of hand, bringing stronger terrors to peoples minds than anticipated. When this happens, Dusk feels terrible, usually urging Dawn to bring enlightenment the following night. Dusk doesn't like his purpose as much as one would think, usually instilling the doubts for others on himself so mortals will not have to feel that burden.

The two of them compliment each other very well when it comes to their powers. Dawn doing what he can to soothe the nightmares Dusk brings to himself and others. While most do not like the nightmares Dusk brings, he knows his powers are just as important. Dusk usually works very closely with Dawn to ensure the doubts he instils aren't to much for a mortal to handle. Usually having the Nightmare wisps do most of his work. Hoping it will allow his mind an ease encase the fuel burns to bright and he has to take the pain upon himself.

Dawn hates knowing his partner suffers from his own terrors at times, but always reassures Dusk that his terrors aren't real. He knows he doesn't mean to bring the negativity all the time, seeing the efforts he puts in to bring said terrors to himself so others can rest easy.

While they have their disagreements at times, they know they couldn't live without each other. Complimenting each other as companions and partners. Through their journies to the mortal realm, they often find themselves with piqued curiosity. Choosing a mortal they will follow with the understanding they are invisible to those around them. That is until they encountered someone who can see them and their antics. Interesting the deities, they decided to drop in on the life of the moral more to discover the wonders of mortals. While also discovering themselves in the process.

The two are painfully unaware that others around them can hear and see them, assuming no one can. Which is why Y/N seeing them is such a big deal to them.. maybe someone should tell them? Occasionally through their travels, Dawn Walker and Dusk Strider find themselves running into the agent of chaos who rules over the limbo. The realm in between the Dream and Nightmare realm, where wisps get lost and dreams fall on deaf ears. Twilight Stalker or Eclipse, a deity who sees more fun in what lies in the middle of the realms, than the joys or horrors of either side. While he isn't the most prominent in their lives, he always seems to pop in when you least expect him too.

#parznite #dreamweaver dca au #daycare attendants #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moondrop #fnaf sundrop #sundrop #moondrop #daycare attendant #fnaf dca #dca fandom #dca au #dreamweaver au

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violettduchess · 2 months

Note

Perhaps I could request Silvio x Leyla + Colours of Sunrise? >:)

A/N: Here you go @lorei-writes! Thank you for your support of Leyla from the beginning!

This fic is a continuation of the Leyla x Silvio part of these OC Kiss Headcanons (I'll repost their part below)

An entry for my and Lorei's Sunshine and Starlight CC

WC: 2.6k

From the Headcanons:

The overcast sky matches the expression on Silvio’s face. He watches as the last of the crates are loaded onto Siren’s Call. Leyla’s ship. The one getting ready to leave the royal Benitoite port. “That’s the last one, Captain.” First Mate Kai clamps a large, reassuring hand on Leyla’s shoulder and she nods at him. He inclines his head towards Silvio, a begrudging sign of respect, before heading onto the gangway. The silence between Silvio and Leyla hangs as heavy as the gray clouds above. “I don’t get why you gotta go. You know I could–” Leyla cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head, her gold hoop earrings swaying with the movement. “I won’t be a kept woman. You know that.” She sighs heavily, brushing aside several wayward strands of hair that the wind has plucked free of her dark braid. Silvio’s fingers ache at the sight. He curls his hands into fists, fighting the burning need to touch her. “Besides,” she continues, “It’s not that long. Just a few months.” Her words are hollow with forced optimism. Silvio looks down at his boots, jaw clenched. “Fuck.” His voice is ragged. “Captain!” Kai’s deep baritone calls from the ship. “The tide!” “I know!” she barks back, her own voice scraped raw with emotion. Trying to ignore the vice squeezing her heart, she turns to Silvio. He lifts his head and in his eyes she sees all the words his mouth can’t form, all the storm clouds churning in his heart. At the same time they stumble towards each other. The kiss is messy and desperate, tinted with anger and sharp with longing. It’s Leyla who pulls away first, afraid she won’t be able to take a step towards her ship if she holds him a moment longer. “Good-bye.” He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He only watches as distance shrinks her figure, taking her away from him, with her kiss still lingering on his aching lips.

Colors of Sunrise: Red

Silvio leans on the ship’s railing, closing his eyes, the ones that match the color of the sea he is sailing swiftly across. The wind whips at his pale hair, makes a musical tinkling of his gold jewelry. It’s too dangerous, they had said. The storms around Ammolite are swallowing ships left and right. But Silvio had scoured Benitoite from end to end until he found a captain whose fear could be bought by enough gold coins. And so despite the danger, he is making his way ever closer. Even now as the sun begins its slow descent, it feels as if the ship is flying across the ocean…and still it doesn’t feel fast enough.

He is not a patient man. His ringed fingers grip the wood hard enough that his knuckles blanche. His muscles are tensed, energy coiled within him like a champagne cork that may pop at any moment. He breathes in deeply, the smell of salt water powerful and comforting. Every second that passes is another step closer, every gust of wind into the billowing white sails above presses the ship forward on its journey. Closer to seeing her again.

She may not appreciate his rash decision. Their last real conversation, before the heart wrenching good-bye at the royal docks, was held under a sky streaked with the first rays of dawn, on the balcony off his royal bedroom. Gripping the balcony much like he is now, she had told him that she would write him when she was finished with her business on the tropical island of Ammolite. When he had demanded to know how long it would take, she had dropped her gaze, a pained expression on her face. “I don’t know. Months, probably.”

Not wanting to hear another word, he had pulled her into his arms and silenced her with his mouth, dragged her willingly back to his bed and kept her there, desperate to fill every last possible minute with the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin.

And then she had gone, leaving him pacing the palace like a wild dog, frenzied with longing, mad with missing her. Weeks went by without word, and those weeks grew into agonizing months until one day, the answer hit him, plain as day.

She may be tied to a single place for a while. But he wasn’t.

He would make sure he wasn’t.

And that revelation has lead him to this moment in time, right now, to the railing of a ship known for its reckless crew, greedy captain and record-breaking speed, rushing across the turbulent sea to find her.

Leyla tries hard to concentrate as the guild leader drones on, his monotone voice lulling her brain into stagnancy and she finds herself desperately wanting to close her eyes and sleep. She shifts in the wooden chair, wondering how the others are still awake. Kai’s eyes are heavy-lidded and one of the shipwrights has literally slumped down in his chair, chin touching his chest. If only her ship hadn’t been so damaged. Siren’s Call had gotten them to Ammolite but just barely. A wild storm had raked its claws across her hull, sunk its teeth into her sails and damaged her so badly that weeks of repair were needed. And that particular storm had only heralded the beginning of the stormy season. Leyla had hoped to leave the tropical island before the season really began in earnest but it seems fate had had different plans.

“And unless there is any other further business–” Thank fuck, he’s finally done.

Leyla leaps up from her seat. “Nope, that all sounded great. The guild is doing a fantastic job. Nothing more to discuss today. See ya.” She yanks Kai by his massive arm, jerking him awake and pulls him out of the meeting room, through the double doors of the government building and into the fading light of evening.

“My God, he loves the sound of his own voice.”

The main street market is slowly winding down. Vendors are closing their stands, bundling up their wares. In the distance, the local pub’s doors swing open as it welcomes its first visitors.

Her First Mate glances at the sky as they sidestep a man carrying a large basket of oranges on his head.

“He blathers on but his guild is doing a good job with the ship.”

They pause as they reach the beginning of the docks. Siren’s Call has been repaired enough to be in the water. The shipwrights have left for the day but Leyla’s keen eye spots where they have finished their work on the hull and what is still left to do on the mizzen mast.

Kai nods his bald head towards The Gray Gull which sits cozily at the edge of the docks. “You comin’ for a pint?”

Leyla sighs. “Not tonight.” Her voice sounds soft and blue, a sad wind trailing its fingers listlessly across the water. Kai places a large hand on her shoulder, comfortingly.

“We’ll be able to leave soon, Captain.”

“I know. I just….” She shifts her weight from one booted foot to the other. “I just really want to get back to–” She stops herself, clearing her throat. “Back to business as usual.”

Kai smiles knowingly, dark brown eyes amused. “Is that what we’re callin’ him now? Business?”

She shoots him a Look, pale blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Oh shut it, you big sea slug.”

His baritone laugh barrels out of him like the deep clang of a gong. “Aye Aye, Captain.” He pats her shoulder once more before taking his leave.

His absence makes her aware of the ache in her chest, the one that she has been fighting ever since she left Benitoite all those months ago. It's a dim throbbing that hammers its way into her dreams, filling them with Silvio. Nightly, she sees his blue eyes and silvery hair. His slow, arrogant grin and sharp cheekbones that flush shockingly fast. His long fingers, bedecked in gold, and surprisingly coarse palms.

People rush past her as another ship in the distance comes into view, heading for the harbor. It's likely looking for permission to dock. The commotion of readying a spot for the ship is enough to pull her out of her gloom.

Again she glances at her ship at the western end of the dock. She’ll sleep in her cabin tonight. Maybe being surrounded by the things that comfort her will help keep the sharp sting of her longing at bay.

Colors of Sunrise: Orange

Silvio leaves the captain gleefully clutching his bags of coin, more coin than he has ever seen at once, his long legs taking him down the gangplank and onto the docks. Her ship is there, at the far end. Just the sight of it sends his heart thundering. He notices several shipwrights, wrapping their tools up carefully, tying down their workstations for the night. So her ship was damaged…..

He frowns, noticing the still damaged mizzen mast. Is she ok?

Turning, he hurries as fast as he can without running, towards the small town center. The markets are slowly closing down as sunset’s prologue begins, a darkening sky, a cooler wind. He ducks past a man carrying an enormous empty basket on his head and catches the scent of oranges before heading straight for the local boarding house.

Inside, he finds a woman with dark curls wrapped up in a colorful orange turban behind the desk. She welcomes him with a warm smile, her observant eyes immediately noticing his rich clothing, his fine jewelry.

"Welcome, traveler. May I offer you-"

“I ain’t lookin’ for a room. I’m lookin’ for a woman.”

The proprietor raises her thick browns. “This isn’t that kind of establishment, Sir. You need to head to the other end of town for that kind of pleasure.”

“No…no that’s not…” Leyla is so close, he can feel it in his blood, the way it’s rushing through him like untamed rapids. He just has to find her. “The captain. Of the ship at the end of the docks. A woman with black hair and eyes kinda like the sky."

She shakes her head. “No, Sir. She hasn’t been in tonight. You could try The Gray Gull. I believe she often takes a drink with her crew in the evening.”

The woman’s face breaks into a warm smile, fondness glowing in her round cheeks. “Captain Quinn?”

Just her name has him leaning forward, gripping the edge of the counter, nodding eagerly as his gold earring sways in the warm lamplight. “Where can I find her? She here?”

Silvio reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out another small bag of coins, dropping it with a thud onto the counter.

“Thanks for the help.”

He leaves the boarding house and its wide-eyed proprietor behind, determination pushing him along the dusty street, towards the tavern.

The sun is stretching its artistic muscles, streaking the darkening sky with bold reds and glowing oranges. It paints the underside of the clouds pink and outlines them in shimmering apricot. The cool wind tugs on the strands of her black hair playfully, as if enjoying the fact that she has released it from the prison of her tight braid. The armor of her daily clothing, the stiff jacket and leather pants, has been replaced by the soft, white linen of her nightgown, the luxurious midnight blue velvet and silver of her robe. Absently she runs her fingers over the sleeve, remembering when Silvio presented it to her, nearly throwing it at her in his hurry to be done with the embarrassingly sweet gesture of giving her a present, for no reason other than she once commented how cold it could get in her cabin at night. The deep blue reminds her of the Benitoite sea in the earliest hours of the morning, mysterious and beautiful, dark and inviting.

She misses him. Her fingers curl into the velvet and her eyes close. She misses him so much and it hurts. Now, alone on her wounded ship, underneath a sky exploding with color, she allows the feeling to wash over her, giving the beast full reign of her thoughts. It tramples across the tender plains of her heart, its bellowing echoing in her mind. Not a day has gone by that she hasn’t thought of him, hasn’t tried to remember the feel of his kiss, the smell of his cologne, the strength of his arms as they pull her close. She even misses his snark, the flustered fluttering of his eyelashes, the hollow sound of his bark that contains no bite, not for her.

A hard lump forms in the back of her throat, a burning tangle of her yearning and regret and desire. Almost angrily she knuckles at her eyes, wiping away tears that have yet to fall.

All this fuss….just because she hasn’t seen him in a few months.

Inside her chains rattle as she readies herself to capture the beast of her longing and conquer it, to hide it away in the shadows of her heart as she usually does. There’s no use in allowing it to continue its rampage.

What good are tears? They won’t bring Silvio here.

Sighing, she squares her shoulders and turns from the ship’s railing.

Colors of Sunrise: Yellow

The tavern doors are flung open with a bang. Silvio barges in, scanning the room, his heart clamoring with impatience. It’s smokey inside and lit only by greasy orange oil lamps. Could she be–

“She’s on the ship.” A deep voice from behind has the prince jerking away and spinning around like a marionette in the hands of a startled puppeteer. Immediately he recognizes Kai. The large man raises a heavy tankard of ale to his lips and jerks his head towards the doors. His gold hoop earring glints in the warm light. “Go on then, yer Highness. Get outta here.”

The fact that the First Mate isn’t the least surprised to see him doesn’t even register until much later.

Silvio nods once and hurries out of the tavern, practically running as he heads towards the docks. The heels of his boots thud with every frenzied step across the wooden boards, battling with the sound of the waves as he rushes towards Siren’s Call.

He’s close enough now to see a figure standing at her railings and his breath catches in his lungs.

She turns, and in that moment, the thought of watching her turn away, of watching her leave him, yet again, sends panic through his veins, like lightning cleaving his heart in half with its merciless heat.

Her name is torn from his throat, lobbed in despair towards her even as his legs bring him closer.

“LEYLA!”

She freezes at the sound of her name as it cuts through the air, striking her heart like a flaming arrow.

Could it be….

“Leyla!!”

Again her name.

And she knows that voice.

Spinning back around she sees him rushing towards the ship, his blue cloak with its Dalmatian trim fluttering behind him like a wild phantom.

In an instant she is flying towards the gangplank, bare feet barely touching the ground. Down the incline she soars, her heart hammering a riotous concert in her chest.

She’s on the dock now, tearing towards him as he bolts towards her, two hurricanes in motion.

And then they crash into one another, a tangle of arms and lips and grasping hands.

He’s here, her heart sings, he’s really here.

She pushes her fingers into the pale radiance of his hair, curls them into its soft strands. He holds her in arms, crushes her against him like a vice as he kisses her over and over and over and over, a drowning man finally given air. She meets him, stroke for stroke, gasping as she drinks her fill, as the cool taste of his mouth soothes the scorched earth of his absence.

Above them the sky is golden, the sun’s final masterpiece before it sinks to its rest.

Colors of Sunrise: Pink

“The sun’s coming up.”

Her voice is rough, hoarse with the evidence of last night’s pleasures. Behind her, Silvio buries his face into the dark waves of her hair, tightening his embrace. He never wants to get up, never wants to leave the comfort of her bed, the cocoon of her ship’s cabin. He never ever wants to let her go. His only vocal reply is a grunt which somehow makes Leyla laugh.

She shifts, maneuvering herself around within the circle of his arms. His eyes are closed but she knows he is awake. Leaning forward, she presses a chaste kiss to his chin, a cool raindrop of a kiss in comparison to last night’s storm.

“C’mon, sea pup, let’s go look at the sunrise. I feel like stretching my legs a bit.”

The Prince of Benitoite scowls as she wiggles away from his embrace. He jerks his head to move his hair out of his face as he pushes himself up in the bed. He leans back on his palms, watching with a mix of admiration, lust and regret as she finds her discarded nightgown on the carpet and pulls it over her bare body.

“I thought I stretched ‘em enough last night.”

She laughs, loudly and brightly, no false modesty here. Tying her velvet robe tightly around her middle, she leans down, catching his chin in her fingers and kisses him hard, murmuring, “That you did and maybe, if you come along without anymore growling, you’ll get a chance to do it again.”

He needs no more encouragement.

Now, they stand together at the ship’s railing, arms wrapped around each other’s waists as they watch the sun’s yellow rays caress the morning sky into blushing prettily in soft pinks and corals.

Leyla sighs, leaning into Silvio’s body, reveling in the feel of him.

“I know I said it before but I still can’t believe you’re here." She shakes her head, watching the undulation of the water. "Fucking hell, Silvio, it was such a damn risky thing to do.”

His hand at her waist clenches.

“I knew I’d make it. Besides, missing you was takin’ up all the room in my head. I had to come before it drove me nuts.”

She grins slowly. “I guess I missed you too.”

His eyes flash as he looks down at her. “Whaddya mean...you guess?!”

She shrugs nonchalantly, enjoying the way indignation and annoyance are waging war with his desire to keep holding her. “I mean...you know.... if I think about it….you may have crossed my mind. Like, once or twice.”

"Why you......" Without warning, he scoops her up into his arms. “You’re in so much trouble, sea witch.” He marches back in the direction of her cabin, her delighted laughter ringing through the air, a compliment to the bright colors of a tropical sunrise.

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#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikempri silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen silvio #ikemen oc #ikepri oc #leyla quinn #leyla x silvio #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #sunshineandstarlightcc #violettwrites

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hyperfixat · 2 years

Text

~675 words of mammon comfort with CHAPTER 16 SPOILERS!

More Under Cut

Belphie’s freedom was for the best, to repair the brothers’ bonds. Belphie’s freedom meant hell for you.

Murder is hard to forget, and even harder to forgive.

There are phantom pains and touches on your neck. His hands gripped you harsh and with the intent to harm, to kill.

The six brothers that you initially met made you feel safe in a way you never felt in the human world. The most powerful demons in the Devildom, with a soft spot for the little human exchange student. You felt invincible at times with them by your sides.

But you are human. Humans die. You die.

Little things send your heart racing, fear like venom rushing through your veins.

This timeline’s Belphegor wants you alive, but only because you hold the precious blood of his dead sister in you. It’s not a good reason to not harm you by any means and it makes you feel a bit… icky, but at least he says he won’t hurt you again.

Belphegor’s word means little to you, but Mammon’s word carries the world.

Mammon had been absolutely shattered at the sight of your body crumpled and broken at the bottom of the staircase. His stomach had turned and he’d held onto your corpse with the ferocity of a fool in love. He’d cried and screamed and even considered prayer, but then you were there again.

Alive.

You both hurt.

Mammon and Belphegor’s relationship is more strained than pre-attic times. A part of you is regretful for this fact, but the other that clings to Mammon like a barnacle can’t care. Mammon is yours, just as you are his and right now lovers must reassure and mourn each other.

Nightmares after the incident are to be expected on both of your sides, even Lucifer falls prey to the nighttime’s horror. Mammon is the only one that slips into your bed and holds you to his chest like a doll, just to make sure you’re there with him and you won’t ever leave again.

Whoever claims that time heals all wounds mustn’t have died only to come right back to life and become friends with their murderer. Well, your situation is rather… unique compared to the average human experience.

Belphie makes you want to cry, barf, fight, and die all at once. The House of Lamentation is never quiet, but when he walks into the same room as you, the blood rushes to your head and all you can hear is the race of your heart and rush of blood.

You and Mammon are cuddled up on the sofa together, some Devildom Real Housewives rip playing on the television. The show isn’t terribly interesting, so you can relax on Mammon’s chest, listening to the drum of both his hearts (funky demon anatomy). He has an arm swung around your body so you can lean into him comfortably.

The peace of the moment shatters when Belphegor enters the room, lazily, slowly, without a care, but you’re stock still now, frozen against your favorite demon.

Mammon tenses up and shoots a withering glare at his youngest brother, who ignores him in favor of sitting on the floor with his back up against the couch, right in front of you. Belphie sets his pillow in his lap and leans his head to rest on the couch cushion, hair brushing your shin.

“Hey, what’re you doing, idiot? Go away.” Mammon complains, dragging you closer to him and breaking your small contact with Belphie.

“Mammon…” Belphie whines, pathetic baby brother persona coming out. His purple eyes plead as he turns them from the tele to his big brother.

Mammon doesn’t break, but he does break eye contact and averts his gaze to the television.

It breaks his heart, those nights you shake him awake, all teary eyed and begging for him to keep you safe. How could he not wrap you up in his arms through the comforter of the bed. Kiss your crown and murmur soft reassurances.

The Great Mammon won’t fail you again.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me x reader #mammon obey me #mammon x mc #mammon obey me x reader #reader x obey me #obey me x mc #lesson 16 spoilers

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melishade · 1 year

Text

Attack on Prime: Peaceful Time Pilot

Main Story

So as the poll dictated, the Peaceful Timeline will get it's own pilot episode. And it's going to be so much fun for me to write.

Summary: After Optimus becomes one with the Allspark after defeating Unicron and restoring Cybertron, he is sent to another world, finding someone with a great and terrifying power. But instead of killing a creature with this power, he ends up saving a human woman, granting her a life of peace and healing, instead of one of suffering and heartache.

This gonna be fun! Roll it!

"I only ask of this of you fellow Autobots: keep fighting the noblest of fights." Optimus requested.

"You can count on us to keep the peace." Bumblebee reassured.

Optimus gave a small yet bitter smile for his team. He stared a little longer than he thought, doing his best to memorize their faces, knowing that this would be the last time he saw them. The Prime then turned back to the mouth of the well, feeling a strange sensation at how long the drop was. Optimus then activated the jet wings on his back, and he flew high into the sky. The Autobots watched in sadness as Optimus turned around and dove headfirst towards the core of their planet: to Primus himself.

The closer that Optimus got to the center of their planet, the brighter the light of the core had become. It had been eons since he had come to this place to receive the Matrix of Leadership, and now, it was time for him to give it back. He opened his chest, revealing the Matrix of Leadership in all of its glory. As he was almost to the core, he began to think to himself. He was happy. He was happy that the fighting was finally over. He can die happy knowing that he brought back peace and saved the planet that gave him life. He knew his comrades, his family, would keep the peace. He had complete faith in them.

He closed his optics and a small smile formed on his face as he let warm light consume him.

He heard someone crying. Someone was crying in fear and in pain, and that caused his optics to snap open. He shot up to a sitting position, looking around frantically wondering where that cry came from. It's only when his vision began to focus that he realized that...he was somewhere else. He was...back on Earth? It...it looked like Earth. The sky was slightly cloudy, but the sun stilled peered through the amorphous shapes, bringing light and warmth into the world. He was surrounded by tall pine trees, some of the needles were brown and had already fallen to the green grass below. The blades of grass prickled the metal of his dark servos.

Wait...dark? Optimus raised his servo to his faceplate and was stunned to see the older model. The upgrade that he acquired from the forge of Solus Prime had changed the color and the structure of his servos. Optimus looked down at his legs and found that they weren't robust but slender. Even his back felt lighter. Optimus heard the sounds of rushing water and stood up. He followed the sounds to a clear river, traveling down his right side through the forest ahead. The Prime kneeled down to see his reflection, and nearly gasped at the sight of him. He was back in his old form. Optimus couldn't help but touch his audio receptors and his antennae to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. But sure enough, it was there. It was real. He was alive.

But...why? He shouldn't be alive. He should be one with Primus or reincarnated. Did merging with Primus not work? Were the souls of the Allspark still with him? No...no they couldn't be. When he merged them all with his own spark and the Matrix, he could feel their presence, practically hear them all shouting. But now...it was quiet. However, if that was the case...who was the person he had just heard crying?

Optimus quickly shot up when he heard the powerful sounds of thunder. The ground shook beneath him and something bright caught his optic. He turned to his left to see lightning coming down from the sky and striking the ground, sending shockwaves throughout the area. Optimus watched in shock, as from the lightning and smoke, a giant creature had manifested itself from practically nothing. The creature reminded him of the titan cities like Metroplex with how massive it was. It was clearly organic, but unlike the humans it wore no clothes to speak of. The bones from its ribs protruded out of its skin and wrapped around its abdomen and chest. Blonde, unruly, unkempt hair grew from its scalp, and the Prime couldn't help but be mortified by the sight of a skull for a face. The creature unhinged its jaw and let out an unholy, raspy, cry before curling its hand into a fist, and slamming it into the ground. Optimus could hear the sounds of terrified screams as the creature continued to slam its fists into the ground.

Someone was in danger. Someone was dying. He had to help! Out of pure instinct, he transformed into his old alt mode: a red and blue semi-truck. He slammed the pedal and drove as fast as he could towards the giant titan.

====

Everything fell apart as quickly as it began.

The death of the previous general to the Marleyan army had shook everyone to their core and lowered the morale of the soldiers who had witnessed his death and escaped the onslaught of the Eldian Empire's army, and the devil that hailed from the earth below. The monstrous beast had crushed majority of their armies with its fists. And Helos, second in command to the Marleyan army, had bore witness to the sight of his general, his mentor, being slain by the human monster: King Fritz. He had stabbed the man in the chest before cutting off his head and mounting it on a spear. Helos had ordered everyone to retreat that day. They knew they had lost the fight and needed to live another day. But as they fled, they could all hear the Eldians laughing at their cowardice.

Helos was appointed as the next general by default. He hated the Eldians. He despised them all. They had destroyed his home. They had killed his friends and family. Day by day, he thought there was a chance to defeat them, but that hope had grown weaker and weaker. He did his best to strategize a better plan to withstand the might of the Eldians, but he and everyone else had doubted that it would work. Not as long as that devil was there. They could do nothing in the face of that.

Even so, the night before they had left for battle, Helos had prayed to the gods. He went inside the stone altar lit by torches hanging from the wall. He kneeled down in front of the statues and prayed. He knew that he probably would not survive, but he prayed that somehow, someway, the Eldian Empire would fall. If he was granted that prayer, he would do everything in his power to create peace. He would not seek out revenge. He would let go of the vengeance in his heart, but only if the Eldian King fell. It was wishful thinking, a hopeless wish, but even so, he prayed it anyway on the slim chance that someone would listen.

He had dawned the red, feathered, helmet of the general the next morning, covering his short dark hair. He wore his bronze armor. He tied his red cloak around his back. He did his best to boost the morale of his men, but they couldn't help but notice the fear in Helos' dark, brown eyes. The Eldians and the Marleyans had met on the battlefield. The Marleyans were tense, yet organized. Their shields were blocking their front, and their spears were pointed forward. The Eldians were disorganized, scattered amongst themselves, banging their swords against their round shields as a taunt. They were taunting the Marleyans. They had grown more arrogant and haughtier. It infuriated Helos. Then, he spotted him: King Fritz. Wrapped in a blue cloak, adorned in bronze armor, and atop his head, a horned helmet. Almost as if he's embraced the idea of becoming a devil. It made him sick to his stomach.

Helos was thrown off-guard; however, when Fritz had shoved a woman out towards the battlefield. He had given her a clear command Helos couldn't hear, and she slowly dragged her feet forward to create more room. The woman looked at the army, made direct eye contact with Helos, and he could see...remorse in those sad, grey, eyes. She then raised her hand, bit down on it hard, and summoned lightning down from the sky and transformed into that devil that towered as tall as the sky.

His army was forced to scatter as she had slammed her fist into the ground. Helos watched in despair as the blood of his comrades stained the ground and her fists. Their corpses were mangled beyond recognition. They had thrown their spears at her, but it did nothing. They had drawn their swords, but that also did nothing as she healed from those wounds. The formation was completely destroyed, and many of the men had been scattered. The Eldian army did start their own assault, and his soldiers did kill some of their men, but they were still all outnumbered.

Helos yelled as the devil slammed her fist near him. It barely missed him, but the force had knocked him back and onto the ground. His helmet flew off his head and was crushed by the devil's other hand. He could only watch in paralyzed fear as the titan raised her hand high into the air and curled it into a fist once more. The blood of his comrades that still stained her fist did not disappear.

Helos knew that his prayer was not going to be answered. That this was going to be his last moment, looking up at this beast as she turned him to paste. He...he never got to say a proper goodbye. He never got to have a family of his own. He did not say farewell to his brothers-in-arms. There were so many things that he wished that he could've done differently, but...it was too late. This was his fate now.

As Helos was prepared to accept his death, a strange noise snapped him out of his daze. It grew louder and closer, and it came from atop the mountain. Even the devil was distracted by the sound. Helos gasped when he saw a being jump from atop the mountain. It was some sort of horse? Whatever it was, it rode on the wind like a mighty bird. But then, the being's body began to change. The armor surrounding its body transformed into another titan, much smaller than that of the devil before him. However, its appearance blocked out the sun. The being then pointed its hand at the devil and drew weapon directly from its arm. It looked like some sort of sling shot. Helos covered his head when the being fired blue light from that slingshot, hitting the devil in the shoulder, hand, and head. Helos was stunned when he heard the cries of pain come out of the devil's skull. He looked up to see that the creature was damaged. This being had dealt more damage than all of their forces combined, but the devil was still healing from her wounds.

Helos heard a deep, battle cry come out of the being from the sky as it drew its other fist back. Helos gasped in shock when that fist made direct contact with the devil's face. The cheekbone of the skull shattered on contact and knocked the devil to the ground. The devil crashed with a heavy thud, shattering the ground beneath her. Meanwhile, the being landed on the ground and skidded to a stop on all fours directly in front of Helos. Helos couldn't help but marvel at the sight of this being as it stood up completely. Its body was adorned with armor, covered in it from head to toe. Its skin was marked in the colors of both blue...and red. The being turned its attention to the Marleyans behind it, and Helos couldn't help but feel tears prick his eyes as the being looked down upon him. It had no mouth to speak of, but those eyes were as blue as the sky, yet it was somehow...different. It felt like it was otherworldly, godly, holy.

By the gods, his prayer had been answered.

Optimus took notice of the humans in red staring at him in shock, but hope. Meanwhile, some of the humans dressed in blue were staring at him in fury and disbelief, like he had done something that was supposed to be impossible. There was also fear in those eyes, genuine fear. Optimus was mortified at the sight of crippled bodies, the smell of blood, and the death and war that surrounded him. Optimus turned his attention to the massive titan he had just attacked and found himself taking a step back as those wounds...began to regenerate. Steam rose from the energon he had just shot at it, and that steam seemed to repair the wounds it had acquired. The large cracks and the gaping wound in the cheekbone of the skull began to slowly disappear and heal. The titan...turned its attention to him, and its body language screamed confusion. But then Optimus heard-

"Don't just stand there! Attack and destroy the enemy!"

Optimus couldn't tell who shouted that command, but the creature reacted and charged at Optimus, crawling all fours to get to him. Optimus quickly looked back at the humans in red and swatted at them to leave the area. "Leave now! Hurry up! Go! Run!"

Optimus saw the humans scrambling to get up and run. The one near his pedes crawled back and managed to get up. His helmet was knocked off, but he wouldn't stop staring at him with jubilation. Tears almost started to stream down his face. Optimus didn't have time to question it; however, as an enormous hand appeared out of the side of his optic. He turned to his right and saw that hand curl into a fist. Optimus raised his arms to block his chest, bracing for impact. The creature had smacked him, hard, sending him flying across the battlefield and rolling in the grass. Optimus cried out in pain as his back slammed into the side of the mountain he had launched himself off of. Optimus had collapsed forward, landing on all fours on the ground. Optimus could hear ringing in his audio receptors from the impact of the hit. His helm was spinning. He quickly regained focus when he felt the rocks beneath his servos begin to shake. He snapped his head to see the creature charging at him on all fours.

The Prime thought fast and rolled out of the way, just as the creature slammed its hand into the mountainside. Optimus pulled out both of his blasters and started rapidly firing at the titan in front of him. It cried out and raised its hands up, protecting its face from the long-ranged attack. The creature swiped at his helm, but Optimus quickly ducked before flipping back and continuing to fire. However, it still wasn't enough, as the creature continued healing from its wounds. He didn't understand. Energon is supposed to be harmful to anything organic! How was this creature able to resist it and regenerate from it?!

Optimus gasped as the creature lunged towards him, but Optimus dove under the creature and slid under the abdomen of it. He transformed into his alt mode and drove as fast as he could from the back of it. He transformed and jumped into the air and fired a clean shot at the back of the head. He thought that would do the trick, as the creature clearly felt the impact of the attack. Optimus even managed to see inside the skull, but the creature quickly regenerated its skull and turned to try and grab him from the air. Optimus transformed his right servo into a blade and sliced the creature's wrist before hitting the ground. The creature yelled before using its other hand to try and grab Optimus.

"Sir, are you alright?!" One of his men asked as he helped Helos to his feet.

"I live," Helos reassured, touching his head to feel the blood dripping from the open wound. They all heard the devil roar and snapped their heads back to the battle before them. This titan from the heavens was battling the devil from the earth, and he was succeeding in causing it actual harm and physical pain.

"Sir, we should take this time to run!" his second advised, "We need to find a way to regroup and retreat! Sir!"

Helos' gaze drifted towards the Eldian army, who were still in disarray and disbelief at the sight. They were distracted. They couldn't take their eyes off the sight before them. This...Helos grit his teeth in determination. Marley would never get another chance like this again.

"Gather all weapons and prepare for battle!" Helos ordered.

"Sir, do you not see what's happening?!" his second gestured to the fighting, "The gods are battling each other! We can't stop that!"

"Of course we can't!" Helos agreed, "We are mortals! We cannot fight the gods!"

Helos turned to his men. "But the Eldian army is distracted and in disarray! And without the devil to assist them we have an opportunity to cut their forces down!"

Helos grabbed his sword and pointed it at the Eldian army, specifically the King. "This battle is the turning point of both empires! It will decide which empire lives and which empire falls! And I refuse to let the Eldian Empire stand after the ruin they have brought to our land! Together we fight as one! For the fallen and for the living! That is what it means to be a soldier!"

"Yes sir!" his men were inspired by his speech and gathered the weapons that were still available on them and across the battlefield. Helos took a deep breath, mustered up his courage, and screamed.

"ONWARD!" His soldiers cried out in unison and ran past the battle between the titans. The Eldians were shocked as a few of them were quickly stabbed to death by spears, but they also roared in fury and began to attack the Marleyans with what weapons they had. Blood was spilt on both sides, but the Marleyans continued to press on.

Optimus was mortified to see the battle between the humans pressing on, but he had another threat to deal with. Optimus slid under the titan once more before pulling out his blades and cutting off one of the bones protruding from its body. He took the bone and rammed it into the creature's chest before transforming and driving out of the way of an attack. Optimus watched as the creature pulled the bone out from its chest and threw it at Optimus, causing him to jump out of the way once more as the bone pierced the ground.

There had to be something he could do! There had to be some weakness against this creature! But he's never seen something like this before, and he's already attacked it in vital areas! He didn't understand! Was he brought to this world to just die?! Was this a punishment of some kind for all the crimes he committed in the war?! NO! No he had to figure this out! He was not going to let this creature continue killing humans!

Optimus was confused when he felt multiple items hit and poke his legs. He looked down to see some of the humans in blue attacking him! Trying to harm him! He had a moral code! He couldn't harm and kill humans! And he had a creature to defeat! Optimus then saw the humans in red coming to his aid and killing the humans in blue! As much as he wanted to object, this was war! He didn't have time for it right now! He needed to fight! Optimus tried climbing up the creature to try and paralyze it, but the creature had grabbed him and threw him off of it. He crashed into the ground hard and felt his helm spinning. He forced himself to get up and stared down the creature. He had to keep going. He started charging towards the creature. He had to keep going!

However, Optimus picked up on...shouting. It was that voice again. And it sounded furious. He tuned out the noise of the battle and focused on where it was coming from. He turned his gaze down to the ground, and saw a human with a horned helmet, standing atop of one of the soldiers in red. It was a middle-aged man with brown hair and a beard. He shouted a stream of slews and insults...directed at the creature.

"What the hell are you doing, you worthless pest?!" He screamed, veins bulging from his neck, "I told you to destroy the enemy! Do your job and kill that monster! You are of no use to me if you can't do your job! Obey you useless whore! Obey me slave!"

Optimus was horrified at the words coming out of the human's mouth. This being was fighting for you, and you insult it and call it a slave?! The man continued shouting at the being, and it responded negatively. It thrashed its hands around violently, slamming its fists into the ground with a lack of precision and franticness. It was trying so hard to kill him in such a panicked state. Like someone....like someone who was trying to fix a mistake. The being roared, not as a form of intimidation. It was a form of...fear. This being was afraid of a small human? Because it was somehow a slave to this one?!

Optimus was distracted enough to be smacked into the ground hard. He heard cheers from the humans in blue as he rolled out of the way and managed to stand up. However, the being's fist was coming down on him and fast. The Prime had no choice and raised his servos in the air. He grunted as the fist slammed against him hard, but he used his strength to push against the might of this being to prevent it from squashing him and killing him. Optimus' groan turned into a battle cry as he felt the ground beneath him began to shatter from the force. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up at all! But he had to try!

Helos watched the Eldians cheering the titan on in horror. She tried her best to crush him, but the other being pushed against her with all of his might. The ground broke, and the being's feet sunk deeper, but he still pressed on. Helos saw the King smiling with unhinged glee at the sight before him, but Helos couldn't help but be terrified. There had to be something that he could do. Something that could help the other being. It couldn't end like this! They finally had hope! They had a chance to live! It couldn't end like this!

Optimus felt his arms beginning to bend as the creature continued to push him downward. C'mon! He had to fight! C'mon! Optimus felt like his audio receptors were going to shatter when the being let out a loud, deafening scream that shook the area. All the Marleyans and Eldians covered their ears at the noise, while Helos only covered one of them. King Fritz didn't cover any of his ears, but his gleeful expression quickly turned into one of spite.

Optimus was beginning to lose focus as the creature continued to scream, but he couldn't help but notice how...terrified it sounded. He focused on the scream, and he managed to catch the sound...of a human crying...a human sobbing. Optimus' gaze turned to the eye sockets of the skull, and his spark shattered when he saw tears pooling out of those sockets.

This being was crying out for help. It was suffering. It was in agony and pain. And he knew that he had to do something. Violence was not the answer. Mercy was. Optimus tried to focus and find the words to appeal to the being. What should he say to it? He quickly remembered what the man was shouting earlier and found his voice.

"You are not a slave!" Optimus shouted at the being, surprising it and everyone else that was still alive, "You do not have to be! You have the power to choose your own fate! You do not have to serve anyone if you do not wish to! You are allowed to be whoever you wish!"

Helos was stunned at the sight. The being from the heavens...was appealing to the devil? He was showing mercy to a devil?! King Fritz stepped on the corpse that he had recently killed. What did that thing think he was doing?! He had no right! She was his property! And his alone! Such silly words were not going to change that! "Do you forget your place?! You are mine to command! You obey my will! You would be nothing without me but a pathetic monster with nowhere to go! Kill that beast, slave! Or I will cast you out forever to the depths that you crawled out of!"

"Kill the monster!" Both Eldians and Marleyans had shouted.

Optimus finally managed to gather a little more strength to push back against the being's fist. "You are not a monster either! All I see is a broken soul acting out of fear! That human! He's not making you feel safe! Is he?! He's hurt you! Hasn't he?! He's taken advantage of your strength! And only cares about you went you succeed in doing his will!"

King Fritz saw the titan's grip beginning to loosen just a little. No! NO! What was she doing?! What was that slave doing?! Those were...those were just words! He had control over her! A slave like that didn't deserve compassion just because! It had to be earned!

"But I won't do that!" Optimus swore to it, "I will not harm you for making a mistake! I will not give you a love that is conditional! But I need you to let me help you! Let me help you, and I swear on my spark that I will always protect you!"

Optimus finally felt that grip on him loosen, but it still wasn't enough. It was still resisting him! But it was working! He had to keep going!

"I know what it is like! To be alone in the world! To be taken advantage of by others! To be lied to and manipulated by others I had cared about! To be forced into a role that I had never truly wanted to bare!" Optimus confessed.

Helos couldn't help but pause at those words. What...what did he mean by that?

"It was torture!" Optimus confessed, "To be someone else's weapon! And to be forced to sacrifice my own wants and needs for a grander purpose!"

He didn't know why he was pouring his spark out! He would have never done this on Cybertron! He never would have done this when leading the Autobots! But...he needed the being to listen! He needed the being to understand that it wasn't alone! That he had an understanding of what it was going through! It was in pain! He had to help! He wasn't going to let anyone else suffer!

"That is why I would never wish this burden or power onto anyone else!" Optimus declared, "I swear as of this moment, I will not caste you out! I swear that you will never be alone! Whatever act you make from now on will be your own! But I need you to accept! I need you to let me help you! I need it to be your choice! So please!"

Optimus felt energy gather into his chest and throat, and he released it. "Please! LET ME SAVE YOU!"

Optimus could hear his words echo throughout the forest. Whatever birds that still remained had fled due to the sound of his voice. But the being didn't stop its assault. Optimus feared the worst. That his words didn't reach it and it was going to kill him. But the Prime grunted as the weight on top of him disappeared. He couldn't help but lose his balance and stumble forward. He vented from exhaustion and turned his optics to look at the being. The tears escaped its eye sockets and dropped down to the ground in abundance. Its hands trembled, but Optimus couldn't tell out of what. Was it fear? Joy? Confusion? Before Optimus even had a chance to decipher what that meant, the being cried out in pain, falling forward a little on the ground. Optimus looked behind it, and saw the humans in blue crawling on its back. The man who was shouting those horrible words was leading that charge.

Optimus quickly climbed up the being's arm and stood directly on top of its back, just below the nape of the neck. He pulled out his blaster and aimed at the humans, but...he still couldn't bring it in his spark to fire at them, even if they were the enemy. But they were coming up fast, and he didn't know what to do! How was he supposed to get the humans off and take this being to safety?!

Optimus gasped when he felt hot steam rise and crawl up his entire backside. He snapped his helm to the source, and watched in horror as another body rose up out of the nape of the neck. It...her limbs were still buried in the bright red muscle tissue of the form they were both on top of. Optimus watched the woman turn her had, and...she was so young. She looked to be around the same age as Jack Darby. She was wearing a beige, tattered dress, and a large headband to match it. Her blond hair went past her neck, and her bang had covered a good portion of her eyes.

How...how was this possible? How did a woman...a child! How did a child get this kind of power?! She raised her head slightly, and Optimus saw tears falling down her cheek and dripping down her chin. Those gray, stormy eyes were filled with nothing but sadness. Her face was marred with marks from the strands of muscles that were previously attached to her face. Her lips trembled, but she managed to move them to convey a message to him. No words came out, but he read what her lips, and her heart had said.

Please...

King Fritz stabbed the middle of the spinal cord, just below the ribcage. He was almost there. He wasn't going to let her get away with this insubordination! He wasn't going to let this thing take his property!

Save...me...

Optimus quickly yanked the woman out of the nape of the neck. He was relieved to see that all of her limbs were still intact and cradled her with one servo to his chest, right where the Matrix had resided. Optimus turned his attention back to the humans in blue, and lowered his blaster to the back of the body, directly in front of King Fritz. The King could see the woman cradled close to the titan, but couldn't muster a thought as Optimus fired at the body beneath him multiple times. The force knocked King Fritz off of the titan and to the ground, his helmet flying off in the process. Smoke rose up as the remaining Eldians could no longer see, and the titan body collapsed completely onto the ground. Optimus used the smoke as the perfect cover to run. He jumped off the titan, holding the woman close to his chest, and bolted. He transformed into his alt mode and placed the woman in the passenger seat.

"Maximum overdrive!" Optimus shouted. He revved his engines, and his tires dug into the ground, before he drove as fast as he could into the forest and away from the battle and bloodshed. Optimus didn't plan on stopping now. He wasn't going to stop driving! He adjusted his side view mirror to see the woman had passed out, but he didn't have the time to stop and check her condition. He needed to take her to a safe place!

Helos had managed to see it. Through the smoke and the chaos, he had managed to see the Savior from Heaven jump off the corpse of the devil, carrying the young woman in his hand. His body had changed once more into that animal. It spoke words he did not understand. Maybe it was a spell, or a command. But once it was said, he ran as fast as the wind and disappeared into the forest. Helos turned to the Eldians that were still in disarray and snatched a spear from one of the corpses of his fallen comrades. He raised it high in the air and screamed. "ATTACK!"

King Fritz had managed to sit up and watched in horror as the body of the titan slowly turned to smoke and rose up to the clouds! But there was no sight of the other titan, nor of his property, Ymir. She...she was gone! That monster took her! He ruined everything! King Fritz never felt this must hatred and fear all at once, and then...he realized his situation. Without the might of Ymir's power, the Eldians were defenseless.

The King watched in horror as his men were getting slaughtered left and right. No! NO! NO! He tried to get up and run away but found that his leg was injured. Something was broken! He could barely stand!

"FRITZ!" he turned to the sound of someone calling his name and saw the Marleyan general charging at him. He...remembered his face. He had served the previous Marleyan general. The general Fritz himself had killed. He did not chase after him when the Marleyans retreated that day. He decided to show mercy, a show of might and mocking the failing power of Marley. But now he had returned! And he was going to-!

Helos let out a battle cry as he spun his spear in his hand and threw it at King Fritz. The spear made a direct hit into Fritz's exposed shoulder. The force knocked him to the ground, and the king cried out in pain. Helos walked over to him and yanked the spear out of Fritz's shoulder, causing him to cry out even louder. Helos let his rage overtake him. He allowed himself to give into the moment. He raised his spear over his head. He saw Fritz begging for his life with only pissed him off more. After all the killing and suffering he caused, he wanted mercy? No. This ends now! No more!

"NO MORE!" Helos screamed as he slammed the spear directly into Fritz's mouth, piercing through the back of it, tearing the skin, and sticking into the ground. Helos watched Fritz choke on his own blood and the metal of the spear. The dying man raised his hands to Helos' arms weakly, trying to claw at his cloak and even remove the spear that was in his mouth. Helos yelled as he twisted the spear in King Fritz's mouth, causing him to let go and his arms to spasm. Those spasms turned into small twitches, and his arms fell to the ground in a heap. Helos watched closely as the life slowly drained from King Fritz's eyes as his blood stained the grass under him. Helos' eyes widened when he felt Fritz exhale his last breath, gargled by his own blood.

And the king...was no more.

Helos...couldn't believe it. He was still trying to process it. The king...was actually dead. Helos looked up to the now clear blue skies. It was such a cloudy day today, filled with mourning and preparations for death. But now...it was one of hope and new beginnings. Helos felt tears streaming down his face and he couldn't help but laugh. The gods...they had heard him. They had listened. It was finally over.

Helos removed his spear from the corpse mouth and turned to the remaining Eldians and Marleyans fighting. He could see the numbers of the Eldians dwindling, but...this needed to stop. The gods had answered his prayer, and now he needed to fulfill his end of the bargain.

"PEOPLE OF ELDIA!" Helos voice boomed through the area, "YOUR KING IS DEAD! SURRENDER NOW OR YOU WILL MEET THE SAME FATE!"

The Eldians at first didn't believe him, but then they saw the blood on his spear, and the fallen body of the dead king. Then they knew...that they had lost. Their greatest weapon was gone, and their king had fallen. One by one, they wordlessly dropped their weapons and fell to their knees in surrender. But the Marleyans were still in shock.

"We...we won?" one of his men had asked.

Helos smiled, raising his spear in the air. "WE WON!"

The Marleyans cheered at the confirmation from their general, pumping their fists in the air in celebration or hugging their comrades with tears in their eyes. Meanwhile the Eldians looked fearful at their prospects of survival. Helos had to wipe the tears from his eyes. The losses they had endured over the past six years meant something. Their deaths were not in vain. There was a future for Marley.

"What about them?" another soldier demanded as he pointed to the kneeling Eldians, "We should kill them after everything they put us through!"

Helos heard his men beginning to cheer and walked over to them. "No!"

"What?!" another shouted in disbelief, while the Eldians stared at him in shock.

"I will not spit in the face of what the gods have provided me!" Helos declared, "Last night, I prayed to the gods for a chance at survival! I prayed that the Eldian Empire would fall and the king would be slain! If my prayer was answered, I would let go of the vengeance in my heart and strive towards peace! My prayers have been answered in the form of that titan! The Savior from Heaven adorned in the red of Marley defeated the Devil of the Earth! Not by violence but by mercy! To spit in the face of that would be dishonor of the highest order!"

Helos turned to the Eldians. "We will make peace with your nation if you are willing to cooperate with us. But for now, you will be our prisoners until this is settled."

Helos watched as the Marleyans tied the Eldians in rope and used their own resources to carry their fallen comrades home. Helos watched as two of his men carried the corpse of the dead king. They needed proof that they had succeeded in ending this conflict between Eldia and Marley.

"Sir." His second in command approached him. Helos couldn't help but show visible relief at the sight of his friend being alive.

"May I make a comment?" he requested.

"Yes," Helos answered.

"This...peace might not work out the way that you believe for both of our nations," he explained.

"Perhaps not," Helos agreed, "But we were given a gift today, and I intend to honor that."

His second's eyes darted to make sure that no one else was close by to listen and whispered. "I saw it too. I saw the titan disappear into the forest. We should go after it and use its power."

"Are you mad?" Helos demanded, "The Eldians were given their own titan, and look how they abused that power."

Helos pointed to the blood on the battlefield. "Look at what it has done to all of us." The general placed a hand on his second. "The powers of gods can't be trusted in the hands of humans. We need to leave it be."

"...I apologize for my insolence," his second spoke.

Helos just smiled and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "You wanted to give Marley might, but I think it's better for the both of us to enjoy a life of peace."

"It's not a life that I've thought about in years," his second confessed.

"Let's enjoy it!" Helos exclaimed with excitement, "Tonight, we celebrate our victory, and we drink too much that we pass out!"

His second couldn't help but laugh at that. "That does sound like a great way to celebrate!"

Helos and his second walked towards the rest of the Marleyans. The general looked back to the forest, hoping to see if the savior was still there. But he knew for a fact that he was gone, and he had taken that woman with him. Never to be seen again. It was for the best.

But...he wished he got to say a proper thank you.

================

It...it was so warm.

It was cold today. Today had started off cold. Her bed was cold. The king had only visited her for the night to reward her, and he left as quickly as he came. It was so lonely in that morning. The air had made her shiver, and she saw the leaves turning brown and falling off the trees. She was then ordered by him to follow, fully adorned in armor. He had said they had another battle to fight. She had another army to kill. She would follow his every command, because she was ordered to.

But now it was so warm. And her bed has never been this soft before. She had no blanket. No covering, but in this moment it didn't matter. It was the most content she's ever been in years.

Ymir's gray eyes slowly opened, before she blinked, doing her best to adjust her vision in the dark. She reached out her hand to get out of the bed...but she was blocked off by a wall of some kind. She gasped as she sat up. She took in her surroundings and saw that she was in some kind of strange box. There were a few areas that were see-through, but there was no way for her to get out! How would she get out?! Ymir raised her hand on instinct and fear. Bite! BITE!

Ymir yelled and jumped back as the door swung wide open to reveal a man who looked so concerned. She quickly shielded her face and tried to scramble away, but the man quickly grabbed her arm and...it wasn't harsh. She stopped moving but didn't look the man in the eye. But the hand, it was a firm grip but...it didn't squeeze her until her arm hurt or until there was bruising. But just as quickly as the hand was there, it was snatched away.

"I apologize," the man spoke, and it sounded so familiar, "I did not mean to frighten you. I did not have a blanket for you, so I let you rest in my alt mode. It has a heating system to keep you warm."

Ymir didn't know what some of those words meant, but she did notice how cold the air had become once the door had opened.

"Are you hurt?" the man had asked, "Do you have any bruising or injuries?"

Ymir was confused at that question. Why...why was this man asking her for her well-being? She...she was never asked that question before.

"May I take a look at your face?" he asked her.

Ymir froze at that. He...asked for her permission? Why was he doing that? She was afraid that it was a trick. She was certain that if she said no, she would be punished. She slowly nodded her head and braced for the pain to come. She braced for the harsh hand that would come and grab her face and force her forward, but...it never came. Gentle fingers grazed her cheek and chin, and it guided her face to look the man dead in the eye. She was taken aback by what he was wearing: a black shirt, a red...cape? But it was too short to be a cape. He wore a strange, blue robe that wrapped around both legs and had sandals that covered both feet. His skin was light and fair. His hair was black, and his beard was small yet neatly combed. It wasn't long and unkempt like many of the Eldians. Ymir's eyes then slowly widened in recognition at the sight at this man's eyes. It was so bright and blue. And so familiar. It was the same as...

I swear as of this moment, I will not caste you out! I swear that you will never be alone! Whatever act you make from now on will be your own!

The titan adorned in armor, painted red and blue, battling her earlier today. It...he...had promised to protect her. The man...was him. Ymir was in a state of shock as the man examined her face. He sighed with relief before giving a small smile.

"You are alright," he said. Ymir felt those hands let go of her face, and she lamented the loss of that warm touch. But she couldn't stop staring at him. She wanted to ask so many questions, but...she knew that she wouldn't be allowed to do so. And...

The man quickly realized that she wasn't talking and backed away to give you some room. "I apologize. I have not even explained who I was to you."

Ymir was stunned when the man placed a hand on his chest and bowed to her slightly. "My name is Optimus Prime, young one. I am...a titan from beyond the stars. The form you see before you is a human form meant to blend in with the humans."

The man gestured to her, or rather behind her, and Ymir finally looked around to see that she was in the same...thing?...creature? that drove around the battlefield. She looked at her surroundings further and saw that she was in a cave. A fire was burning right behind Optimus Prime, and on that fire, a fish was hanging on top of it, pierced through it mouth to fin by a stick. She saw hollowed out rocks on the ground, filled to the brim with water. She looked out to her left and saw the mouth of the cave. Outside the cave it was dark, meaning that it was nighttime. How...how long was she out? Where were they?

"I drove for majority of the day, away from the conflict," Optimus explained to her, "The man who has been hurting you will never be able to reach you again. You have my word."

Wouldn't find her?...The king...wouldn't find her again?

"You must be hungry, right?" Optimus got up and walked over to the fish hanging over the fire. He touched it, and wait for a few moments, but he did not remove the fish from the fire.

"The fish is not ready," Optimus informed her. "But" He picked up one of the rocks filled with water and walked over to her before kneeling down and handing it over to her. "You must be thirsty."

Ymir...oh so hesitantly...reached out and took the rock from him. She stared at the cup in her hands and was even able to see her reflection.

"I acquired it from a stream nearby," Optimus explained to her, "The water was clear, but I made sure to do my best to disinfect it so that you will not get sick."

Ymir...couldn't help but lick her lips a little. She was so thirsty. She wasn't given much to even eat earlier today, and Optimus sounded like he was giving her permission. Water...she raised the rock to her lips...water sounded so wonderful right now. A mere drop of water slipped past her lips and down her throat...and she froze. She dropped the hollowed-out rock in her hands. The water stained her dress, and the rock hit the floor.

"Young o-!" Optimus froze when he saw tears spilling out of her eyes in abundance. Her breathing became heavy and labored. Her lips trembled before she began outright venting and sobbing. She began to develop hiccups as she covered her eyes with the palms of her hands and bent over.

It...it was so wonderful! And she...was so overwhelmed! Her heart couldn't take it! This being called to her! He showed her mercy! He didn't call her a monster! He gave her food and water! And he was treating her with such care and love! She didn't understand! It was just a simple act of kindness! A small drink of water! Food! Warmth! So much of it happened in an instant compared to all the years she served under the king!

"I apologize," she heard Optimus speak. "You must be overwhelmed. I did not mean to frighten you. I swear. Do you desire some time? I would be more than fine to give you some space to process-!"

NO! Ymir rushed and tackled him in the chest. She griped the robe adorned in red and continued to sob furiously in his chest. She shook her head so violently it almost made her dizzy. She had no idea what compelled her to do this. She shouldn't have. This type of behavior was unacceptable, but she couldn't let him leave. She didn't want him to leave her alone! She wanted him to stay! Please stay!

Optimus winced as he felt the woman's grip get tighter, but he wasn't going to make her let go. The fact that she broke down over a simple drink of water, made him mortified over the general implications of her suffering. Optimus slowly raised his hands and rested them on the small of her back as she continued crying. He rubbed her back to try and ease her sorrows before drawing her closer to a better embrace.

"I do not know what you have endured," Optimus began, "But I swear to you, young one. As long as I still function, I will not let anyone harm you. You are safe now. I promise."

Optimus continued to let the woman sob in his chest. He had no right to stop her. She had clearly been through too much for someone so young. Still, thoughts and questions swarmed his head. How did this woman get her powers? Why was she a slave in the first place? What...what was even her name? He had no idea what her name even was. That human had only called her 'slave'. It was so dehumanizing.

The Prime felt the woman's crying ease, turning into soft sniffles and hiccups. He felt her trying to pull away from his chest, and loosened his grip to let her go. She looked up at him, and the cheeks that were stained by red marks were now stained by tears. Her eyes were so red and puffy, but Optimus had finally managed to see another emotion from her: relief. However, that quickly went away when she hung her head and pulled her arms to her chest.

"It is alright, young one," Optimus reassured her, "I am sure you needed to do that more than anything."

Ymir raised her head slightly, and the Prime raised his hands to her cheek once more to wipe away her tears. Ymir couldn't help herself and leaned into that touch. She wasn't going to force it away from her.

"It is good that I managed to acquire more water for you," Optimus declared as he leaned over and quickly grabbed another hollowed rock filled with water. He handed it to Ymir, and this time, she drank the entire thing with urgency, like it would be her last drop of water ever. Optimus then stood up to check on the fish and saw that it was thoroughly cooked. He picked it up using the stick and kneeled down towards Ymir before handing it to her.

"Careful, it is hot," Optimus warned her. Ymir stared down at the fish and...didn't feel right for being offered food first. She handed it to Optimus, but he raised his hand to her to gesture for her to stop.

"You need to regain your strength," Optimus insisted, "I will be fine for the time being."

Ymir pulled the fish back and stared intently at it before opening her mouth and taking a small bite. Once she did, her hunger kicked in, and she started to devour the fish with urgency. She was able to ignore how hot it was. Her wounds would heal from it anyway. She just needed to eat it. Ymir continued to eat until there was nothing else left but the skeleton. She wiped her mouth but froze when she noticed Optimus staring at her and felt embarrassed. She wanted to say she was sorry, but she knew that was wrong. Even if she could speak, she wasn't allowed to.

"It is alright." Ymir turned her gaze to Optimus, and the Prime only smiled in reassurance, "Do you require anything else?"

Ymir...didn't want to overstep, despite the fact that she did want something more. She didn't want this to be a dream or a figment of her imagination. So, she shook her head in response.

"Alright then," Optimus said, "But you must be quite exhausted from today. You slept for so long."

Ymir wasn't going to lie about that and nodded her head. She was. Her body just felt so weak. Ymir nearly gasped when Optimus placed an arm under the back of her knees and another on the small of her back. She was picked up and placed right on the bed of the being's form.

"This is the handle to open the door." Optimus pointed to the handle of the door and even pulled on it to show how it worked. "If you need to step out for any reason, just pull that."

Ymir nodded her head as her eyes began to droop. She still had questions. She wanted to know more about him, but she had no energy to try. She reached out towards him and was surprised when Optimus took her hand and gently held it.

"Rest now, and when you wake, I will explain everything that I can in a way you can understand," Optimus proclaimed, "I promise."

Ymir nodded as her eyes closed completely and she fell asleep. But she didn't fall back into the depths of the cold. She fell back into the warmth and safety of someone who saved her life.

This was the true first day of her life...where she was finally free.

(Killing King Fritz was so fucking cathartic. I loved it. I'll post this on Ao3 too. But I absolutely enjoyed writing this.)

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voidnoidoid · 2 years

Text

TOH For The Future Thoughts

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET!!!

This new episode was nothing short of incredible!! I have so many thoughts about it so this post isn't gonna be very organised at all.

I love how Camila reacts to the things in the Demon Realm, and her freaking out at all the weird stuff is really fun to watch. But also, I enjoy how she looks out for all the other kids and is a reliable adult for them. She saw that Willow wasn't doing okay and reached out to her, letting her know that she had people to fall back on, even if she wasn't ready yet. And then, she reassures Luz that everyone makes mistakes and apologised for not supporting her in her time of need. Oh and the scene where she hugs all the talisman is soooo adorable!

Hunter's been pretty great this episode too, he's consistently been shown as antsy and worried about the dangers that lie ahead, especially considering everything that happened the previous episode. The development between him, Willow and Gus was fantastic and I'm so glad the three of them got their time to shine this episode. Hunter and Gus have a strong bro bond, and it's heartwarming to see how Gus cares for Hunter so much. When Hunter got emotional from seeing his flyer derby picture, Gus and Willow thought they did something wrong and ran away. Willow out of fear of hurting Hunter and Gus to follow Willow, while telling Hunter to stay put. Both of them care for Hunter but don't want to show their vulnerability and let Hunter care for them like they do for him.

Willow's stress and tension manifesting in the form of her vines is a great touch. Like in the Owl House where she left a trail of vines in her wake, and when the vines grew up around her feet and finally when she smothered a whole room with her vegetation. The vines snaking around her legs and victims gives a suffocating feeling, like Willow is restraining herself from showing any weakness, and also showing how her feelings are overwhelming her.

Hunter's flapjack magic activating when his friends were in danger was so cool, he was zipping around everywhere! Flapjack still lives on in him and that's amazing to see. Also... Huntlow Real. (like omg... the protective hug, hunter carrying willow, the blushing and hand touch aaaaaa. like cos willow's been saving his ass all the time and now it's his turn!)

Ok now to talk about Hexside. Unfortunately after all the adults got puppetified, the school turned to chaos lord of the flies style where Boscha somehow becomes reigning President with the help of "Micky". Mattholomule is a surprisingly effective leader to Gus and everyone else's surprise. Also im still not over how Mattholomule is actually Matt Tholomule. So... Steve and Matt Tholomule huh. OKAY. Gus's smoothly animated slow head turn was HILARIOUS tho. It provided a lot of lighthearted comic relief. "MANtholomule" kandfjknsdk. But I digress. Hexside becoming a chaotic mess under Boscha and Mickey's leadership is honestly pretty realistic. Also I'm slightly disappointed but not surprised that Boscha is still as mean and egotistical as ever. Like COME ON after everything that happened she's still gonna be a major b and run the school like a knockoff regina George?

The real culprit behind this though, is "Mickey" or should I say... Kikimora. When I saw her being Boscha's mouthpiece and pompously dictating what people should do... it felt weirdly familiar but I couldn't really put a finger on who it was until right before the reveal. The way Kikimora manipulated Boscha into taking leadership while she was the real one pulling the strings from the side reeked of insecure, power hungry crony. So glad she got her ass beat. Willow's confrontation with Boscha was such a treat to watch, but it was also painful. Seeing Willow stand up for herself but also let her anger and vulnerability show was so compelling. Boscha was honestly selfish and cold for brushing off Willow. I don't understand why people ship them especially considering Boscha BULLIED Willow and still hasn't apologised. (again I digress but as someone who was bullied I absolutely despise bully x victim dynamics. not cool.) Then in the detention pit, where boscha met amity again, what she did and said made me dislike her more, but also sympathise with her a bit.

When Boscha and Amity met again, Boscha lashed out saying Amity abandoned her friend group, hung out with Luz and basically left her behind. Like yeah duh she dropped you for a reason!? Boscha is a toxic and spiteful person. But I can also see from her point of view. Until Luz showed up, Amity was the top dog, one of the mean girls and part of the clique. To have someone like that just leave the group for good would hurt. And Boscha even got on her knees and begged Amity to come back to her. She wanted things to go back to normal and wanted her friend back, but what Boscha didn't realise was that she was the one who needed to change. I'm glad she changed for the better in the end, she just wants her friends back. (She's still a meanie though)

Alright, now it's time to get into the important stuff. The Collector. (and belos) It was jarring to feel on edge when seeing a happy colourful pastel world, knowing the sinister intentions behind it all. Watching the Collector play with people like dolls creeped me out, especially since they were once... living people. And it just reinforces the fact that despite it all, The Collector is just a kid. A superpowered, immortal kid who doesn't really understand that what he's doing is really truly hurting people. They just want to play. And I can't blame them, being isolated and alone for so long. He calls King his best friend, which I think is really sweet. But unfortunately King is too afraid to reciprocate. What I find really nice about the Collector is that he's willing to compromise for King, the one he cares about. Even when King isn't willing to give them Francois, he doesn't throw a fit, just asks for King to let Francois watch over him because he doesn't want to be alone.

The book that they ask King to read to them is very intriguing, because it's essentially a history book about the collector race. And apparently, they're known as powerful, godlike immortal beings who preserve planets and life forms. But the moment they encounter any resistance, they destroy the planet. Wipe everything clean. The Collector has scribbled this part out, saying that "the others are mean". This means the Collector has encountered others of his race, and actually is one of the nicer ones??? Since he disapproves of the killing and destruction. However, despite this, he is completely okay with hurting the inhabitants of the boiling isles. Yikes.

I'm glad Eda and Lilith are okay though! I'm loving their new looks. Eda seems to have accepted Luz staying in the human realm, which is sad... it's clear she wants Luz to stay but she can't. King, Eda and Lilith are hatching a plan to take down the Collector for good, and you know what this means... MISUNDERSTANDING TIME.

As we all know Belos is back in action, trying to take back control or whatever. I especially enjoy that he's literally falling apart into a goopy mess and is being haunted by the ghosts of Caleb and the other golden guards. He seems to have backup bodies... sealed in a tomb of maroon goop stuff. Buttt that body in the box was incomplete so yeah. I feel like this reinforces the theory that Belos was possessing the bodies of some of the old golden guards, because he said that he "needed a new body". How else has he been living for this long? It also explains the blonde hair. Him making his way to the Archives and meeting Odalia was so funny. She wanted to be more useful outside of being a nanny for the Collector, and now that she kinda got her chance, she got tossed aside once again. But now that means instead of possessing Odalia, Belos possessed Raine. Oh No!!!

Then the usual happens, using the new body he sneaks to the Collector's room and manipulates them into distrusting King! The Collector is way too gullible for their own good like this is the second time he's being bamboozled by Belos COME ON. The way they can just spy on King whenever is so chilling because they just pulled on their hood and boom, they found King. This meant that they could have spied on King whenever, but didn't because they trusted him. Aww... But now Belos has successfully manipulated Collector AGAIN, who believes that King is trying to kill him. But actually King just wants to talk things through. King seeing himself in the Collector, his loneliness and being of a special race, is sad but also comforting to know that he can relate to someone like the collector. I guess we'll see what happens in the final episode of TOH.

And last but not least... LUZ'S PALISMAN!!! Ohhhh man this one has kept the entire fandom on edge forever. Her palisman seems really powerful, given that even when it wasn't fully formed, it blasted the ground with a super laser! When it formed into a ball I was like "is that it?" but of course not lol. I love how before the palisman fullly formed the gang was guessing, "is it a bat? snake? dragon? otter?" The writers and animators know the fandom so well haha... And turns out... IT'S ALL OF THEM!!! According to Luz, her palisman is a snake shifter! I thought it was a chimera but this is cool too, given how Luz has been associated with snakes a lot, it would make sense that a snake would be the main animal. I love how her palisman, Stringbean (cutest name ever!) can shapeshifter because it represents how Luz can't be put into a box. She's creative, adaptable and fun, and Stringbean represents all those qualities.

All in all, fantastic episode, but im worried how the last special will go down. Hold on tight TOH fandom...

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kokocharm · 1 year

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THE GREENFIREST LAB LIST

Our purpose as the Greenfirest Lab of the Hiraeth Forest is to collect abnormalities around the globe and store them in one contained facility where we can experiment, discover, and work on the hope of improving humanity.

These notes are taken by four different trusted scientists, close information being supplied by our robot assistant Cybro. However misinformation is possible, so keep a close watch.

*That means you, Spice. Please stop giving the subjects bizarre names. It's difficult to keep track of.

00: *##5

A monstrosity.

01: Infillian

Power to feel and manipulate others emotions.

02: 0R3

Just another test.

03: Emerald

Wanted to enhance speed abilities, was a success.

04: W1NG

Testing out body mutilation aspects. Partly a success, was given working wings.

05: W3ATHER

An unnatural creature able to predict the weather. Ability to see future?

06: 5H4

Once a statue, it’s determined to be some type of demigod, possessing dark and shadow themed abilities.

07: P1X13

A literal fairy. Captured long ago, grown to be a rude little annoying brat. Simply scared of the scientists, seems to manage fear with sarcasm and insults.

08: SH1N3

Powers referencing to light. An experiment went wrong when the power malfunctioned, and now she has the ability to control lights, which stretches beyond electricty.

09: GL1TCH

Can “break” its surroundings in a glitched computer themed way.

10: N0V4

Possesses the strange ability to read into star maps, proven to be useful when locating undiscovered planets or meteors.

11: Puppeteer

Can control others bodies. Doesnt mean they have access to their thoughts. Sometimes can access memories, but only faintly.

12: Cotton Candy

Ability to heal others in any way possible. This also counts psychologically, but it only makes the pain tolerable.

13: C0RR

An experiment that went severely wrong.

14: S0UL

The ability to take over someones body, his own body disappearing while controlling another lifeform. He was originally thought to be mute, but when he does speak its a different language every time, sometimes it even being languages one has never heard of.

15: DEC4Y

Whatever it touches decays rapidly. Keep in confined area at all times.

16: FL0AT

The ability to manipulate the gravity of anything and everything, ranging from small objects to whole rooms.

17: Technoally

The power to get into computers or any type of electricity. Most powerful in high-tech areas. Doesn’t necessarily have a physical body, as techs was a line of coding that gained sentience.

18: PDGW

Created in an attempt to destroy a ‘failed’ or ‘unused’ subject. The deletion failed, and PDGW is now a ghost tale of the lab. PDGW’s name is short for Project Deletion Gone Wrong. Some say PDGW is alive, hiding within the lab since no one is able to leave. There are said to be subjects in contact with PDGW.

19: Realm

Able to speak to the deceased and visit the afterlife on will, no matter what religion. En loves to antagonize the scientists with dead family members, yet is a real sweetheart to other subjects.

20: Ghozey

A subject whom was accidentally killed during testing. However zer was able to persist after death and is quite friendly with everyone, offering specifically subjects heavy reassurance. Was four years old when ze passed, being an already very weak survivor with many illnesses. We did zer a favor.

21: F0RM

Possesses the ability to change their or others physical appearances. This includes beneath the skin.

22: $#*#?**$

We don’t speak of this… thing.

23: Caramel

An attempt to make a subject to contain others emotions, to inject others sadness into itself. The test was partially successful, as it’s now an entirely emotionless being, used as a test dummy.

24: DR4

A dragon a team of hunters brought in. It’s highly aggressive towards scientists and adults, but affectionate toward subjects and children, as a motherly gesture. Many tests have proven he was a mother before brought in. Also able to withstand unthinkable amounts of climate and temperature.

25: Unseen

A blind subject that can hear others thoughts and see through their eyes.

26: Duplicate

Two living beings classified as one subject. They’re a pair of twins that "always found a way to stick together", as our original records say. The first one is named Eliza, and the second is named Elijah.

27: 27

A shapeshifter. He also has powers related to fire, though we did not implement those. Somehow has a close connection to Subject 06: 5H4.

28: Ender

The ability to travel time, timelines and universes. Very jumpy.

29: SKEL

A skeleton that somehow came to life.

30: Crimson

Used in an attempt to manually control memories. It was successful.

31: Bell

Powers to control his own and others realities to fit his perfect image of who she thinks they are.

32: Pepsi

Able to disable other subjects powers, while also possesses what we call “dark magic.”

33: Blackout

Able to cause severe hallucination and can drive belief into someones head without hardly any effort. Approach with caution, as he’s quite a trickster.

34: VD

Can control others using dolls or drawings he made. Seems to be weakened by light, for some unknown reason. Also likes to fuck with people. Great guy, honestly.

35: M1CR0

His files were lost. He is from the first lab, Steeltipped Lab, yet he is not dangerous. He is mostly suspected to have abilities related to sight, although we are not entirely sure.

36: Saturn

Spiritual related powers that include speaking to Gods, reading futures, omens, ect. She is most calm when near flowers.

37: Pastel

Able to change its fur and eye color. Very shy, its tears are made of acid so don’t make it cry (she cries very easily.)

38: Imaginitive

This subject is able to double ones emotions, mental health, ect. It can make depression worse, as an example. It’s powers reach all the way to neurodivergency, and possibly farther. It is also shown to effect dreams.

39: Tune

Constantly speaking in autotune and is able to play any sound she wants, music and all. He isn’t classified as dangerous, only very, extremely annoying.

40: Cowboy

Literally serves no purpose. Xey’re only here to be southern and annoy people. They also have the ability to summon silver bullets and can seek out gold no matter how hidden it is.

41: Death

Able to see others deaths, in multiple ways. Touching it will also kill you.

42: Ms. Fern

Insanely smart, the most intelligent thing in the world.

43: Suit Guy

Extremely manipulative and only appears in others dreams. Rarely seen in the physical world and can be seen over cameras.

44: Fourty-Four

Possesses the ability of breaking the fourth wall at any time in any way shape or form.

45: Z0mbiee

To be heavily contained. Anyone who has been even remotely touched by it must be killed immediately, as to not start an outbreak.

46: Sunflower

Can forcefully be pulled into an older mindset, however she is the youngest subject who does not physically age.

47: Vision

Able to look into others pasts + futures. Often vaguely predicts events when he does rarely speak.

48: Alrighty

Seems to resemble a snake, fish and ghost. Mey and S-20 get along well. Alrighty was only made to shut S-20 up and to get xem to leave the other subjects alone.

49: Explosion

Has the ability to create explosions at will. His tail seems to be his primary weapon.

50: Invis

Can make his body invisible, or just certain parts. Confuses many, but at least has a good sense of humor.

51: Toxic

Releases toxic fumes when under pressure or when experiencing severe stress. Do not touch or breathe around without protection.

52: Stargazer

An interesting species coming from another planet. Claims to be the leader of her “Star Pact”.

53: Sombre

A sokochou, a creature of great natural power.

#greenfirest lab #oc post

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hiddenreflections · 1 month

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Sometimes I also think of how.... just our general behaviour towards him was so totally confused and planless, in a way that surely lead to individual splits - cause we could not really figure out how to not get hurt with him.

Theres this one day where he after we actually argued with him, and told him he cant expect acceptance of who he is if he is literally always this hurtful, that he cant expect for us to like to do what he wants, or to "give him" what he wants if he mistreats us, scares us, hurts us physically, shames us. Like theres this one alter that I find most "relateable" in relation to my own thinking patterns, that consistently tried to reason and argue with him just in an infinitely more childlike and naive way. Like there was this genuine attempt to get him to try to understand why what he was doing wouldnt "work" how he wanted it to (always making the very innocent and manipulated assumption he wanted to be accepted for who he is, no matter how uncontentional and generally judged who he is might be) - and he to that argument like responded that I dont know what im talking about, as planful as he thru the memories I do have of him might have been and how generally in control and id argue even powerful that made him seen, he often had a pretty infantile tone in actual arguments when pressed on it and wud often cover it up with rage. But this time he didnt rlly spiral into rage as much, cuz said alter would reassure him that this isnt an attack whatsoever and that he has to simply *agree* to what is being said. And eventually he said, but you wouldnt go along with it, you wouldnt do any of it willingly. Lets say, id give you half the day to approach me yourself and to choose being sexual with me yourself - id leave you be for multiple hours, even leave the room. You would not approach me yourself. You would not let me touch you.

And then we were like, oh no we will. We a 100% will. Just you see.

And he was like, no you wont, but ill give you time to prove it.

And then the second he left the room our mind instantly went like, wow. do I really get half the day off from this? Can I really just ignore hes in the flat right now? And the second he was gone it was like, wow yeah we wont willingly do this in a million fucking years lol. hes actually so fucking correct. Like, just the physical distance made us feel near euphoric and it was like, lets be for real even if we did approach him rn and showed him how willing we are, this guy enjoys hurting you way to much. wed just be losing "ourselves" further. wed cry. wed feel we betrayed ourselves. wed feel ashamed. so the fronting alter basically decided to just enjoy the few hours of freedom and to ignore he was even in the same flat...

then, when he did approach us multiple hours later again by himself, he again made us lie down with in the bed and he was like "See? I told you, I told you wouldnt." and the alter like anticipated punishment, was scared of rage, feared smth. So the alter had this like... doubt like. fuck how badly is this gonna hurt? was this really a good idea? and he could practically read that in our body-language and before we even rlly said anything he was like "No, I dont want it anymore now. This isnt what I wanted here." and the alter almost script-flipping tried to convince him that "Its true I didnt wanna do it earlier.. Im not sure why either.." and there was this very emotionally genuine part in it that wasnt just manipulation, really this like "Im just so confused all the time, I think I want nothing more than to stay far away from you, dont want you close at all - but then when youre there again, or just a few minutes later I want you so much." there was this extreme amount of pain and genuine confusion and shame. alter wondered if theres smth wrong with *us* for not knowing how to respond to him, for not having a coherent opinion or way to handle him. for really wanting nothing but to reject him, run away, some alters wanted hurt him badly too, but then also this sincere almost arousal and desire for him, this near worship he v much intentionally had furthered and it just made us feel broken, it made us feel ashamed, it made us feel like we were doing something *wrong* because we could for the life of us not figure a coherent way to feel about him or deal with him out whatsoever. And he, which confused the alter maximally wud be like "No, we wont do this right now. We wont be sexual. Im not going to get angry either." and the alter for like a split-second really saw this -window- of a hope like, wow maybe if I convince him I do want it myself now hell actually stop hurting us in these maximally sadistic ways cause afterall hes not getting angry rn, hes not urging us, and the alter kind of started to make the moves on him almost - sorry for whoever is reading this, I personally hate remember those parts of my experience the most - and as soon as he slowly seemed "convinced" we were being truthful enough, cuz the alter said "I know im so confused, I know I really really didnt want this earlier at all, youre right I ignored you as long as I could but right now I really really want this. I really do. You have to believe me. Im not lying." and it really *felt* like it, but it also didnt. This at this point didnt parse as an active lie anymore. And there was sincere like "Im so sorry for being so confused.. im sorry if its to late now." and him being like, slowly opening up to the idea of it, slowly coming around, promising hed make it feel so good, so gentle, so worth our time. And then again you know with the same INCOHERENCY and INCAPACITY to respond to him in any actual -decided- way the pendulum swung back and we like backed the fuck out of it the second this motherfucker decided to go for it after all. Like this could be explained w/ an alter switch, but I sometimes feel for some time of it we really just had this absoloutely incoherent, totally confused, despaired, planless way of reacting to him and that eventually split into alters that then always embodied certain repetitive reactions to him. But yeah.

He then pretty quickly went annoyed and went "Told you, you wouldnt. I wont hurt you right now. But you know that this means you are choosing it the way that harms you." and then he went onto a charade of how pathetic and lowly people like me are, how people like me are choosing to be hurt - and how therefore they only had themselves to blame. He REALLY tried to hammer that I was making an active choice to be hurt sadistically by him, and when I asked him how precisely I was making that choice he just doubled down on insulting me.

#vent

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meg-moira · 4 years

Text

The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind

Sequel to Eindred and the Witch

In which Severin, the golden eyed witch, learns that his greatest enemy and truest love is fated to kill him.

Dealing in prophecies is a dubious work. Anyone who knows anything will tell you as much.

“Think of all of time as a grand tapestry,” his great-grandmother had said, elbow deep in scalding water. Her hands were tomato red, and Severin watched with wide golden eyes as she kneaded and stretched pale curds in the basin. “You might be so privileged to understand a single weave, but unless you go following all surrounding threads, and the threads around those threads, and so on - which, mind you, no human can do - you’ll never understand the picture.”

Severin, who was ten years old and had never seen a grand tapestry, looked at the cheese in the basin and asked if his great-grandmother could make the analogy about that instead.

“No,” she replied. “Time is a tapestry. Cheese is just cheese.”

And that was that.

By fifteen, Severin who was all arms, legs, and untamable black hair, decided he hated prophecies more than anything in the world. He occupied himself instead with long walks atop the white bluffs well beyond his family’s home. Outside, he could look at birds, and talk to the wind, and not think about the terrible prophecy which followed him like a shadow.

His second eldest sister had revealed it - accidentally, of course. Severin lived in a warm and bustling house with his great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, two aunts, and three sisters. All of whom were generously gifted in the art of foretelling (a messy business, each would say if asked), and every one of them had seen Severin’s same bleak thread.

He would die. Willingly stabbed through the heart by his greatest enemy and truest love.

Willingly. That was the worst part, he thought.

Severin, who had no talent in the way of prophecies, but plenty of talent in the realm of wind and sky, marched along the well-worn trail, static sparking around his fingertips as the brackish sea breeze nipped consolingly at his face and hair.

I will protect you if you ask me to, it blustered, and Severin was comforted.

He didn’t care who this foretold stranger was. When this enemy-lover appeared, Severin would ask the wind to pick them up and take them far, far away. Far enough that they could never harm him. The wind whistled in agreement. And so it was settled.

At seventeen, he was still all arms and legs, though his eldest sister had managed to tame his hair with a respectably sharp pair of shears. The wind, who had delighted in playing with his wild, tangled locks, did not thank her for it. Severin did thank her; in fact, he’d asked her to do it. He was of the opinion that his newly shorn hair made him look older - more sophisticated. And he left his family home with a new cloak draping his shoulders and a knotted wooden walking stick in hand, thinking himself very nearly a man. He was far from it, of course. But there was no telling him that.

He set out on a clear, cool morning to find his own way in the world, and was prepared to thoroughly deal with anyone who so much as dared to act ever so slightly in the manner of enemy or lover.

He discovered, soon enough, that this was not a practical attitude to take when venturing into the world. Severin spent his first months away from home making little in the way of friends and plenty in the way of thoroughly baffled enemies.

When you meet his gaze, you’ll know, the wind chided as it whisked in and out of his hood.

“His?” Severin said aloud, lifting a single dark brow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

The wind whistled noncommittally in answer.

The wind did know something, as it turned out. At twenty, Severin stood on the warm, sun-loved planks of a dock. As gulls cried overhead, he pressed his fingers to his lips. The young sailor had touched his lips to Severin’s in a swift, carefree kiss before departing on the sea. And though the feeling was pleasant enough, Severin knew that his enemy-lover was not on the great ship cleaving a path through the cerulean waves.

“When I meet his gaze, I’ll know,” Severin said, golden eyes sweeping the horizon. The seaward breeze blustered in such agreement that the gulls overhead cried out in alarm.

What will you do? The wind asked, delighting in whipping the gulls into a proper frenzy.

“Get rid of him, of course,” Severin replied.

What if you don’t want to?

Severin thought that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “He’s going to stab me through the heart. Why in the world wouldn’t I want to get rid of him?”

People are foolish, the wind answered, shrugging the nearby sails.

“Not me.” Severin leaned on his stick and looked out at the sea. “I won’t let anyone get away with stabbing my heart.”

When he was twenty-two, Severin knelt at the bedside of a withered, wilting woman. She was a stranger, but the town’s herb witch was away, and Severin happened to be passing through. Though his true strength would always remain with the wind and the sky, the youngest of Severin’s two aunts had a special way with plants, and she’d taught him a fair bit about the many healing properties of the region’s hardy, windblown flora.

He boiled water, adding the few herbs he carried to make a rejuvenating tea. He helped the woman drink, his hand supporting her head and fingers tangling in her sweat drenched hair. After, he pressed a cool cloth to her head, and in the half dark room, she murmured, sharing delirious fears that she would accidentally speak cruel dying words and lay a curse upon him.

Kindly stroking her forehead, Severin assured her that he was not afraid of curses. Even uttered by the dying, a true curse was rarer than the superstitious soldier’s and barbarians liked to believe. Besides, she wasn’t going to die. Severin, who’d seen just enough of the world to have a taste of wisdom, was certain he could save her.

She died within the day.

Whether her condition had been beyond help, or Severin lacked the skills to twist the herbs to his bidding, he would never know. The wind rustled reassurances through the sparsely-leaved trees, but Severin was beyond consolation. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and by nightfall, great branches of lightning crackled across the sky.

He spent the next year and a half in the wilds. Beneath the jubilant light of the sun, he collected plants, acquainting himself with the earth. And beneath the soft, watchful light of the moon, he whispered to the wind and dared to wonder at the shape of his enemy-lover’s face. He could never seem to summon the slightest picture in his mind. Though it really didn’t matter, he supposed. Their eyes would meet, and Severin would know. And then he’d use all of the power at his disposal to send his enemy-lover away.

During this time, Severin sometimes saw bands of barbaric warriors crossing the plains. He kept his distance, but he doubted any of them were interested in either recruiting or killing a scrawny young man in a worn woolen cloak. Few he encountered ever suspected he had any great abilities, and Severin certainly didn’t go out of his way to advertise the fact that he could command the wind and sky when he wished. The barbaric companies had their eyes on more obviously lucrative targets, anyway. A handful of city states which spread across the great peninsula were openly at war with the barbaric tribes from the north.

It was when Severin was returning from his self-imposed isolation that he had his first real encounter with war. He held his sturdy walking stick in hand and carried a bursting bag of herbs, poultices, and leather-bound journals over his shoulder. Severin was so surprised by the sudden, brutal clash of metal and the primal cries that erupted nearby that he halted where he stood. His curiosity both outweighed and outlasted his fear, and after a minute or two of tense consideration, he pressed cautiously onward in the direction of the noise.

By the time he arrived, the battle was done.

It had surely been an ugly, bloody affair, if the splayed out bodies of the city soldiers and barbaric warriors were anything to judge it by. Holding a hand over his mouth, Severin gingerly navigated the carnage and valiantly resisted the impulse to be sick right there in the field. He was nearly on the other side of it when movement caught his eye. Squinting, almost afraid to look, he glanced from the corners of his eyes, sure that it was some grotesque remnant of warfare which awaited him.

Instead, it was a man.

Just a man.

The movement Severin had spotted was the rise and fall of his chest.

Only after turning a careful look around the terrible and silent battlefield did Severin approach the fallen man.

The barbarian’s eyes were closed and his pale brows drew together, as if reflecting pain. His face would probably have been handsome in a rough, simple sort of way if it weren’t smeared in dirt and blood. His light hair, braided and pulled away from his face, was bloodied as well, and Severin frowned at the sorry state of him. After a second wary look around, he knelt with a sigh.

The barbarian’s leather vest was cut, and his thick, scarred arms had earned several new slices as well. Severin, who had more than enough herbs and poultices on hand, reluctantly tore his only spare shirt into bandages. Within the hour the stranger was fully bandaged and muttering in fever addled sleep.

“Don’t worry,” Severin murmured, knotting the last makeshift bandage. “I’ve learned enough from the plants and trees to save you from both fever and infection.”

Behind closed lids, the barbarian’s eyes flitted anxiously to and fro and he mumbled something that sounded like no. Nose wrinkling, Severin leaned in. He heard the sleeping barbarian say, his voice low and cracking, “The curses will take me.”

Severin frowned down at him, unimpressed. “No they won’t,” he snapped, and yanked the bandage tighter.

The barbarian silenced then, and Severin stared at him a moment longer, pursing his lips in consternation. It wasn’t that he minded using his supplies to heal a stranger. But a part of him worried that healing a warrior made Severin responsible for whatever slaughter he resumed when he rose.

Severin abhorred warfare. It was such a terrible waste. But he supposed there was no helping what he’d already done. The barbarian was already on his way to recovery, and Severin certainly wasn’t going to murder him in his sleep. He reached out, intending to test the temperature at the man’s temple, but no sooner had Severin’s fingers touched his overheated skin than the world bled around him. In its place: a vision.

Shock echoed through him, because he was not like the women in his family, able to see phantoms in time. He’d always simply played with the air. The vision dancing before his gaze, however, didn’t seem to care.

Like droplets of ink spreading in water, a prism of colors twisted, threading together into nearly tangible shapes. From the chaos, rose a blond child holding a knit sheep. He was ruddy cheeked and pouting up at his mother. Then ink and water swirled and the images collapsed and shifted. Hulking shadows loomed over the child. The mother wailed her grief. The formless ink shivered, morphing from one scene to the next, nearly too quickly to follow, and Severin was swallowed up in it, overrun and overwhelmed by violence, blood, and pain. Beneath his fingers, Severin felt the movement of shifting, slipping thread.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the vision ceased. Severin’s knees ached where they pressed against the dirt and the barbarian’s skin beneath his hand was no longer overheated. How long had he been within the vision’s grasp, he wondered?

As Severin shifted back, the barbarian groaned. Severin watched as the man’s eyelids fluttered - and at once, the air turned heavy, as if the wind had drawn and held an anticipatory breath.

Dread flooded Severin and he rushed to stand. The barbarian had not yet opened his eyes, and Severin knew with a terrible nameless certainty that he must not be here when this man awoke. Severin could still feel those elusive, unknowable threads beneath his fingers, and his hands shook as he rose. Awakened by his urgency, the wind roared, lending him speed as he fled the clearing.

By the time the barbarian cracked open a single, world weary eye, Severin was long gone, heart still safely beating in his chest.

Severin endeavored to forget about the barbarian. He convinced himself that the vision had been the hallucination of an overexerted body, and that the sensation of inexorably moving threads beneath his fingers was nothing more than a flight of fancy. Severin did not think about how the threads had felt - certain and unyielding - beneath his fragile, very mortal hands. If he did, he feared he might ask the wind to whisk him away from the world altogether, and that, surely, was no way to live.

In a deep, secret place, however, Severin suspected the reason he was granted such a vision was because the stranger’s thread was woven perilously close to his own. Because of this, he set upon an easterly road, endeavoring to put a healthy distance between himself and the pale barbarian.

After nearly a month of travel, he arrived in a small village which sat nestled in foothills, tucked beneath the shadows of great mountains which stood like sentinels above. Severin hadn’t intended to stay, but when it was discovered he had some skill with plants and medicine, the villagers eagerly led him to a hut some distance from the village. It was empty, they explained, and had been for some years. A healing woman had occupied it, some years back, before she’d passed on. The villagers had been saving it, hoping the space would be enough to entice a new healer to make their isolated village a home.

Severin had nowhere else to go, and he supposed a distant, mountain village was as good a place as any to avoid a blade to the heart.

Two years passed, and Severin settled into his little hut. He spent his mornings taking long walks around the surrounding lands, collecting herbs and specimens. Returning home, he’d throw open the windows to allow his friend the wind a brief but wild rampage through the hut. With the air freshened, Severin spread plants across his square dining table and sorted them into jars to be sealed, dried, or preserved in vinegar. His neighbors in the village visited frequently, just as often for his company as for his medicines, and Severin delighted in visiting the town on market days and making the streamers dance in the wind for the children. Evenings were spent in his rocking chair, with a book in his lap and his feet pressed near to the low fire in the hearth.

He was happy, and hardly thought of the barbarian he’d found bleeding in the dirt. That is, until fate caught up with him.

One day, when he was foraging for moss on the hillside behind his hut, Severin felt the whisper-soft touch of thread against his palm. He sat upright at once, and turning and craning his neck, he absently rubbed his palms against his robes.

A company marched into the village. From up on Severin’s hill, they appeared a swarm of ants overtaking the miniature thatched roof homes. The slipping, shivering feeling beneath Severin’s palm intensified, and he stood. His heart drummed a frantic beat against his ribs, and Severin felt with a terrible certainty that fate, like a hunting hound on the scent, had sniffed him out at last.

When Severin called out, begging the wind’s help, it rushed to him, howling atop the hill.

I am here. I am here.

Cradled in the gale, he begged the wind to take him and hide him away, so that the tapestry’s relentless threads might cease dragging him toward the one he never wished to meet.

So be it, the wind said. If that is truly what you wish, I will take you and hide you away forever.

In that moment, nearly caught as he was, Severin was willing to do anything to avoid meeting this man who would kill him - until the screams rose from the pastures in the valley beneath his hut. Severin’s heartbeat was in his throat, on his very tongue, as he held up a hand to stay the wind.

“Just a moment,” he murmured, and turned bright, pained eyes toward the village. The terrified screams of his neighbors pierced him as surely as any blade, and with a mournful twist of his fingers, he bade the wind disperse.

By the time he reached in the pastures, the shepherd, the blacksmith, and Helvia’s two sons lay dead. At the sight of his friend’s bodies, grief and rage stirred within Severin, and the wind, always nearby to him, trembled in sympathy. Gaze sweeping the warriors, he marked the five whose weapons were stained red. Severin was not violent by nature, but if he was to die this day, he resolved to remove from the earth at least these five men, who with bloodied blades, uncaringly spoke of feasting upon the village’s few precious sheep.

When the warriors turned and finally noticed Severin, he lifted his chin and prayed his voice did not betray his fear. “These are simple people. They have little in way of money or goods. It wasn’t for nothing that the shepherd, blacksmith, and teenagers died. They need these sheep. And I cannot allow you to take them.”

The men glanced at one another, eyes filling with a cruel sort of mirth. They laughed at him, and Severin steeled himself for what must come next. He was friends with the wind, but to call down the heavens was an entirely more serious matter. And he’d never done it. At least, not like this.

Severin turned his palms up and glared at the heavens, daring them to refuse him now when he needed them most.

For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.

And then, the skies erupted.

He had never felt pure, visceral power in such a way, and as it whined and crackled, Severin, with splayed fingers, used all of his strength to tear the lightning from its home in the sky. It rained upon the warriors, screaming in wild, untamable fury. Severin watched the men cry out in agony, and he felt horror and satisfaction in equal measure.

When a single figure broke from the group, agile enough to evade the lightning and charge across the field, Severin could only look on in exhausted realization. It was the pale barbarian. The man from the battlefield. The child in the vision.

The barbarian charged like a beast, his thickly braided hair bouncing. His brows were drawn down in focus and his lips poised on the precipice of a snarl. It was with a hopeless sense of finality that Severin met the stranger’s gaze.

He met eyes of icy gray, the color of hazy, snow capped mountains in winter, and Severin knew, he knew with a certainty that was sunken into his bones and twisted in his marrow, that this barbarian was the shadow which had haunted him. And he knew, more than anything, the crude blade in the man’s scarred-knuckle hand was fate’s exclamation point at the end of Severin’s ephemeral existence.

Watching as the barbarian pivoted, drawing back his blade, Severin only wished he understood why the women in his family had persisted in calling this man Severin’s truest love. If this was love, the man had a spectacularly terrible way of showing it.

Time slowed to a crawl, and sunlight flashed, reflecting off the blade. As the jagged edge touched the fabric of Severin’s robe, the wind whispered at his ear. Let me show you a piece of the picture.

The wind around him froze, and so too did the world.

Look up, said the wind, a rustle within his ear.

Severin did.

The complexly woven image was shaped by currents in the air - all but invisible to any whose eyes are untrained to look for them. But Severin had a born understanding of the wind and sky, and when he looked up, he saw bits and pieces of an impossibly complex tapestry.

He saw scarred knuckles gently shaping wood. A small child that sat upon broad shoulders. Rocking chairs placed side by side before a glowing fire. Warm hands enveloping his own. Safety. Home.

It was...everything, and Severin’s heart ached with a strange and complex longing for a future that surely could never be.

It’s not impossible, the wind whispered. But the threads will have to tangle and untangle just perfectly so.

“How?” Severin asked, and wondered if he was a fool to feel so desperate a pull towards this life glimpsed in impressions and half images.

The warrior must weep and repent. And a curse must come to fruition.

“And if these things do not happen?”

Then your soul will fade from the earth.

Severin felt torn in two.

The blade has not yet struck your heart, the wind murmured, kind and conspiratorial. There is time still for me to secret you away. I could pull your thread from the tapestry altogether.

“But there would be no hope for that life,” Severin said with a last wistful glance at the scattered mosaic above.

No, none, the wind agreed.

“Okay,” Severin whispered, “okay.” And it felt terrifyingly like surrender.

The wind stirred, and a breeze like a kiss tousled his dark hair.

The blade struck.

It was an intense pressure and then swift, vibrantly blooming pain. Severin wavered on his feet, and looked up. For the second time, he met the warrior’s gaze. And Severin saw and understood that there was no malice in those wintry eyes. Not even frustration or anger. But, instead, an exhaustion deeper than Severin could conceive.

When Severin toppled backward, it was concerning to realize he could no longer feel the grass beneath his body. The man knelt down, and Severin blinked tiredly up at him.

It seemed as though the man were waiting for something. Severin’s slipping mind struggled to think of what - until he recalled the dying woman and her talk of curses. And hadn’t the barbarian said something about curses when he was fever addled and hurt? What had the wind said? Severin was struggling to remember. As his life trickled away in red rivulets which stained the grass and soil, he thought of the boy in the vision - lost and afraid. And he thought of the man he’d become, kneeling stonily over him.

And Severin knew exactly which words should be his last.

Swallowing, he mustered the strength to whisper, “-my hut…it’s just past…the next hill over. In it, I keep medicines and herbs. For the villagers. And travelers who pass.”

For the barbarian would have to stay if he were ever to show remorse. He couldn’t very well continue going about fighting and murdering his way across the peninsula. Which brought Severin to his final words. It took all of his remaining strength to lift his hand. When he reached out, the barbarian startled, as though he expected more lightning to spring forth from Severin’s fingers. But Severin merely tapped his chest and smiled. “May you live a life of safety and peace.”

It was a fitting curse, he thought, feeling particularly clever. And there, on the field, surrounded by sheep, Severin’s heart stuttered and stopped.

It was an abrupt, slipping sensation, like losing your footing on iced over earth. Raw existence rushed around Severin, and he was battered and blown about, like a banner torn loose in the storm. This continued for a dizzying moment, or perhaps a dizzying eternity - Severin really had no way of knowing which. But it stopped when a familiar presence surged around him, blowing and blustering until the wild chaos of existence was forced to let him be.

The wind could not protect him forever, Severin knew, and so he focused his energies until, like a wind sprite, he swirled about the hillside. Below him, he saw the barbarian, his great head bent. Severin, as incorporeal as a breeze, could not resist blustering over the barbarian’s shoulder and observing himself, limp and pitiful in death. Whipping around, he beheld the barbarian - because surely this sight would bring him at least to the verge of tears.

The barbarian frowned down at Severin’s body and rubbed a scarred hand over the patches of stubble on his chin. And then he rose with a great sigh and set off down the hillside, away from Severin and the village.

Severin, who was nothing more than wind and spirit, watched him and despaired. He could do nothing more than whip and howl through the hills as his murderer left him without a backward glance.

Months passed.

Severin did not follow after the barbarian. What good would it do? In this form, it wasn’t as though Severin could speak to him. And if he was doomed to fade and dissolve from existence, he would much rather do so here in the hills he loved than in some strange land trailing after an even stranger man. The wind kept him company, at least, and Severin spent his days whistling through the black, porous stones at the base of the mountains and blowing bits of dandelions across wild tufts of grass.

One day, long after Severin had begun to feel more spread out and thin than was entirely comfortable, the wind rushed to him, carrying with it the scent of dust and dirt and faraway lands.

The barbarian had returned.

Severin was an icy breeze that whipped around the edges of town, and he watched with cool distrust as the man trudged through the streets. His shoulders were slumped and his blond head was turned down. He looked utterly defeated, and any sympathy Severin might have felt was eclipsed by petty spite. He didn’t hold any of the pettiness against himself, though. He was dead, and therefore felt he’d earned at least a little pettiness.

When the barbarian crossed the field, stopping to stand before the place where Severin had fallen, Severin swirled around him, newly curious. The man didn’t look grief stricken, but his face was difficult to read. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and lines of exhaustion around his mouth. Mostly, Severin thought he just looked tired.

When the man approached Severin’s home after having ignored the invitation for months, Severin had a second moment of pettiness and whipped the wind up on the other side of the door, sealing it closed as the barbarian tried to open it. Only when the man shoved it with his great, muscled shoulder did Severin retreat, allowing the door to swing open.

It was with a strange sort of melancholy that he watched the barbarian’s silver gaze sweep over the room. The man looked first at the damp, unkempt hearth before slowly making his way across the room. He glanced from Severin’s well-loved walking stick to the bookshelf built into the wall. He fumblingly ran the backs of his fingers along the spines of the books, as if he was unlearned in the ways of a gentle touch.

Severin was still very much put out about the whole being dead business, but as he watched the barbarian’s almost reverent inspection, he unthinkingly twisted the air in the room, drawing out the cold and pulling in a bit of sun warmed breeze.

By the second day, the man was sitting in Severin’s chair. Severin stewed, swatting at floating dust by the window as his killer rocked to and fro in Severin’s favorite seat. Later, the barbarian stood, stretching his strong arms overhead and twisted his back experimentally. Brows lifting in pleasant surprise, he gave the chair an appreciative pat.

By the third day, Severin had no more dust to swat about. The barbarian had rolled up his ragged sleeves and set about scrubbing every inch of Severin’s little hut. When the hulking man worked open the stiff windows, the wind rushed in, delighting in whipping about the space once more.

He’s done a better job of cleaning than you ever did, the wind sang, slipping once more outside.

He was dead and that meant the wind had to be nice, and Severin told it as much. It’s reply was a soft rustling of chimes that hung from the house’s eaves, and the sound was almost like laughter.

Days passed, and the man began reading Severin’s books. This was probably the most surprising development yet, in Severin’s opinion. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading, just - well, he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading particularly well. But the man seemed to be doing just fine, and sat in Severin’s rocking chair, putting a far greater strain on the sturdy wood than Severin ever had, as he thumbed carefully through the book’s smooth pages.

When little Mykela took ill, Severin knew it well before anyone else. He’d taken a spin through town and as he rode the wintry wind past where she played in the yard, he’d felt the rattle of air in her lungs. But at this point, Severin was little more than a memory on the breeze, and though his worry was agony, he could do absolutely nothing. He spent the rest of the day roaring about the mountain peaks, sending snow flurries spilling down the far side of the cliffs.

Two days later, Severin was idly observing the barbarian, watching the crease between his brows twitch as he slept, when a great pounding broke out against the door. The barbarian rose at once, and Severin watched him cast a brief glance at the walking stick before turning instead to the candle on a nearby shelf. With warm light cupped in his palm, the barbarian approached the door.

When Dormund, Mykela’s father, entered the hut, carrying a limp mound of blankets, Severin felt a spike of icy terror. As the barbarian poked and prodded the fire, Severin carefully stirred the wind to better feed the flames. Severin would have shouted instructions, had he lungs to shout, but the barbarian already had two jars in hand. He held them up, looking a little lost, before he hurried to the bookshelf and selected a thick book. Muttering under his breath, he flipped hurriedly through pages until he found what he was looking for. And then he was kneeling before the pot of water he’d set over the fire, and Severin watched as he scooped careful measurements of Severin’s dried herbs into the roiling water.

Mykela was saved, and as the barbarian sent the girl and her father off with a bag of herbs, it occurred to Severin that he wished to know the barbarian’s name. He wouldn’t learn it until two days later, when Old Cara arrived at the hut, seeking the barbarian’s help for her arthritic knee. After supplying her with the appropriate poultice, the barbarian helped her to the door, and looking up, she patted his shoulder and asked him his name.

Eindred, was his answer.

Eindred.

Severin wished he had lips to test the shape of the name.

Months passed, and was easier now to watch Eindred move about Severin’s hut. In fact, Severin had even begun to enjoy riding the soft breeze from the windows as it wafted around Eindred’s shoulders, curiously observing whatever small thing he happened to, at any given time, be doing with his hands. One day, Severin was surprised to find Eindred’s hands at work, deliberately whittling the curved back of a rocking chair. When the chair was done, Eindred set it carefully, almost reverently beside the first. At the sight, Severin had a bright, nearly overwhelming flash of recognition, and he thought of the image the wind had shown him - of the rocking chairs before a warm, crackling fire.

Severin was fading, he could feel it. To hope was to court a greater disappointment than Severin could rightly comprehend, and yet - he watched Eindred set out with Severin’s walking stick to join the festival, and saw when Mykela took his hand. The barbarian’s stony expression softened, then melted as the girl tugged him after her.

It was the strangest of sensations, because while Severin didn’t strictly have a heart these days, watching the great Eindred meekly follow little Mykela made something in Severin’s incorporeal being ache with unexpected warmth.

Whatsmore, Eindred had been reading Severin’s journals and he would sometimes stop and stare about the hut, as if trying to picture the ghost of Severin’s life there. Once, Eindred draped a thick blanket over the back of one of the rocking chairs and ran his rough hands over it as he frowned contemplatively into the fire.

Summer had come and gone and Severin feared that parts of his soul had already begun to slip into that other-place. And so, with a tender sort of weariness, he drifted on the sunbeams cutting through the clean window glass, and watched with only mild annoyance as Eindred carefully tore a blank page from one of Severin’s journals.

Lips pressing together in focus, Eindred wrote in with small, precise letters, what appeared to be a list.

Confused, Severin drifted closer.

May your every loved one die screaming in pain.

I hope you die with your eyes stabbed out and your heart in your hands.

You will never know happiness.

Your existence will be suffering.

It was a list of curses, Severin realized. Morbid curses, by the looks of it. The last two, however, caught his attention.

May your greatest enemy rise from the grave and never leave you alone.

And,

May you live a life of safety and peace.

And Severin understood.

When Eindred set out from the hut, looking drawn but resolved, Severin began at once to gather his energy. It had been nearly a year since his death, and he feared that there might not be enough of him left to make a return. The second to last curse would help things along, but Severin knew it would be a mistake to rely on it.

And so, as Eindred entered the village, Severin stretched upward and out, calling wind and storm clouds with reckless, hopeful abandon. For his entire life, Severin had lived, certain in the knowledge that love and happiness were not meant for one such as he. How could they be? When a blade was foretold to make a home in his heart?

But Eindred had changed. And the patchwork pieces of tapestry were there, a life Severin had never dared to dream of, right there - if he could only summon the strength to reach out and grasp it.

Below, Eindred bowed his head before the townsfolk, confessing his part in the tragedy which played out on their soil. Above, Severin swallowed the skies and became the storm.

Severin felt it, distantly below, when the people in the village forgave Eindred. And he felt when Eindred’s bittersweet tears tickled the earth. He felt Eindred return to the hut, and then after pacing restlessly about, return at last to the pastures where it had all begun.

And then came Eindred’s pained voice, calling out from the fields below. “Severin!”

Eindred had never said his name before, and Severin, who was the clouds and the wind and the rain and the sky, rumbled his joy at the sound of it.

“It was my hand which ended your life,” Eindred continued. His deep voice was shaking. “And with your dying breath you gifted what I thought was a nightmare. Did you know that it would turn out to be a dream? I think you did.”

Just wait, Severin wanted to tell him, because he’d seen a future better still. The only question that remained was whether he had strength enough to reach it.

Rugged face upturned, Eindred called to Severin and the sky, which were one and the same. “Though it’s a dream, I’ll never know peace. How can I? When I live in the home of the one I so coldly murdered? I would leave, but the villagers have my heart - as they had yours. In this state, I don’t think I’ll ever truly know true rest or true peace - despite the great power of your curse.”

You will, Severin said, and lightning streaked across the sky. I will.

“Even now,” Eindred said, through wind and rain, “I’m not sure if you are my greatest enemy or ally.”

There it was.

His greatest enemy.

Severin, with every ounce of power he possessed, claimed the title. For he was the greatest enemy the old Eindred, warrior and killer, had faced. With his parting curse, Severin had forced the old Eindred to do the one thing he’d feared most of all: to live and face all he’d done.

Severin felt a rushing, coursing energy thrumming within and without and he knew that he must catch it and hold it, though he wasn’t sure how.

The tapestry threads, the wind whispered. Severin had spread so thin, his old friend was nearly a part of him now.

Severin listened, and felt for that thread which had teased and tickled his palm. And when he was sure he felt it, he wrapped himself around it and pulled. The sky around him screamed as he dragged himself forward toward something - something -

White light was all around him, and then it wasn’t. The air was cool and damp, and the evening sang with the wind’s gleeful gusts and the soft patter of rain on grass. Severin lifted a hand, and looked it over in tentatively blooming relief. Pressing the hand over his heart which beat with a strong, steady rhythm, Severin breathed a relieved, ragged sigh.

Eindred stood in the field, turned away from him. Drawing in a breath, Severin delighted in the sound of his own voice. “May your greatest enemy rise from the grave, Eindred, and never leave you alone.” He smiled as he spoke, and very nearly pressed his fingers to his lips to feel the shape they took when saying Eindred’s name.

Eindred turned. “So you are my greatest enemy then?” He sounded wary.

“I don’t think it’s so simple as that. Do you?”

Eindred’s expression shifted and he shook his head. When he next spoke, it was soft and fumbling, as if he still hadn’t fully adjusted to a world which was kind. “I made a chair,” he blurted out. “A few actually,” he added, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

Severin wanted to say, I know. I saw. But that would require more explanation than he cared to give at the moment, so instead, he replied, “Do I get the new rocking chair or my old one?”

“Any,” Eindred stammered, “Either. Both?” He looked at Severin, and the earnest weight of his gaze held the promise of all the chairs Severin could want and anything else Eindred could possibly make with his scarred hands.

The fondness that bubbled up within Severin was so abrupt and filled him so thoroughly that he wanted to laugh with it. “Lucky for you, I only need one chair. You can keep the old one if you like it. I trust your craftsmanship.”

Severin turned then, because it was cold and every part of him felt so entirely bright and buoyant that he thought he might die if he didn’t move. However, when he realized Eindred was not following, he stopped. “Well? Are you coming?”

Eindred looked up, as if he’d been startled. “Where?” he called.

Standing there, sodden in the field, Eindred looked after Severin, as if he was afraid to hope - as Severin once had been afraid to do. And it occurred to Severin that Eindred would need to hear it said aloud.

“Home, of course. Where else?”

“Home,” Eindred repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

And when Severin turned again towards home, Eindred followed.

By the time they reached the hut, both were shivering from the cold, and as they crossed the threshold into the warm space, Severin swayed on his feet. He’d almost forgotten the immense power he’d used, and now the harsh ringing in his ears was a stark reminder. Warm, rough hands steadied him and when Severin tilted his head up, he saw that Eindred wore an expression of poorly concealed terror.

“I’m not going to die all over again,” Severin assured him. “I just used a lot of magic.” As he said it, he swayed once more, this time falling forward.

Eindred caught Severin again, one arm wrapped around his back and his other hand braced against his chest. Beneath where Eindred’s palm pressed, Severin’s heart thrummed. And Severin watched, curious, as Eindred’s expression twisted. He no longer claimed the title of warrior, Severin knew, but it was nonetheless with a warrior’s gravity that Eindred met Severin’s gaze.

“These hands will never again harm you. I swear it.”

“I know,” Severin replied, and pressed a hand over the back of Eindred’s rough knuckles. “Help me to a chair?”

Eindred did, and helped to remove Severin’s thick outer robe before Severin sank gratefully in front of the fire. Eindred left him a moment, and Severin closed his eyes.

He intended to just rest them for a second - maybe two, but when Severin next opened his eyes, the room was darker and he was draped and bundled in blankets, softer and thicker than any he recalled owning. The fire was still crackling, and the warm light made soothing shadows dance across the hut’s wooden floor. The other chair was occupied, Severin realized, and he watched as the hearth’s orange light played across Eindred’s sleeping features. Compared to Severin’s mountain of blankets, he had just one draped over his lap, though he didn’t seem cold. Nonetheless, Severin shifted a bit, and peeled a soft fleece blanket off his own pile to toss it onto him. The blanket fell short, and with a quick whispered word, the wind slipped under the door and flipped the offending blanket up onto Eindred’s chest.

“That’s better,” Severin said.

The wind played a little with the fire before tousling Severin’s hair and departing with a sibilant, save your strength foolish human. You’re still recovering, and slipped out the way it had come.

When Severin turned back to Eindred, he saw the large man was sitting up and his eyes were now open. Blinking, Eindred rubbed a hand over his face and then, stiffening in sudden shock, he whipped to look at Severin. Heaving a great sigh, he rocked back in the chair. “Still breathing,” he said.

“I don’t plan on stopping.”

Something almost like a smile twitched at Eindred’s lips and Severin was enchanted by it.

“You were dead and now you’re alive. Forgive me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“You’re the one who believes in silly curses.”

Eindred’s brows rose. “Silly? Says the one who was brought back from the dead by one.”

Severin waved a dismissive hand. “The curse might have set the stage, but I was director, crew, and cast.”

And there was another smile, like a glimpse of sun between clouds. Severin was beginning to fear there might be no practical limit to the lengths he’d be willing to go to see another smile.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eindred replied. “I get the feeling you know a great deal more about the world and magics than I.”

“Well Eindred,” Severin said, scooting his chair a little closer to both Eindred and the fire. “What do you know of grand tapestries?”

Eindred, looking more than a little lost, shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well,” Severin said, and grinned. “What do you know of cheese?”

EDIT: A novel based on Eindred and the Witch and The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind is in progress! I will post news about it on my Tumblr and my Patreon as news becomes available :)

#my writing #original writing #my story #Eindred and the Witch #original story #fantasy #fantasy story #love story #eindred the warrior #severin the witch #writing #writeblr #short story #long short story #7000+ words #fantasy short story #amwriting #story

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bored-storyteller · 2 years

Note

I loved the last Uta one shot!! Please writte the second part I need comfort Im begging you😩🙏🏻💕

Mmmh... I hope it is actually comfort this, in the worst case, there will be a third part. Thank you very much for your request!

Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!reader

Part 2 of this

It's kind of reassuring to see your chest rise and fall gently as you sleep on his place in the bed.

Not once Uta leaves your side, fearing that he won't find you there anymore if his gaze lingers too long away from you. Every now and then he bends down and places his lips on your skin, wherever it happens: on the forehead, on the cheek, on the shoulder ... it is as if he hoped that kisses had the power to remedy his thoughts in those moments.

But they remain alive and concrete.

When your eyelids move, he doesn't react, he stands still in front of the possibility of events.

He is not surprised at your confusion, or at your agitated movements that make you moan in pain. He sees fear arise and engulf you, waking you up from perhaps brighter dreams.

"You're safe." He just tells you, and even though he would like to reach out to you he doesn't, not when your eyes are so awed by his presence of him.

There is no anger in you, no threat, there is only the fear of a wounded and defenseless creature.

"You ..." is all that your trembling voice utters, questions and complains together.

"Yes." Uta replies.

Yes, he is a traitor.

Yes, he is dangerous.

Yes, he can hurt you.

He doesn't tell you he's sorry because he can't tell what his fault really is. His fault is not something from today; maybe his fault is when his hunger reduces even you to a meal, when he imagines how tender and sweet your flesh could be between his teeth and on his tongue, when he thinks that, after all, it's his nature. Maybe his fault goes back to when he met you, when he fell in love with you, every time he forgets that you are real.

Yet he really loves you. Even if he never says it, he does. Even if he could hurt you, he doesn't stop loving you and indeed, every day that you are next to him increases his admiration for you. He wouldn't lie about this.

As distorted as his love may be, he truly loves you, that cannot change.

And he won't beg you to forgive him or to stay, but he's afraid to see you go away.

"Did you know that…? Did you know they would get me ...? " Your voice is soft, and turned towards the wall of the room. You don't even turn your face to him.

"No ... of course not." He wish he had known. He would have protected you from the start, no mask would have separated him from you.

Instinctively his hand reaches out to yours, but he doesn't touch you, not while you don't give him your gaze and not while you're still trembling. They are such slight movements, but so painful.

He would like to kiss your fingers, hold you to his chest and keep you safe. He has never wanted it so badly. He would like to build you a home in his ribs, use his bones to protect you and his skin to shelter you. Lock you up where no one can dream of separating you from him.

But that's not what you want, and he has to make an effort to accept it.

"Uta ..."

"Tell me." His response is placid but ready to your whisper, to your calling him. How could it not? She barely hoped she could still hear his name spoken by you.

"Will it happen again?"

He truly hopes you haven't heard his breath stop at your question, he wouldn't like you to find out in a moment of weakness.

"No ... not as long as I'm alive." Even if you turn away from him, he can swear to you, he will never make it happen again.

Your eyes are full of tears, but at least they come back to him, slowly, and he can't stay still, he can't help but lean over you.

"Don't tell me goodbye." He doesn't really say it. His lips move without making a sound, his prayer must remain unspoken, but he must reach you.

He doesn't know if you see him behind that bitter veil that covers your eyes, but at least you still talk to him.

"I never asked for a happy ending for me, Uta ..." You whispers, and Uta realizes that she still has a heart, a heart that hurts and aches for you.

And he would like to talk, but he doesn't know what to tell you, and you continue: "I only ask you one thing ..." you tell him with a broken voice, which threatens to give in again to crying and despair "... if it must end badly for me ... let it be you. Promise me it will be you. "

It's like you've punched him in the stomach with a force that doesn't belong to you. Your bandaged body now seems even weaker and more fragile to him, that damned body which for him is vital substance and is now clear to your eyes.

He doesn't know how to react - he never knows how to do it - and he remains motionless and expressionless in front of everything you don't know about him, everything he could give you and that you don't want. Even his body still has hideous secrets for you.

And it all sounds wrong, so wrong… at least until you reach out for his hand.

"Uta .." You implore him "... please promise me ... if it’s you, I'm not afraid."

Your weak fingers intertwine with his tattooed ones, and finally his eyes see you again: his precious human being looking for him.

And those few words are enough to silence everything. If it's him you're not afraid, it's fine, it's really fine. It's okay if you whet his appetite, if he jokes about it, if sometimes he has certain fantasies. It's all right, as long as it's him, and not someone else. If one day it ends badly, it'll be fine for you, as long as it's him, and that's enough for now. He'll think about the rest later, or he'll never think about it, because now he's just realized he won't make it happen.

"I promise." He smiles at you, one of his sweets, soft smiles. And at his words you smile too, between sobs.

"If this nonsense makes you feel better ... I promise."

And he can still kiss your skin, softly he lands on your neck, where he tastes you and imagines your delicacy, and he desires you in every way you could possibly want.

"I thought you would run away from me ..." he confesses to you in an intimate whisper as his forehead rests against yours.

You laugh, and groan from the pain in your ribs, but you are suddenly calmer: "I can't, my legs hurt too much."

Uta smiles in amusement, finally relaxed, as he slowly lies down next to you to keep you close. His peaceful voice is tinged with his hidden irony: "No, it's because you love me too much."

And he'll think about the rest later.

#tokyo ghoul #uta x human reader #uta x reader #uta tokyo ghoul #uta tg #tokyo ghoul uta #tokyo ghoul fanfiction #fanfiction #tokyo ghoul x reader #writing

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scaramoon · 3 years

Text

he accidentally hurts you while sparring

DILUC, KAEYA, XIAO, CHILDE — gn!reader

warnings/genre: kinda hurt/comfort? idk it’s mostly fluffy, mentions of blood and (very) minor injuries, swearing in childe’s

notes: rbs are v much appreciated, please and ty !! also pls ignore that i got carried away w xiao’s </3

━━ diluc;

you’ll have to be insistent if you even want him to spar with you; he knows you’re fully capable of standing your ground but... he’s worried

he’ll act like he doesn’t, but it’s obvious that he keeps close by whenever you’re sparring with someone

but if you wear him down enough or you’re good with your words, you can convince him to be your sparring partner

lmao just tell him you’ll get kaeya to do it 💀

“don’t- don’t hold your sword like that.” he said, his tone was flat but you’d known him long enough to be able to find the concern in it.

“i know how to hold a sword, diluc,” you responded. “i asked for a partner, not a teacher, remember?”

red eyes flashed towards you and something like a smile appeared on your lover’s lips. you mirrored it, letting your lips curl into a grin.

“of course,” he said, smallest hint of a playful tone in his voice.

but he was quick, and you may have underestimated just how well trained he was. normally, you could have blocked him. this time, however, you weren’t expecting it and you’d already began to drop your dominant hand to your side.

he noticed that, but he was just a little too late. diluc was used to the momentum of his weapon, but it wasn’t often that he had to stop it. he tried to step back before he hurt you, your name falling from his lips, desperation and worry coating his voice.

and then, just as soon as he’s processed it, his claymore was on the ground and he was watching you crouch and hold your upper arm. your seethe of pain sent guilt rushing through him.

it took him a moment to decide whether or not to go over to you; he wanted to, he really wanted to, but a part of him feared that you didn’t want him near you.

he couldn’t help it though.

“y/n?” diluc’s tone was almost a command, loud but desperate, wanting you to look at him and tell him that you were perfectly fine — wanting that to be the truth.

tears pricked in the corners of your eyes but you looked at him nonetheless. he hated that look in your eyes. seeing you in pain was one thing, but the knowledge that he was the cause of it twisted his heart in unbearable ways.

“i’m ok, diluc,” you said, quieter than you normally would. “just a little scratch, see?”

you moved your hand from where it was holding onto your arm. blood coated your fingers and the clothing surrounding the new wound, but it was clear that the cut wasn’t deep.

he didn’t say anything. his lips were pressed into a thin line as he kneeled beside you. eyebrows pinned in worry and concentration evident in his eyes, he started ripping at your sleeve to get a better look.

“diluc.” you said. your voice was more commanding this time as you moved away from him. why couldn’t he see it really wasn’t so bad?

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.” this time you could see clearly just how distressed he was.

he looked like he was about to cry and he wasn’t the one that’d been hurt. not physically, anyway; you had no idea how his chest hurt, how he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

you stared at him for a little longer. “i said i’m fine. but if it will help you sleep at night, you can come help me clean it, deal?”

“of course, dove.”

━━ kaeya;

he actually likes sparring with you

he doesn’t often get the chance, but whenever both of you are able to, he sees it as time he gets to spend with you

and any time spent with you is never time wasted in his eyes

plus he gets to do the sword under your chin thing and tease you </3

“dead.” you said proudly, standing over your lover, your sword under his chin.

a playful grin spread across his lips as he let you enjoy your win. you backed away and allowed him to stand up, dust himself off. a stretch of his arms, and then he was picking up his sword to go again.

“ready?” kaeya asked, smirk stretching his lips.

“yeah,” you said, smiling back. your gloved hand tightened around your sword’s hilt; the gloves were making your hands sweaty, your grip loosening. “actually, w-”

“y/n!”

the next thing you realized was a stinging at you side. your hand immediately came to the cut, taking an instinctive step back. the sound of kaeya’s sword hitting the ground met your ears, his hands were on your arms a second later.

“hey, hey, you’re okay.” he tried to sound calm but if was a bad attempt. he crouched down onto the ground, guiding you to sit in front of him. cautious hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, kaeya looking up at you. “can I look, love?”

“yeah, but I’m fine.” you said, though your face was twisted in pain.

his eyes were full of pity when he looked at you, jaw clenching before he lifted your shirt enough to see the wound. on first appearance, it looked worse than it really was.

“see?” you spoke again. “all good.”

he didn’t say anything at first. he just pulled you closer to him, chin hooked over your shoulder, though he was careful not to agitate your cut.

“not really. but it’s okay, we’re gonna get you all better, yeah?”

“kaeya, seriously, i’m fine. you don’t need-”

“y/n.” his voice was still sweet and concerned, but more stern when he spoke this time. “let me take care of you.”

“...fine.”

━━ xiao;

good luck getting him to spar with you in the first place

it doesn’t matter how much you tell him you want to, he’ll keep turning you down

needless to say, you’ll have to play your cards right to get him to agree to it

“what if i hurt you, y/n?”

“i’ll be under-trained and get hurt if you don’t help me.”

“you know i’ll always be there if you call for me.”

“and if you can’t come?”

“...”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” he stated simply, eyes narrowing at you. you only threw him a smile.

“what’s the worst that can happen? you won’t even use your real pole arm, you have a stick. you can’t stab me with it, xiao.”

“I would rather not think about ‘stabbing’ you in the first place.” he huffed. “but... you need to be safe, in case one day I can’t keep you safe myself.”

a smile crossed your face as you gripped your weapon, ready for him to start.

you may have miscalculated the power and ability of an adeptus though. you quickly found yourself tired and overwhelmed, just blocking and dodging was almost too much. he could sense your fatigue already, and he was listening for you to call him to stop. xiao was ready to stop on a dime, but he knew that you were stubborn and insistent.

his “pole arm” came close to your side, and he really thought you would dodge this one. you’d done it before. but he felt the wood hit you, you falling to the ground, holding your side soon after.

his make-shift weapon was long forgotten now. he was kneeling beside you in seconds, gentle fingers running along what he was sure was a broken rib. he didn’t find one, but the guilt was already eating him and that knowledge did nothing to stop it.

“ow! that hurts, don’t touch me.” you said, seething in pain and making a pitiful attempt to move away from him.

xiao did not cry.

he didn’t, it just wasn’t something he was accustomed to, and quite honestly he wasn’t sure if adepti could cry. but the idea of you being scared of him started tears to fill his eyes; his chest was tight, and he had this uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“no, no,” you started, propping yourself on your elbows and then sitting all the way up.

you tried to reach and hold his face, to wipe the tears off, but he turned away from you; he kept kneeling, but shifted to a position a little farther away from you. the adeptus made a noise something like a squeak, and it seemed to surprise him. he didn’t wait for you to finish talking, he turned away and looked anywhere except you.

“xiao, baby, that’s not what I meant. you can- I just meant don’t put your hands directly where I got hurt... xiao? can you look at me?”

it took him a few more moments before he turned his head back to you. you knew he wasn’t always the most emotional, but you didn’t think you’d seen him like this before. he hummed, not trusting his voice. still, he wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me. its just a little bruise, there’s not even blood... I’m not scared of you, xiao, it’s not your fault.”

he stared at you for another moment before he cleared his throat and stood up. “can we at least have someone make sure you’re okay?”

“yeah.”

“...and you won’t ask me to do that again?”

“of course not.”

━━ childe;

he has mixed feelings about sparring with you

of course, it’s an odd form of quality time, but he likes it

plus that means he won’t have to watch you spar with anyone else

but there’s always the risk that you could get hurt

he’s an archer though, so he only “attacks” you with his melee — he thought he was being a lot more careful

“ready?” childe smiled, twirling one of his weapons around his finger.

“as always.” you said, gripping your own weapon.

“mhm, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re ‘always ready’,” childe said dropped his hands to his sides and stepping closer to you.

you knew what he was trying to do — he attempted to pull this off every time you sparred with him, and you never failed to catch him. seem relaxed, and whenever you thought he wouldn’t, he’d attempt to get the better of you.

this time, however, you were not as quick as you usually were. childe knew that you always saw through this; not once had you’d failed to block him, so maybe he put his trust in his weapons more than he should have.

he stopped when both of you look at the clean, but bloody, cut he’d made. his eyes widened as it sinked in, coming to the realization that he’d hurt you

“y/n- shit, I’m sorry,” he said, panic clear in his voice, though he tried to hide it. his hand was on your shoulder, guiding you to sit on the ground. “are you- you’re okay, it’s not that deep. we’re gonna get that healed and you’ll be fine, yeah?”

for words so reassuring, his panicked tone was saying something along the lines of ‘shit shit fuck dammit, i accidentally hurt my own partner, what the fuck-’

“yeah, it’s no biggie,” you said, smiling a little at him. “it’s just a little cut, I get worse on commissions.”

you knew that later he would claim he was totally calm. in reality, he was trying his best to clean the wound with his vision, and he’d get better help whenever he could get to bubu pharmacy.

“you owe me kisses though, y’know,” you teased.

‘good,’ he thought. ‘they aren’t mad at me.’

“whatever ya want, love.”

“oh? maybe I’ll take cuddles too.”

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violettelueur · 4 years

Text

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || WASN’T SO BAD

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, swearing and mention of death, sort of spoils parts of the manga up to chapter 30 (so beware)

| form : imagine

| word count : 1553

| published : 20 november

| request : Hiiii again!! 😚 I hope your doing well :3 may I please request another sukuna/itadori x fem reader imagine where mc is dating yuuji and after getting acquainted with sukuna - they ended up bonding too?? Sukuna kinda develops a protective instinct over her and whenever he switches with yuuji - he keeps a protective hold on the back of her neck?? I see guys doing that and I want sukuna to do the same to me lol (*≧∀≦*) thank you!!

| barista’s notes : let me admit this, i’m not confident that i answered this request properly at all, and lowkey ashamed by that ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ also i’m not really confident with the battle scene i did here but when am i every confident...hahaha ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy you cup of classic black cofee (jujutsu kaisen request) and please come again and order when i reopen the cafe!

“Damn, I’m really screwed now,” you muttered to yourself once you saw your whole new surroundings. Pure darkness enveloped you as multiple figures on what seemed to be arms surrounding you like a cage were present within your view as your enemy unleashed their domain expansion on you.

At this current moment in time, you were fighting an unregistered special grade curse that had managed to get inside a school called Satozakuro High. From what you gathered from your boyfriend Yuji and Nanami, this whole situation had started since the investigation of the murders back in Kinema Cinema, where the sole witness - Junpei Yoshino, a classmate of the three murder victims - managed to somehow converse with the same special grade curse that you were facing right now.

“Let me admit, the name of your domain expansion is sort of narcissistic, humble yourself would you?” you sarcastically asked, trying to figure out a way to get around this situation as you knew your soul was dangerously the line - there was no way you let something so disgusting try to transfigure it.

“For someone that’s going to die, you seem calm,” the curse stated to which before this happened, you learnt that it was named Mahito.

You had to keep calm. Ever since you became a jujutsu sorcerer, you hated when enemies would comment on your fears during battle, you hated when they would mock you for being fearful for even a second, you hated when they told you that they could hear your heart pounding in anticipation. You just purely hated that.

“Well, what do you want me to be? Fearful?” you then asked, tilting your head to the side as you rested your katana over your shoulders - only to let the tip touch the wall of the domain leaving you to realise that the wall was quite thin.

‘Maybe there is a way I can get out of this? Is my domain expansion more polished enough to overcome this one?’ you thought to yourself, before wondering about what could be happening on the outside of the same wall right now.

ꕥ

Outside the domain, Itadori was helplessly on the other side punching the wall with all of his might as he was worried about what was happening to his girlfriend on the inside.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Itadori screamed as he continued to punch the wall with his cursed energy-infused fists, desperately trying to gain some damage to the wall to no avail.

‘Why was Y/N the only one imprisoned?’ he asked himself as if he was going to get an answer back - that was if Sukuna was willing to answer his question. However, the King of Curses didn’t have a single answer himself. To say he was worried about you was an underplaying statement yet so out of character for him.

Ever since the Sukuna was introduced to you by his vessel himself, he couldn’t help but become intrigued with you like he was with Fushiguro. He wanted to know more, more and more. From all his knowledge about past sorcerers and clans, you were an exception to his vast understanding of the jujutsu world. An exception that he wanted to protect.

You weren’t from a clan or related to one in the slightest, yet you had the capability to have inherited a technique that any powerful family would desire to have for themselves or for their offspring. You were a master weapons specialist - just like 2nd year Maki Zenin - only the major difference between both of you was the fact that you could manifest and construct those cursed weapons from only using your curse energy.

This fact surprised Sukuna himself when he was fighting you and Fushiguro back at the Eishu Juvenile Detention Centre. Vividly he remembers holding you up by the throat against a wall, only for you suddenly swiftly swing your arm with a small but sharp military knife in hand surprising him completely on how you were able to gain another weapon without him knowing, only to find out seconds later that you had constructed the weapon with nothing but your curse energy once he moved out the way, escaping with a just small graze on his cheek.

“So you’re able to create cursed weapons ha?” Sukuna asked as he placed his hand on his chin like he was thinking before staring at the blade that was in your hand. Continuing to stare that the weapon, the King of curses slowly began to realise that the weapon you had created was classed as a special grade tool, causing him to wonder what power you possessed to even have the ability to create something so small yet so powerful.

“How in the world did you do that?” Sukuna muttered to himself, before quickly dodging your attack as you tried to assault him with another blade that you quickly manifested in your other hand, surprising the special grade curse even more on how quickly you were able to create more weapons even after just constructing the miniature knife seconds before.

“Sorry Sukuna, but I don’t like talking during battle and I also need to get my boyfriend back real quick,” you commented before you used your cursed energy to cause your military knife to disappear, only to quickly construct your classic black katana to try to close the distance between the both of you only to fail once again.

‘I can see why the brat likes you Y/N, I’m also liking where this is going’

ꕥ

Still looking at your surroundings, you were worried about the amount of time you had left until you were finished. The mental confrontation that was going on in your head was straining as you weren’t sure if your only plan was the best for the situation that you were in. There was a high chance that it could fail but the small percent of success was what was bother you to the max

‘It’s my only way to get out of this situation right now, if it doesn’t work then at least I tried’ you thought, before stabbing your black katana on the ground in front of you to which then you slowly started to pour your curse energy into the blade

“Ha? What are you planning to do? You’re already dead, so might as well accept your fate,” Mahito playful teased you, as he tried to break your stern composure.

“Domain Expansi-”

However, before you could even complete your words, you unexpectedly heard a sound of a loud crack emitting behind you causing you to completely snap out of your concentration leading to the blue aura around your sword to slowly disappear.

Before you could even turn a single inch of your head around, you suddenly felt something brush your hair aside before a warm compress was placed on the back of your neck leading you to let out a shaky breath out of fear until you felt a sense of safety enclosing around you. The feeling of his nails gently grazing your skin caused you to shiver before he lightly squeezed your neck in reassurance, trying to convey to you that he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I had it under control, Sukuna,” you muttered quietly before he tenderly pulled you back and had you turned around to face over his shoulder leading you to see the large crack that was created behind you that allowed Sukuna to enter into the domain.

“I know, I just didn’t want to see you hurt,” Sukuna replied to which then your suddenly heard what seemed to be something being slashed, prompting you the want to turn over only for Sukuna to tighten his hold on your neck - but not to the point where you were in pain but rather him not wanting you to see what he had done.

As if he was trying to calm you down, you felt his thumb beginning to slide up and down, sometimes brushing against the bottom of your scalp leaving you to slowly begin to melt in his hold. “There was no way I was going to allow something like him to touch you,” the King of Curses said to you, leading you to feel nothing but a sense of security as you started to let your guard down causing you to lay your head on his shoulder.

Gripping onto his - well Itadori’s - school jacket, you took a deep breath in before letting a deep breath out as you calmed down your heart, not realising your heart was pounding in fear until now. You hated the fact that he could now feel the fear radiating from your body. You hated how he now knew how fearful you were for your life. You hated how it knew all of it.

“It’s okay,” Sukuna calmly stated, causing you to lift your head to face him only to see him stare at you back intensely with his glowing beautiful red eyes. “Nothing is going to hurt you, not in my sight,” he proudly said to you as if he was making a promise to you before giving your neck one last little squeeze to tell you that you were safe in his embrace.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to let him know.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to fear.

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