#i am not dead and i have brought content as an apology for disappearing on you

[worldwalkernovel]

The dynamic duo: What is their favorite book/poem/song of earth? Of Alleirat? Can they sing? What are some instruments of Alleirat? What are they made of? How are they made? Are they widely available? Of earth's instruments, what is their sound similar to? Are there major festivals/holidays? Any strange ones (like the city in Spain that has an annual tomato fight)? What are Alleirai beds like (raised on four legs/futons/hammocks)? Are there sleeping bags or does everyone just suffer on the road?

Hey, y’all, sorry I just...fucking vanished there!  Real life obligations caught up with me.  Ironically this is a long term positive--I’m much more productive in writing when I have a job, because it leaves me less time to second guess myself.  Point is, I’m going to try and actually Do Things on this blog again.  Also the last one about holidays got pretty long so I put it under a cut.

What is their favorite book/poem/song of Earth?  Of Alleirat?

Oh my God, listen, I’m not gonna get to most of this question because I got overexcited, but let’s talk about these two and Earth poetry, yeah?

Crispin discovers Emily Dickinson in seventh grade English class, and the first poem of hers he ever reads is, of course, Because I could not stop for Death.  He traces his fingers over the words “Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet//Feels shorter than the Day//I first surmised the Horses’ Heads//Were toward Eternity –” and for some reason he can’t quite put his finger on, his throat closes up tight and his voice breaks when he’s asked to read aloud.  Some indiscernable something about her words ring in his head like English hasn’t rung in years, and he checks a collection out of the library the same day.  His favorite poem of hers is--it’s not really his favorite, but the poem of hers he knows by heart and can’t seem to peel out of the beat of his pulse is I measure every Grief I meet.  Some days he loves it, for how cleanly and purely it seems to scribe him into neat four-line stanzas.  Some days he can’t read it without crying, or throwing the book across the room.

The only Dickinson poem Brenneth likes is Tell all the Truth, and sometimes when she looks at Crispin she thinks it was written for him.

Brenneth doesn’t like poetry much, she mostly prefers songs--they’re easier to remember and she knows what to do with them, she doesn’t really know what to do with poetry (can’t sing it, doesn’t have a narrative, can’t even go see it performed) and she doesn’t like not knowing what to do with a thing.  But once she read Goblin Market, by Christina Rossetti.  She started it by accident, and there was a story, a narrative threading through the ramble, and she kept reading, and--

Brenneth has dreams for a week, dizzy uneasy dreams of Crispin biting into strange foreign fruits and letting juice as thick and red as blood stain his mouth, and of hands--his hands, strong and crackling with lightning--pressing the fruit against her mouth and saying eat, eat, and of a mouth on her jaw and neck and collarbones, drinking the juice from her skin.

What are Alleirai beds/travel beds like?

The basic structure of Alleirai beds is “four legs, some kind of pad, sheets/blanket, maybe a pillow” but there’s a lot of scope there and it’s not unheard of for people to have a different arrangement based on what they’re used to--sailors are used to hammock-style bunks on ships, travelers used to sleeping rough are most familiar with bedrolls that consist of little more than two blankets and possibly a very thin pad.  At the end of the day, though, since a large portion of the continent is arable, elevated beds have the practical advantage of being easier to keep relatively clean of dirt, water, and creepy crawlies.  As such, a cot-style arrangement is considered the bare minimum, with a base of taut cloth and no mattress at all. The rich might have a four-poster bed with a down mattress.  Most people are somewhere in the middle with plain frames and horsehair or straw ticks that get exchanged on a semi-regular basis.

Can they sing?

Yes!  Brenneth has a nice folksy low alto, it’s nothing special but she used to sing shanties and ballads while she worked in her forge, especially while she was hammering or doing anything else that required a rhythm.  Sometimes she gave people a discount on their work if they were willing to teach her a new song instead, and people made jokes about the singing smith.  Crispin has a beautiful mid-range tenor, sweet and clear as glass when he was a child and deepening to something warm and full as he got older.  He has formal voice training, which was part of his education--singing is a good way to learn to project your voice, which is a desirable trait in a hero of legend.  However, he hates to sing alone, which is where all his training lies, so he taught himself to sing harmony to Brenneth’s melodies and that’s the only way he sings anymore.

What are some instruments of Alleirat/what are they like?

They hit a lot of the same major categories as we do--they have necked and non-necked string instruments (things like guitars or fiddles and lyres or harps, respectively), drums and other percussion instruments, wind instruments.  They lack the finesse to make out modern instruments, and most wind instruments are made of wood rather than metals, whereas they have a lot more metal drums than hide-and-wood drums, so playing the drum in Alleirat is equally about knowing how to stop a sound as start it.  You know that dome-shaped hang drum thing?  Something similar to that with only a few tones (like four total) is pretty common on ships and is used to keep time for sea shanties, and more complex versions are popular during festivals, in combination with strings and singing.  Vocalists are prized in Alleirat, so wind instruments are less common than things that allow singing and playing simultaneously.

Are there major holidays/festivals?  Any weird ones?

I’d have sworn on my life I answered this already, but apparently not.  The Alleirai seasons each have a festival at the height and one at the end of the year, four religious festivals and one political.  The political festival is Unification Day, the commemoration of the unification of the continent of Alleirat and the formal truce of the lengthy wars that threatened to kill everyone on it, and takes place in the early days of summer.  How seriously and/or cheerfully people take Unification Day depends on how they’re feeling about the Unified Council at that moment, and whether or not their protectorate state is on the verge of civil war with a neighbor.  

The religious festivals are:

the Feast of the Wanderer, which takes place at midsummer and is a festival of plenty and warmth and alcohol--the Wanderer is the god of life and fire, and the festival is encouraged to embrace and embody joy and revelry.  There are also ritual fights, which are largely in fun and more like friendly bar brawls than formalized gladiator matches, and both participants are usually quite drunk.  Agreeing to be the on-call flesh workers standing ringside on the Feast makes you an obscene amount of money, but you have to be sober.  Gifts are also exchanged at this festival--material gifts, specifically.

the Lady’s Night, or the Night of Stars, which takes place at midwinter and is very much a festival of...keeping out the dark, I suppose, would be the way I’ll put it.  The festival is about remembering that We Are Alive And Life Is Short, as well as remembering the dead, with a lot of candles lit in memorial and just for light--traditionally, you stay up from dusk until dawn, and if your candles and fire go out, you’ll have bad luck all year.  There’s still drinking and feasting and general celebration, but it’s more intimate and less raucous than the Feast.  You exchange stories and sing and hold your breath whenever the flames flicker.  (Cheating with magical glowglasses is considered bad luck as well.)  There are people who learn a single story or song all year in preparation for the Night of Stars, and you display them as a gift for the people you’re celebrating with.

the Landing, the first day of the new year at mid-spring, which marks the day that tradition and lore say the gods first came to Alleirat.  It’s probably not the right day, sort of like Christmas was moved around a bunch, but no one but the very well educated or very pedantic care.  You leave offerings at the temples or shrines at dawn, and then you go out and celebrate.  All day if you can, more often just from “whenever you get off work” to “whenever you collapse.”  The large cities and sometimes smaller towns and villages hold a parade, and crown young people, a boy and a girl in their mid to late teens or early twenties, as the Lady and the Wanderer for the day.  The crowns assigned to each of the two (generally flower crowns, rather than anything valuable) is supposed to be handed around over the course of the day, as a sort of village-wide game of Tag with the crowned people as “it”, and whoever holds the crowns at sundown has the responsibility of leading the town in the service of the Landing, which is a whole thing.  It’s sort of like religious hot potato with drinking.

the Eve of Dead Gods, which is pretty much what it says on the tin.  In terms of the feel of the Eve, it’s sort of somewhere between old celebrations of Halloween and Yom Kippur, with an emphasis on considering your own actions of the past year and serious reflection, as well as a  day when...well, they’re pretty serious about the dead gods.  Gods can’t be ghosts, of course, don’t be foolish, but--but when you worship the last two of a mighty pantheon, it doesn’t hurt to do honor to those who went before.  On the Eve, you lock your doors and windows at dusk and don’t go outside again until the sun is shining, and you remember that everything dies.  Even gods.

Some people--those whose ancestors escaped the sinking of the western continent--hold a quiet holiday for the Chained Lord, the god who didn’t answer when they called for salvation and whose death throes killed thousands.  It’s a small thing of fasting and candles and salt scattered on the floor, observed by most as little more than a cursory tradition and not even a shadow of a shadow of what his festivals must have once been.

#worldwalker #alleirat #alleirai culture #alleirai religion #brenneth #crispin #earth #i am not dead and i have brought content as an apology for disappearing on you #so sorry folks #real life beat me metaphorically black and blue for about two or three weeks there #i'm trying to get some structure back in my life so that i can get stuff done again #god you just took me out at the KNEES with that question about poetry #i have a LOT of feelings about that suddenly #also if you're in the market for good poetry the mentioned ones are some of my favorites #queue deeper than the sea of stars #sprifes-are-bamfs #asked and answered

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 4 - zuko x fem!reader

The night was full of terrors and your eyes were full of tears

part 3 | masterlist | part 5

a/n: i told you this was where everything starts to go downhill !! throw one out for my girl kura though water tribe mothers stay winnin

i had this scheduled for next week but elle wanted angst so it’s out today😁😁

wc: 2.9k

warning(s): threats/talks of killing and violence, lots of stress, ozai being the worst (and racist), basically just. angst

chapter title comes from the night we met by lord huron + phoebe bridgers!

The blood in her veins turned to ice as she shot a panicked look at Zuko.

“What?” A frown was already forming on Zuko’s face despite his efforts to remain impassive. “Why?”

“I’m unaware of the reason, my prince. All I know is that I am supposed to escort you to the throne room, then once you are finished to deliver the servant. Another guard will be here shortly for her.” A pregnant pause hung in the air as the two children met each other’s eyes, the fear obvious in Y/N’s.

“I’m sure you know that the Fire Lord does not like to be kept waiting, Prince Zuko.” The guard’s voice brought them back to reality and Zuko nodded unsteadily as he began to walk with the guard, shooting a look that he hoped was reassuring back at Y/N.

She couldn’t even return the sentiment — she was completely frozen in place despite the age old urge to run shooting through her body. Servants didn’t meet with the Fire Lord in any sort of formal way — Spirits, they barely even talked to the royal family as a whole unless it was for some kind of business reason; even then they were at risk of their infamous explosive tempers.

Y/N might’ve been young, but she understood just as much — she was as good as dead the moment that guard arrived.

What was she supposed to do? Y/N was a child, a servant — if the Fire Lord wanted to see her, she had no choice but to follow along with it. But she knew that nothing good was going to come out of this. She cherished her friendship with Zuko more than anything but she hadn’t been treating it as seriously as she should’ve.

Her mother was right. She couldn’t imagine her life without Zuko now, but Y/N knew now that she never should’ve attempted anything more than professionalism. The Fire Nation was a cruel place, the Fire Lord was a cruel man, and she was going to pay the price for trying to go against it.

As if summoned by her thoughts, her mother came storming around the corner with an unusual haste in her step, the fire blazing in her eyes only offset by the pure horror.

“Y/N, what did you do?” Her mother’s frenzied voice went in one ear and out the other as she just stared at her wide eyed, mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out. “Why did I hear the Fire Lord’s personal servants talking about meeting with a servant girl?”

“I— I—” The stammered syllable was all that she could get out, but Kura didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and began to run, constantly looking behind her as they darted through the hallways towards the servants’ quarters. Once they had arrived, she slammed the door shut behind them and immediately got to work.

“I’m sorry!” she cried, finally managing to form a sentence. “I— I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about—”

“You weren’t thinking about anything!” Kura flew around the room, shoving various items into a satchel and all but clearing out Y/N’s area of the quarters. “I told you to be careful just talking to him, and now— now this?”

“I’m sorry!” Y/N repeated, her words coming out in between choked sobs. Her head was spinning and she could barely breathe — no more than twenty minutes ago everything was perfect, how did it go so wrong so quickly? “I thought we were safe, I thought that they wouldn’t know—”

“The Fire Lord will always find out,” Kura muttered, still a whirlwind around the room as she tried to think of anything her daughter could need. “I was too lenient. I should have never let you get close to him.”

“I don’t know how it happened, but I started liking him and he started liking me and we went out into the city even though I knew we shouldn’t have and he told me he liked me and I like him even more now but now I’ve ruined everything!” Y/N heaved another shaky breath, the words flowing out of her like water as tremors ran through her whole body. “And now the Fire Lord is going to kill me!” she sobbed.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, baby. Okay? Not as long as I’m here.” Kura threw a cloak behind her at Y/N. “Put that on.”

“Why?” She began to do what her mother asked, but questioned it anyway.

“Because I’m going to get you out of here.” She dug through a parcel of coins and after a quick count, threw it into the bag as well. “The Fire Lord wants to mess with my daughter?” she muttered to herself. “He’s going to have to go through me first.”

“How?” Y/N asked yet again, her voice just as uncertain as she felt — it was like she was incapable of anything other than one word responses.

Satisfied with the contents of the satchel, she put the strap over Y/N’s shoulder. She then knelt on the ground in front of her and adjusted her cloak, carefully pulling the hood over her head to conceal any distinguishing features. “I want you to listen to me, and I want you to memorize every word I say. Is that clear?”

Y/N nodded and Kura cast another glance at the door, as if expecting the Fire Lord himself to burst through the door at any moment, before turning back to her daughter. “Alright. You are going to leave the palace through the servant door near the infirmary. You’re lucky — the guards should be changing shifts around this time, so if you move quickly you’ll be able to make it past the walls without getting caught. Do not stop running until you reach Harbor City — I don't care how tired you get or how much your legs ache, do not stop. Ask around for Eisuke, but be careful; the place is brewing with criminals. Once you find him, tell him you are Kura’s daughter. He’ll be able to get you out of the city; if he wants coin, give it to him. From there—”

The door burst open all of a sudden and Kura shot up, instinctively hiding Y/N behind her. She relaxed when she saw it was only Aiko, but the somber look on her face told her all she needed to know.

“There’s a guard looking around for Y/N,” she warned. “I managed to throw him off the path for now, but it’s not going to last. If you’re going to get her out, you need to do it now.”

Kura turned back to her daughter, once again kneeling in front of her. “From there, do whatever you can to get to the Earth Kingdom. You’ll have far more allies there than anywhere in the Fire Nation. Once you get far enough north, you’ll be able to find a boat to take you to the Northern Water Tribe. Tell them that you are Kura’s daughter, and show them this.”

She ripped her necklace off from around her neck and tucked it into Y/N’s hand — a simple band with a blue stone carved in the shape of a flower — and closed her fingers around it. “They’ll recognize it from my time in the tribe, and they will help you. Do you understand?”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, her eyes already shimmering with tears. “I’m so sorry, mother. I’m so sorry.”

She shushed her and embraced Y/N in a tight hug, trying to soothe her as much as she could. “It’s alright, darling. You shouldn’t have to apologize for being a child.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” she asked desperately. “You’ll be safe too.”

“I have to stay back to make sure that you’re safe on the other side as well,” Kura reassured. She knew that if her daughter disappeared right before she was supposed to be punished, it would only serve to anger Ozai more. If she left alongside her, Kura was almost certain that all of the servants would be punished; if she stayed then she would be able to take full responsibility — as long as she knew her daughter was safe, Kura could weather anything.

“But I can’t do this alone,” Y/N pleaded, the tears now falling freely. “Please, mother.”

“You can, my little otter penguin. You’re braver than you even know. “ Kura pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled faintly at her before looking back at Aiko. “Can you make sure she gets out of the palace safely?”

“Of course.”

Kura embraced her once more, squeezing so tightly that Y/N couldn’t breathe, but it was a welcome sensation this time. “I love you, Y/N. Always remember that, no matter what happens.”

Y/N nodded and shouldered her satchel, biting down on her lip hard to keep herself from shedding any more tears. “I love you too, mother. I swear, I’ll find my way back to you. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Aiko took Y/N’s hand and began urging her towards the door, looking back at her mother with nothing but pure sympathy. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Kura.”

“So do I,” she whispered.

-

Zuko knelt in front of his father, willing himself to keep his eyes on the floor as well as stop the tremors running through his body. He was in trouble, he had to be for a meeting like this, but all he could think about was Y/N and how much trouble she would be in. He had to figure out some way to save her—

“Prince Zuko.” Ozai’s voice boomed throughout the hall, and he worked to maintain the mask of stoicism. It was near impossible with the countless thoughts bouncing around in his head, but he somehow managed. “I’m sure you know why I have called you in here tonight.”

He counted in his head the seconds passed for an appropriate pause before answering cautiously. “No, father. I’m not aware of the reason for this.”

“Don’t lie so blatantly to my face,” he spat. “I have eyes everywhere, and I know you were in the city without permission. Am I correct?”

Zuko swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and nodded shakily. “Yes, father, you are. I went into the city today with—”

“With a servant girl?” The flames on either side of him flared up as a result of his growing anger. “I would ask what was going through your head when you decided to do something so stupid, but it doesn’t seem like anything is going on up there.”

“She needed silks for a project she was working on,” he said, trying in vain to defend himself. “She didn’t have the materials that she needed so I thought I would take her out into the city to help her.” It was so much more than that, but Zuko feared for what would happen if his father knew the feelings he harbored for her.

“You are the crown prince,” Ozai growled. “It is not your job to help servants. You should know better than to go prancing around with Water Tribe savages, but I suppose I have to teach you a lesson.”

“Please, don’t—“ Zuko began, but he was cut off yet again.

“You will speak when spoken to,” he interrupted through gritted teeth. “If you won’t take such a coveted position seriously, then I will take it into my own hands. I will not have your feelings ruining the image of this family after how hard I have worked. The Water Tribe peasant will suffer severe consequences, and it will be your fault. This will be your lesson to remember just who you are. Nothing in this world comes without a cost."

Zuko felt his heart stop for just a moment as his father’s golden eyes bore into his own, and he dug his nails into the flesh of his palm in a half-hearted attempt to stay calm. “Father, is this really necessary?”

“The mere fact that you are questioning my decision proves that it is,” Ozai seethed. “This is not your choice to make, and every attempt in undermining my authority will make her suffer more. Do you understand?”

He found himself unable to speak, the horror of the situation still processing in his head. Y/N was going to get hurt, possibly killed, and it was all his fault. He should’ve been more careful, he shouldn’t have been around her at all, he was being completely selfish by wanting her company and now his father was going to—

“I will not repeat myself again; do you understand?”

Zuko inhaled sharply and nodded, his vision coming back into focus as he croaked out a “yes”.

Ozai appeared less than satisfied, but it seemed the extended company of his son was not worth worming a better answer out of him. He directed his attention to the guard waiting by the door. “Take him back to his quarters — station two guards outside to ensure that he stays put. Once you are done, find the savage and throw her in a cell. A night in the cold will loosen her tongue. You are dismissed.”

Zuko felt numb as he pulled himself up from the floor, bowed, and walked out of the throne room with the guard. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to break away from the guard, to run and find Y/N, and take her away from this dreaded place before any harm could come to her.

But he didn’t. He remained in place, following the guard silently to his room as a storm brewed in his mind.

What in Agni’s name had he pulled her into?

-

Prince Zuko doesn’t sleep a wink that night, spending every moment staring out the window with wide eyes and a petrified heart. He has no idea how Y/N is going to get out of this, and he feels like a coward for not being able to protect her. What good is any kind of honor if this was the cost?

The next day, he is forced to be with a guard at all times — he doesn’t catch a single glimpse of the waterbender.

The next day, the rest of the week, a month — no sign of her. He tries to find Kura, but is met with the same result. He manages to sneak his way into the prison, but he can’t even find her there. None of the other servants will tell him anything about their whereabouts, either out of fear that the same will happen to them or direct orders from his father.

He feels like he’s tainted, like he only brings pain to those around him. His mother gone, his love missing, dead, or worse, and the same for her mother. The effortless cruelty his father shows to everyone around him — it makes him wonder if that’s what will become of him when he eventually takes the throne.

It makes Zuko sick, to think of what she went through and that he was the cause of it. It takes everything in him to hold the tears back, but the floodgates open at night when he is alone — with Y/N gone, he feels that way more often than not.

Every sign points to her being dead, but Zuko prays to every spirit he knows that she somehow found a way out.

-

Y/N doesn’t sleep either that night, every breath and every step dedicated to getting farther away from the palace. Every sound she hears sends tremors through her body, expecting every cracked branch or bump in the night to be someone coming to finish the job. More than once she questions what in Tui’s name is she doing, and Y/N knows that her mother’s final words are the only reason she is able to get through this.

She feels like a coward for leaving. Her mother is going to bear the consequences, and it’s more than likely other servants will suffer because of her too. And Zuko — she has no idea what is going to happen to him. He may be the crown prince, but title has never stopped Ozai before. She doubts it will stop him now. Knowing that it won’t last is the only comfort — she’s just a servant; punishment will only be inflicted to make an example out of the situation and then it will be left alone.

At least, that’s what she hopes for.

Y/N tells herself that she will reunite with Zuko no matter the cost. No matter how long it takes, how much she has to go through, even if she has to break into the damn palace — she knows that her story with the prince is not over, even if she has to keep writing it herself.

She will see him again. Y/N knows that much.

-

oops²

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity

atla: @marianne1806

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko #zuko fic #reader insert #avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar fic #avatar the last airbender fic #atla fic #sadie writes

[iridiscent-aesthetics]

Az scolding his shadows for sneaking out to hang out with Gwyn and then Gwyn scolding him for scolding the shadows as the shadows cheer their mommy on in the background🥰

Prompt idea from @imsointobooks Thank you so much! I loved writing this!

Everywhere. He'd searched everywhere.

Azriel had been frantic, searching for his shadows. He had been working on a report as they silently slid away from him. He'd noticed, but hadn't minded. They were used to slipping away and returning back to him in awhile. But never all of them, it was usually only a few jumpy ones, and came skittering back soon enough.

Now, after about almost 45 minutes or more, they still hadn't bothered coming back.

With the absence of them swarming over his shoulders, he felt incomplete. Spiraling back to being locked up in that dark cold cell, all alone. It was only when the shadows had chosen him, had protected him; had he felt safe. Now with them nowhere in sight, he felt lonely once more.

The shadows were a part of him, as he was of them. He was bounded to them seemingly by his soul, and deep within he knew, that they were safe and fine, wherever they were, and happy as well. Quite content than in a long while since now. He could feel them, their cheery emotions radiating pure joy to him. And he couldn't help but wonder, just what was making them so happy. And just where in Prythian were they?!

He was growing restless, he yelled into the void, demanding where they were. They jostled at once, before sneering back at him through the channel. But one shadow flew up to him, binding to his wrist and tugging him outside.

He followed, greatly irritated, not enjoying being pushed around. Out into the training ring, where the shadow pulled on him with such excitement that he stumbled in his steps. Gaining back his stance, he looked over and saw a fierce Valkyrie, dancing with her sword along with his shadows, fighting them. He tensed a moment, worried why his shadows were fighting with Gwyn. If they would intimidate her, but figured that was clearly not the case, marveling at how effortlessly she was yielding her sword, matching his shadows at every step. She wasn't afraid of them, she would not yield. That competitive strike he shared oh so well with her, never backing away from a challenge, always clashing him head on, word to word, blow to blow. Az rushed over to their side of the pit and summoned all his shadows to him in a haste, almost as if embracing them after missing them for too long. Unrelentingly they returned to him, supposedly deciding it was enough toying with him.

The priestess had noticed now, halting mid blow. She looked to Azriel and smiled brightly. "Oh hello there Shadowsinger!" "Or only singer, I suppose?" She gave him a mocking grin. Az rose an amused eyebrow, as to enquire. He had confessed that he could sing on Winter Solstice, was she teasing him for that? Gwyn only chuckled at him as she explained, "Well a Shadowsinger, whose shadows are missing from him, makes only a singer, does it not?" "And besides, you have admitted that you sing, I can only assume how well you are." Contemplating her answer, a heartbeat later, Az burst into fits of laughter, rich and loud. He laughed so hard that he had to sit down for a moment to catch his breath. He couldn't remember the last he laughed so heart fully. He looked up at Gwyn to see her gazing down at him fondly, like she was watching a baby giggle.

" Very bad joke Berdara." He remarked with a crooked grin.

"And is that why the reputed stoic faced spymaster is a muddle of laughter in front of me right now?"

"My humor seems to be just as dead as yours priestess. Unfortunate souls we are."

"Truly, yes of course." She retorted, trying and failing to hide that smile on her beautiful face.

"Jokes aside Shadowsinger, what brings you here?" She asked, piercing him with a knowing gaze. She knew the answer, only wanted to hear it from him.

"My shadows, well." "They disappeared and I found them here. They seem to be quite drawn to you."

"Well at least someone is," she muttered, not giving him the chance to ask her what that was about and immediately saying "I'm sorry if it bothered you. I was training alone when they showed up, so I decided to train with them. They're fun to have around, curious little souls."

This surprised him, it wasn't new to him that his shadows were off the leash when she was around, but considering them souls? Fun to be around with? No one had ever felt that way, Had never sympathized with the comfort his shadows brought him.

"That they are. When they disappeared, I immediately missed their company." He reminisced all the times they were his steady lone companions in the darkness.

"I'm sorry if it occurs as if I'm stealing them from you. I understand that they are a part of you. I only enjoy their company as much as yours." She apologized with a heavy guilty look, genuinely worried if she had offended Az by his shadows to taking a liking her.

"No Gwyneth- nothing of such sort. The shadows admire you deeply and enjoy your company very much. I'm happy to see them associate with you. It is not everyday, actually never that they are accepted and liked by anyone but me. And likewise that they ever pick interest in anyone. They must've grown steadily bored of me as well." He admitted. "And are you admitting that you enjoy my company?" He threw her a taunting smirk.

"Well five hundred years into with a brooding spymaster might do that to them." "And well yes, you aren't the worst company to have around Shadowsinger, one of the best really, seeing that you come in package with these lovelies." And as on cue one of his shadows darted to her, twirling itself around her raised palm as she giggled looking at it. At the sound of her melodic voice, the rest of his shadows took of to her from behind him twirling round her like a litter of puppies, no matter how hard he tried to reign them in.

"For the love of Cauldron, stop running bothering her you little menaces!" He yelled at them, "Do you HAVE to disobey me and embarrass me in front of her?!"

"But we aren't disobeying you Shadowsinger, Neither are we bothering her. We adore her and she likes us!" They shouted joyously. "Are you jealous Shadowsinger?" They taunted him.

Jealous? What possibly for could he be jealous of them; that they could see Gwyn whenever they wished to? That they could bring her beautiful smiles and bounts of laughter alive? Or that they could be as close to her as they wished and graze her skin?

" Enough." He let out sternly. "Stop dazzling and come back here. You're grounded for a week. No Gwyn. No sneak outs." He reeled them in with all his strength despite their protests. They were going off hook and disturbing the priestess way too much. The shadows tried running to Gwyn and hide behind her back as Az pulled them in.

The corners of Gwyn's lips turned down as she frowned on him.

"Azriel..." She put her hands on her hips and faced him with a stern expression. Az looked back to her in confusion.

"Are you trying to stop your shadows from associating with me? Am I such a bad influence on them?" She asked with a hint of nervousness.

" No- Gwyn, they- I don't want them disturbing you. You don't have to put up with their fuzziness. I wouldn't want want them to frighten you. They are only a discomfort and remainder of my darkness to many."

"Seriously?" Gwyn gave him an incredulous look. "You think they disturb me? I love them! They are SO much fun! They look out for me. Why would they ever frighten me!? They're such a steady and soothing companion when I lay awake because of my nightmares. They care for me! And I will not let you break my beautiful friendship with them just because you think they would scare me. Never apologize for what you are Az, you are a Shadowsinger. Your shadows are a part of you. No part of you would ever scare me Az." She held his hand in his hers "I see you, all of you. And I am not afraid."

Az didn't know what to say, he was overwhelmed. This female, standing in front of him. Facing him, unafraid and accepting.

He could only croak out "Why?" His voice full of raw emotion.

"I think you already know the answer to that." Her voice almost inaudible as she patted his chest and smiled softly.

"Now let those shadows out before I make you fight me." She ordered immediately before he could ponder on what she said before.

And he did, how could he ever deny her? He let his shadows out as they jumped to her, cheering her on for bringing them freedom, and dancing along with her laugh. Another sight he would never forget, bringing him a smile as he buried this image deep within. Again glowingly brightly in his chest

And here's another one. I didnt try for any physical descriptions this time.

And while writing I seemed to have made it more of a description of Az and his shadows' relation than their liking to Gwyn. It doesnt really perfectly fit the head canon and that was why I was planning of a part 2 to this if you guys wanted. Let me know if you're up for it!

Up next I have another A-mazing idea from @aelingalathyniusrailme and I absolutely loved it! It might take a day or two but I want put up my best for it!

Always open for suggestions and feedback. Feel free to send me Head Canons and other prompts!

#headcanon #acotar #acosf #gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #a thing of secret lovely beauty #ya books #fantasy #sarah j maas #reading #booksbooksbooks #fandom #shadows #shadowsinger #shipping

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 17

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 1,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. Graphic violence parts 15 and 16.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Warning for this chapter: references to injury and blood, largely at the end of the chapter. Avoid if squeamish.

—

Am I dead?

It was the first thought to arise as she woke out of a thick haze. Tiny motes of dust drifted before her, but when her eyes tried to focus on them, they seemingly disappeared. Had they been there at all?

She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Before her was an endless expanse of black, completely impenetrable and all encompassing. She instinctively knew that it went on forever, despite not being able to see anything besides her own pale body. She felt some sort of tepid liquid beneath her feet - was it water? - but couldn't bring herself to look down past her shoulders. She remembered in horrific blurs what had happened to bring her to this place, and feared what she might see there.

But I don't feel any pain. Could it be...? Dynamene looked hesitantly down at herself.  Her white peplos stretched clean and untorn across her intact chest. She pressed her skin hesitantly, but felt no pain. It was as if the wound had never existed.

Now that she had gotten her bearings, she turned about in hopes of spotting something, anything, in the endlessness. Is this purgatory? Dynamene knew that when deities perished, so did their souls. Their consciousness ceased to exist along with their body. I think, therefore I am. I must not be dead. So what's going on? A neutral silence did nothing to sate her curiosity. Is this it?

Seconds ticked by with no change. A feeling of dread sunk in her chest. No, this can't be it. I still had so much I wanted to do.

I was such a fool.

She thought of her family, and her final argument with Ianeira. I'm sorry. I should have listened. She pursed her lips as she fought back tears. If this is the end, I apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you all. I wish I could change it. I wish I could see you again.

Then, suddenly, there was something bright that stood out against the void before her, a long, long ways away. It seemed to call to her in the distance with its brilliant white light. With nothing else to do and no answers to her questions, Dynamene ran toward it. Her feet splashed through the black water, droplets lit by the faint glow emanating from her being.

She stopped, breathless, after what might have been a few seconds or a few hours. The something had taken on the shape of a person, a bit taller than her, and with their back largely turned to her. Dynamene stepped forward cautiously, allowing their features to come into focus.

It was him, standing there before her in the black. His body emitted an eerie white glow, just like hers. She stood in bewilderment for several moments. She could only see the edge of his cheek with the way he was turned, no other part of his face. Dynamene was at a loss. "Why are you here?"

There was no answer. He didn't even move. Was he really there? Was it just a figment of her wounded body's imagination? She curled her fingers uncertainly as she considered reaching out to see if she was merely hallucinating.

Then his face tilted slightly towards her, making it clear he had heard her. Still, he refused to show himself to her entirely, and Dynamene's eyes widened. There was something in the bowed angle of his head...

Are you ashamed?

As if trying to dispel the notion, he finally stepped to face her completely. His colors looked washed out in the white glow, while the faint shadows traced the edges of his face. It seemed he was at last in a place every bit as fittingly ethereal as he was. But he continued to remain silent, and Dynamene's gaze shifted away in frustration.

"You're the one who brought me here. So why have you come now?" She couldn't veil the accusation in her voice. "I tried to tell you. But you didn't stop. You killed me."

Here in this endless vacuum of existence, Poseidon held no power over her. She was already on death's door, that much seemed certain. He couldn't harm her now. Dynamene was free to speak her mind completely. "Why didn't you believe me? Did you call me to your room just to kill me?" There was more bite to her tone now. "Was my love only a burden to you?" Her accusations echoed across the space.

His gaze finally flickered to meet hers. She felt no joy from it, only a strange sensation of tired defeat. Her shoulders slumped. "I suppose I'm going to disappear forever now, aren't I?" She twisted her peplos with guilty hands. "And I... I brought it on myself. I didn't listen to my family. I didn't see... I didn't understand. They'd warned me."

Nothing in his somber expression changed, but the shadows had deepened across his face. He took a single step closer to her, and she looked up at him with a miserable expression. Then he lifted one hand to clasp over hers, stilling her worried fidgeting. "I didn't mean to bring you here, Dynamene."

Her lower lip trembled, and she had to look away as he continued. "I thought you were a fake sent to replace the real you. I thought someone might've abducted you. I couldn't hear your heartbeat; your appearance had changed; I sensed strange magic about you."

So you didn't mean to hurt me, yet... "So your first response was to maim?" Dynamene pulled her hands away. "You would've lost the only chance to find me if your theory had been true."

"I-" Poseidon's words came to a stop mid-breath. It was the first time she'd ever heard him halt in the midst of a sentence. She turned her eyes back to him in confusion. He looked at war with himself; what was it that he'd meant to say? He took a moment to settle on a fitting response as his expression smoothed back out into stoicism. "I allowed my rage to get the better of me."

Her mouth nearly fell open. Poseidon was admitting fault. He had just, before a mere Nereid, confessed that his emotions had got the better of him.

Emotions spurred on by the thought that she might've been harmed.

She looked away as she absorbed this. The little motes of dust had returned, flickering gently in their light. They danced in little waves, fading in and out of sight. Poseidon had gone against the appearance he fought so hard to maintain for her. He cared about her. His heart had thawed at last, just as she'd wanted.

But there was no change within her heart except something bittersweet that ached. Her bleak expression remained as she looked up at him.

"Do you not forgive me?" He asked in a hushed voice. A vulnerability she didn't recognize had crept into his words.

Dynamene pursed her lips, thinking desperately about how to respond. Do I forgive you?

I... I think I do.

I do forgive you, but it doesn't change the way I feel right now.

That terror I experienced, that agonizing pain... You say you didn't mean to inflict it on me.

But how many countless others have you taken in the same way, with no regret? Your own brother, the Titans... People who have wronged you. People who would do you harm. And people who you perceived to have slighted you. Now I finally understand it all.

You did them the same harm, and you didn't feel anything.

"I forgive you," she whispered, but the words were meaningless. This wasn't about forgiveness. Something nameless had changed beneath the current.

He lifted his hand to gently smooth back her unruly bangs. His dark eyes drank in her face, even as she remained largely unaffected by his gesture. The girlish infatuation of before was completely extinguished. Now disappointment prevailed in her eyes.

But regardless, his feelings were unchanged. Now, for the very first time, they were truly alone. He finally admitted his desire for her to himself, even though he still didn't understand it. And as he leaned down closer to her, his eyes closed for the first time as he allowed himself to become immersed in his emotions.

And despite her disillusionment and sorrow, she loved him yet. A man of ice who had thawed only for her. Allowing him to enfold her in his embrace, her lips met his.

Two beings of light, entwined in the dark.

---

Dynamene gasped, a ragged, excruciating sound. Poseidon drew back in shock, staring down at her with sharp eyes. She coughed violently, wracking her thin body with the effort. Poseidon quickly lifted her shoulders to help clear her airway. Lifewater dripped from her lips, tainted red with his own blood. It was then that he understood what had happened. Before, when he had bit his lips in anger...

His blood was reviving her. Poseidon immediately bit his lip again and kissed her once more, pushing his blood into her. He forced several breaths of air into her, desperately willing her to keep breathing, before moving back to monitor the effect.

The flesh around her wounds had stopped disintegrating, though they were not healing. She gave another gasp for air, then fell silent.

He wasn't going to give up. He removed one glove and tore through the skin of his finger with his teeth. The gash began to drip blood, and he held it above her open mouth. As drop by drop ran down her throat, she began to move once more. He squeezed his hand, willing the blood to run faster, to hurry her revival.

After many agonizing seconds, Dynamene's eyelids twitched. Her bleary eyes opened slowly and focused on him. The sound of dripping lifewater stopped.

Poseidon exhaled. He rebandaged her chest, pulled her back into his arms, and stood. She was healing. She would live. Now to get out of this forsaken place and back to the palace. She would need more medical care as soon as possible.

Dynamene's eyes remained open, but she said nothing. Even if she had wanted to, her body wouldn't have been able. Her drowsy gaze didn't leave his face once. Something was ending now, but for however long as they had, she just wanted to drink him in. Poseidon... Her Poseidon. Just hours ago, this would have been a dream come true. Now, where had that exhilarated part of her gone? Had it remained behind in the blackness of that silent space? Had their conversation even taken place, or was it just a feverish dream?

What's changed?

No, I don't need to ask. I know.

Just let me enjoy this while it lasts. While I can still see you so close like this, and be in your arms, without any regrets.

She allowed her sore body to rest limply against his, and despite the speed at which he moved through the water to bring them home, her gaze never wavered.

---

We're going to the end now. I can't believe it. This is my longest fanfiction ever. I've gotten to know Dynamene so well. I don't think she'll leave my mind, even after the fic is finished.

I spent the most time on this chapter because I had a very specific mood for it in mind that required a lot of editing and re-writing. I let it sit for a few days before going back and putting more meat into the gaps. That's how I prefer to write - get the important stuff out first, and garnish with detail later.

There was this song by Kaskade that I thought about a lot with this chapter. It's called Borrowed Theme. Maybe I should've titled this chapter that, but that feels a little childish. The title kind of references a different song, anyway lol

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon x oc #fanfiction

[the-witty-pen-name]

Fell in Love in Scotland Pt. 1

Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Warnings: angst; cursing; pining; 18+ in later parts (maybe? not sure yet) 

Summary: After finding about the new Captain America, the reader goes to Louisiana to visit Sam. 

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I know this isn’t on my list of things I *should* be working on, but I had this idea today and I had to get it down! This is only going to be 2-3 parts. This is my first time writing for Sam!

I’m taking a small break from working on my other works in progress to focus on getting out as much Sam content as a can before Sam’s (and my) bday on the 14th! Not sure how much I’ll be able to write but that is my hope!

My biggest flex at the moment is sharing a bday with Sam. 

This references Civil War, Endgame and Infinity War events in flashbacks but you know, canon is a thing I like to just maneuver around so I’m sorry if there are many major inaccuracies!

This is unedited and please let me know if I missed anything that should be included as a warning. 

Taglist is in my bio 

You were furious. Without even thinking, you picked up your phone and found him in your contact list. You were fuming, needing to find out what happened so you could help him. You hadn’t talked to him since Tony Stark’s funeral, and you had found out through Banner that Steve had gifted him the shield. You psych yourself out every time you want to reach out and talk to him, but your rage blinded you and took the lead over your usual nervousness.

“What happened?” you ask as soon as the ringing on the other end stops and you know he’s answered. You have the phone balanced on your shoulder as your slipping on your shoes, ready to head out as soon as you can.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, sounding confused. Also, incredibly hurt and rightfully so. You imagined he was watching the same thing as you on television and you thought he’d be as equally mad.

“Sam,” you say, letting out a shaky breath. “The shield.”

There’s nothing but dead air for what feel like forever.

“I gave it up,” he finally answers. You can hear in his voice that there is much more to this than that.

“Are you in D.C.?” you ask, not wanting to push him to talk.

“Delacroix. You don’t have to come-.”

“Can’t come visit a friend?” you ask hopefully. You hear him sigh.

“It’s not a great time,” he says hesitantly.

“Isn’t that when you need friends the most?” you counter, trying to force a happier, more uplifting tone. You try, but you know you still sound miserable. “Please,” you ask again, almost a whisper.

“You’re coming no matter what I say, aren’t you?” he chuckles.

“Pretty much,” you admit, “but I would love it if you actually wanted to see me.”

“You know I would…”

“So that settles it,” you smile, blinking to hold back a couple tears. Your voice breaks just a little. “I’m getting on the first plane I can.”

Before he has a chance to change his mind, you end the call and immediately pack some necessities. You never got out of the habit of always being called off, so many of the things you needed were already packed away in a bag in your closet. It was a comforting thing for you. Like you always had the option to just leave wherever you were. You said it was because of all the times you got pulled away from life because of missions for SHIELD, but it ran a little deeper than that.

God, he’s handsome. That’s the only thing you can think of when you’re finally in front of him again. Your mind is at a complete blank. You should be able to muster up the ability to say something. He’s waiting for you at the airport. You didn’t expect this, but it is Sam. Of course, he was going to meet you when your plane landed. You try your best to clear up the haze in your brain as you walk towards him, and he pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he mumbles, resting his head on top of your head as you bury your face in his chest. All hopes you had at a cool, collected front when you saw him disappeared. You missed him too much and had gone too long without admitting it to yourself. Tell him you missed him, tell him you’re happy to see him, say anything…

“I want to help,” you say when you both break away. You inwardly cringe. You can’t vocalize anything except turning this into some mission.

“Please can we not talk about the shield?” he asks, and you realize you’ve clearly hit a sore spot. You nod in agreement, feeling terrible for having brought it up so soon. You didn’t want him to think you were prioritizing the shield over him. That wasn’t the case at all. You came here for him, to see him, why the hell couldn’t you act like it.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, earnestly. You had to pull yourself together.

“I appreciate that you are worried about me,” he says slinging an arm over your shoulder as you walk. It feels nice, effortless. “But I donated the shield and after that, it was out of my hands.”

You know he is leaving out a lot, and you know him well enough to know there’s a deeper issue. But, for now, you decide to table it. He tells you about his nephews, and he fills you in on how he’s been able to spend time with them, and it feels so beautifully normal. The world feels like it’s falling apart around you but there’s Sam, pulling you back in like he was always able to do.

“I missed you,” he admits, after there’s a lull in the conversation driving to the house. “I thought maybe I would’ve seen you at the compound, or something before you left after the funeral.”

“I didn’t really have the chance,” you try to gloss over. “I just- After Steve came and said goodbye, I couldn’t stay. It just hurt too much.”

“Steve told you?”

“Not exactly, just a very vague goodbye, but I was able to read between the lines. I knew he wasn’t coming back.”

“What did he say?”

“Just that he wanted to go back and fix things. If he couldn’t have done it here, he wanted a second chance. To get back the time lost. Save Bucky, find Nat, maybe visit Peggy… He just wasn’t ready to stop yet. There was no fight here left, so he went back chasing the ones he felt like he lost?”

He nods, just taking in the information. He tells you about seeing Steve when he came back, about how he got married. He tells you about how Steve gave him the shield, but he thought the right decision was to donate the shield to the Smithsonian. You don’t try to do anything else but listen, and try your best to understand. But hearing Sam not think he could take on the title was heartbreaking. You want to ask him if he regrets it, if he wants to get the shield back, but for now, you know it isn’t the right time. Just tell him you missed him too, please. You can’t do it. The words get stuck in the back of your throat. Why is this so hard?

“Remember when we met?” you ask, looking aimlessly out the window.

“You mean when you drop kicked me at an airport?” he asks with a laugh.

“No- I mean, yes that happened first technically,” you smile. “I was more so thinking about the first time we spoke after that.”

“You mean when you came with Steve to get us out of prison?” he asks, skeptically.

���The very time,” you grin.

“I’m pretty sure the only thing you said was stay low and keep out of my way, if I remember correctly,” he raised an eyebrow.

“No, no in the jet,” you clarify, “Before we went into hiding.”

You sat on the floor across from Sam, you had pulled your torso out of your tactical suit, and had the arms of it tied around your waist. The SHIELD t-shirt you wore underneath was covered in sweat and grime. You rested your head against the cold metal of the plane’s ship and your eyes wandered to Sam.

“Pararescue?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking over his equipment that Steve brought with you.

“SR,” you reply. “Well, was.”

“You were Special Reconnaissance?” he asks, and you nod.

“Three tours.”

“Is that why you changed sides?” He continues and you can’t help but smile.

“I guess you can look at it that way.”

“I’m Sam.”

“I know.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” he chuckles, crossing his arms, relaxing a bit more. You smirk.

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sam. Sorry about beating your ass.”

“You got lucky, SR,” he scoffs, and you laugh.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Wilson,” you laugh.

“You’re lucky we’re on the same side now,” he jokes.

“Oh, I know,” you smile. You get up and head to the cockpit to join Steve.

“I told you that the two of you would hit it off,” he chuckles as you slide into the copilot seat.

“You bring me along just to set me up, Rogers?” you scoff. His cheeks redden a little.

“You know that’s not true…”

“Ugh, you’re just as bad as Natasha, Steve,” you roll your eyes.

“You have shared life experience.”

“He is gorgeous.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Don’t even think about it Rogers,” you gasp.

Before you know it, Sam is pulling up to your Airbnb.

“Come by the house tomorrow,” he says, and you nod. “I want to bring you somewhere.”

“Yeah,” you agree, as you get out of the car. It was already late, and you denied Sam’s offer to get dinner. You were exhausted, and you were still in the clothes you were wearing when you left your apartment suddenly. You needed to shower, sleep, and then your visit with him would start. You also were nervous. You could tell he was a little disappointed when you declined his offer but he understood.

“We’ll get some beers and talk about the good old days tomorrow. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, rubbing the top of your hand reassuringly.

“Good old days?” you tease.

“We’ll talk about Scotland,” he grins, “The good parts.”

“The good parts,” you affirm. You try to think about what he means but you let yourself put it out of your brain for now. “I’ll be by first thing.”

“I am really glad you’re here,” he reiterates once more before you disappear into the small house. You don’t have the courage to admit you feel the same.

When you close the door behind you, you look out the curtain and watch as Sam drives away. Your mind runs rampant with just all the things on your mind. The shield. Sam. Being here with Sam. Having to talk about feelings and memories with Sam. Scotland. How you fell in love with Sam Wilson in Scotland.

You worry coming here was a mistake.  

Part Two

Taglist: 

@greeneyedblondie44 @witchybarb @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @sassy-kassaay​

#sam wilson #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x reader #friends to lovers #sam wilson x you #tfaws #anthony mackie characters #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fic #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson one shot #justsamwilson

[obaewankenobis]

for forever — obi-wan kenobi

pairing(s)  :  obi-wan kenobi x reader ( mostly focused on obi-wan’s character, not the relationship because i am a hoe for this man )

summary  :  after the fall of the jedi order, you can finally be together. alternatively, obi-wan needs therapy/deserves happiness.

word count  :  2.1k

warning(s)  :  character death, a bit of angst i guess but it’s mostly fluff.

notes   :  roughly edited so i apologize if things don’t make sense, i honestly came up with this on a whim and have No Idea what was going through my head when i wrote this. the povs also switch a lot but enjoy </3.

       The sand bit at his fair skin, the grainy winds of Tatooine ruffled through his auburn locks, peppered with strands of grey, as Obi-Wan Kenobi stood, rigid and grief stricken. Kind wrinkles framed his eyes, eyes weighed down by exhaustion and desolation, the memory of a thousand wars flickering in the brilliant blue reflection. Without speaking, the woman looking at him from afar knew he had suffered a lifetime of hardship and grief, his aching heart not given a moment to mourn the loss of those closest to him. The mahogany cloak billowed around his body, covering the burnt, tattered tan robes he wore, as the wind picked up, signaling there would be little time before the twin suns set and it was much too dangerous to be outside. Snuggled between the lone man’s arms, swathed in soft cream blankets to shelter him from the cruel and unforgiving weather, was a baby. With sea blue eyes and the sparse tufts of pale blonde hair, the newborn was the mirror image of his father — that in itself was bittersweet.

       Fire. That was all Obi-Wan could remember, the smoldering lava confining him and his enemy — once his friend, his brother — inside a tight circle of flashing blue and blazing rage. Now, things were blissfully quiet, as if the universe was trying to give him peace of mind after what it had taken from him. With heavy shoulders and hollow eyes, Obi-Wan was a shell of who he used to be: a great warrior and an excellent negotiator, all gone. His last mission was here, on Tatooine, to deliver the baby to his aunt and uncle: Owen and Beru Lars. Then, he would spend the rest of his years wasting away in a sandy prison, languishing in his defeat.

       “Is it true?” The woman from afar, who had taken to staring at him from a distance, finally approached him, awaiting his answer with bated breath — Beru. Is it true? The words reverberated in his head, as the reality came crashing down upon him. The woman in front of him needed certainty, she needed answers, answers Obi-Wan could not give her.

       “Yes,” came the final reply. Who knew a single word could hold such heavy meaning? Yes. An entire government who’s history spanned hundreds of years prior collapsed within a single day? Yes, that had happened. His religion, who he had devoted his entire life to and poured his soul into, gone? Yes, decimated without a sliver of mercy. The baby’s father, the hero of the galaxy, the crown jewel of the Jedi Order, killed? Yes, murdered in cold blood.

       Beru finally brought her attention to the boy nestled within the robes of the man. “Is he . . . ” She seemed to only speak in half questions, as if finishing the sentence would make it a harsh reality, and leaving the query to hang heavy in the air would somehow leave her life in a fairytale.

       “Yes,” he replied again, nearly choking on his words as the boy let out a tiny coo, as if he sensed they were discussing him.

       “Oh.” There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation, before the woman decided to continue her pattern of half inquiries to form her own story. “May I?” With shaking arms, Beruu reached forward to take the boy from Obi-Wan’s grasp and welcome the baby into her own warm embrace. Part of him didn’t want to let the child go, for once he did he would have no real connection to his past life. Letting go of the boy meant letting go of everything, from his first steps in the Temple, to his meeting with his apprentice on Naboo, to the countless, sleepless nights in a war torn galaxy, it would all be gone. The woman’s tender smile and patient gaze was nearly patronizing, she was trying to sympathize with something she couldn’t possibly understand. No one could. A wave of fury washed over him, trapping him in a cage of his own emotions. Obi-Wan had never felt such an intensity roll over his body, preferring to keep his temperament a tranquil, emotionless pit. But this raw, uncontrollable fury was soon washed out with an even more overpowering bout of sorrow, shaking him with such force it made his knees wobble and threaten to give way. For over thirty years he was taught emotions were the enemy, by being detached and aloof he would survive, and look where that had gotten him.  

      Another soft cry from the baby jerked Obi-Wan back into the present moment, as his tiny arms reached for the woman, drawn to her sunny kindness and comforting aura; he realized a place to call home or a comforting shoulder to cry on was never something he could offer as the baby grew older. The woman made a small clicking sound with her tongue, looking up at Obi-Wan with an expectant gaze, and yet his grip on the baby remained the same. Although his mind seemed desperate to listen to logic, to reason, his body remained motionless, following the dull ache and painful longing in his heart. The battle between his mind and emotions lasted a fraction of a second, and at last, as it had time and time again, his mind won.

       Like he had done all his life, selflessly sacrificing himself for thee good of the galaxy, he let go.

     The woman took the baby in her arms, and began her journey back to her homestead, pausing just slightly to exchange one last parting smile and a word of comfort. “I think someone wants to see you, Master Kenobi.” With that, Beru began walking, a happy baby in her arms, to her husband, just as the sky merged from clear blue to salmon pink and hazy orange, the twin suns beginning to disappear over the horizon rapidly. As the light dimmed and dusk settled in, the man could make out the shadowy figures of Beru and Owen Lars, holding Luke Skywalker in unmoving content.

       Here to see me? Obi-Wan frowned, reflecting on the woman’s words. This was not his home, his very identity was supposed to remain a secret, who could possibly want to see him? Unless . . .

       No, that was impossible. He had mourned your death just as he had mourned every other Jedi’s death the moment their own clones turned against them, and he would not allow even a tiny sliver of hope to crawl its way back into his heart. Because in the end, he could only cling to the belief that things would get better, and false hope in such a desperate time would be his undoing.

—

       You wondered how long you could stand in the shadows before he noticed you, standing awkwardly by his dewback as he delivered Padmé and Anakin's son to his new family. Like Obi-Wan, you had suffered the loss of everything and everyone you knew, your entire life destroyed in the span of a second, and all you could do was stand there, watching everything burn. The Jedi robes you once wore with pride, robes that were once a symbol of humility and hope across the galaxy, now put a priceless bounty on the head of anyone who wore them.

       “Obi-Wan?” The name was dry in your throat, mouth parched and lips cracked due to the harsh Tatooine heat.

       Though he was always subtle, you could see his entire demeanor change, the way his shoulders became straighter, the way his hands, once balled up into fists of worry, were now relaxed and laying loosely at his side. In a moment, he had turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, caramel boots growing dull and scuffed as he stepped through the unforgiving desert surface beneath him. “You’re alive,” his voice came out in a hushed, cautious tone, disbelief still tainting the edges. “I thought — Yoda and I — the only ones left — ” his words grew more jumbled with each passing phrase that left his lips.

       “But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off, the calm gentleness of your tone making him stop in his tracks. Slowly, each movement pained and deliberate, you stepped closer, inching your way forward until he was right in front of you. Neither of you could look away; with the Jedi Order dead, there was no reason to hide in secrecy now.

—

       To realize he was not alone was comforting, but to know it was you he could seek company in was freeing. In that moment, with the distance so close between your bodies, Obi-Wan dared not breathe, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out the smallest of breaths — this was all he had ever wanted, and still, despite everything, it was something he believed he could never have.

       He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. Not after he spent all those years repressing the desire that burned so deeply within him it began to rot within his heart, trapped with no release in sight. At one point, he had every reason to deny the yearning stirring within him, but now? Now there was no war, no Council, no code, no nothing to stop himself from unleashing decades of pent up turmoil within him.

       And stars, it was suffocating.

       He couldn’t do this.

       “You know you don’t have to push me away any more.” A suggestion more than a factual statement; voice thick and barely audible.

       Was this a dream, a fantasy meant to be chased after in his sleep? Or some sick, twisted premonition the Force was trying to convey to him? So many nights he had spent languishing in his loneliness, dazed in a delusion that remained but a figment of his imagination.

       “I know.”

       “What?”

       “The Jedi are no more. We . . . We don’t have to pretend we don’t have  — ” The words were bittersweet on his tongue; even with no one there to watch and scold him, he could not betray his way of life so easily. That everyone I have ever loved, I have watched die in my arms? And throughout all of that, I have never been tempted by the dark side, but if I lost you, I would be afraid of my own morality? Those were not easy thoughts to formulate into a coherent sentence — there were no words Obi-Wan could say that would even begin to describe how he felt.

       Instead, in a tender gesture of vulnerability, he reached out through the Force, and all at once it came crashing down on him.

       This feeling . . . it was all consuming, and he was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water and not surrender to its frosty depths. He was submerged in an endless stretch of icy ocean water so frigid and numbing, that he felt nothing and everything all at once. It was terrifying to think — and let you know — you held so much power over him, but in the same instance, he felt at peace, like a weight he had dragged around for decades was finally lifted off his shoulders. I love you, rang as bright as the city lights on Coruscant and as clear as a Nabooian waterfall. I love you.

       “I love you, too.” He heard your voice in a soft whisper, swelled up with emotion as you took in everything. Chills erupted down his spine; he couldn't quite tell if it was from the inky blanket being tugged across the sky as dusk descended into nightfall, or if it was the four word phrase that left your lips.

—

       “I cannot live without you,” Obi-Wan let out a shaky exhale, breath fanning across your face just slightly, your foreheads making contact in the lightest movements. You felt dizzy, in a dreamlike trance, for you had never been this close to him. You could see every horror he had survived in his glassy blue eyes, notice every perfect imperfection that blemished his skin and made him all the more real. In a moment, his face had become blurred as he closed the distance and finally, finally, his lips were on yours, and you connected in a long awaited, eternally sought after kiss. You could feel his hands, calloused but gentle, cupping your face, as your own fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, the kiss grew more fervent and needy, every rule you had ever lived by crumbling as you melted deeper into his touch.

       After a long moment, you broke away, breathless, your face still tantalizingly close to his.

       “I will never leave you, Obi-Wan,” your lips parted in a determined vow, a promise you would keep to your dying breath. The Jedi were dead, and yet you never felt more alive.

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #star wars #angst #probably should edit this #obi-wan needs a hug #and some therapy too #post order 66 #revenge of the sith #prequel trilogy #star wars prequels #one shot

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

when the wolves come out

(everyone loves a little fluffy h/c and bonding, right? also yes that’s a 1D reference. no I will not apologize for it)

I’m not doing a tag list cause I honestly don’t have the energy for that but if you follow the ‘geraskier beauty and the beast au’ tag you’ll see every one of these. I’m also gonna add a masterlist to my pinned post

also please please comment. that’s the stuff that keeps me writing. please.

---

“Get away from him!” Geralt roared. He clutched the hilt of his silver sword with both hands and charged forward. Several dark and horrible-smelling masses of fur had Jaskier backed up and trembling fiercely against the trunk of an ancient oak. Wolves. They’d surrounded him while he was taking a walk and now the young human knew his time had come to an end.

Geralt could pick out the bitter aroma of Jaskier’s potent and all-consuming fear even over the scent of the wolf pack and he noted that the boy’s blue eyes were wide and unblinking. Jaskier was utterly terrified; paralyzed in place by the threat of certain death. 

“Jaskier!” the Beast called, drawing the attention of several wolves away from their current prey. “I’m coming, Jaskier! Don’t move!”

“Geralt, no! Don’t come any closer! You could be killed! Stay back!” 

The trained monster-slayer nearly stopped in his tracks. Nearly. 

No one had ever been concerned for his safety before. Usually they were too busy panicking to care who got hurt and who didn’t; they just didn’t want to die. Jaskier had told Geralt to stay back. Jaskier had begun to care for him and his wellbeing. 

The Beast finally grew close enough to do some kind of damage. He raised his sword and brought it down on the first wolf. The creature dropped to the ground and its packmate leapt, already opening its wide maw to bite at Geralt wherever it could reach. There hadn’t been time to put any armor on and the white-haired Witcher grunted in pain as the wolf’s sharp teeth sunk into the meat of his shoulder. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier cried. The young man ran forward, brandishing a pointed tree branch at the other wolves. He swung it in wide circles, batting the animals away as well as he could in an effort to reach Geralt’s side. “Fight back, my Beast! Please!”

Geralt obeyed. He cut down the wolf whose pointed teeth had torn his shoulder before taking on another two starving and half-crazed canines. The last handful of wolves, seeing their comrades bleeding out in a snowdrift, raced back into the forest with their tails between their legs. When he was sure it was safe, Jaskier reached out and wrapped his arm around Geralt’s waist. “Let’s get you inside so I can take a look at that wound.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine when I say you’ll be fine,” Jaskier admonished. The acrid, burnt-coffee scent of fear was gone from the boy completely. Now there was only the soft, gently invasive scent of worry, like mint and chamomile. Comforting. He cares very deeply, Geralt realized as he was half-carried back to the door of the keep and bundled into a comfortable armchair before the sitting room fire. Jaskier cares about me and wants me to live. He’s worried about my health. He...he...

“Jaskier, really, it’ll be okay.”

“Hush,” the human frowned. Geralt saw tears gathering in the corner of Jaskier’s eyes and he wiped one away with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t move please, Geralt. I need to get bandages. And warm water.”

“Just get the warm water. The bandages won’t be necessary.”

“How else will I keep you from bleeding all over your clothes?”

“I’m already halfway healed, see?” Geralt smiled, glancing down at holes in his shoulder where the wolf’s teeth tore through. They were already growing smaller and closing up. “Witcher magic.”

Jaskier was shocked. “You’re...you’re a Witcher?”

“Did you really think I was some kind of cursed Prince like the stories say?”

Jaskier stood and moved to the doorway, “I don’t care what you are, Geralt.”

Then he disappeared around the corner.

---

Geralt lay with his head on Jaskier’s outstretched legs. The young man paused his reading, his eyebrows crinkling together. “Beast,” he whispered, “Why did you ask for a consort?”

“Kaer Morhen is so lonely in the winters,” Geralt sighed. He glanced up, meeting Jaskier’s curious gaze, “People are scared of Witchers but since there are so few of us left...I thought they would ask for a willing volunteer. I thought I would have someone waiting with luggage for me to court them. I could have dealt with someone who was slightly frightened but totally willing. I’m sorry that they stole you away and offered you up to me like that, little bird.”

“If you think about it in the right light,” Jaskier mused. “It was almost romantic. You could have been the big, scary monster everyone warned me about. You could have eaten me alive or left me there for the wolves. Instead you gave me your cloak and carried me all the way home.”

Geralt’s heart stuttered in his chest. Home? “Do you consider Kaer Morhen your home?”

“I do now, my Beast. My Geralt. It was frightening at first but the village elders could not have made me happier in their stupidity. I am very content to be here with you; to be courted by you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt blushed lightly and nuzzled his way back into the crease of Jaskier’s hip. The accidental consort of Kaer Morhen had quickly discovered that his betrothed loved nothing more than being petted and caressed. The Beast would lay his head on Jaskier’s lap and nose his way into the crook between Jaskier’s hip and thigh and stay there for hours. His consort would play with his hair, sing to him, and read to him from any book he fancied. It was heaven. “Sing for me, little bird?”

“Am I to be your caged lark, now?”

“Never,” Geralt growled. “You can always leave if you’d like.”

“I’d rather stay,” Jaskier smiled, placing a reassuring hand on the back of his Beast’s warm neck. “I would rather stay and be wooed and courted by my gentle Beast.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier began to run his hands through Geralt’s soft white hair, braiding it and picking it apart as he sang:

“I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel, I'll sell my only spinning wheel, To buy my love a sword of steel; Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan.

“I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red, And 'round the world I'll beg my bread, Until my parents shall wish me dead; Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan.”

“I could listen to you sing forever, little bird,” Geralt murmured. He was purring again, a sound that Jaskier loved and adored. “I love hearing your voice.”

“And so you shall,” the younger man smiled, and leaned down to press a brief kiss against Geralt’s temple. “For as long as you wish.”

#soft geraskier #geraskier beauty and the beast au #geraskier batb au #geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #beast geralt #belle jaskier #geraskier h/c #hurt/comfort #soft geralt #shy geralt #soft jaskier #protective geralt #wolf attack #witcher healing #geraskier bonding

[bookaddict24-7]

I said at the beginning of the year that I would share my reviews more on my blog instead of just on Instagram and Goodreads. I’ve been reading a lot so far this year, so my reviews will be delayed on here.

Friend me on Goodreads here to read my reviews in real-time!

___

107. Amari and the Night Brothers by B.B. Alston--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Wow, this book had more of a punch than I anticipated! I think books like this one are super important--not just because of the content, but because of the audience it's geared towards. Young readers now are learning more and more about society than a lot of us did at their age, so I think it's perfectly fitting that a book like this one is out there for kids to devour. One of the things I liked the most about this book was the allegory of racism in a magical community. Usually in fantastical novels for kids (older ones, anyway), there's this belief that no matter what you look like, the moment you go to another magical place all of your worries about racism goes away because MAGIC. But in this one, not only did our MC have to contend with the racism in her normal life, she had to face more racism in her new life, just with a new title. So many of the actions taken against her by those around her, and the comments (like putting her brother on a pedestal because he was the star of the school and calling him the exception to the rule, or one girl actively telling her that "You can take the girl out of the ghetto, but not the ghetto out of the girl) really made me think that this poor kid went from one ignorant situation to another. Not only is she trying to find her brother and solve the mystery of his disappearance, but she also has to deal with racist and ignorant people around her. Imagine calling a child evil because of something they can't control. Imagine going out of your way to ensure that they fail. Imagine you or your child hearing the things this child heard while trying to just do her best in a system that's always been made to be against her, both in the human world and in the magic world. Imagine, imagine, imagine. Another thing I loved about this book was her resilience. She is brave, and smart, and has such a big future in this new world of hers. I'm so excited to read the rest of this series as it comes out. This book was POWERFUL and I highly recommend it. Not just for the young readers in your life, but I think parents and other readers would highly benefit from reading Amari's story.

___

108. Mindy Kim & the Yummy Seaweed Business by Lyla Lee--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Okay, this book was ADORABLE. I haven’t read a 6-8 book in a long time and I’m thankful to my friend on Instagram who recommended these books! Mindy has to deal with not only her grief about losing her mom and her dad’s busy schedule (as well as his own grief), but she’s also at a new school in a new State where she is the only Asian student. I’ve mentioned this in some of my most recent reviews, but I love that these important topics are being discussed in children’s books. We see moments of racism in this book where Mindy is left upset, even if she doesn’t fully understand just why certain comments and actions are so hurtful. And even if she doesn’t dwell on it, a parent reading this with their little one would notice and hopefully learn if they see their own behaviours mirrored in the actions of some of these adults. But we also see moments of kindness and love as a young girl tries her best to find ways to make her dad happy. Despite the heavier undertones in this book, there was an overall feel of sweetness and childhood innocence. The ability to apologize when you know you’re in the wrong, the innocence of emotions getting away from you, and the sweetness of a daughter loving her father. This was a great read and I highly recommend it for everyone, but especially the little ones in your life who will be entering situations where books like these and their lessons are really important.

___

109. The Dead Zone by Stephen King--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one, I felt, held more of an emotional punch rather than a creepy feeling. I really enjoyed it! I loved the psychic angle and the MC proving the people who didn’t believe him or mocked wrong. Also, this was a King book that actually made me want to cry at the end. I didn’t give it a 5 because of some really slow moments. While I love that his stories always have a way of coming together at the end, certain scenes sometimes feel long, boring, or confusing. I’d recommend this for anyone who wants to read a King book that isn’t scary and if you’re a fan of 11/22/63!

___

110. Takane & Hana Vol. 1 by Yuki Shiwasu--⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one took me a while to read. I found that I wasn’t really in the mood to read it every time I picked it up—which is so different from when I pick up a manga I really want to read. The story had some funny bits and the artwork was gorgeous, but it really bugged me how every new chapter re-introduced the love interest. Over and over and over again. I get it: he’s rich, arrogant, and an asshole. Can’t you trust us to remember these key personality traits? But it wasn’t even just that. We were constantly re-introduced to the premise of the story. I don’t know how common this is WITHIN the same volume, but I haven’t encountered it yet—and if I have, it wasn’t as annoying as this one. I’ll keep reading the story because I’m curious, but this first volume was a bit of a rougher read for me.

___

111. You Have A Match by Emma Lord--⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

I think the thing with this book is that the cover tells a different story than what really matters in this book. Yes, there’s a friends to more relationship in this, but the main storyline is about two girls who find out they’re sisters and are trying to solve that mystery. This isn’t a romcom—the romance is a super side story to the main storyline. And to be honest, I really enjoyed it. I wanted to see why these two sisters lived their whole life separated. I enjoyed the process and the friendships created along the way. I felt for the parents, but at the same time, I felt more for the girls. There were instances where I wanted to yell at the parents because they kept putting the reveal off. This was enjoyable overall—a great summer read. Not particularly memorable, but it does what it sets out to do: makes you question the strength of friendships and what they can overcome. Also, Instagram.

___

112. Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

When my friend raved about this book I was both excited and intimidated. I usually try to avoid hypes surrounding books because I go in with too-high expectations and a lot of the time, the expectations crush me while I’m reading. Thankfully, the hype is very well-deserved with this one. For me, the most important aspect of this book that stuck with me wasn’t the mystery surrounding the MC’s cousin’s death, but the character growth the MC himself experiences during the time of his investigation. Identity sounds like a pretty clear cut thing sometimes, but it’s a lot harder to know your own when you’re the child of an immigrant family. You live in a new country, get accustomed to new expectations and customs, and inevitably feel a culture shock when you’re re-introduced to the culture your parents grew up in. I saw myself so much in this MC. From my childhood to my current adult years, people have thought that they could define me and who I am simply because I say I’m this or this. But while others make a quick judgment, they don’t see the internal struggle. They don’t see you questioning yourself on whether you’re enough of this, or whether you’re enough of that. I think teenage me would have loved this book even more. The MC is constantly faced with criticism about his father choosing to move them to the States from the Philippines. The judgments and the preconceived notions of him and his family make him not only weary because he recalls how his uncle treated his father the first time he visited, but also wary because it sets him down this road of self-reflection. I haven’t read many (if any, unfortunately) books where a character goes to the Philippines. I’m so thankful to this book. I learned so much about the culture, the foods, and the struggles faced not just financially, but politically as well. I remember reading about some of the topics brought up in this book and it was extremely eye-opening. It’s so easy for us to look away because we have that privilege, but this book says, “No, look at me. I exist.” The MC, in his journey, also learns to speak up and use his voice. Not just against ignorant friends, but an annoyingly smug and verbally abusive uncle (who I hated to all hell). He also learns to listen. He learns that though not every story is perfect, they still have power. I think this is a great read for those who have one foot in two different worlds (hands and arms can be in other worlds, too). Especially if you’re trying to understand this part of you that wasn’t developed as you grew up. I’d also recommend it to readers who want to learn more about this struggle, learn more about a different culture that is more than its stereotypes, and/or want to read about a young teenager trying to come to terms with his grief and guilt.

___ Have you read any of these books? Would you recommend them?

___

Happy reading!

#books #bookish #booklr #bookworm #bookaholic #bibliomania #bibliophile #review #reviews #reviews of the week #Features #on books #on reading #read #reading #reader #book review #book blog #book blogger #my writing #my opinion #book reviewer

[savnofilter]

You’re Perfect

Bakugo x Fat!Reader [3.4k words]

warning(s): sexual content, angst, fluff, mentioned bullying, might be triggering, implied anxiety attack, body dysmorphia, body worship, praise kink.

a/n: for any sfw readers, about first half of the fic is strictly sfw. line “It took you a second” is when it gets spicy, ““Shit… you okay? I didn’t hurt you or anything?”” is when its chill again. <////<

ahhhh, i sincerely apologize to the requester for this being so late. i too at the time was struggling with my weight when i had received this, i hope this makes up for lost time. this hit home to write since its painful to see someone you love go through hating themselves for something they cant control. if there is ANYTHING THAT MAKES YOU (THE READER) UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE LET ME KNOW! i will fix it up ASAP. as my other awareness posts or sensitive topic fics, i hope this helps more than hurts. 

if anyone makes fun of you for your weight (especially on anonymous) theyre fucking losers. if someone cant say shit to your face they dont matter!! and if they do? they still dont matter. as long as you are healthy you are 100% valid, no matter your size. thank you anon, i hope you have a splendid night! 💓

His mouth danced with yours as you two had finally gotten back from a long day of shopping together. His hands wandered under the cute hoodie that you had borrowed from him, your beautiful body doing it more justice than his. His calloused hands gave your sides a playful squeeze, smirking lightly at your slight moan at the feeling. Just when he was about to lift the material from your body is when you had stopped him abruptly. 

Bakugo frowned upon watching as you kept your hoodie down, shying away from his eyes and not making any move to speak rather than to tell him “no”. He sat back on his heels, your skirt already ridden up, but that too was brought down by your persistent hands. Bakugo’s brows furrowed in confusion, eyes scanning your face and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong. 

“Babe, what the hell are you doing?” He asked, his voice communicating his confusion.

“I-I just don’t feel like it anymore.” You mumble, hand flying up to cover your face, a sure sign that you were lying to him. Bakugo’s face didn’t change at your words, the other indication of that was the subtle change in his facial expression. He moved back, his hands carefully lifting your thighs from around his waist and helping you sit better on the bed again. 

“What’s the issue? Did someone do something to you?” He asks one question right over the other, thinking out loud instead of letting you speak as he gives you more space. “I swear I’ll kill whoever did it, those fuckers don’t know what’s coming to them-”

“It was about us,” You whisper, “those girls were talking about us.” Your change in volume catching his attention, whipping his head to look in your direction once again. He was startled to find that you were crying, the dead giveaway being the wet spots that coated the once dry edge of your sleeves. “How I’m not good enough for you b-because…” Finishing the sentence was hard. Your voice trembled as you struggled to talk, the painful squeezing in your chest making it impossible to think straight. He couldn’t say anything as he waited for you to continue, too worried that if he spoke too soon he’d cause you more harm than healing.

“I’ve been trying so hard to ignore it but, it’s just so fucking hard not to. People always tell me about how I look when I can already see it by myself. I don’t need someone to point out my weight because I live with it every fucking day! When they send me their bullshit when we’re together -- it’s always when we’re together. I fucking hate it!” You cried harder, your emotions coming up and swallowing you whole. Had this been with anyone else, it would’ve been hard. Since Bakugo had already been with you a few times to know your insecurities and aid you back to a level head, making this easier to open up. “Those girls… they talk about how you’re better than me, how you’d leave me because I’m not shaped like the other girls, how--how I’m not your type! And it’s every-fucking-day.” You whimpered at the end of your sentence, your anxiety not aiding in the fact that it was getting so much harder and harder to think straight or breathe. “It hurts so fucking much because I love you so much, K-Katsuki -- it hurts s-so much!”

At this stage in your breakdown, you didn’t even have enough courage to look up at him or inch away when you felt him get closer to you. He was silent as he watched you sobbed, gulping anxiously as he too tried to hold back his pain at watching you like this. He quickly scanned the room to let his words flow for whatever reason, the action aiding him in speaking to you. Of course, he had known that once you two moved onto a university setting that more people would try anything to get on top. Bullying was something he was over and something he had grown to despise. The thought and knowledge of people being awful to you made him incredibly sick.

“Is that what has been bothering you so much?” Bakugo asked, gently getting enough room for him to bring you into his lap into his arms. You nodded as you continued to sob, the harshness before only dimming down just a bit by him embracing you in his arms. “Fuck those extras. Those chicks don’t even know what they’re talking about, if they spent more time on themselves they’d pass better in class!” He huffs. He doesn't need to anything about who there and what their motives were, not wanting to feed into their pathetic bullshit. It was losers who don’t even have the privilege to talk to him for Bakugo. “You’re fucking beautiful, Y/N. Don’t let some nameless bullies get to you, they’re nothing but jealous bottom-feeders. You’re your own person even without me -- and hell I would still be pinning after you even if we weren’t together.” He mumbles against your temple, his hand that held under thighs in a tight but comfortable grip gave them a loving squeeze, his other hand that wrapped around your shoulders giving the same effort. 

He smiled softly once the sound of your crying subsided the more he continued his words. He places a kiss on your temple once he manages to earn a sorrowful giggle from you, nuzzling your hair as he softly rocked you. “Don’t let those people get to you… they have nothing better to do.” He carries, his tone softer than the last time. “I don’t know what’s it like to be in your shoes, but I am here for you, alright?” He reassures. The nod of your head was all he needed as he let you calm down, not moving or speaking another word till you were comfortable in moving again.

He gave you a moment to collect yourself, reminding you of the breathing exercises you often did to get you to breathe normally again. It wasn’t until when you had gained enough reassurance you were able to lift your head from your curled up position, using the other dry side of your sleeves to clean your cheeks. He swoops in to give your closest cheek playful kisses, the feeling of his lips against your skin making you chuckle and move your face away. 

“Katsuki, stooop~” You tease him, moving your face away from him and letting his kisses trail down your neck. He stops once you down at him with a playful grin, your vibrant smile back on your face. 

“There my beautiful and amazing, Y/N, is~” He teases back, leaning in to give your lips a peck and pulling away to carefully let you back on the bed. You take a small deep breath, your hands coming up to wipe your face again. “Thank you, Katsuki. Sorry if I ruined the mood, I didn’t mean it…”

“Eh, what the hell. I would rather sex you up when you’re ready not when you’re someplace else.” He nudges you jokingly, smirking down at your semi-surprised face. “I could get you a bath, queue up some movies, if that’s what you want-”

“N-No, I would like to continue where we l-left off.”

It took you a second before you could look up at him, both pairs of eyes reading each other. You were the first to lean in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and sealing the kiss halfway through. You positioned your body to face him better, him the same as you two sat at the edge of the bed getting into your interrupted make-out session once again. Your hands gripped the bottom of his shirt as his other disappeared under your hoodie once again, you two letting your hands refuge wherever they could find it. 

His thumb softly caressed your skin as he leaned more into you, you both moving to lay back onto the bed. His hand trailed from your jaw back to his earlier position before you had your break, pausing just slightly and continuing their journey downwards -- in fear of repeating the same emotions that had jumped up when you two had first started. His calloused hands landed on your thighs and spread them with enough room for him to fit between your thicc thighs. His hands gave them a sensual squeeze, dragging up playfully to disappear under your skirt as he caressed the plush skin under it. 

His tongue invaded your mouth while you let his hands roam wherever they so, please. His mouth swallowed your cute and surprised yelp when his hand found its way into your laced panties and gave your bean a testing rub. Once his advances weren't rejected he proceeded to continue rubbing. He opened his eyes to watch your face relax into one of lewdity, quickening his pace to the one you liked. His fingers were skilled in rubbing up and down to collecting your slick, making it easier to rub against your skin and bundle of nerves.

When you had pulled away it was one of the most erotic sights he has ever seen from you: expression needy, mouth open, and tongue hanging out your mouth as panted from the rush of adrenaline. A string of saliva connected you two, the experience causing his cock to twitch in excitement. He leaned down to give you a quick kiss to get rid of it and pulled away to get the rest of your clothes off. His hands gripped the bottom of the hoodie, red and lustful eyes looking up at you for consent before getting the clothing off your body. He groaned watching your chest heave in excitement, hands trailing your sides, and moving to kiss your neck.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby~” He mumbles against your skin, giving it a playful bite and sucking on it. “And you’re all fucking mine, you got it~?” He trails his kisses to different parts of your chest and collarbone, making sure to leave it in places that could easily be seen. “I’m going to let every extra know it too~”

You moaned out his name once he continued his possessiveness, hands groping your tits through your bra and fondling them. The soft but stimulating fabric of bra aided in giving you the extra boost of hormones that he had given your cunt minutes ago, shamelessly rubbing against the front of his pants to gain stimulation. 

His kisses didn’t stop at your chest and collarbones, his adventure continuing when his hands went behind your back to un-clip your bra and watch as your breast spilled from the contraption. He mutters to himself at how cute your chest was, the hardened nipples aiding in their beauty. He couldn’t help but swoop in and take a bud in his mouth, already sucking on the proud buds. His tongue swept across the hardened nerves and sucked on them as well, his other hand fondled the other. His unoccupied hand moves back under your skirt and inside your panties, playing with your womanhood, his main focus to give you utmost pleasure. 

He hums happily hearing you moan and whimper for him, your hands gripping the shirt he still kept on. The contrast of how much clothes you two were wearing was making you self conscious, but in the hot, bothered and vulnerable -- and not the bad kind of way. Once he could feel your cunt slicking up he smirked against your skin and continued his ministrations. Bakugo takes two experimental rubs against your entrance, dipping the tips in and slowly sinking them both in at once. His teeth lightly tug at your nipple as he pulls away, letting it go before giving it a teasing peck.

“You like my fingers in you, baby~?” He lightly taunts you, watching as your hips buck into his hand once he chooses to rub over your g-spot from the get-go. “You like it when I tease you like this, Y/N~?” Of course, he wasn’t expecting a verbal response from you. Your whimpering, and nodding being enough.

He let his fingers work inside you, tips repeatedly grazing and teasing your g-spot to watch your tremble and quiver. Choked words came from your mouth, your eyes never leaving his as he watched down at you in a predatory gaze. The corners of his mouth etched into a smirk, unbeknownst to you that how beautiful you looked made his heart race, his thumb doing its work to further its pleasure and keep you squirming beneath him. The sound of your cunt sucking around him was erotic, Bakugo flipping up your skirt just to see the mess underneath. “Fuck~ this pretty little cunt is mine~” He growls out from the feeling of your walls tightening around his digits at the compliment. Surely he wasn’t expecting you to cum this quick, his free hand gripping one of your thighs and pushing it back to let his fingers hit differently inside you. The mixture of his fingers pumping in and out of the hot core and his thumb swiping at your swollen nerves was enough to drive you over, giving him a loud cry he always yearned to hear when you guys get busy in your dorm room. He carefully removes his drenched fingers from your wanton cunt, dryly swallowing at the loss from around his fingers.

“Such a good girl…” He mutters to you, whether or not you were supposed to hear it or not mattering to you once he rips off your skirt, his hands gripping your waist and squeezing your waist. His eyes scanned and drank in your naked state, his cheeks tinting a happy pink on his tanned skin as he thought of all the things he could do to you, his boner officially pressing against the restraints of his pants. His hands trailed your body, giving the parts of your body sensual gropes and held you with gentleness. It was like he wanted to let you know he cherished every bit of you. 

Bakugo was quick on getting his clothes off, ready to finally have his cock inside you. His fingers danced across your way to lube himself up again, pumping his cock as he looked you over. He makes strong eye contact with you, his nose flare in hot arousal. “Are you ready to continue, babe?” He asks softly, gripping your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Please, Katsuki, please make love to me…” You ask meekly in response, your hands circling his shoulders and pulling him closer. His face nuzzles your neck and nods his head in response, pressing his tip against your opening before thrusting in.

“Be careful what you wish for~” He simply says as he hits inside you and holds you close. His pace was relentlessly but not in an aggressive way, the enthusiasm of his thrusts showing his passion for having sex with you. Your hips met with every thrust, body bouncing against his as he moved his hips against yours. The resonating sound of him moving in and out of you was flustering, to say the least, the sound not alone and having the sound of your wet pussy to partner along with it. 

His hands caged your head in as they rested on beside your face and on your plush pillows, anchoring himself and helping him move in you. He peeked down to watch as you reacted to him, from the way your face twitched in pleasure to the way your body moved against his was to put simply, euphoric. 

“There’s my beautiful girl, moan for me, baby~” Bakugo held no resentments in showering you with compliments, adding a little razzle-dazzle to the experience between you two. While some were straight-up dirty some were wholesome. The scale of how Bakugo went along with making you feel better and loved almost made you tear up once again. You swallowed the tears more for your own fear of shedding emotion and not wanting to ruin the mood again.

But that wasn’t the case.

Once Bakugo noticed your tear-stained cheeks, admittedly his heart did squeeze. He gave you a promise that he loves as he slowed his thrusts just for you, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks and give you a passionate kiss on the lips. He didn’t try to make it steamy or long, nor did he pull away to hear you say the same words back. He just wanted you to feel loved and desired in that very moment his words reached far behind the sensual confines of the bed you both sometimes shared.

So you let your feelings out. 

This time it was from the overwhelming love you held for your longtime boyfriend.

He kissed away and rubbed your cheeks as he left you to cling onto him. He set his pace to one he knew you loved, doing nothing more than pleasuring you and helping you move along to your orgasm. His lips littered your exposed collarbones, shoulders, neck, chest -- anywhere he could appropriately reach and where he could find. He kissed the characteristic and lovely blemishes on your skin, the reappearing and disappearing stretch marks he loved to caress late at night, and the old hickies left by your one and only~ He made sure to give you his all.

Your hands interlocked with his as you announced you were close, eyes watching up into him as his hips stuttered to meet your climax as well. He allowed himself to adjust to comfort without restraints. He sat deep in you as you released on his cock, your soft pants leaving your chest. He mutters another “I love you” to you for another good measure, kissing up to your neck and nipping your earlobe and sucking on it. He held you in his arms till you were done, carefully pulling away and pulling out, cussing lightly under his breath as he admired you. 

“Shit… you okay? I didn’t hurt you or anything?” He asks with slight worry, his cheeks tinting red again when you left your hands to cup his cheeks instead this time. You smiled up at him once he focused on you, thumbs softly rubbing the soft and warm skin of his attractive face.

“I’m okay. Thank you, Katsuki…” He pulls you into another hug, his arms holding onto you so tight that you believed that he wouldn't let go no matter what. “I-I love you too.”

You felt safe. 

Being on your own and not in the comfort of your home was scary on its own. But, with the added support of your boyfriend never made you pull away from loving yourself. You hadn’t expected to meet Bakugo or elope with him after his era of horrid behavior back in junior secondary school. You giggle to yourself as you think about old Bakugo and how much he’s changed, gaining a confused look from him.

“What’s so funny, brat?” He asks playfully, his hand coming up to flick your forehead. You whine at the feeling, still smiling anyways. 

“You’ve changed a lot, Katsuki.” You answer with just as much lightness, thanking him when he brings back a towel for you both to get cleaned up. “It’s honestly endearing if you ask me~”

“Save it for dinner.” He mumbles back, cheeks hot with embarrassment as you compliment his character development over the years. He gets off the bed and holds your hands to get you up, giving the same spot on your forehead a gentle kiss to somewhat “soothe” it. 

“Change into something comfortable, I have to show you something that will blow your fuckin’ socks off.” He grins as he pulls away. He get to changing into the settings attire from the few draws you let him borrow for his clothes, shooing you away and giving your butt a playful smack once you leave and smirking at your yelp. 

You pout rubbing your butt and go to your closet to pick out something this time around, deciding the leading choice for the outfit would be another one of his at-home hoodies that you wore out when you wanted him most. “May I ask where-”

“Of course not.” He answers before you can finish, peeking back at you once you dressed already, smiling softly as he hops up. “Just wear something that you can get dirty in. We’re going to make some unforgettable memories~”

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugō #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha katsuki bakugou #bnha kacchan #bnha kacchan x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo #mha katsuki bakugou #mha katsuki x reader #mha kacchan #mha kacchan x reader #tw body dysmorphia #tw; body dysmorphia #n/sfw #sav sins

[mostlycompetentwriter]

You Can STAY - Part 10

F/M Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (Side Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Warnings: Language; some mentions of mature content; violence; mentions of blood; major character death (uh-oh)

Summary: The King is challenged.

A/N: the gif doesn’t really fit but Jeongin does some hardcore stuff in this chapter

Tag List: @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @jjabbur @pinkchcn @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @dru-shadow @skzooyeet @xiaojunssmile​

“He’s losing his mind.”

I glanced up at the seemingly innocuous comment, narrowing my eyes in deep thought as Felix laid down next to me in our shared bed. “What do you mean?” I asked, although I had a faint idea of his intentions.

“There are consequences to our actions,” Felix said. “I think Changbin has finally started to realize that for himself.”

I swallowed hard, studying the detailed ornamentation of Felix’s freckles. “Is he sick?”

“He’s something,” Felix grunted. “Told me the other night that he saw Seungmin walking into his bedroom.”

I immediately frowned. “Like...a ghost?”

“Yeah,” Felix said. “Exactly like a ghost.”

I scoffed at such a notion. “How long has he been seeing ghosts for?”

“Does it matter?” Felix asked. “He deserves to suffer after all the horrible shit he’s done to his family and the kingdom. Every time I see him in the Throne Room, I just want to wring his fucking neck. Make him earn those breaths he gets to take since he made the decision to take away Seungmin and Minho’s right to live.”

I shivered at the venom in Felix’s tone. But instead of the rage he felt, I only experienced a deep-settled sadness weighing on my bones. To the point where it was sometimes difficult to force myself up in the mornings. “We can only keep him accountable,” I said. “He won’t stay on the throne.”

“He might,” Felix muttered. 

“It’s not meant to be,” I replied simply. “The rest of the Kingdom will see that.”

“When?” Felix huffed. “After he kills another one of my brothers?”

“He won’t hurt you,” I said. “And I don’t think he has plans to kill Jeongin.”

“Cuz’ he knows Jeongin is weak,” Felix said. “He doesn’t contribute to anything around here. All he does is visit Changbin in the evenings. Whatever it is they do alone in his chambers.”

“Is that where Jeongin is right now?” I asked.

“Last time I checked...” Felix trailed off, appearing slightly more anxious. “Yeah, he’s with Changbin.”

“Should we be worried?”

“I don’t think so,” Felix said, although I suspected it was more for my benefit than a statement of fact. “Jeongin can handle himself.”

“He’s a kid,” I grumbled. “I’m sure he’s scared and confused. The only reason he even gets to be here is because Changbin’s mother protected him.”

“Well, as long as she lives,” Felix said. “Jeongin will have a safe place, and he’s smart enough to know that.”

“And if she dies?”

Felix sighed. “Then I hope he’ll know to run, but that’s nothing to concern ourselves with right now.”

“I can’t help it,” I said, drawing myself closer to Felix for his reassuring warmth. “I want to take care of him.”

“I know, love,” Felix whispered, and I could feel his lips press a soothing kiss against the top of my head, providing me with only a faint inkling of hope when the rest of the world seemed to be growing darker.

Jeongin

Jeongin watched his brother as he slowly worked apart the buttons on his shirt: movements that seemed far too sluggish for a king in their prime. 

“Are you alright, Changbin?” Jeongin asked.

“M’ tired,” Changbin said, and Jeongin didn’t even react when Changbin slumped down into the floor. “My head hurts again.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongin whispered, hoping that it sounded more genuine that he felt. Or, maybe Changbin wouldn’t even notice.

But he was doing this for Chan and Jisung. For the family that Changbin had taken from him.

“I’ve prepared a bath for you.”

Changbin groaned, sliding his fingers through his graying hair. “I feel sick.”

“The bath will help,” Jeongin insisted, and he forced his feet to move across the floor to support Changbin by his arm, allowing his brother to lend most of his weight against Jeongin’s slimmer form, trying to control the shakiness threatening to ruin everything as he helped Changbin lower himself beneath the waters.

The smell of mercury was subtle, but Jeongin had done a good job of masking it with other bath scents. “Feels good,” Changbin slurred, and Jeongin resisted a smile at the glazed-over look in his brother’s eyes. 

It was happening exactly as Chan had described it to him. When his oldest brother entrusted him to carry out this formidable task because he was one of the few people left who Changbin still trusted. Even if it was his mother’s intervention that permitted that trust in the first place.

But she would never know what had happened. Chan had shown him how to disguise the slow killing, to convince Changbin that it was his own guilt turning his body against him.

His own flesh and blood. 

Dying more every night. 

Slowly, but dying nonetheless.

Poisoned by Jeongin’s own hand.

“Tell me when it starts getting cold,” Jeongin whispered, and he made sure that Changbin was distracted before allowing a satisfied smirk to overtake the façade of practiced innocence that he had perfected for these moments.

Felix

There were already murmurings spreading through the Kingdom. Rumors of a madman on the throne, and Felix could do little to assuage the fears of their people when Changbin insisted on screaming at the top of his lungs at the most ungodly hours.

“He’s always fucking there!” Changbin had exclaimed before running for the coverage of his bed, and Felix hesitated, wondering if his brother would ruin himself after all.

“Who’s there?” Felix asked.

“Seungmin,” Changbin hissed, and his eyes were wild and bloodshot. Something savage and untamable. “He’s watching me.”

Felix swallowed hard, watching his brother start to cry as he begged their dead younger brother to leave him alone, apologizing over and over again for knocking the arrow that had pierced his heart.

“Seungmin is dead,” Felix said, and he made sure his tone was harsh, but firm. “You’re seeing things.”

“I’m not!” Changbin barked, and Felix thought that his tone didn’t quite match the harried expression on his face - the haunted look in his eyes.

“You said you needed to speak to me,” Felix sighed, deciding that it might be best to remind Changbin of other things besides their brother.

“I called for you hours ago,” Changbin growled. “Where were you?”

“I was with Y/N,” Felix said. “We had to...discuss some things.”

Changbin frowned at his pause. “You were fucking that girl,” he snapped, and Felix was appalled by his brother’s language.

“What’s your problem?” Felix asked. “She’s the Castle Mage!”

“She’s a whore!” Changbin shouted, and he was up on his feet in an instant, wobbling between his legs as he pointed a finger at Felix. “She’s distracting you!”

“That’s absurd!” Felix retorted.

“Is it?” Changbin questioned. “Because every time you come in here, you’re always bringing up that girl. Wanting to marry her and live a big fucking happily ever after.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Felix returned. “Should I not hold you to the promises you made?”

“I am the King!” Changbin screeched. “I can form and break promises whenever I want.”

“Oh?” Felix asked, narrowing his eyes. “What’s this all about, then?”

“I’ve decided that you won’t marry that girl,” Changbin growled, and Felix had never felt so furious in his entire life.

“The reason why I serve you, brother,” Felix said. “Is because of how much I love Y/N.”

“Should I get rid of her?” Changbin asked. “Then you won’t have anything to love.”

“Why would you want to turn me against you?” Felix howled.

“Don’t speak of disloyalty!” Changbin said. “I won’t tolerate this discussion any longer.”

“But what you promised me-”

“STOP!” Changbin screamed, and it was enough to startle Felix into silence. “Hyunjin sent another letter,” Changbin continued as if intentionally ignoring the foul mood he had brought upon his brother. “Go down South and meet with him. I need to ensure that our alliances are settled.”

“Why should I?” Felix challenged. “If you won’t officialize my wedding, then I have no reason to serve you anymore!”

“Felix!” Changbin sighed, and he turned away to slam his fist against the wall. “Don’t do this to me!”

“Do what? Hold you accountable!”

“Go find Hyunjin!” Changbin demanded, glaring over his shoulder. “Do this for me and I’ll reconsider my position.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Felix pointed out, but he stopped when he realized his brother was already drifting again, lowering himself back down onto his bed with a moan of pain. “Fine,” Felix relented. “I’ll speak to Hyunjin. But when I return, you better keep your word or you’ll lose me and Y/N!”

“I’ll have you killed!” Changbin protested, but they both knew his words held little conviction from a King who could barely stand on his own two feet.

The sun was disappearing behind the mountains when Felix returned to our shared room, pulling out his bag and grabbing several articles of clothing.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I have to go South,” Felix replied, and there was a determined look on his face as he continued to work. 

“Leaving?” I questioned, watching Felix start to fold his belongings. “Why?”

“Changbin wants me to find Hyunjin,” Felix grumbled. “Something about securing our alliances.”

“Did he not read the letter?” I asked. “The South wants nothing to do with Changbin.”

“I have to do as he says,” Felix sighed, and I was surprised by his insistence. 

“They see an illegitimate King,” I continued. “He’s wasting your time.”

“I know,” Felix groaned, and he straightened up long enough to draw me closer. “I’m doing this for us, okay? Changbin has the power to wed us, whether we like it or not.”

“But it’s not worth it if he keeps delaying his promise,” I pointed out, pulling away from Felix’s arms to storm over to the window. “I think he’s lying.”

“We have no other option,” Felix said. “What would you have me do?”

I swallowed hard, gazing out over the Kingdom at night. “Go find Hyunjin,” I said, feeling the fight leave every inch of my body. “But when you return, you will insist on our union or we’ll take matters into our own hands.”

“I agree,” Felix said, and I could feel him walk up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I won’t be gone long.”

“It’s always too long,” I lamented, turning around to face him and see the familiar look of love reflected in his emerald gaze.

Felix left that evening, and I decided to take a walk amongst the gardens since I would worry about him non-stop until he returned.

Up ahead in the Northern tower, I could see that Changbin’s candle was still glowing, and I wondered what he must be thinking, wasting away into whatever sickness had claimed him.

Still, it was mostly quiet and calm on the grounds, and I was walking with a thousand louder thoughts racing through my head.

But I should’ve known better than to embrace complacency, pausing when I heard a whispered utterance of my name. “Y/N! Over here.”

I frowned, following the voice to the nearby shelter of the Holly bushes, attempting to peer into the branches. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was no response, but then the leaves started to rattle and I took a step back with my magic instinctively warming for my command. But nothing could’ve left me colder than the familiar sight of Chan and Jisung emerging from the bushes.

“Chan?” I gasped. “Jisung?”

“There you are,” Jisung said, smiling in spite of our surroundings, gathering me into his arms for a fierce hug. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I replied, and I couldn’t help but savor the embrace.

“We need to get inside the Castle,” Chan said, interrupting the moment with a heavy exhale, and I felt my metaphorical hackles rise as I turned to face him.

“Are you insane?” I hissed, watching as Chan and Jisung exchanged glances. “You’ll be killed.”

“It’s fine,” Jisung said, trying to reassure me by drawing his fingers through my hair. “We have someone on the inside.”

I frowned, but it only took me a moment to process what he meant. “Jeongin.”

Chan nodded, and there was something truly frightening about the look in his eyes. “Jeongin’s been poisoning him,” Chan explained with an insane look of delight. “I taught him how to disguise mercury in his baths.”

The implications of his charges hit me all at once, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same after this night. “You’re killing Changbin?!!”

“Jeongin will finish him tonight,” Jisung said, and I was horrified to see him miming a dagger striking above his heart.

“We’ll take the Castle back,” Chan said, but I shook my head because I couldn’t believe that the three siblings had plotted this together!

“You’re no better than Changbin,” I said, marching up to Chan to smash my palm against his chest. “Killing is never the answer.”

“Changbin did the same!” Chan scowled. “We need to take back the Kingdom!”

“Not dishonorably!”

“As if Changbin is in power because he was so honorable,” Jisung scoffed, and I realized that there would be no changing their minds.

Meanwhile, I could hear screaming from the northern tower, and there was a sudden flurry of movement as the guards started to shout out their orders.

“It’s time,” Chan said, and there was nothing but ice in my veins as I had no choice but to follow the brothers inside.

Felix

Felix was ready to leave, horses fed and watered, and belongings stacked neatly on the back of his saddle. 

But that all changed with a scream.

Immediately, Felix was on high alert, catching sight of the guards running inside from the stables. “The king’s been attacked!” one of them shouted, and Felix didn’t need to hear another word before he was abandoning his previous assignment. All thoughts of Hyunjin and the Southern territories were gone in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N!”

I paused at the familiar sound of Felix’s voice, nearly crying in relief when I realized that he hadn’t left yet. “Changbin’s been hurt,” I said, falling into his arms because there wasn’t much strength left in my trembling legs. 

“I know,” Felix growled, and he didn’t say much else before pulling me along behind him, barking out orders to the guards as he ignored their warnings and forced his way into Changbin’s private chambers.

It was a sight I would never forget, nearly losing what was left in my stomach at the sight of all the blood staining his bed sheets, and the dagger still protruding from his chest. “Felix!” Changbin gurgled, and there was a fresh stream of blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

Felix frowned, pushing aside the guard and doctor who had been attending to his brother. “Who did this?” Felix demanded.

“Jeongin,” Changbin hissed, and I could see the surprise evident in Felix’s eyes.

“Jeongin?”

“Did I stutter?” Changbin snarled, and I was impressed that he could still sound so intimidating when it was clear that death was upon him. 

“Why would he do that?” Felix wondered, but it less for Changbin and more of a general shock from the situation rapidly unfolding. 

“Listen to me,” Changbin hissed, coughing and heaving around every harsh intake of oxygen. “You know I’ll die from this.”

“How could he do this?” Felix continued, and I wanted to reach over and shake him from whatever disorientation was clouding his judgment.

But Changbin was already a step ahead.

“Fuck them all,” Changbin growled, holding tight to Felix’s arm as he brought his brother closer. “They’ve hated you since your birth, Felix. Do this one last thing for me: take the throne out of spite.”

“The throne?” Felix repeated, and I froze on the spot, realizing the vast implications for what this would bring.

“Avenge me!” Changbin said, but I made sure to send him a knowing look right before he closed his eyes: I would never allow Felix to committ such evil. Especially after that vision from so long ago where he stood above them all. Blood beneath his feet.

“Changbin?” Felix whispered, and I was surprised by the timidity in his tone, watching Felix close his eyes and take a staggered deep breath.

“It’s up to me,” he said, tone a little bit firmer as he glanced over at me before turning around to address the room’s occupants.

“I’m in charge now,” Felix shouted, and the guards nearby immediately knelt down onto one knee. “Find Jeongin!” Felix continued. “Bring him to me!”

“And the others, sir?” one of the guards asked. “What about Chan and Jisung?”

I was shivering violently, holding myself as I watched Felix’s expression shift into something dark and sinister. “What did you say?”

“Y-your other brothers,” the guard repeated, albeit much more hesitantly.

“They had a part in this?” Felix growled, and I recognized the turning point - the moment when Felix felt their betrayal.

“I know you’re furious with them,” I quickly intervened, holding my breath when Felix started to shake his head, refusing to listen before I could make my case.

“Did you know about this?” he asked instead.

“I didn’t until tonight when I found them in the gardens,” I said. “I tried to tell them that murder would lead to nothing good but-”

“But nothing!” Felix interfered with a harsh curse. “They went behind my back to try and throw Changbin off the throne,” he said.

“Yes, but they were upset and confused, Felix,” I insisted. “Changbin killed Minho and Seungmin. They wanted revenge, even if that wasn’t the answer.”

“So, are you suggesting that I let them free even though I’m King now?” Felix asked.

“A King stands up for his people!”

“Not when they show him such little regard,” Felix retorted, and he started for the door.

“Don’t do this,” I whispered, tugging on Felix’s sleeve as he continued to look straight ahead.

“Bring them to me,” Felix went on, and I was disappointed and heartbroken that he had ignored me. “Bring me my brothers.”

Felix was stagnant and unmoving, talking in rapid tones to his guards as he ordered me to remain silent.

The treatment was completely unlike him, but I held my tongue in the hope that he would see reason.

Of course, that all changed the moment Jisung, Chan, and Jeongin walked into the room, inviting a suffocating silence that persisted until Felix stepped forward. “Is this how you envisioned your plot to end?” he asked them.

And for a moment, I was afraid that none of them would respond. “No, Felix,” Chan eventually said. “We planned to allow the people to choose our next King.”

Felix scoffed. “Really? This wasn’t self-motivated?”

Chan shook his head, looking up with a determined stare. “We wanted to avenge Seungmin and Minho.”

“Well, that wasn’t your place, was it?” Felix snarled, and Chan was clearly caught off-guard by his brother’s tone.

“Felix, this is what we all wanted-”

“I never asked you to go behind my back!” Felix interrupted, and electricity crackled throughout the room.

“We had to plan in secrecy!”

“Jeongin knew!” Felix countered. “You had him play the part of the executioner!”

“Felix, we couldn’t risk your safety!”

“That’s not what it was,” Felix growled, and he was pacing the room, fuming as he grumbled nonsense to himself.

But then he stopped, standing up straight and sending a glare to his three battle-wearied brothers. “The three of you,” he said, pointing a finger at each of them. “Get the hell out of my kingdom.”

“No!” I cried, attempting to rise from the bed, but one of the guards held me down.

“Felix,” Jeongin sniffled, and my heart could barely handle his grief.

“The fault is with all of you!” Felix huffed. “You can suffer the consequences together.”

His word was final, and I watched as they all turned to leave out the door with a pair of guards following behind them.

“And if you see Hyunjin,” Felix added. “Tell him that he can stay in the South.”

The sentence was harsh, and the doors to the chamber echoed shut in the dead King’s quarters.

It was later that night, sitting alone in my shared room with Felix, when the man in question finally joined me.

“I’m sorry for my harsh words earlier,” he said, attempting a softer tone as his fingers traced the seam of my lips. “My brothers had to punished.”

“No, they didn’t,” I said, and there was a flicker of anger in Felix’s gaze before the emerald was calm once again.

He took my hand in his own. “You can marry me because I’m King, Y/N,” Felix said, breathing a kiss across my upturned palm.

But just as quick, I snatched my hand away from his grasp. “No,” I said as calmly as possible.

Felix frowned. “No?”

“If you keep your brothers exiled,” I hissed. “Then you’ll never have me.”

Felix shook his head, clearly thrown by my ultimatum. “You need to be careful with your words...”

“Are you threatening me now?” 

Felix sighed. “You’ll see in time why I had to exile them. Until that point, I will keep loving you, Y/N. I’ll wait for you to see reason and give us both what we want.”

I scowled at his words, waiting until he was gone from the room before laying back on the bed. “We’ll never get what we want now.”

Because too much had changed.

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids series #felix fanfic #felix scenarios #felix imagines #stray kids felix fanfic #skz felix fanfic #skz felix imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #mostlycompetent

[kyber-kisses]

Through A Mothers Eyes (Part 1)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: descriptions of wounds, some blood, a lot of crack. Y/N and Dean both kind of give off a Rufus and Bobby dynamic.

Summary: Mary meets an old friend of the Winchesters and apparently she’s the only one who can see the very obvious feelings the reader and Dean have for each other.

A/N:I know, I know i already am working on two other series, sue me.but inspiration struck. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!

You were snipping the ends of your sutures when the familiar groan of the bunker door opening brought your head up. It had been so long since you had been back to the bunker. When you had arrived you found the place empty and void of the people closest to you. The wheeze of the door therefore bringing a small smile to your face. You watched as several silhouettes made their way down the steps, the distinct voice of one Dean Winchester standing out from the rest.

“Well look who decided to come home!” You mused, a grin spreading across your face as the Winchester brothers stepped up into the library, the conversation ceasing on their lips at the sight of you.

“Y/N?!”

“Dean?!” You quipped back in mock surprise, dropping the stitch scissors back into the first aid kit.

“What the hell happened?!”

“Well Sam, I was stabbed.”

“I’m sorry- you were stabbed?!” Deans eyes widened, dropping his duffel bag haphazardly onto the floor of the library as he quickly made his way toward you, eyes trained on the massive slash in your torso.

“Good to see you too, Dee.” Normally you would slap him away, but seeing the concern on his face made you stop, the hunter squatting down in front of you as he looked over the wound. It was only then did you see the third person in the room, eyebrows drawing together in immense confusion. “Okay, so maybe this is just from blood loss are the nice cocktail of painkillers I’m on. . . But I think I’m seeing your dead mother.” You spoke cautiously, looking across the room wide eyes at the blonde woman next to Sam.

“Oh right, Mom meet Y/N. Y/N meet Mom.” Dean made a quick introduction, rummaging through your first aid kit before producing a handful of alcohol wipes, ripping open one with his teeth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” Mary gave you a gentle smile, and underlying expression of concern beneath as she looked at the gash in your side.

“Nice to meet you t- AHH!” Your words being cut off as Dean suddenly pressed the wipe to the cut, earning a light smack on the head from you as he did.

“Ow!”

“Give a girl some warning. My god.”

The hunter mumbled a quick apology as he tenderly tried to wipe the remaining blood away, his eyes focused on the task.

“Where were you guys anyways?” Looking up around the younger Winchester, you reached across the table for your half empty glass of whiskey, taking a sip of the amber liquid.

“Working a case in Omaha. Just a couple of spirits. Nothing to big.” He answered, finally dropping his own bag down on the table in front of you and sliding into one of the vacant seats.

“Where the hell were you though?” Dean popped back up into his feet, snapping the lid of the kit shut as he looked down at you.

“Oh you know, hunting, adding on to my long list of foreign ex lovers- beating the canon all run record-“

“Wait seriously?!”

A light laugh bubbled from your lips as you stood up besides him. “No! But I find it extremely flattering that you believe I have the capability of achieving that.” You patted him on the shoulder.

“Well you drive like you’re constantly in a Fast and Furious movie-“

“Well, I learned from the best.” You shot him a grin before downing the rest of your glass and setting it back on the table, watching as Dean smiled. “. . .Too bad you were busy that day.” Your words earning a chuckle from Sam and an amused smile from Mary as you rounded the older Winchester. . . who was standing there was his jaw hanging slightly open.

“How dare you?”

“How dare I.” Nodding in agreement, you shot him another smirk. “Now, I would love to stay up and chat. . .Especially about how your mother is back from the dead, but I’m running on two hours of sleep, a shot of whiskey and half a granola bar. If I don’t go to bed I might pass out, and that does not make for a good introduction.”

“Oh but I thought you were one for making memorable introductions?” Dean mused, crossing his arms as he turned to watch you go.

“I don’t know about you but I thought my stab wound was pretty memorable.”

You watched Dean roll his eyes as he shooed you down the steps. “Okay, alright go to bed.”

“Aye, aye captain.” Giving one last salute you turned and walked down the steps into the war room.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight, boys. Goodnight, Mary.” Giving one final wave you disappeared down the hall. “It’s nice to meet you, and thank you Dee for the help.”

The moment you were out of earshot Mary leaned over the table. “Alright, who exactly is Y/N?”

A soft smile spread across Sams lips as Dean feel back into the chair you had been previously occupying. “Y/Ns one of our closest friends. . . and Deans best friend.”

“More like a pain in my ass.” Dean joked, filling up your empty glass and claiming it as his own.

Mary raised an eyebrow as she watched her elder son. Best friends? It looked like more than that to her. Especially how Deans face lit up at the sight of you.

“She seems lovely.”

“Oh well that’s one word for her.” Another chuckle left the hunters mouth as he mindlessly swirled the contents of the glass, paying no attention to the look his mother was giving him.

“How long have you known her?”

Sam and Dean both shared a look as they tried to think. They had known you for so long that it was hard to tell exactly when they had met you.

“I think we met her when Sam was around five, maybe? I couldn’t have been more than nine.”

If Mary had had a drink in her mouth she probably would have choked. She had a feeling the boys had known you for long time. . . But not that long. You had been a part of their lives longer than she ever had.

“How exactly did you meet?”

There was silence for a moment as Dean looked down at his hands in embarrassment. “Well-“

“She nailed him in the face with a snowball.” Sam finished casually, receiving a death glare from his brother when Deans head snapped up.

Mary let out a chuckle. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Dad dropped us off at Bobby’s and while we were there a couple of other hunters stopped by. Bobby sent us outside so he could talk to them and this. . . This nine year old girl just came out of freaking nowhere. And bam! Snowball right in the face.”

“. . . Wow.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded in agreement as he took another sip from your glass. “I mean she apologized right after, but she definitely made it memorable.”

Resting her chin in her hand, Mary watched with a smile as Dean continued to talk about you. Yes, there had to be something more there.

There just had to.

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro​​​​​​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​​​​​​ @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​​​​​​ @callmekda​​​​​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​​​​​ @orphiceseum​​​​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​​​​​ @marvelfangirllll​​​​​​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​​​​​​ @gladiosamicitias​​​​​​ @castielsangelsx​​​​​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​​​​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​​​​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​​​​​​​  @totallyluciferr​​​​​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​​​​​ @dolanfivsosxox​​​​​​@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​​​​​ @akshi8278​ @defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​​​​​ @idksupernatural​​​​​​​ @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​​​​​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​ @beanie-beebo​​​​​​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​​​​​​ @greenarrowhead​​​​​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​​​​​ @brebolin​​​​​​ @biahblue​​​​​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​​

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #SPN #spn x reader #bi-danvers writing #dean winchester series

[delicioussshame]

This chapter brought to you by me being easily influenced.

His beloved’s sleep is restless.

Luo Binghe prides himself on leaving his bedmates too exhausted for anything more than a dreamless night, but it seems that even his best efforts weren’t enough to calm Shen Qingqiu’s mind.

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head under the press of Luo Binghe’s hand on his forehead.

Luo Binghe feels the smile form itself on his lips. So Shen Qingqiu, always so composed, can also trash like an unruly child.

No matter how endearing the sight is, after all Luo Binghe put him through, Shen Qingqiu needs all the rest he can get. Luckily for him, he is sharing a bed with someone who has the power to solve such mundane concerns with ease. He’s never visited Shen Qingqiu’s dreams before, but he suspects his dreamscape is as lovely as he is.

He slides into Shen Qingqiu’s mind with ease, and is welcomed by a vision of himself and Shen Qingqiu, his hand keeping both of his lover’s wrists trapped over his head and his mouth firmly latched on his neck as he maintains a merciless rhythm, tearing screams out of Shen Qingqiu’s throat.

He finds himself amused, delighted and more than a little aroused by the knowledge that even after Luo Binghe had brought his partner to completion multiple times, in respite, Shen Qingqiu’s body still craves him. It’s a good sign, not that Luo Binghe has ever doubted that Shen Qingqiu found their time together pleasurable. Luo Binghe’s skills in the bedchamber are renowned, and on this front, he has given Shen Qingqiu the best of himself.

It doesn’t mean that other aspects of his courtship are as successful, but it’s a start. Luo Binghe is trying his best to overcome humans’ natural reactions to demons.

Tonight will be another step in that direction. While he would happily remain here, watching himself and Shen Qingqiu entangled, until the sun rises, it won’t provide the rest the peak lord needs. Instead, he’ll disperse this dream and show Shen Qingqiu how useful his powers can be.

Shen Qingqiu sits up in confusion when the other Luo Binghe disappears, leaving him alone in Luo Binghe’s too big bed.

Tousled and bitten, he looks delectable, but that’s not why Luo Binghe is here. “Apologies for disturbing you, but your sleep was troubled, so I took the liberty of quieting it.”

Shen Qingqiu turns toward him, confusion slowly fading from his face. “Luo Binghe? But you were just…”

So his dear cultivator wasn’t aware of this ability of his bloodline? “It is I. The real one. Heavenly demons can walk through others’ dreams. I could tell yours were keeping you away for true relaxation, so I decided I would soothe them for you. This is but an illusion.” He sits by the bed, and gently pushes Shen Qingqiu until he lies back into the bed. “Forget it. Close your eyes. I guarantee you nothing else will disturb you.”

But Shen Qingqiu isn’t calmed. If anything, he seems more agitated. “Is this something you do often, visiting others’ dreams? Have you used those powers on me before?”

Fear. Again. It’s even easier to notice here, in a domain Luo Binghe has complete control over. His unease taints the whole dreamscape, turning the shades darker and making Luo Binghe’s room seem even wider than it really is, the bed a lost island in an ocean of dark emptiness.

Luo Binghe could scream in frustration. All he wanted was to free his beloved from his worries for a night! And yet, it seems Shen Qingqiu is more scared of Luo Binghe’s presence here than of the content of his latest fantasy. “I have not. I only wanted to help, but if I am unwelcome, I will abstain.” Obviously, Shen Qingqiu values his privacy too much to allow for Luo Binghe’s assistance.

Or, a part of his mind he doesn’t like to listen to whispers, he finds the nightmares more palatable than you.

He feels more than he sees Shen Qingqiu’s attempt at recentering himself. The room turns a fraction brighter, the air warms just a little bit.

But not enough. Luo Binghe’s room still appears inhospitably cold and foreboding.

Maybe he’ll visit Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house more often. He must find the familiarity comforting.

“I thank Lord Luo for his kind intentions, but he shouldn’t waste his wondrous powers on me.”

Luo Binghe wants to argue that any effort spent in Shen Qingqiu’s favor could never be wasted, but at this moment, he can tell this isn’t what Shen Qingqiu wants to hear. It won’t help him. Nothing Luo Binghe could say will help. “I won’t interrupt again.” He presses a hand over Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “Sleep.”

Shen Qingqiu falls back on the bed, dead even to the world of dreams.

The impulse to lie down with him, to gather him on his chest and watch over his unconscious mind even here is strong, but he pushes it back. Shen Qingqiu has made his desires very clear. How can he convince the man to accept him if he keeps ignoring his wishes?

He’ll have to content himself with holding his physical body, back in the room they share.

It’ll be enough.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #The Peak Lord SY/Demon King LBH AU

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Can we PLEASE get Kohga making Sooga his favorite food? Just something TENDER?

Kohga HAS been a bit mean to poor Sooga, let’s lighten it up a bit!

Kohga knew he was a hell of a top. He knew he could boss around everyone six ways to Sunday, and that included Sooga. But being a top was WAY more than just bossing around your partner. It was taking care of them. It was showing them you cared, and even though Kohga was used to being pampered, he knew he had to give it back. Being a top came with that kind of responsibility. So, Kohga made his men gather intel, and figure out what was Sooga’s ideal meal. He hated finding out it was in fact, deep fried salmon skin, salmon filet stuffed with creamy hyrule herbs, carrot cake, and a nice dirty banana cocktail. Now, the drink and the dessert wasn’t the problem. It was the gross, disgusting, slimy FISH that was an issue. Of all the hunks of men he had to fall for, it was the one that LOVED fish.

“Master Kohga? Are you okay? You’ve been...staring at the fish for like, ten minutes.”

Kohga had sent Sooga out on an errand, and had two foot soldier’s help him prep and clean as he cooked. However, when he brought them the hearty salmon, fresh from the Hebra mountains, he couldn’t help but gawk at it. It smelled awful, and it was STILL wet. Kohga went to touch it, only to wince. Gross, fishy smell, he hated it ever since he was a kid. He recalled his mother trying to feed him fish, only to smack it right out of her hand.

“God, how do you guys EAT this stuff?”

“It’s the fat of the salmon, Master Kohga, it makes it very tasty. If you’d like, WE can handle the fish. You could just make everything else-”

“Nope. I gotta do this. I can do this. I can cook a fish. I know how to cook fish. Gimme the knife, get everything else ready.”

He nodded, before handing Master Kohga the knife. Kohga, groaning to himself, placed his hand on the fish. 

“Ew ew ew ew, it’s SO slimy, I HATE it. Smells like DEATH."

But Kohga pushed himself through it. He shut his eyes, and grabbed a hold of the fish. It’s gross, dead eyes looked up at him. He ran his blade down the length of the body, nearly gagging as he watched the scales fly off. Sooga was so fucking lucky he was cute, else he couldn’t put up with the nasty, gross smell and feel of this fucking thing. He sighed as he finally finished, feeling just a BIT better. The boys next to him clapped as they continued prepping for him, honestly proud.

“Very well done Master Kohga! We’re proud of you! Cutting it will be easy!”

He fought every instinct not to punch them in the mask. None of this was easy. 

"Now...the fins. Why do they have fins, I hate it. I wanna know what kinda damaged person first saw fish, and thought 'hey, let's eat this thing!'"

"To...help them swim-"

"Don't you make me imagine that. This isn't food I'm making, it's a goddamn WAR CRIME."

Kohga cut off the fins, slowly, trying not to lose his shit. He tossed it into the sink beside him, lightly shuddering. Now, arguably the worst part; taking off the slimy, creepy head. Kohga was damn good at butchering, and fishes were no exception, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Because he did NOT like the feel of the knife grazing through the meat. At all. When it finally came off, he groaned.

"Alright, new job for you both. Take this knife, and just stop my pain."

It was going to be a long, long night.

------------------

"Sooga, you're back, just in time!"

Sooga was greeted by a foot soldier, which he found odd. Not that others didn't like him, it was just weird, getting such an excitable welcome. Though, much was weird about today. Kohga had sent him on a scavenger hunt, gathering items that didn't make sense. Stuff from a dozen warm darners, to a lynel crusher. It wasn’t his place however, to question his master.

"I take it Master Kohga was waiting for me? If so, I apologize, one of the Lynels was rather...stubborn."

"Kohga WAS waiting for you! Come on, this way!"

He followed the foot soldier, right to Kohga's napping spot. He was surprised when he saw a table there, lit up by candles.

"What about Kohga’s list of-”

Kohga suddenly had a hold on his hand, starting to yank him towards the table.

"Shut up, I have a surprise for you. Sit your buns down."

Sooga obeyed, still not understanding what was happening. That is, until Sooga started to bring plates and plates of food to the table. Carrot cake, fresh loaves of bread with goat butter, and the part that really got him excited; the fish. Not just crispy salmon skin, fried till golden and crispy, but thick, juicy cuts of salmon, stuffed to the brim with creamy filling. Sooga found himself nearly clutching his pearls, a bit taken aback.

“Master Kohga...is this, for me?”

“No, I wanna eat fish- yes it’s for you.”

“You cooked fish? For me?”

Kohga took a seat next to him, shuddering at the feel of fish in his hands. He needed a bath. A LONG bath.

“Yeah, I did. So if you ever question how much I love you, I’m gonna remind you, I cooked FISH for you. I had to TOUCH it and-”

Kohga was going to rant further, before Sooga held onto his hand, and kissed the back of his hand.

“I’m honored, totally and completely. Not only to have a place in your heart, but to know you made this with your tender love and care. I adore you, Master Kohga.”

When a man THAT good looking, and THAT sweet said stuff like that to you, it made even Kohga just a bit flustered. Just a smidge. Sooga put his hand down, lifted his mask up a bit, and helped himself. Kohga had seen him eat before; quickly, as if he was in some kind of hurry. Sometimes he wouldn’t even finish his meals, for favor of getting right back to work. Kohga thought he was going to see just that, before he noticed this was different. Sooga wasn’t just tasting things here and there and calling it a day, he was actually tucking in. After kindly offering Kohga some bread (Kohga didn’t want to eat at the same table as fish, but hey, it made Sooga happy), Sooga started to finish some plates. The skin quickly disappeared, his half of the bread was gone, and the plate of fish was quickly torn into. Kohga almost couldn’t believe it.

“You know, just because I made it, doesn’t mean you gotta play it up.”

“Pardon?”

Sooga even spoke with his mouth full, muttering an apology soon after realizing it. He swallowed, before shaking his head.

“Ah, I see what you mean. No, Master Kohga, I am doing no such thing. I love fish, and I genuinely love your cooking. It’s an honor, and makes my heart swell in appreciation. It almost brings me back to my childhood, this dish.”

Kohga could tell he meant it. The way he sighed in content, even the way he wiped his mouth. It was rare to see Sooga not so tense. Sooga smiled, and pushed the heavy serving of carrot cake in between them.

“I would often share desserts with my mother after dinner as well. Do you dislike carrot cake as well?”

Kohga rolled his eyes, before grabbing a fork.

“Lucky for you, I kinda like it. Just how I kinda like you.”

Was it stupid, falling for a man who shoveled carrot cake in his mouth with such a smile? Maybe. Maybe past all of his brilliance, he was a touch stupid for one man. 

One sweet, strong man. One who, despite his stomach’s objections, he’d be happy to keep cooking fish for.

#asks #kohga #sooga

[lukneetoonz]

LITTLE GODDESS PART V

——————————————————————————

Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Make out 👀, mentions of drinking, mentions of blacking out, oh and in this I made Dabi a todoroki by making him ares so he's connected in that sense.

Word Count: 2,191

A/N: I feel like- shit that I've been MIA, but I really have had major struggles with my mental and physical health. I beg you, if you’re struggling with something mentally, reach out to someone. Even if you're scared please do, because it’s never easy to deal with it on your own. My dms are always open, and I don’t care if we never talked before, please don’t hesitate to dm me.

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

—————————————————————————-

Let’s retrace your steps, you went to the party, you talked to Denki, got your drink spilled on you, went to the bathroom, then- nothing. You remember nothing else. There was no way you could have got that drunk, right? Taking a bite out of the godly crepes that Aizawa made, you snuck a peak at him, blushing because he was perfect. Oh how lucky you were that he couldn’t hear your heartbeat or how it was rapidly beating against your chest. Maybe he did and was being polite and ignoring it….

“Is the headache any better Y/N?” Meeting Aizawa’s concerned eyes, you smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, thank you for the coffee and medicine. You’re a lifesaver.” Aizawa tsked at your proclamation, waving you off, “I’ve just had a few too many hangovers myself to know how much it sucks.” The corners of your lips quirked upward as you nodded, this felt so- natural… maybe a little too natural. “I can give you a ride home little goddess… if you’d like one”

Contemplating the king's words, you smiled and nodded, “I’d like that very much.”

:readmore:

Aizawa tried his best not to blush at your smile that was directed towards him, “I-you can wear one of my shirts and sweatpants if it’s more comfortable? I don’t have any female clothes… I apologise” Why was it that finding out he had no female clothes made you happy? Maybe it’s because of the hint behind it, that he has no female clothes because there are no females over at his house. Shaking your head, you smiled at him, “It’s fine, it’s not your fault. But I could use a jacket or sweatshirt… it’s rather chilly here”

Chuckling, Aizawa nodded and leaned on his palm looking at you, “This is the underworld… Plus I may be friends with Hizashi but I don’t think I could handle him around so much to help bring sun here.” Giggling You smiled at the man, goosebumps running over your skin as a shiver went down your spine. “I rather favor the moon myself” Bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you blushed at your own comment about your mother, thinking how you probably sounded silly. But, amidst Your self doubt, the ravenette laughed, almost a sparkle in his eye. “I think that’s a rather biased opinion, wouldn’t you agree?”

Laughing, you blushed as you nodded, “I think I should be allowed the bias, wouldn’t you agree?” Aizawa shrugged slightly, a teasing look in his eyes as both elbows laid in front of him, letting him lean forward, “You don’t see my favouring Titans now do you? And I am the son of two of them.”

A giggle left your lips as you brought the warm coffee up to your lips and took a sip, “Hmm… touché”. Aizawa sighed in content before slightly frowning as he remembered you can’t stay here… you have a life beyond this place. You didn’t belong being trapped here with him. You deserved so much more in his eyes. Noticing his cold, yet warm stare, you tilted your head as you met his eyes. “Shouta?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he blushed slightly before coughing to try and cover up his embarrassment, “I- sorry… I was just daydreaming I guess.” Cracking a slight smile, you could see his teeth that were just begging to be shown on full display, but of course they never were. The thought alone of being able to make shouta smile like that, made your heart warm in funny ways. They always did say that god's feel stronger emotions than any other being.

They love faster. They love harder. But they also fight harsher. They also hold grudges the longest. And they also feel the worst of pains. Sighing, you just finished your coffee before a shiver ran down your spine. “Ah, that’s right, you need something warmer” Blushing at his own forgetful mind, shouta walked until he was out of the kitchen and rummaging through his closet for something warm.

*•*

Being left alone gave you more time to look around and appreciate every little detail of the king's house. Taking in the details you started thinking of what it would be like to live in such a house, to dance around on the marble floors. To have x amount of bedrooms to choose from. To sit in the study with the king himself while reading a book that can’t even be found anymore…

“I got you a crew neck sweater of mi- Y/N?” You jumped slightly as you didn’t even hear him coming, blushing you moved to cover your face. “Oh gods- I’m sorry! I was lost in thought.” Smiling at your flustered face, Aizawa moved to stand in front of you, grabbing your wrists gently to tear your hands away from your beautiful face. “Don’t Apologize little goddess, wasn’t I just the one spacing out?”

Peeking up at him, you automatically loosened up from his soft look and touch. Nodding softly to agree, because you couldn’t trust your voice to be straight. There was something so peaceful about the silence that surrounded the both of you, it was so quiet that all that filled the air was your own breaths. In such a trance, neither of you noticed how close your faces had got, not until your lips feathered against each other.

Eyes now only focusing on the temptation of kissing the king's lips, to taste him, to devour him. Your rational side flew out the window as you stood straighter and finally gave into your desires. Shouta wasted no time kissing you back, large hands cupping your cheeks as your own gripped onto his robe. If there was any plus side to how gods feel, it was that they wasted no time in showing the passion you were bound to create.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, almost asking if he could explore you more, and how could you say no to a king? Lips parting, your tongues moved one another as shouta got more dominant with his movements. Hands moved from your face to cup your ass and place you on the counter, your legs spreading to let him be as close to your body as possible. The simple motion was graciously accepted by the man as he held your waist to hold your body against his. Breaking away slightly for air, you both panted as you stared at each other, almost as if you were both giving the other an out if they didn’t want to do this.

Neither of you spoke as Aizawa dipped down once more to capture your lips in a much slower, but much sweeter embrace. Your hands crept up to cup his jaw, just holding him there as this kiss spilled more feelings then the one before. No longer did you need that sweater as your body was hotter than it ever was, not to mention how the Male in front of you was warm and welcoming. Against his better judgment, Aizawa pulled away once again, letting his eyes close as he rested his forehead on your own, lips grazing your nose in a loving manner.

Taking this time, you observed the man up close for the first time, taken away with how truly beautiful he was. Fingers gently brushing the scar that rested on his cheek bone, mouth forming into a frown as you thought about what could have happened. Almost like reading your mind, his deep voice broke the silence, “I got it from the war… There's many more where that came from, but that’s the price for how we live today.”

Dark eyes finally opening to meet your own that were full of warmth and comfort, Aizawa merely moved to hug you close as his head nuzzled itself into your shoulder. Something so soft coming from the one they deemed the scariest god, was truly surprising, but you didn’t let it sway your motions as you hugged him back, one hand finding itself in his hair. “I hope you don’t think of me as a man who does this with just anyone… I would very much like to take you out tonight if you’d all-”

“I would love to Shouta… a-and I don’t. Think like that I mean… I hope you don’t think I’m a goddess who just kisses men whenever she wants.” Your voice Interrupting his own, but it wasn’t unwanted. As soon as your voice disappeared from the air, Aizawa was already answering. “I don’t. I think rather highly of you little goddess. Higher than most.”

Smiling at his comment, you moved your head so you could press your lips to his temple softly. Leaning your head on his, you let your eyes close to enjoy this moment, wanting to bask in all its glory before it inevitably had to end.

*•*

As you thought, the moment wasn’t meant to last forever. Interrupted by a loud bang that represented a door being kicked down, followed by a loud, “I AM HERE FOR FAMILY LUNCH!”. Groaning, Aizawa quickly picked you up off the counter and placed you back onto your own two feet. It would have seemed rude if he hadn’t quickly placed the sweater on your figure and stood in front of you, wanting to hide you from his annoying brother.

Trying your best to stay hidden behind the dark haired man, you both could hear the loud stomps coming towards you. Quickly thinking, Aizawa turned around to face you, giving you an apologetic look as he did, “Trust me I’m saving us both from a lot of trouble” and before you could respond, lips met your forehead in a rushed kiss and you were suddenly back at your house. Of course he fizzed you back… come to think of it, you could have also done that this morning… oh well you made out with him because you had a dumb moment.

Back in the underworld, blonde tufts came into view and Aizawa gave him a bored expression, “and you barged into my house, because?”. Toshinori just laughed before ruffling Aizawas hair, “Older brother, have you forgotten what day it is? Rei sent me just to pick you up since we all know you like to skip or show up late. So for now I’m your chauffeur for family lunches!” With his eye twitching, Aizawa knew he wasn’t getting out of this. Grumbling, he walked past his brother and quickly changed into a more casual outfit of a black turtleneck and dark grey dress pants.

Without even stopping for toshinori, Aizawa walked past him just mumbling about how no one has boundaries or respect. The blonde merely laughed before walking with him to the car, but of course not mentioning the heels he saw next to his brother's front door.

The drive was nothing but quiet and longer than it seemed. Aizawa had no intention of making small talk with his brother, since he had rudely interrupted his morning. His morning with the goddess that seemed to have latched onto his heart, with no intention of letting go, not that he minded. As they arrived at the glorious manner of the golden royals of Olympus, they were greeted with a yelling Touya- no Dabi now since he wanted to separate himself from his father as much as he could.

Eyebrows furrowing, Aizawa could See Natsou already with a glass of wine, laughing at how his father tried dodging his brother's angry attacks. Shouto on the other hand, was making deadly knives and giving them to his brother to help him. Fuyumi was trying to stop them both as rei just smoked a cigarette on the side, looking at the men with an unamused expression. Fuyumi quickly thought of a plan to stop the god of war, aka her brother, from killing her father. Of course she was able to stop them since she was the goddess of war, her brother's counterpart.

Once it was all calmed, the brothers got out of the car, preparing themselves for an interesting family lunch.

——————————————————————————

Taglist; @present-mel

@maya-ngpirit

@a-match-into-themoon

@nhievyenne

@negansnumberonewifie

@darkqueenhyde

@minfani

@creolemimi

@lhcartoonist

@fairy-inthegarden

@taylor----wonderland

@the-british-koala

@leeeah-loooser

@vinaios

@astralvante

#mha fanfiction #mha imagines #ely here #mha aizawa #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa fanfiction #littlegoddessfic #mha toshinori #mha dabi #mha shoto todoroki #mha fuyumi #mha enji #mha rei #mha natsuo #im back lovelies

[inkribbon796]

Six [Ate] Ain’t Seven Ch. 1: Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Summary: The anomaly demands resolution, and it will not be denied.

A/N: No story has fought me like this one. Even the Time Warp with its multiple timeline garbage didn’t fight me like this one did. This one was supposed to come out in September of LAST YEAR.

Me: No Host, we are doing this, this thread has to be tied up.

Host: But consider making all the apprentices toddlers for a day, instead of writing this?

Me: . . . *thinks about toddler Ranboo and writes that down* . . . that’s a really good idea but we’re strapped for time with this arc and we’re still doing this.

Host: It was worth a shot.

Chapters: 1, 2

It happened infrequently, a tear in the fabric of reality would appear somewhere in Egoton, and the Host would race to correct it before it spread and began destroying things.

The important part was keeping the tear away from the anomaly. It would cause even more problems for the Host, only these problems would only be more obvious to everyone else. And the Host was desperate to keep Dark from noticing the tear. It would ruin everything.

So, the Host wanted to fix the error in the story he was safeguarding, and so he brought himself to the Sides’ home one morning. His arrival timed perfectly.

The Host used his narrations and aura to ring the doorbell.

It took a minute or two for the door to open and to his great fortune, Patton was the one to open the door. He was overly cheery, the epitome of a morning person.

“Oh, Host,” Patton recognized in surprise, glancing around to see if anyone was out and about in the morning. “Come on in.”

“The Host merely wanted to bring something to Morality’s attention,” the Host told him. “If he could meet the Host outside of Dark’s warehouses, but not directly in the parking lots, the Host would greatly appreciate it.”

“O-Okay,” Patton looked back nervously into the hallway of his home.

“Is everything alright?” Logan called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s just Host,” Patton called back. Then he turned back to the Host. “I’ll just get the guys and we’ll—”

“The Host would prefer if just Morality accompanied him,” the Host corrected. “Time is of the essence and discretion is necessary. The Entity will be none the wise of Morality’s proximity, the Host can ensure his safety from the demon.”

“Oh,” Patton became more uneasy. “I guess . . . yeah . . . just let me suit up and I’ll meet you there.”

“The Host thanks Morality for this, the Host will explain what he can once they are in position,” the Host nodded. “He will also ensure none of the Sides’ neighbors remember seeing the Host.”

And with that the Host disappeared in a flurry of his narrations, his eyes bleeding as he reappeared outside the Entity’s warehouses. The tear insistent on receiving the demon’s attention, but Host used all his power to keep it from doing so.

Patton took some time to reach the rendezvous point, in full costume, but he was alone as the seer had asked. The Host knew that Logan and Virgil were in their own superhero uniforms, not too far away from out of sight from both of them. It was not ideal, but it was the best the Host could ask for.

“The Host thanks Morality for his assistance, he has tried to fix matter on his own, but he has proven unsuccessful,” the Host began before reaching out with his aura and muffling Patton’s communicator before yanking the two of them into the tear in reality as it fluttered again.

Patton gasped as he felt his body trying to alter and change but something held that force back. Everything around the Host and Patton was white and time stopped.

Patton wasn’t sure how long time passed between being pulled into the tear and when he blinked his eyes opened. He thought it was only a second but somehow it seemed impossibly longer.

He was also no longer wearing his superhero costume, but was in a grey and beige three piece suit with a blue dress shirt. His head felt fuzzy, a torrent of memories that felt like his own and someone else’s mixed together in an uncomfortable slurry.

He gasped for air, realizing that he’d been holding his breath.

“The Host apologizes,” the Host said, his bat in hand, still looking like his normal self. “The Host would not have involved Morality if there was any other way.”

“Where are we?” Patton looked around at the white expanse and saw in the distance what looked like a castle, opulent and the color of bone. “Am I dead?”

“No, neither Morality, nor the Host have stopped existing, they have slipped into the In-between,” Host corrected. “Its residents are few and far between, the Host and Morality are simply using it to bridge the gap between realities and fix the Host’s mistakes.”

“What mistake?” Patton glanced around again, the castle seemed to be closer than the last time he’d looked at it.

The seer used his narrations to summon up a thick folder and dropped it right at Patton’s feet.

Immediately the contents spilled out to show it was full of legal documents, childhood drawings and pictures of the emotional Side growing up with a different family.

Patton knelt down to pick up a picture of him, probably ten or eleven, cuddled up next to an equally young Yancy under the shade of a tree. “What? What is this?”

“This is what remains of Patton Elijah Sanders,” the Host said. “Everything the Host could not get, he collected so that no one else could see it. Morality has been resisting the Host’s attempts to correct it further. The Host suspects it is because of sentimentality.”

“I don’t remember any of this, I’m one of Thomas’s Sides, I wasn’t raised with you.” Patton grabbed a picture and mentally paused. “Is this a picture of all of you in little cat onesies? Awww, how cute.”

“Yes, there is a matching picture, without Morality, in a scrap book that is in the Madman’s possession,” the Host answered. “More importantly, the Host made sure no one could remember this reality. He did everything he could to untangle those plot threads. But when the Host first closed the gap he was not as powerful as he is now. He was unsure how to do such a thing, as such there were cracks, seams left unglued. Morality is the only thing left to alter.”

“What happened though?” Patton tried to scoop the file back up, glancing back over to see the white castle was less than a football field away now.

“The Suits were not the first time the Host had used the anomaly to bend the laws of his reality to his whim.” The Host used his aura to help scoop the contents of the folder up and they disappeared into his aura with a few simple narrations. “The Host and Morality used the anomaly very early in the Host’s creation to protect their world. The Actor was too powerful and the Host was too new to protect his family or friends, so the Host and Patton ripped the anomaly from the Actor and used it to change everything. The Host kept altering things bit by bit, trying to buy the city more and more time until eventually they are at the state they are in now.”

“What—” Patton stalled in confusion. “How—”

“The Host could not have done this without Morality’s initial cooperation, but now the anomaly fights the Host’s efforts to completely close that reality. It cares not for its playthings, only for the plot and the joy and suffering that can be wrought from its inhabitants and the Host requests Morality’s assistance once more.”

“O-Okay,” Patton stood up. “I really don’t understand what’s going on, and I’m very confused on what I can do to help, but if it means helping people and saving them I’ll do what I can.”

“That is all the Host asks of Morality,” the Host smiled.

“So what do we do?” Patton looked to see that the castle was the length of two houses away now. “That castle’s getting closer, that’s a good thing, right?”

“No,” the Host answered. “The Host and Morality must locate the anomaly still in the old reality. It is located in Dark’s office because the Host would not have existed at the time to remove it from the Entity’s possession. Then they must leave the warehouses to return back to their own reality.”

“Alright,” Patton agreed. “But surely you don’t need me for that.”

“Morality’s emotional manipulation ability is key to this plan, he is essential for its success,” the Host corrected. “Should Dark arrive back at the warehouse while Morality and the Host are still there, it will be Morality’s job to help distract the Entity.”

“Really don’t like it when people refer to my superpower like that,” Patton cringed. “Makes me feel all icky.”

“Nevertheless, Morality and the Host have to be very careful,” the Host warned. “They can never give in to themselves in this branched reality or it will end in catastrophic failure for everyone. Lunky will cease to exist, and there will be no way to combat the Actor. Everyone will suffer.”

“Oh,” Patton’s eyes widened.

The castle grounds were almost brushing the side of their feet, causing Patton to look over at it in alarm, the Host used his narration to place a hand on Patton’s shoulder to redirect his attention.

The Host tried to smile for Patton’s comfort. “If Morality is ready, then the Host can take them in, the Entity is already removed from his office. They can be in and out in minutes. All they must do is stay quiet and not succumb to who they used to be. They go in, and the instant their feet are out of the warehouses’ parking lots, they are free.”

Patton nodded and the Host pushed them into the tear with his aura and the anomaly, the castle not able to touch them.

#superhero au #Masks and Maladies #the Host #Patton Sanders #magic #reality manipulation #angst #existential dread hour #who's up for some existential dread #Existential dread with your former brother #guess who fought me on this short? #it was the Host #this short took almost a year to actually finish and I want to cry because it's done

[vanne-whump]

whumptober day three

no. 3 - sticks and stones may break my bones but…

taunting | insults | “who did this to you?”

OCs: Kay Edwards, London Friar

Content: Injury Description, Past Trauma, Police Mention, Death Mention

He dried himself roughly, the towel rubbing his skin red. He dressed quickly in clothes borrowed from London, simply glad to be out of his blood-soaked garments.

Soaked with his blood. It had to be. At least it didn’t seem to be recent. Kay’s skin was void of open wounds, for what seemed like the first time in months.

Bruises, though — they dotted his skin like spilled watercolours. Over his side. Splotched under his right eye. Deeply-coloured — unforgiving.

Even after a shower, he looked a state. The short sleeves of the t-shirt bringing the uneven lettering on his arm into full view. The writing, with all of its uneven edges and wonky letters.

Even with the harsh visibility, nothing would convince Kay to change back into his own clothes.

Kay was silent, heading down the stairs and sitting on London’s couch. Finally showered, hair dripping cold water onto the borrowed shirt.

He could hear London in the kitchen. Doing — something. Kay wasn’t sure what. And he daren’t be ungrateful and ask.

Minutes later, London reappeared in the doorway. After Kay had spent almost an hour in the shower, he hadn’t expected for London to do this for him.

Even if it was just grilled cheese.

“Thank you — I needed that,” Kay smiled faintly, “A lot. I — uh — wasn’t sure where to put these,” he held up the dirty clothes, wrapped in the bath towel.

“The clothes? I don’t think you can salvage them.”

“Probably not…”

“You can put those in the trash, and the towel can go into the washer under the stairs.”

Kay nodded quickly, getting to his feet and slipping past London into the kitchen. He returned, moments later, empty handed and with his arms crossed loosely over his stomach

“You probably need something to eat — and to talk. Otherwise I’m not going to be able to be much help,” London said, with a soft bluntness, as he handed Kay the plate of grilled cheese.

“Talk? I — I’ve told you everything I know,” Kay evaded the question tactlessly.

“You said you were engaged — had a fiancée. What was her name?” London started, clinging to the one thing he already knew about Kay. It was a start.

“He — uh — he was called Halden.” Kay responded with his mouth full. “… Sorry.”

“So, Halden? Tell me about him?”

“I mean, he was great. We’d been dating a while and things were going well — last time I saw him was... uh... right before...” Kay trailed off vaguely.

“Where were you?”

“We were at a concert — Anarbor I think?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of them,” London nodded. Common ground. This is what they needed.

“We had plans to go away together. We had a deposit on a place in Salem,” Kay offered London a faint smile. “It would’ve been nice.”

“You were running away with him?” London’s brow furrowed. “Was that a good idea?”

“Obviously not!” Kay snapped. “Because something went wrong,” he smiled bitterly and shook his head. “Because I’m here, not —.”

He dragged his left hand through still-wet, still-tangled hair and let it fall limply at his side.

“Are we done? I — I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Sore topic, I get it,” London smiled faintly. And then he spotted the burns pressed unevenly into Kay’s arm. His understanding was stopped in its tracks.

And he wanted to continue the conversation — pretend he hadn’t seen the block letters. Pretend he wasn’t concerned. Pretending wasn’t something London did well.

“Kay? What the hell aren’t you telling me?” He snapped out his words before he had even a chance of restraint. “Who did that to you?”

“What? I — oh...” Kay trailed off once more. “It doesn’t matter. I — I’m not hiding anything. He — he let me go.”

“He? Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I — I’m not dragging you into this too! It’s over. I’m sure it’s over.”

“Irrelevant,” London responded, reaching forward and picking up his cell from the table. “You need to start talking. Right now.”

“Halden — he got involved in some sketchy deals. But that’s it. I swear, I never did anything.”

“The guy that did this, who is he?”

“I don’t know! He — he only ever gave his first name!”

“What is it?”

“You have to promise that you’re not going to do anything.”

“What am I going to do with a first name?”

“Then why do you want it?”

London hissed out a sharp breath. “Just give me a name, Kay,” he sighed, “What’s his name?”

“Isaac.”

“Thank you. He did that?”

Kay nodded.

“Why?”

“Fun.”

“Fun?”

“He was just... like that,” Kay responded. “I don’t know why. He just — had something to prove, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kay nodded at the apology, though struggled to work out why. What was London apologising for?

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kay fumbled. “I think... I just — He wanted to get at Halden and I was an easy target. But he never made sense.”

“How do you mean?”

“Sometimes he wanted me to tell him where Halden was, and sometimes he wanted money. Sometimes he said that it was nothing to do with Halden. That it was my fault, or to do with my family. Or — I don’t know. It was different every time we talked.”

“Do you know anything else about him? Anything at all?”

Kay shook his head.

“Kay, please don’t lie to me.”

“He was a cop — but that’s it! That’s all I know.”

“You’re sure?”

Kay gritted his teeth and nodded. No more questions, please. He dared to hope that London was done asking. Done prying and pulling apart all of Kay’s secrets.

His hands shook as he put the empty plate down on the coffee table. Tears bit at his eyes as he waited for London’s next barrage of questions. They didn’t come. Just one singular question Kay didn’t have a coherent answer for.

“Why didn’t you go to the poli—”

London cut himself off as he answered his own question. Of course Kay didn’t want that.

“You still deserve justice.”

“I don’t want it. I just — maybe a couple of weeks to track down Halden, you know? Get on with my life. I don’t want to let Isaac win.”

“Win?”

“If — if I don’t — I — If he knows, he wins.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Kay just shook his head.

“No, Kay, I want to understand. What do you mean? Sit down and explain what you’re thinking.”

Kay slowly sat down on the couch, silent as London sat beside him. Silent until London prompted him again.

“So? Tell me, why will he win?”

“He’ll know he got to me. He — he’ll know he hurt me and — and that means — it — it means he got what he wanted,” Kay’s voice caught in his throat. “I — he can’t win like that. I — He took months from me and — and I can’t let him win too.”

“Okay, thank you for telling me. I mean that, thank you. Do you want to stay here tonight? I only have the couch but —”

“You’re sure?” Kay fumbled, interrupting London. “If you’re sure — I — I’d be really grateful,” he wiped tears from his cheeks. “If you’re absolutely sure.”

“I am. I’m completely sure. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you — for this, and the shower, and food — I don’t know what I would have done if — if you hadn’t...”

“Don’t worry about it — really. I’ve got the house to myself for a while. Vilde is away at the convention, and Ferris is tied up with classes for several weeks.”

“Vilde? Your girlfriend, I met her at the airport,” Kay nodded. “And Ferris? He’s your roommate?”

“Boyfriend. But he’s studying in North Carolina at the moment so we don’t see each other all that often.”

“You’re... with both of them?”

“Yeah, they know about each other. Vilde has a fiancé in Norway and he knows about me. It’s — It’s not underhanded.”

“No — I didn’t mean that, I just — didn’t know,” Kay shook his head. “That sounds kind of nice...”

“It is. You know, no pressure for them to fill each other’s every need. It’s unrealistic most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Kay agreed softly.

London could tell their conversation had hit a dead end — Kay was beginning to look like he was struggling to stay awake. Eyelids flickering closed, suppressing yawns and he just — just looked exhausted.

“Do you want to get some sleep? It might make you feel a bit better,” London offered. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, sleeping sounds... Nice.”

London gathered up their plates, slipping through into the kitchen. Leaving Kay alone. He took his time washing up, doing his best to process the information thrown at him. It felt impossible to make sense of all this. A lot of what Kay said made very little sense — all of his inconsistencies were difficult to ignore.

When London returned to the living room, Kay was already asleep. It was unsurprising. London grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and laid it over Kay. His attention was caught by track marks scattered up the kid’s arms.

It wasn’t something that would warrant waking Kay. Instead of making a big deal out of it, he just gave him the blanket and headed upstairs with his laptop. He left a very brief note on the coffee table, reading: 'Didn't want to wake you, I’m just upstairs. Let me know if you need anything.’

Once upstairs, London pushed aside a pile of textbooks and loose papers, before slumping down in the chair. He woke his computer, pulling up a blank internet browser. His fingers hovered over the keyboard until he typed in his first search term: ‘Kay Missing Persons’. It brought up pages and pages of information — information London didn’t have the patience to sift through.

London tried various combinations of words, an article finally came up in his search results. One that looked relevant, at least. It fit the timing, at least. The attached image sealed the deal. London stared at it, just to be sure. But it was Kay.

He looked younger — brighter — in the photo, but it was him. He was with someone else, too. The image was captioned with Halden’s name also.

London skimmed through the article, throat tightening as he read more — more about where Kay disappeared from, what people had seen, how he’d left with someone. A public video — as close to a hostage tape as you could get.

Morbid curiosity — London pressed play. It was only a clip, not even a minute long. But he couldn’t make it to the end. He closed the video and scrolled past, unnerved by the proof of Kay’s story.

When — before, there was doubt. Doubt that anything had happened. That Kay was telling the entire truth — or even that Kay remembered it correctly. But the video proved everything. The beginning of the next paragraph only worsened the deal.

“The body found was identified via dental records and DNA. The funeral will be a private event for close family only. The details have remained private.”

London read the last paragraph over and over. It didn't make sense. Whoever Kay had gotten tangled up with, they had pull. They were more dangerous than Kay had made them out to be. Or more dangerous than Kay realised.

Did Kay know about this? That, legally, he had died months prior? London wasn't about to be the one to break the news to him.

With Kay’s full name — Aeon Kaine Edwards — London pulled up a new search window. It took only moments to find a private Instagram account and public — very public — Facebook account. Seemingly endless photos of Kay and his fiancé. At events; promotions for a pharmaceutical company. And he looked happy.

Anything recent were posts from friends and family. Wishing him well. Rest in peace. Condolences to his family. The posts made for a chilling read.

He’d gotten sucked up into this. Too sucked up. All he’d wanted to do was verify that Kay was who he said he was. That seemed fair, right? That in itself hadn't been a problem, but one glance at the time told London that he was bordering on obsessive territory. He’d been trawling through articles and social media for hours.

He hadn't heard anything from Kay, so he guessed that he was still asleep. It wasn't like he didn't need it. London decided that he better get some sleep too. Tomorrow would be… difficult. How was he supposed to tell Kay any of this?

Anyone who had been in his life before would have moved on.

@whumptober2021 @whumptober-archive

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you? #oc #snippet #injury description #past trauma #police mention #death mention #OC: Kay Edwards #OC: London Friar #WIP: Lost in London #My Writing #whump blog #whump series #whumpblr #whump snippet #whumpee #caretaker #whump writing