#fiery echo is king shit

[stevewhoreington]

HARRINGROVE WEEK [DAY I] - BILLY HARGROVE’S SWITCHBLADE

The tip of the knife sinks into the tree’s softened bark. He drags the blade through the wood, fingers curled around the handle. His grip is tight enough to draw the blood away from his knuckles, leaving them white.

Harrington has disappeared into the thick shadow of trees, but he’ll be back. His car is parked up by the clearing, waiting for his return. Behind it, Billy’s car is waiting, too.

When he comes back this way, Harrington will see the message carved into the tree. The thought has Billy’s mouth tugging up at one corner, pleased with himself.

There's a cold, biting chill on the breeze that drifts through the trees. It smells like fall; like firewood and dead leaves, and it smells like cow shit. Still, it's better than being cooped up inside the house all evening, listening to the distant hiss of cans popping open and counting down the beers until Neil's knocked out for the night.

Billy would rather be out here, twigs crunching under his feet and dry dirt caking his boots, following King Steve into the trees without the guy even knowing. It's one big happy fucking coincidence that Billy should stumble upon Harrington's parked car at the clearing of the woods.

Now, with the gentle, earthy breeze ruffling his curls, he looks at his handiwork. So far, a single, lone word is etched into the body of the tree. King. Billy stabs at the tree again, working fast and feeling the pressure of Harrington’s unpredictable return. He carves the letters that form the name of the boy who’s been giving him hell for the past several months. Harrington might argue that it's the other way around, but a few shoulder-checks on the basketball court and a few sharp words in the locker room can't compare to the torment caused by the stare of dark, almond-shaped eyes, cool and aloof.

Billy’s fingers are aching by the time the old tree reads:

KING STEVE

The letters are jagged and unpracticed; harsh and sharp, like a punch. The next best thing to socking Harrington in the nose. Billy exhales, long and slow, shakes the cold out of his hand and gets back to work. Carves and carves.

KING STEVE SUCKS C

It’s a scream that stops Billy in his tracks, hand frozen in place, fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the knife. The blade is stuck deep into the trunk, crude statement unfinished.

The scream inspires dread but it’s the abrupt silence which follows that has Billy’s stomach dropping. For a long, awful second, it’s as though the wind stops. There’s a strange calmness; trees motionless and silent without the breeze passing through them. Billy swallows and yanks his switchblade out of the bark.

His feet move slowly, to begin with. It's a cautious walk; tentative footsteps in the dark, waiting for that unexpected drop into some fiery underworld. Billy feels like he's floating, drifting through the woods like a tormented ghost, doomed to haunt the loneliest, darkest places. Everything has slowed right down and it feels like moving through a dream.

All at once, there's a snap under the heavy sole of his boot and the wind resumes its whistling, picking up pace and shaking the leaves from the trees, and.

Billy picks up pace, too.

Picks up his feet and runs.

A second scream pierces the night and echoes around the trees. It's closer and, without quite realising it, Billy has been waiting for it; has been hoping for it, just so he'd know where to direct his feet.

He follows the sound, its lasting reverberation, and when he finds what he's looking for, he nearly drops to his knees.

The tree appears to stand alone. It looms over him, tall and proud and terrifying, and perhaps it would seem innocent enough if it wasn't for the person-sized hole at the base of its trunk. Like some kind of eldritch gateway, the hole looks to be alive. Looks to be its own living and breathing thing; throbbing with life and providing a glow that promises a secret world within its confines.

The hole beats like a heart and Billy walks towards it like some kind of somnambulist, dazed and glassy-eyed. The closer he gets, the colder the air grows. The closer he gets, the harder his heart beats against his ribcage, thumping in time with whatever is living inside the bark of the tree.

He nears the opening and stoops down low. With his free hand, Billy reaches out, tempted by the breathing lights within the wood and, before long, his fingers are plunging through a thick, glue-like substance, fighting any initial resistance until his entire hand belongs to a new world.

Flexing his fingers, Billy shakes hands with frozen air and feels utterly entranced by the whole thing; possessed by the thought of a hidden universe inside the tough rind of the unearthly giant standing in front of him.

He licks his dry lips, holds his breath, and prepares to dive in head-first.

"Fuck," Billy hisses, the word startled out of him by the sudden, strong grip of a hand that's unmistakably human.

Desperate fingers claw at Billy's knuckles, slipping and sliding because they're wet or sticky or both. Billy is dumbstruck and, for one long second, he doesn't react.

But that's all it is: a second.

A single second, and then Billy's gripping at the fingers that are gripping at his hand, fighting for some kind of meaningful purchase. It's Harrington who's stuck inside that other world and he wants out. He wants out, and Billy's the only fucker around to help.

Something inside the tree wants Harrington to stay. There's another force, trying to pull Harrington away from Billy and turning this rescue into a tug-of-war. The weight of the situation hits abruptly and harshly, and Billy's soon biting down on the handle of his switchblade to free up his other hand. Handle pinched between his teeth like the stem of a rose, Billy dives into this dangerous dance.

His palms are wrapped around Harrington's hand and around his wrist, and Billy's heaving and wrenching and jerking, his boots carving craters into the soft mud beneath his feet.

Billy fights.

Fighting is what he does, it's what he's good at, it's what he knows. He's been fighting his whole fucking life, and he doesn't stop now.

Eventually, when there's sweat pooling at his temples and he's ready to keel over backwards, something gives and an arm emerges from the hell inside the tree trunk.

An arm, a shoulder, a leg, and then Harrington's tumbling through the hole and falling back into the real world. There's a thick vine, like an umbilical cord, coiled around Harrington's ankle and keeping him tied to the cold universe within the trunk.

Billy drops one hand from around Harrington's wrist and grapples for the switchblade that's still sitting in his mouth. Damp fingers twining around the handle, Billy drops to his knees and stabs at the vine. He stabs and cuts and carves until the thing backs off, unwinds itself from around Harrington and slithers back towards its ghastly home.

There's an awful sucking sound as the hole closes up, splintered wood dancing and moving right before Billy's eyes until the tree falls dark and motionless; ordinary and harmless.

Billy's knees are deep in mud and Harrington's sprawled out on his back, gasping for air. A baseball bat lies on the ground next to him. It’s the home to a thousand rusted nails.

Their hands are still joined.

Billy stares down at him, just as breathless and just as wide-eyed, and then Harrington blinks, seems to catch up, and pants out: "Hargrove?"

Harrington gapes at Billy as though bumping into him here is far more bizarre than the pulse at the base of the tree, or the way that it had seemingly disappeared altogether, and Billy gapes right back. "What the fuck, Harrington?"

Remembers himself and drops his hand, freeing Harrington's.

"What the fuck?" He repeats. "What the fuck was that?"

His voice is demanding, but he's horrified to note the fearful edge to his words. He rises to his feet and steps around Harrington, boots pounding soil, but there's an abrupt vice-like grip around his leg, slowing him down.

"Stay away from it," Harrington snaps, and when Billy throws a glance over his shoulder and down at the ground, Harrington's pointing at him with a trembling finger, as though he's scolding a child.

For once in his life, Billy doesn't fight.

He sniffs. Runs a restless hand through his hair. Stares right at the blank canvas of the tree where a heart and soul should be, and then turns his back on it.

Harrington is still on his ass, pale-faced and all scratched up, and Billy offers out a hand for the second time tonight.

A beat, a shift in atmosphere, and then Harrington's taking Billy up on his offer and wrapping grime-slicked fingers around his hand, holding on tight.

It's a silent walk back to the clearing. Along the way, Harrington doesn't notice the tree with the carved-out words, message interrupted.

Billy doesn't notice it, either.

A shared cigarette later, they're loitering by their cars and their hands have nearly stopped their trembling, and Harrington finally breaks the silence.

"Guess I've got some things to tell you." His dark eyes are sharp, watching Billy like he’s reading him; weighing him up. Looking at him instead of through him.

"No shit," Billy responds, but it isn't dry enough. It's breathless and frightened and too telling.

Harrington digs around in his pockets and finds his keys. There's a cut above his brow and his front is smeared with dirt. "Follow behind me?"

#harringroveweek #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my writing

[siremasterlawrence]

Lawrenceverse: Black Bolt Unhinged

Part 1 - 2

The Baxter building has a new leader a man who is to be known as Master Lawrence King of The Fantastic Four.

Now on the highest level the twelfth floor the newest member of The Fantastic Four Is to lay the law.

They all enter the redecorated space of the pent house a new paint of splendorous color schemes abound.

Stopping about a small stretch of a mile at my throne The Four members drop to their kneels.

“The Team fully submits to you by initiating your plan and expediting it as quickly as it is humanly possible.” Reed says before they stood up and Reed reaches for a micro size remote and presses it.

Out of nowhere Lockjaw the Inhuman’s giant size royal pet appears in all his glory barking up a storm.

Reed walks over to him in excitement petting him on the head, and he knelt his head on the pets.

Reed Richards the newly minted genius in to the good old dark side cracks up a bit with a evil grin.

“Sorry LockJaw! It’s for the best you will truly enjoy serving Master Lawrence.” He whispers.

He places a collar on his neck automatically it seals shut locking in tight as his Lockjaw’s eyes glow green.

Part 3 - 4

Lockjaw jumps in between us four using his abilities it sparkles with lighting around us.

He transports us four out of the building on to the city streets were Black Bolt.

The police have descend on to the place with a loud roar bursting through the street.

The car stops walking out of the room in a total shock guns blazing at him.

Black Bolt caught a bullet in his hand swiftly in one swift motion, he plays with it trying to inspect it, and we appear out of the blue.

His eyes traces up from my feet to my eye line, we can’t stop staring at each other so I take my cue.

He is quite intimating at first glance with those deep black eyes, and menacing facial expression.

He swallows a heavy load of air in one gulp summoning his chi he scrams one word in a attack.

“STOP!” The shout echoes far past the city perimeter shattering windows galore.

“Good thing!” Mr. Fantastic says tapping his ear piece activating all of our earplugs.

“I suggested microscope ear pieces that fit inside our ears.” I state.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmm the reverberation hits back with massive hit in to the building behind him.

Part 5 - 6

Black Bolt sits up holding his head in total confusion our the events unfolding.

He pushes upward on to his feet staring me down.

I clap my hands in amazement at his feat of new heights.

Black Bolt tries to speak again unfortunately for him the words refuse to come out.

“Oh! Are you trying to say something?”

“Oh Wait! You can’t that’s right”

“King Black Bolt, I am the new King of The Inhumans.”

“You will give your crown, your power and kill the rest of the inhuman population.”

“YES!” The city erupts in to a fiery hell as it eviscerates in to ruin.

“Now kneel at my feet”

“I claim you as my property along with the Fantastic Four”

“You are our God”

“Black Bolt lead the charge”

“Reed help him implement the plan”

“As for us, What do we do Master Lawrence? Right?”

“We serve you”

“Follow them both”

“Sue contain them and Johnny you got it blow shit up.”

The end

#Hero’s ruin.

[itismissswann]

@neverhangd || continued from here

The prison cell is a fucking joke, concrete and walls and nothing more. Prison’s always been a liminal, timeless space, where days last years and vice versa. The single bed pushed up against the third wall is meant to mock, not be taken seriously, and it shows the key to reading the rest of the cell. It’s just sloppy, really: they’re stupid enough to arm smart prisoners even as they goad them into escape or worse, taunting them with walls trying too hard to look impenetrable to actually be so. The stench of sewage is admittedly enough to clench the gut without trouble, but behold: no hole, no bucket, and no rotting mound of shit in a corner. This isn’t a staying cell; it’s a holding cell.

And the only thing it’ll be holding come morning will be a broken bed frame.

“The powder room,” Anne responds flatly. The point isn’t to convince, just divert. There’s no telling what the blonde waif across from her was doing in the treasure room and it almost doesn’t matter besides. Anne has a busted lip and a streak of blood (not hers) on her shirt, a growing bump on the back of her head proof of being carried and dropped into here with all the care due to a madcap hellion. She hadn’t thought twice about swinging the scepter into the guard’s face and hasn’t thought twice about it since except to lick her teeth and laugh. He’d be off solid foods for a while once he woke up.

Pale sea glass eyes cut to the other woman, threatening and keen, sharp. Without her hat and coat—and a pistol, and with her tits covered up—Anne is both striking and strangely difficult to place. Taller than most men and with long fiery hair and those near-colorless green-tinted eyes, Anne stands out…but almost never, without those affects, as “the pirate queen” (what dross) Anne Bonny. Dressed as she was now in a stolen dress and bonnet, she looked even less herself.

After a moment of searching, apparently satisfied with what she (didn’t) find, Anne put an old plan back into action.

“Ye lookin forward t’yer stay here, or might I interest ye in cuttin the visit short? I’ll cut with or without ye, but as ye botched my last escape ye’ll be spendin this one helpful or asleep. Yer call.”

Elizabeth couldn't help but fight back an amused smile when she answered her question flatly. Clearly she had no intention of sharing any information about why she was here. She rose from the edge of the bed, approaching the fierce looking girl. Her footsteps echoed sharply around the dark room, sounding overly loud in her own ears. The stench of wet wood, vermin and humid air entering her nostrils as she did. “And how do you intent to escape this prison?” The pirate king asked, curiosity flaring in her eyes. "I'm positive these prisons were built to keep anything from getting out." Elizabeth wondered if she was the kind of young woman that women loved to hate. She still had the exuberance of youth, she was tall, her muscle definition was perfect and she walked with the confidence of someone a decade older. She was just flawless in her bone structure, her skin was like silk over glass and she radiated an intelligent beauty. Without doubt, she was the kind of girl you didn't want as an enemy. "I do not intend to spend my time here, growing old gracefully, if that's what you mean" Elizabeth continued, watching her search for something eagerly. It was rare to meet a girl that didn't act like a damsel in distress and took matters into her own hands. Anne had the impression of extreme intelligence and extreme determination, a combination that awed and intimidated her. "But I'm all ears, how do you intent to escape?"

#Anne & Elizabeth

[stariwrites]

Please

Pairing: Sukuna x GN! Reader (The reader is AFAB)

Warnings: Dubious Consent, Oral (Reader! Receiving), Mind break, edging, denied orgasm, monsterfucking, corruption kink, dirty talk, mean dom to soft dom Sukuna, use of little one and little sorcerer as well as pet (only twice though), forced submission just to be safe 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this and this is for @seita “Corrupt a Virgin Collab!” Thank you so much for letting me participate! All characters are 18+  and as always Minors DNI and if you do or if you’re a nameless blog I will block you instantly. 

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

Debris settled over the city. You coughed, cringing at the blood that spilled from your lips at the hit you had taken. You looked around you, watching as more buildings collapsed, people screamed causing it to echo. You couldn’t find anybody no matter where you looked. Your heart raced inside your chest. 

How much longer would you be able to pull this off? Ever since Sukuna and Itadori had been separated he caused nothing but destruction. 

You watched the curse you were currently fighting rush towards you. It’s green spindles shot out only for you to dodge it in the nick of time. The wall where you had been standing in front of was nothing but a hole. You cringed. That could’ve been you.

Before you had time to recover it focused it’s sights on you again, the eight purple eyes stared directly into yours. You tried to get up again only to be met by an explosion of pain. You glanced down at your hand nursing the wound on your stomach only to see crimson seep through your fingers. Shit. 

It let out a wicked shriek, leaving your ears ringing. It charged at you again. You closed your eyes. 

Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

“Protect me?” Gojo’s voice was incredulous as he tossed his head back and laughed. It had been a busy day filled with killing curses and saving people, but at the end of it all of you were able to spend time together and watch the fireworks. “I’m the strongest there is, if anything it would be me protecting you.” 

Nanami huffed at his response, proceeding to whack him upside the head. He whined, turning to Nanami no doubt to start playfully fighting him which would end in Nanami sighing in disappointment.

You could only shake your head at the two of them while Nobara scoffed, nudging your arm with a grin. “Yeah, and besides we’re all going to get stronger so we don’t need to be protected.”

Megumi nodded with a small smile which caused you to huff.

“It’s not like that!” You clenched your fists beside you, before lowering your voice. “It’s just that all of you are precious to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to not see you hurt.”

They were all speechless at your response until Itadori’s face lit up into a bright smile. “Let's do it!” He cheered, jumping into the air. “We’ll be the best group of sorcerers out there you’ll see! Let’s all protect each other.”

The six of you looked at each other with matching soft expressions, a silent agreement that you’d all make it to the very end when the first explosion fired off. Itadori shrieked at the unexpected boom that echoed in the sky causing your laughter to break the silence between each firework. 

You smiled looking back on the memory. It was fun. The people you met, the friends you gained, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. As you anticipated the final blow one last thought flashed through your mind. You had no regrets.

An explosion of light flooded from behind your eyelids, you braced for impact but none came. Slowly, you cracked an eye open only to have your breathing hitch. Standing where the cursed spirit used to be was-

“Sukuna,” your own voice surprised you. The demon turned to you with an unamused expression.

“Think you can just die like that?” He sneered approaching you. “You fool.” 

You tried to get up, all your senses screaming to fight but you only managed to straighten your posture before wincing in pain. Broken ribs, you assumed, if not worse. “What do you want?” You managed to croak out. 

Standing above you, his eyes were filled with venom. You swallowed silently wishing the destroyed cursed spirit had taken you out. You refused to break away from his gaze while his hand moved to cup your cheek. You flinched from his touch expecting him to rip your skin away with the swipe of his talons, but instead he clicked his tongue at the action.

“Make no mistake little one, If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, but your body relaxed at the words. You wanted to shake your head. How could that even be remotely comforting?

You couldn’t dwell on it for long because the next thing you knew you could breathe properly again. You took a deep breath in, almost choking on it. You removed your hand from your stomach only to gape in shock. 

“You,” you looked up at the demon with wide eyes. “You healed me?”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t stand the way humans interacted nor did he want to. He craved the chaos he created and only wanted to see more of it, but one sorcerer managed to get under his skin, you. 

You were an enigma, your cursed energy was strong, that was for certain and as obsessed as he was with Megumi there was something about you that drew him to you. Maybe it was the way he could tell you were a virgin. You had so much experience but none with another person’s touch. He thought many times about you being tied up and at his mercy while he edged you for hours causing you to cry out pleas along with his name. 

Unfortunately there was no time to act on what he wanted with him still being inside the brat, but now, now was the perfect time. 

“Why?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. He wanted to laugh at your perplexed expression paying close attention to your lips. You didn’t realize it, but you backed yourself into a corner. 

“Oh Little Sorcerer,” he crooned mockingly. A sinister smile stretched across his face reminding you just who you were dealing with. 

Squatting down to your level, he let his eyes rove over your body, paying close attention to where your uniform was torn and wrinkled. Instinctively, you covered yourself to the best of your ability which only made him lick his lips.

“You didn’t think I did that without a price,” his voice dropped an octave, “did you?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest while you gasped. There was no way, but noticing the hunger in those eyes that held a predatory gleam you understood what he meant. You couldn’t-

“Get away from them!” Megumi shouted. His footsteps raced towards where you were. Itadori and Nobara were fast at his heels shouting for you. A ghost of a smile fell onto your face. They were okay. From what you saw the only wounds were some scratches and bruises. They would be okay. The relief quickly faded when a talon turned your chin to make you look at him once more.

His teeth were on full display. “Let’s make a contract, shall we? I won’t hurt your friends as long as you do what I want in my domain.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And what would that be?”

“I get to ruin you.”

You knew you could stall, could buy time until they could help you, but the more you waited the more people screamed.

“So little one, what will it be?” Sukuna’s voice rang heavy in your ears. You could either go with him or more people would be hurt. You purse your lips, you had two choices: either allow Sukuna to take you and buy your friends some time or wait for them and risk more people dying. 

With a deep breath you faced the demon. “If I go with you, you promise that no person, that includes jujutsu sorcerers and civilians will be harmed?”

“Of course.”

Part of you didn’t trust him, but you mulled over the deal, searching for any loopholes. Megumi, Itadori and Nobara were getting closer. 

“Time’s running out, have you made a decision?”

You looked at your friends one last time as they screamed in horror running faster. With a final breath you focused back on the king of curses. 

“I accept.”

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

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t you?”

Obscene sounds echoed throughout the domain as you grinded against Sukuna’s tongue that resided on his abdomen. Small whimpers and broken moans spilled from your lips. Tears slid down your face while the appendage was lapping at your folds, flicking at your clit every now and again. Each grind down had your toes curling. You tossed your head back.

“Shut, ah, shut up!” You tried to shout, but it held no mirth to it. 

Sukuna smirked at your reaction. Still so fiery even after he edged you, you were a fun one that was for certain. 

He’d envisioned this moment many times before, but nothing beat the real thing. He kept your arms stretched above you with one of his hands while the other he used to cup your cheek. He lived for your expression, the way your eyelashes were grouped together with tears as you were forced to keep taking what he was giving you, completely at his mercy.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer,” he snarled. “Can’t take my tongue?” He couldn’t help but grow addicted to the breathy pants you let out as you clamped down at his words. His eyes widened, peering at you with an expression that almost looked impressed. 

“Who knew you could be such a slutty pet. Nobody’s ever touched you like this before and you’re already so fucked out, I wonder what will happen when you cum, hm?”

“Fu-fuck you,” you managed to get out between moans. You refused to give into him, wishing you had more strength in you to glare. You needed to put up a fight. 

He raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Brat,” he dug his nails into your hips, there would be indents there for days, but he didn’t care. “You try to put up such a front, wouldn’t it feel better to give in rather than fight me? You’re so wet and you’ve been so good, so pliant for me are you sure you don’t want a reward?

The familiar coil in your stomach was about to break causing you to thrash your head back and forth. The burn was becoming painful, you didn’t know how much longer you’d last if he kept denying you. Sukuna noticed, forcing your hips to grind faster. 

“Oh? Is the little sorcerer close? Tell me, do you want to know what it’s like to cum from somebody other than you, hm?” He hummed keeping the brutal pace, watching as you heaved for breath, your eyes glossy and almost rolling back. A twisted grin morphed onto his face at the sight. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already,” he bit his lip to keep from groaning out into the domain. The reflection of the water only made you look more wrecked. “Tell me, is this what you’re going to look like when you're stretched out on my cock?”

The image alone had your toes curling. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You needed release. “M’close. M’so close. M’gonna cum. Gonna ngh gonna cum Sukuna. Sukuna,” you babbled, slurring your words.

You were almost there all you needed was one more extra push. 

Before you had time to process what was happening your hips stilled. A loud sob ripped it’s way from your throat. You couldn’t handle being denied anymore. All you could do was struggle in his hold and curse the king in front of you for torturing you like this. That’s when it registered, he was going to kill you like this. That must’ve been his plan all along.

You were about to speak, to tell him to just kill you already when he leaned closer towards you. His lips ghosted against yours. Without thinking you leaned in, desperate to feel his lips against yours, but before you could he pulled away and gazed at you.

You could see your reflection in his eyes, the way you were drooling for him, you were a mess, your eyes glossy from crying, you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. You couldn’t remember how many times he edged you, but it was unbearable. 

“Beg me.”

Your breath caught in your throat even though you’d been expecting that. Part of you, the desperate want that curled itself into your skin and set your heart aflame wanted to cave in. Wanted so badly to finally get the release you’ve been craving all this time, but rationally you looked at the demon and whispered, “I, I can’t.”

As soon as the words were out you wanted to take them back, disappointment swam within you. You wanted to know what it was like, but the sorcerer in you couldn’t yield. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, but that would’ve been a lie.

 You expected Sukuna to tear you to shreds or leave you like this but instead he shushed you.

Your eyes snapped open, not even remembering when you closed them. He only rubbed your back with one of the hands that was on your hip while the other hand holding your arms set them down.

“Such a brave sorcerer, aren’t you? Even when you’re so desperate you still hold so much strength, but don’t you want to be ruined? Don’t you wish you would just be able to let go and have somebody else take the reins?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft like he was talking to something fragile, something that could break. 

“I-”

You couldn’t deny that it sounded nice, to be out of control for once, to just let yourself be ruined by Sukuna. You craved release so bad it hurt. You shuddered against him at the thought of finally being able to lose yourself in pleasure while the cool air of the domain caught up to you.

Without hesitation, Sukuna embraced you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest. You imagined that if he was human, you’d be able to hear his heart beat pressed against him like this. He caressed any inch of your body his hands could reach as he placed a chaste kiss to your temple. You settled in the warmth.

“Shh, just let me take care of you little one,” he squeezed you close before placing two set of his hands on your shoulders to pull you back. It took everything in him not to smile. He had you, he knew he had you judging by the way your face was going from conflicted to completely lax. 

“I’ll ruin you for anybody else,” the hands on your shoulders dropped down to barely touch your waist, tickling you. He began to kiss down your jaw, moving to your neck. “You could rule by my side and stay with me in this space forever, you wouldn’t have to worry about curses,” he sucked a mark causing you to whimper. “Or saving people,” his other hands moved to play with your nipples. “Or those pesky sorcerers.” 

Your mind was reeling, unable to concentrate on any coherent thought. The difference from being so rough to being soft was messing with your head. You were losing yourself, but still tried so desperately to hang on, to not give in. You had friends you needed to protect, but all of that was fading away. 

Sukuna noticed and as he sucked on your earlobe, he used the hands tickling you to meet your hips, positioning you over his cock. “All you have to say is-”

“Please.”

#[ 🎞 ] — anihaven #starithirsts #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagine #jjk smut #jjk imagine #tw monsterfucking #tw mind break #tw dub con #tw forced submission #tw dumbification #tw degradation #tw corruption kink

[castleoikawa]

‧₊◜ # breath

↳  ❝ i am so incredibly sorry that i fell in love with you, it was never my intention. ❞ 

—description you had never meant to fall in love with the king, his fiery temper and cold demeanor would turn anyone away. yet, the childhood memories seemed to stay with you both.

—pairing king katsuki bakugou x castle stable girl reader

—warnings aged up characters, swearing, angst, fluff

—word count 3k

—authors note my first request! i hope that you enjoy this! :D

masterlist | unedited

Your job was rather boring. You would attend the stables, slaving away to maintain the horses for each of the king and his court. Your day would consist of constant heat, moving, and cleaning up only to start again right after. 

You seemed to always be moving. You would be on a horse, gliding through the acres of land; or you would be feeding them, grooming them, cleaning their hooves and applying new horseshoes. 

Yet, everything seemed to freeze whenever King Katsuki Bakugou would be in your presence. Everything would be in utter standstill. Everything except the beating of your heart that ricocheted against your ribs.

He was an excellent rider; he had to be, being King and all. 

While you were a child, Katsuki would sneak into the stables at dusk and steal them for midnight rides. You lived at a small cottage next to the stables, a small shack made of wood and stone behind the castle. So you always noticed when he would appear in the late morning hours with winded hair and flushed cheeks.

Those were the fleeting moments in which you witnessed the true him.

It continued into the preteen years as well. When his parents would tell him to rest in his bedroom, he would run to the stables and steal his gorgeous black horse named Hades and disappear into the night.

You would watch from your window, eyes gazing at the royalty as if he were a rare bird that you were afraid of scaring off.

“You stare a lot.” He caught you once. He was walking back towards the castle, between the stables and your home. You only blinked in response, pretending that you were invisible.

A small interaction that lead to more.

During the day, Katsuki would pretend to be uninterested and unaware of you.

When he would arrive with his parents, the King and Queen, for their midday rides throughout the week, Katsuki would stand with his back straight and hair brushed. He did not even look like the kid you knew, primed and pampered and perfect for his royal status.

He would ride his horse alongside his parents through the trails and gardens. 

Yet, at night, he was free.

Katsuki indirectly invited you a copious amount of times to ride with him. He would never say it, but he would motion for you to join or say, “Don’t just stare like you normally do, Stable Girl.”

And you joined. Who were you to deny the request of the prince?

Your horse was much slower than his. He slowed down to match your speed, it was an endearing thing that you knew he did. Though he complained nonetheless, strings of “You are so slow!” and “You must be an idiot to enjoy riding like this.”

When you rode your palomino horse alongside Hades, it was as if you were riding next to the night sky itself. The only indicator that he was still with you was his light hair.

That was a routine for a majority of your childhood. Berated and ignored during the day, and free riders at night.

“The sun is rising.” You warned him one particular night.

The two of you were in the stables, just putting the horses in and petting their noses.

“Let it rise.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “What are my parents going to do? Fire me?”

It was one time that you genuinely thought that he was handsome. At the age of fourteen, he was confident and bright. And as the sun rose, the golden hue reflected off of his skin as if he owned the sun itself.

“Mom, why does that girl have shit on her?” Katsuki once asked the Queen directly in front of you. The two of you were around the age of seven, perhaps eight.

The Queen only rolled her eyes. “Because that’s what her job is, stupid boy. She works in cleaning up the horse shit.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Katsuki said. You felt anger boil in your chest. 

“Continue to use words like that and it will be one of your chores.” The Queen threatened. 

He was one of power and authority. Katuski Bakugou was one of strict rules and temper tantrums that left the castle in fear. Because he was to be feared, he could flick his wrist and you would lose your head.

Those moments of childhood were far forgotten. A lost prince replaced by a king.

You should be pissed at the king. For years, you had been a secret. A nightly visitor that shared secrets under the moon. It was as if none of that had happened.

But you knew that he had more responsibilities than some girl who worked in his horse stables. He was to rule his kingdom, marry a wealthy girl from another kingdom to merge powers, and live his life of royalty.

You were to attend to the horses.

“That’s my horse.” Katsuki’s voice echoed through the stables, deep and loud against the near silence.

You realized that it was his horse that you were cleaning. You were too focused on your work to notice.

With the trimmer in your hand, you wiped the mud onto your pants. “If you plan to ride her, it’ll be a couple more minutes. I’m replacing the horseshoes right now.”

“You will make the king wait?” He inquired.

You leaned on the wall from inside of the stable. “I will.”

There was a moment of silence. He stood with his back straight and crown sitting atop his light hair, hands clasped behind his back. His cruel handsomeness peered at you in the afternoon sun.

You knew that you should not talk to him that way, and request instead of demand. You knew that he was debating on whether to hang or burn you for disrespecting him.

But instead, he said, “Carry on then. I will wait.”

You watched him for a couple of extra seconds before returning to your work. He said nothing else as he watched and waited.

He was to be married soon.

There was a three day festival both in the castle and along the streets. The princess is from another kingdom across the lake, and would bring a great deal of trading and business.

The arranged marriage meant that there would be a grand wedding in which everyone may attend, along with a week long festival after. Parties among parties.

And you were still hard at work.

When your parents passed, you were left with the remains with only yourself. An empty house and your single friend was no longer a friend. 

You could not help the feeling in the pit of your stomach. One of jealousy and hope all at once.

“What are you doing here?” You looked outside, as if you were being followed and needed to confirm that no one else was around. 

Katsuki Bakugou stood at your doorstep in casual clothes and a familiar look in his ruby eyes.

“You will come riding with me.”

“I will, will I?” You sighed. “Katsu-- King Bakugou. I suggest you go back to your castle. You have a princess to love.”

“It was not a request.”

He stepped back, expecting you to follow. You did.

“You did not answer my question, My Lord.” You said as you entered the stables. “What are you doing here?”

“Can you not be a complete idiot for just a second?” He barked, turning to you. “We are going for a ride. Like we used to.”

“I did not think you remembered.” You confessed, not fazed by his anger. He was always like that. 

“How would I forget?” Katsuki turned to take his horse. “It was a majority of our childhood, was it not?”

“Didn’t seem like it.” You mumbled, mainly to yourself. 

If he heard, he did not acknowledge it. 

“Get your horse. Let’s go to the trails.”

You treaded slowly behind him, hesitant and nervous. Perhaps he was planning to kill you for your disrespect. He hadn’t said a word.

“King Bakugou...”

“Katsuki.” He stopped. He looked over at you. “You should know better than that.”

“We are not children any longer.” You said. 

“That’s obvious.” His voice was impatient. “But we are in private. You can call me by my name.”

“That is the issue here.” You sat on your horse beside him, glancing at the open field. “We should not be in private.”

When there was no reply, you stole a glance at him. He was absolutely regal despite being in casual clothes. Black shirt and cloth pants almost blending into his horse. His light hair and ruby eyes seem to glow, matching the golden circular crown on his head.

He did not look as he usually did.

“The sun is rising.” His eyes were on the horizon, the darkness being covered in light. 

You smiled. For the first time in a long time, you smiled. You thought that you caught a rise in the corners of his lips as well. 

“Let it rise.” You said. 

And he did smile, a full smile that you hadn’t witnessed since a child. 

You knew at once that you were in love. It crushed into your chest as if it were beaten into you. It had always been love. In love with the king, in love with someone to be married, and in love with faded memories.

He came back at nights again. The saying was correct, history repeats itself.

You would run through the trails and the garden and end at the field, one that overlooked a hill of flowers. It was the same flower field you would end up as children.

“Run with me!” Katsuki would cheer, snatching your hand and bringing you into the flowers. Stubby child legs and chubby cheeks.

You would giggle and follow him as you always did, struggling to catch up to the fiery boy. The flowers would bend beneath your feet but neither of you cared. 

Cold night winds hit your faces, the mixture of that and laughing leaving you both out of breath and with reddened cheeks.

It seemed like lifetimes ago.

You went to one party. One.

You dressed in the one dress you had, your mother’s dress. She wore it to every formal event that you could remember. 

The castle was absolutely stunning, pristine whites and clean floors. Even in your dress and heels, you felt underdressed. You were sure that you smelled of stables and dirt.

“You were not there last night.” A voice said from behind you.

You were talking to one of the cooks, both of you laughing and exchanging jokes about working in the castle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had social interaction this much. It was enlightening.

King Katsuki Bakugou looked more stunning than you could imagine. A red cloak with fur around his shoulders, white and black fitted suit, hair styled to hold his crown in perfection. Rings decorated his fingers and earrings ran along his ears.

He excused the cook from the conversation, leaving the two of you alone in the corner. 

“You will draw attention, talking to me in public.” You told him. 

He scoffed. “It’s my party. I will draw attention if I speak to anyone.” He paused. “You look different, I almost did not recognize you.”

“It’s because you only ever see me in my work clothes or my pajamas.” You semi joked.

When someone walked by, Katsuki’s voice grew louder. “You don’t smell like shit this time, either. I wonder if you made that dress or found it.”

“Hm.” You glared. “Very performative. Must be easy to keep up the scary King act, huh?”

“You’re being rather informal to me today, especially for someone in public.” He said, but his tone was warning.

“Were you not the one who visits me at night and asks me to be informal?” You asked. “That was embarrassing, what you just did.”

“Oh, suck it up. It can’t be worse than what you do on the daily.” Katsuki’s eyes flicked to yours. 

“I would rather clean up horse shit for hours than be berated in front of the castle workers.” You told him, stepping around him to meet with some of the maids.

You ignored the King for days.

It was a rather stupid plan, him being of his position. But you were both petty and angry with him. 

For someone who knew you since you were a child, for someone who met you every day, and for someone who you knew to be warm and not cold... he really did have two faces.

“Open this door.” He ordered, voice casting throughout your house from outside of the door. 

You flung the door open. “Go by yourself.”

“She lives.” Katsuki didn’t even have his crown on this time, just a shirt and clothes pants. “Come. You’re being stubborn.”

“I’d rather not.” You moved to close the door.

“It is as if you want to piss me off and fire you.”

“Go on and fire me then.” You threatened. “Try to find someone else who would take care of your precious horse as I have. Or meet you in the night as I have. Or...”

Something shut you up. A pressure against your lips forced them closed.

It took you a moment to realize that he was kissing you. Katsuki Bakugou, the King, was kissing you. 

You kissed him back. 

Falling into patterns, it would seem, was your specialty.

The nightly rides turned into kisses and smiles. The two of you would ride only to stop and end in the grass. 

You thought of his wife, of his title. You thought of your job, your title. You thought of everything. Yet every thought would cease when he would grab your face and place a kiss to your lips.

You hated it.

Every time you met in public, he would act as if he knew nothing of you. 

One particular morning, he arrived with the newly appointed Queen. His wife.

“It is disgusting here, Katsu.” She complained, lifting her dress to avoid the mud that littered the ground. 

“You said that you wanted to learn to ride.” Katsuki said. “I told you to wear pants.”

He turned to you, not looking you in the eye as you brushed your horse. 

“Is Maple available to ride?”

Maple. His mother’s old horse, a perfect chocolate brown and very calm. 

“She is, and she’s freshly clean.” You said. Your mind flashed with memories of his lips on yours only hours ago. “Maple and Hades, My Lord?”

“Yes.”

You helped them lead the horses out of the stables and watched as he helped his wife onto the horse. She struggled but eventually managed to balance. 

“The girl who works in your stables,” She said, though you were right next to her. Like you weren’t a person. “She’s a bit gross, yes?”

“Eh. I’m sure she’s used to it.” Katsuki shrugged.

“I couldn’t imagine living in such conditions.”

There was no defense, no “I’ve been coming through here every day for so long I hadn’t noticed”, nothing but a simple, “Let’s ride. We don’t want to be here all day.”

“These meetings need to end.” You told him. You were at the field, sitting on your separated horses and taking in the silence. “You are the King. You needn’t visit a girl who works in your castle.”

“You’re different.”

“How so?” You offered. “I work in your castle. It is not my job to kiss you, or...”

“Shut up for—”

“I need to say what I need to say.” Your voice was soft. “And I believe that...”

“ —just a moment.” He cut you off. “You are different. You always have been.”

“Is that why you only ever meet me in the dead of night?” You asked. “Or berate me during the day? I am not stopping these meetings and this friendship just to save your reputation in case we get caught. I am stopping them because I cannot take your constant changes.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He rose his voice. He jumped off of his horse only to pace in front. “You simply don’t get it. Of course you wouldn’t.”

“You’re the King, Katsuki.” You said from above him. “I get that you have to—”

“Do the years not mean anything to you?”

“Do they mean anything to you?” You asked. “For years, you didn’t speak to me. Didn’t visit or see me as a person. For years I waited around and wondered about our friendship. And you come back and interrupt it now only to repeat the same things.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“And you’re a coward.” You spit. “You create false memories with me every single day.”

Katsuki went silent, looking up at you before mounting his horse again. 

“I did not mean for this to happen.” He spoke in a single breath. He did not look at you. “I am so incredibly sorry that I fell in love with you, it was never my intention.”

He disappeared back into the trees, as he always did.

​please do not copy, repost, or steal anything created and posted by me © castleoikawa 2021

#🏰 posted by ophelia #🏰 castle oikawa book requests #anime #manga #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mha #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou headcannon #bakugou one shot #bakugou angst #king bakugou #bnha royal #bnha au #mha au #bakugou katsuki #bakugo

[restlessfandoming]

"you, my enemy" (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine must assassinate the cruel king of Snezhnaya, Ajax.

//

i could see this being turned into a full fledged fic? but for now, here is the dollar store version LOL

[Masterlist] [AO3 Link]

"you, my enemy"

“I want you to kill the king of Snezhnaya.”

Lumine’s eyes flickered to her client. “King Ajax?”

“There is only one, is there not?” the hooded man responded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You must have the wrong person,” she said. “I do run-of-the-mill jobs. I don’t murder kings.”

“I was told you were the only mercenary who could do it.”

Lumine slid out of the bar booth. “Find someone else who is insane enough to do that. I value my life.”

The man’s arm shot out, grabbing Lumine by the wrist. She would have sliced it clean off, had the man not taken off his hood.

He had an unmistakable hue of scarlet red hair, with equally fiery eyes to match.

“You’re Diluc,” Lumine said. “The son of the slain King Ragvindr.” It’s never a good idea to get involved with royals.

His face wavered at the mention of his father. “And who was the one who murdered him?”

“King Ajax,” she answered. “That sounds like your own quest for vengeance. Not mine.”

Diluc pulled her closer. “Magic,” he whispered.

Lumine’s blood ran cold. “Magic?” she echoed hollowly.

“I’ve been trying to find the right person to do this for a long time,” he told her. “I had to do my research.”

“What does magic have to do with this?” Lumine asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You use magic,” Diluc stated. “That’s how you’ve completed every single one of your assignments perfectly.”

Magic had been banished long ago, a witch hunt massacring any and all magic users within the land of Teyvat. Each of the seven kingdoms had decreed it, agreeing that those with magic were too powerful—a threat to the people, all people.

Ever since, the rare few born with magical powers were forced to hide away their abilities for survival. I thought Aether and I hid it well enough.

“You do this, I won’t report you to the authorities,” Diluc continued.

“What about you?” Lumine hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead with the rest of your family.” She shook off his grip. “If I report you to King Ajax, there’s no doubt I’d get a hefty reward, more than you could ever give me for murdering him.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s any suspicion of a magic user, what sort of action do the authorities take?”

You’re killed on the spot—no questions asked. The kingdoms didn’t want to run any risk of magic users rising up, no matter how small of a threat.

“We would be executed at the same time,” Diluc said lowly.

Shit.

Lumine sat back down in the booth, sinking into the seat, gnawing on the side of her cheek. Then, she took a deep breath in.

“You’ll give me every single piece of Mora you have,” she demanded.

Diluc’s face visibly relaxed. “Of course.” He crossed his arms. “The hidden vaults of my family are all yours: every single jewel, Mora, artifact—when you complete the job.”

Lumine’s mouth nearly watered at the prospect of all the riches.

No, she wasn’t greedy. That amount of Mora meant she and her twin brother Aether could retire from this life, this life of scraping by with the money they made from bloody bounties and assassinations. It was the only job they could do, being abandoned as children, having to learn to fend for themselves.

This one job meant she and Aether could have quiet peace until the end of their days.

She held out her hand to Diluc.

“You have a deal.”

* * *

When Lumine arrives in Snezhnaya, she expects impoverished villages, famished citizens, and cold, desecrated lands—all while this merciless, vile king sat on his throne of bones and riches.

However, what she finds are bustling streets of business and cheerful citizens. Children played freely on the streets. The kingdom was thriving.

Is this king truly as evil as the stories say?

It hadn’t been long since King Ajax had begun his crusade of conquering the entirety of Teyvat. It had started with his brutal assassination of his own ruler at the time, the slaying of the late Tsaritsa, quickly followed by his claim to the throne. Then, he had taken over the small country of Mondstadt, and Liyue fell shortly after.

Any who opposed him would face the sharp end of a blade. The stories of him on the battlefield were whispers of blood soaked garments and a wicked smile as he slaughtered soldier after soldier with no remorse.

The image of this bloodthirsty monster faded as Lumine watched these citizens move around care free, as if they were unaware of the atrocities laying under their feet committed by their dear King Ajax.

Glancing up, she could see the distant looming monument, the grandiose castle of the king, looking over the land with a watchful stone eye.

She listened intently to the conversations around her, seeking any information about this Ajax, about how to get close enough to do her job.

She always wanted the most covert way, and now even more so. This was very much her highest profile case, and if she wasn’t careful, she could potentially start wars, with her murder being the first blood.

Perhaps the best way was to become some nondescript maid, someone’s whose presence and subsequent disappearance wouldn’t be questioned by any of the king’s allies. Perhaps as a chef? She could easily poison his food and silently slip away.

How she wished Aether was here with her. He was much more a strategist than she. Unfortunately, he had taken on a different job, far away in Inazuma. They would not see each other until both of their assignments were completed.

Lumine sighed, moving down the street, in search of a bar. Drunk bastards were always the best source of information: they didn’t know how to shut their mouths. In a bar, there were no figures too suspicious, and if there were, they would quickly be forgotten within a few pints of ale.

She pushed past vendors, until she was stopped by a brunette woman in a lavender robe.

“You are not from here,” she said with a breathy smile.

Singled out already? “I’ve only just recently moved here,” Lumine lied.

“Oh? For what reasons?” the woman pressed, her long eyelashes batting as she assessed Lumine head to toe. “Work?”

“No.” What was this woman’s motive? “I’ve heard Snezhnaya is a great country to live in.”

A content, pitched sigh. “Well, since you’ve just moved here, why don’t you come work for me? Outsiders earn a pretty penny.”

Lumine stared at her. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Ying’er. I’m in charge of a local performance troupe.” She stepped closer, and Lumine could smell her flowery perfume. “I would love to have you join us.”

“No, thank you,” Lumine told her, inching away. Sounds like a cheap cover for a brothel. “I’m not in need of a job right now.”

Ying’er pouted, but stepped back. “Alright then, sweetie.” She leaned on the doorway of her shop. “I’ll be right here if you decide to come back,” she finished with a wink.

Lumine gave a curt nod before slinking away, back to her search for a bar. She pulled the hood of her cape over her head, sticking to the shadowed walls on her walk. Do I really stick out that much here?

In the distance, she heard the subtle pounding of a drum, and watched, astonished, as the crowded streets parted straight down the middle. An eerie silence filled the previously buzzing plaza. Something was coming.

All the citizens had their heads bowed—Lumine quickly followed suit.

The booming of the drums came closer, and she heard the thunderous marching of armored boots layered into the sound. She glanced up.

There was an entourage of armored soldiers, an assortment of glistening weapons at their sides, escorting a decorated golden carriage.

King Ajax.

What was this? Was there some sort of special occasion taking place?

Much easier to find than expected.

The carriage rolled past. Lumine strained to look at the window while still keeping her head bowed.

Unfortunately, the window was curtained, a velvety red cloth obscuring any view of the king. Lumine wrinkled her nose in disappointment; she had wanted to see what she was up against.

The terrifying rumors of King Ajax never told of what he looked like. Lumine imagined a beastly figure, one with dark shaggy hair and sharp teeth, bones all jutting out in the wrong directions, filleted with raw scars all over.

The carriage continued to move past.

Could she do it? Could she use her magic to take him out right now? There certainly was a large number of people around, and all of them would be suspects; all the easier for her to get away.

However, the guards could easily murder everyone in the plaza if a perpetrator wasn’t found. And, as Ying’er so blatantly pointed out, Lumine didn’t exactly fit in with the Snezhayan citizens.

She would just have to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. Wait to learn more about King Ajax. Wait to plan the best way to kill him.

There was a rustle of murmurs as the citizens returned to their activities, the royal carriage and its guards wheeling out of sight—the air more tense than before.

Taking in a deep breath, she resumed her search.

I need a drink.

* * *

Lumine sat in the corner booth as always, the seat in the bar that could overlook the entire establishment, the place where she could easily see who entered and exited the building.

She sipped at her mug of ale: not enough to become inebriated, but just enough to take some of her stress away. She still listened intently for any utterances about King Ajax.

She kept her eye on a man who was chugging pint after pint of alcohol, complaining about his job, his kids, his wife.

Maybe he’ll complain about his king as well.

“God, I miss Mondstadt,” the man sighed.

Lumine raised a brow. Someone from the conquered land of Mondstadt? He should definitely harbor some resentment for King Ajax.

“Careful there,” the bartender muttered. “The king will have your tongue if you speak ill of him.”

The drunkard scoffed. “The king ain’t here, is he? Too busy with his parties and parades to ever come to a hole-in-the-wall bar.”

The bartender shrugged, silently wiping a glass.

“C’mon,” the man continued. “You don’t think it’s weird how he always invites those performers to the castle? What a dramatic man.” A hiccup. “You think he beds all of them?”

“Probably. Lots of women would want to sleep with the king”

“See, King Ragvindr never did things like that.” He laid his head on the counter. “A modest man. Genuinely cared about his people.”

“King Ajax cares for us. He provides—he’s made Snezhnaya wealthier than ever.”

“Hmph. Is that why he murders people in cold blood? Remember that man that got executed in the street for not bowing to him?”

“Just listen to him, and you’ll be fine.”

Lumine slid out of her booth, making her way to the exit, to a certain brunette woman with a lavender robe.

He likes performers.

A plan started to bubble in her mind as she walked the streets to Ying’er’s shop.

She would slip into the castle with the performance troupe. She would feign illness, seemingly leaving early, when in actuality, she would hide until all the guests had left. King Ajax would retire for the night, alone—and that’s when she would strike.

Lumine smiled, just a bit, confidence coming to her now that she knew what to do.

Her and Aether’s life of freedom felt like a breath away.

* * *

“You’ve certainly improved quite a lot,” Ying’er said, sauntering into Lumine’s quarters.

Lumine set her lyre down. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”

It had been a few weeks since Lumine had arrived in Snezhnaya, and became one of Ying’er performers. She had decided to learn an instrument—the lyre—while staying with Ying’er and the rest of the performers at the hostess’ establishment. She preferred it over becoming a poet or dancer.

Ying’er was right: many people came to watch Lumine sit prettily on stage and play her lyre—her face painted with make-up, and her body adorned with beautiful robes and gowns.

All the while, Lumine anxiously awaited the king’s invitation to their performance troupe. He had invited different groups all over town, though not Ying’er’s yet.

Was this plan a failure? Where was that damned man’s invitation—

“Is that what I think it is?” Lumine asked, eyeing the embellished envelope in her boss’ hand.

Ying’er hummed in affirmation. “The king has finally invited our group to perform at a party tonight.”

Finally. “What an honor,” Lumine said with a smile.

“Very much so.” Ying’er put her hand under Lumine’s chin, examining her face. “Yes...I will have you dressed in our best garments and make-up.”

The woman smiled. “After all, you are our pretty little star.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle was filled with the girls’ giggles and whispers, how they wished for the king to whisk them away into a life of riches and royalty, to be his beloved first wife. Lumine kept a hand pressed against her leg—ensuring the dagger hidden under her heavy robes wouldn’t fall out.

She didn’t like to get messy with such a close ranged weapon—she would usually just use her magic from a distance—but she wasn’t going to take a chance if something were to go awry.

As they neared the castle, everyone burst into gasps, admiring the massive stone structure. The excitement doubled as the dozens of other carriages came into view as well.

This is going to be one very extravagant party.

Before she knew it, Lumine was sitting in the great hall, along with the rest of the party goers, awaiting the king’s arrival. She saw the empty throne at the very front of the room, raised on a marble platform, his rightful place above his subjects.

A fanfare of brass instruments blared. The king is here.

The room collectively stood, bowing their heads as the king’s personal guards filed in. Lumine quirked her head to look for King Ajax.

Oh.

The king was not a hideous looking beast at all.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

He walked in, tall stature carrying an air of importance (and arrogance) on his shoulders with a billowing crimson red cloak, a broad grin plastered on his face. He was young, exactly around Lumine’s age.

He had reddish-brown hair framing his face, locks that glittered like gold in the light of the room, and his eyes were like vortexes—deep whirlpools of the bluest ocean water. All his features were sharp, upturned, like a cunning fox waiting contently to trap its prey.

She watched as he made his way up to his throne, a sickening anxiety spreading through her limbs.

Lumine had never killed anyone so close in age to her—it had always been older men and women. And, of course, she had never found herself attracted to her target.

“Please,” the king spoke, still grinning. “Have a seat.” As he sat on his throne, the rest of the room sat as well.

Lumine swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was light, playful even.

Was that truly the murderous king of Snezhnaya?

“A toast, to you, my people,” he said, raising a golden goblet. “Let the festivities begin.”

Lumine gulped down her own glass of wine, then shook her head.

I’m here for a job. Not romance.

The room filled with chatter, and Ying’er motioned to Lumine and the rest of the musicians to the corner where they would be performing their music for the night.

Lumine gathered her lyre, shuffling towards her spot in her heavily layered robes. Her mouth was set in a taut line.

A momentary lapse in judgement.

As she played the first few notes, her eyes flickered to the king, who was busy greeting various nobles at his throne. She narrowed her eyes at him, at that sly, sly smile on his face.

It won’t happen again.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on forever. After what seemed like an eternity of playing music for the room—as other patrons ate and danced and conversed—the musicians were finally taking a break.

Lumine delightfully chewed through expensive meats and breads as various actors, dancers, and poets took the floor in front of King Ajax to present their pieces.

The king seemed to be entertained, joining on some of the performances himself.

That drunkard from the bar was right. King Ajax was quite dramatic, inserting himself into the spotlight whenever he so pleased. How pretentious.

The crowd clapped and cheered as another performance was brought to an end, an air of boisterous chatter resuming. Lumine swallowed her last piece of food, making her way to Ying’er.

Time to get started.

“Ying’er,” Lumine called to her boss, clenching her side. “I feel a bit sick.”

The brunette woman raised a brow. “You were looking quite well before.”

“Yes, it was very sudden,” Lumine responded, turning to the exit. “I think I will just head back now.”

“So soon, dear? We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the king yet.”

Lumine was already on her way out. “I’ll see you back at the shop.”

She slipped past the guards patrolling the halls, ducking into the nearest empty room, a storage closet of sorts. Perfect.

She hiked her long robes up, unsheathing her dagger, cutting away at the garments. Sorry, Ying’er. But I can’t fight in this. She threw the discarded fabric in a dark corner, where they would be forgotten about.

She slid the knife back into its sheath, and cracked the door open the tiniest bit—enough to watch the entrance into the great hall.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Lumine would have fallen asleep had it not been for the two guards who stopped to converse right outside her door. Within a matter of seconds, Lumine had gone from sleepily nodding off to firmly clenching her weapon in her hand, nerves buzzing on high alert.

“That party dragged on forever,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know how King Ajax does it. Isn’t he exhausted every night?”

“Not sure. He seems to enjoy it.”

“He’s been gone a while now. Should we check on him?”

Lumine tightened her grasp on her dagger. He was gone?

“No. He likes to be alone at night. He’ll kill you if you interrupt him.”

“Oh...Should we just go to the other side of the castle then? So we don’t...interrupt him?”

“...Sounds like a good idea.”

The sound of their footsteps faded, and Lumine dared a peek out the door to scope out the hallway.

There were no other guards, and the boisterous sounds of the party were long gone.

Lumine slid out of the closet, sneaking down the hall, starting her search for King Ajax.

Sounds like he’s still here somewhere. Alone.

This job was getting easier and easier.

Too easy.

* * *

Please be in this room.

There was a great stone door before her, one she had come to after a mind-numbingly exhaustive search through the entirety of the large castle. She pushed on the door, as slowly and as quietly as possible, then looked in.

She nearly cried out in relief.

Sitting in the middle of the room was King Ajax, his back turned to her.

He was completely silent, unmoving, in this empty stone room. Was he asleep? No, it looked more like meditation.

Lumine slinked in, silently, conjuring the elemental energy of the wind in the room.

She would take every bit of air out of his body. Quick, quiet, no mess. It was the method she had always used.

She closed her eyes to focus, feeling the pull of air from his lungs.

He was going to die, and she was going to be free, free with her brother—

WHOOSH!

Lumine opened her eyes just in time to see Ajax rush towards her.

His hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her into the ground. All of the breath in her body hissed out of her, and she clawed at his hand.

“Who are you?” he growled.

She stopped prying at his hold, quickly yanking out her dagger, and slashing at his face.

He dodged, forcing him to loosen his grip on her.

She slashed again at his hand, throwing herself away from him as he recoiled in pain. She rubbed at her neck, gasping for breath. The king was looking at the gash across his fingers.

Shitshitshit.

Lumine quickly focused her energy on the earth below, trying to create shackles out of stone to hold him in place, or to just bury him alive.

The ropes of earth sprang out of the ground. His eyes flickered to the coils as they rushed for him.

Yes!

But then a swirling mass of water appeared, engulfing him, destroying the chains in the process.

What—?!

A sharp stream of water shot out from the bubble, coiling around Lumine before she could react. She was pulled to the ground, bound, and unable to move.

The bubble of water dissipated, and Ajax stepped out, eyes ablaze. He approached Lumine.

“Who are you?” he asked again, less angry, more inquisitive.

She strained against the chains of water, her elemental energy unable to rid them. She locked eyes with him. “You’re a magic user.”

He squatted next to her. “You are too,” he responded, the smallest ghost of a smile on his lips. He took her dagger into his hands, weighing it. “Now, why were you trying to kill me?”

Lumine bit her cheek. No, she couldn’t sell Diluc out; he could still get Aether killed.

“That’s how you conquered Mondstadt and Liyue so easily. You used magic,” she pushed, ignoring his question. “That’s forbidden.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping his bloodied hand on her robes. “And yet, here we are, two magic users in one room.” He pointed the dagger at Lumine’s neck. “Tell me why you were trying to kill me, before I make it only one. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Lumine said. “I’m a magic user. That threatens your power, doesn’t it?”

Ajax studied her for a second, pulling the dagger back, just a bit. “True.” He tilted his head. “But I’ve never actually met another magic user before.”

She averted his intense gaze. “So what are you going to do? Keep me alive and experiment on me?”

“No.” He stood. “How about this...in exchange for sparing your life, you become my student.”

…

What?

“You mean learn magic from you?” Lumine glared at him. “How do you know I won’t kill you in the future?”

“You won’t,” he said. “This murder attempt? Wasn’t personal—you tried to kill me from a distance. Someone must have sent you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing the hilt of the dagger. After some shaking, it disintegrated into dust.

“Also, you can’t kill me,” he continued, opening his eyes. “You’re severely untrained. You saw how easily I subdued you.” A small smile. “All the more reason to learn from me.”

Maybe this was the gods taking mercy on Lumine. Ajax didn’t kill her right away; she had a chance to live, to get back home to Aether.

“What’s in it for you? This only seems to benefit me,” she said to Ajax.

He hummed, thinking. “A potentially powerful weapon,” he responded, eyes glinting.

Maybe, once she learned more magic, she could overtake him, and complete her job.

She locked eyes with him.

“You have a deal.”

The ghost of those words burned bitter on her tongue.

* * *

Lumine nearly died the next morning.

“You did what?!” she gasped out, after deathly choking on a part of her breakfast.

She was currently sitting across from Ajax in his elegant dining room, who had just informed her that he had announced their marriage.

He leaned back in his chair. “A random new woman living in the king’s castle? Bound to raise many rumors,” he said, nonchalant. “This way, there are no rumors, and we can train without being questioned.”

Lumine worried her lip. He has a point.

“I don’t—We don’t have to...do anything in public, do we?” she asked.

“No.” He smirked. “Unless you want to, pretty girl.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.” Here for a job, not romance, she reminded herself, no matter how handsome this cocky bastard is. Not to mention, she still planned to kill him.

And so, Lumine’s days were filled with training, pretending to the servants and maids she was King Ajax’s fiancée. She was trapped, as Ajax reminded her many times that if she tried to leave, he would swiftly execute her.

She learned more about him, as much as she didn’t want to. She saw that he did really care for his people, and provided for them as best he could—though he wasn’t above using his power to strike down those in his way, whether it was an enemy or a citizen who simply disrespected his reign.

And that was ultimately what he wanted: power. To have power over everyone in the land of Teyvat. He had endless ambition—Lumine could credit him that much.

Some days, she caught herself imagining it as well: a world she could rule over, have everyone bend to her will, set the laws so people like her and Aether could live without fear, and be provided for. In some ways, she could relate to Ajax’s desires. In some ways, she could justify his methods.

It very much disgusted her, at first. But then, it was liberating. To have someone who could understand the darker sides to her being, understand the blood on her hands.

Even Aether could never fully understand her. How part of her was always glad to be given magical powers to defend herself and those she cared about. How part of her enjoyed her current situation.

After all, she was living lavishly, compared to the impoverished life she had before. She had every meal provided for, luxuriously, and a soft bed to lay in every night. No threat of the authorities finding out about her powers and murdering her.

Could she perhaps bring Aether here?

Ajax had spared her—was it too much of a stretch to believe he would spare her twin as well?

If Aether could be brought here, she wouldn’t have to kill Ajax. She wouldn’t have to kill perhaps the only person in Teyvat that knew who she truly was.

* * *

“If you found another magic user,” she asked Ajax over dinner, “would you train them as well?”

Ajax took a sip of wine from his goblet. “No.”

“...No?”

A small smile, a slight flash of his canines. “I can’t have my weapons outnumbering me, now can I?”

Lumine’s mouth went dry. “If you won’t train them...what would you do with them?”

“Kill them.” He set the cup down. “They would be a threat.”

“I’m not a threat?”

Ajax barked out a laugh. “No, Lumine. No, you are not.”

Ah.

So she and Aether couldn’t be together here. Aether was still in danger of being outed by Diluc.

“Why?” Ajax questioned. “Are you lonely here?”

“I’m trapped in your castle. What do you think?”

He rested his head on his hand. “My bed is open at night, if you’d like.”

Lumine drove her knife through her food. “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh, Lumine, it’s just banter,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t think we’re friends? I quite like your company.”

She pursed her lips, staying silent.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Ajax stared right at her. “I see you while we train. You like it here. You like becoming more and more powerful.”

He leaned over the table. “You and I are very similar.” He smiled. “There’s a hunger in your eyes. You want exactly what I have.”

Lumine stood abruptly. “We are nothing alike,” she spat uselessly. He sees right through me.

“I told you, you don’t have to lie to me,” Ajax responded, sitting back in his chair. “We are already married. We could rule together—as partners.”

...What?

“I thought I was your weapon.” Her knuckles were white from clutching the edge of the table.

“Partner if you so choose.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Weapon if not.”

What game is he playing? “There has to be some sort of catch.” He was essentially offering her his power as king, even if it was just partially.

“No catch,” he said. “Like I said, if you refuse, you’ll just continue your little life of entrapment, as my weapon.”

“One of these options is obviously better than the other.”

Ajax laughed, genuinely, his expression softening, just a bit. “I guess one is.”

She gave him a look, quizzical, before swiftly leaving the room, his proposal still hanging in the night.

As the guards escorted her back to her room, she played the conversation over and over again in her mind.

Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad as King Ajax’s consort, his companion through his crusade of Teyvat?

He was right: part of her deep down ached for that kind of power.

But joining Ajax meant sacrificing her dear brother.

The aching desire hissed, Is that a sacrifice you are going to make?

* * *

The castle’s stone floors were freezing on Lumine’s feet as she traversed through the halls barefoot. No shoes meant no sound. No sound meant she could surprise the guards, getting the upper hand to take them out. Already, there was a trail of dead guards behind her as she passed through the corridors, the air stripped from their lungs.

Her sheer white nightgown fluttered around her as she dashed about, and in the dim moonlight waning through the windows, she thought herself a ghost, an angel of death. She was on a path she could not stop.

She knew exactly where he was. After spending so many days trapped here, of course she knew where the king’s quarters were.

She knew him like clockwork: what days he would stay up in his study, what days he would retire to his chambers and when. She knew where his guards were, when they would switch patrols, when their protection would be the weakest.

And when it came time, she stood outside of his door, wavering on the spot slightly.

She shook her head, trying the door. Locked.

Taking a breath in, she rapped her knuckles on the hardwood.

She heard rustling beyond the heavy oak door, her heartbeat picking up. She would have to get in there quick, before he looked behind her and saw his guards missing.

The door swung open, a flash of anger on Ajax’s face until he saw who it was.

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “Ah, Lumine, to what do I owe the pleasure—”

Lumine stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

She could feel him go rigid under her touch. She walked him backwards, further into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot.

As the door shut, he broke away from her. “Are you accepting my proposal?” he whispered, his hands clutched around her arms.

Lumine nodded, going for another kiss, arms slinking around his shoulders. This time, he melted into her touch, pulling until he was under her on his bed.

He fell for it.

Pity crept into her heart. From the way he breathed her in, the way he held her in his arms, there was a softness she had never seen from him.

He loved her.

She was his weapon, and now, his greatest weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

His eyes opened, those ocean eyes on her as she pulled the air from his lungs with ease.

You shouldn’t have trained me.

His hand reached for her throat, but went to his own as he gasped and choked.

She wrapped her own hands around his, pressing down. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face.

He thrashed wildly, and she repeated I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorry over and over again until he went still under her.

…

…

...

She opened her eyes, the world blurry around her. She wiped away the tears pooling in her vision, and looked down at Ajax.

He was unmoving, eyes glazed over, arms limp at his side.

Lumine reached for his throat, hand shaking, fingers checking for a pulse.

He’s dead.

She scrambled off of him, crumbling into a ball on the floor.

I killed him.

Her breathing was uneven—she was the one gasping for breath now as uncontrollable sobs racked through her body.

I am so sorry, Ajax.

* * *

“Lumi?”

Lumine turned to see Aether looking at her with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A breeze rustled by. Lumine turned back to look over green fields that stretched as far as she could see.

“I’m okay,” she responded.

“Okay,” he repeated. He smiled a bit, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Diluc’s hawk came this morning. He sends warm wishes to us both.”

After the assassination of King Ajax, Lumine decreed Snezhnaya a freed country, a country with no ruler, and returned the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue back to their rightful heirs. Diluc, now the restored king of Mondstadt, gave Lumine and Aether the riches he promised, and a home deep in the countryside for the peaceful life they so desperately wanted.

But sometimes Lumine had nightmares of Ajax.

She would be sitting next to him, on their thrones as the King and Queen of Snezhnaya. Sometimes, little princes and princesses of theirs would be running around as well.

They would have conjured all of Teyvat together.

They would have loved each other.

Lumine would wake up, tears in her eyes, heart heavy with desire for that life.

And then she would cry because her life would never be peaceful ever again.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

[aaternum-a]

actually scratch that i want KILL from kaleb

The weight is staggering, choked breaths drowned in her chest as they drive her into the ground. Shit. It was barely her a second, her mercy would be a gate to her own demise if instinct failed her subconscious defenses. Her world teetered on its axis, searing white at the edges of her vision when she hit the ground, their sword battling for dominance against her own at her throat. The same eyes that pleaded and sought out her humanity now boiling with sick will to live – what they wanted wasn’t benevolence, no, they were ravenous for the kill: to live by any means. Kaleb warned her that naivety was a weakness on the front lines, her hesitation and reluctance to set aside her humanity a flaw when it came to battle. And yet she cannot part with the belief that to be good she must wear her faults.

Maybe that wasn’t seeing the world for what it was, but she wanted to believe. Needed to. This carnage couldn’t be eternal; the ends to the means, it must exist in a future her hands might never reach. And they’re stained of her sins, of his blood, but gods, there must be another somewhere who would forgive her for taking part in the cycle if it meant eventual peace. It’s far from reality when she fights for air and channels all her ebbing strength into her sword, bleary vision burned with tears. And as she struggles to focus, steel pressed against her throat, she knows these eyes boring into her are merely a reflection of her own. I want to live too.

The white of her vision feathers into black, desperately attempting to kick them off, but her might is nothing to them. She grits her teeth, fighting against her melting consciousness, their after-image swimming  in her eyes as they threaten to tear through her skin. The words won’t reach her lips, but she wants to cry out. All that persists in her drowning thoughts is a name. 

 Kaleb. 

And then the world was streaked in red.

When the pressure falters she imagined her body letting go, but her trembling hands and coiled muscles are much too real. And then it’s raining. But it’s waters are crimson, dripping against her pale cheeks as she stares into their eyes – flames extinguished by the sword impaling their chest. His sword. Her gaze darts hesitantly to the blossoming wound at their chest, their ichor spilling onto her armor as he retreats his sword with little remorse. Their weight collapses onto her all at once, dying exhale a whisper at her ears as she meets his smoldering gaze. “   This world will break you.   ”

He is a sunless light in her wavering vision, fiery gaze shadowed by a darkness she may never know the depths of. Like two halves of a coin, he was not just the King of lands as cold as he was, but something carnal, famished for the only thing battle could provide. Feeling. And it was unleashed here before her. A demon with a crown. And as she fills her lungs with air, coarse coughs punching through her quivering her lips, she cries. The other's final whisper an echo in her ears, but it's not herself she fears losing to the world. But she sobs for what is lost because she knew there was no one more broken than the King. @tyraunt 

#laplacemail #(lies on the floor and cries for twenty YEARS) #v. tbt #tw: blood #tw: violence #edit: lmao i keep forgetting to tag his blog dkjsngkjs #also i need to figure out his tag #it's criminal that i haven't put it out yet #CRIMINAL

[local-space-case]

Bakugou Katsuki is Not A Loser

Word Count: IDK

Rated: T (mention of abuse, self-loathing, cursing)

AO3 Account: FerociousFerret (out here only posting first drafts on a whim why?)

When Bakugou sees the looming  silhouette of Endeavor at the hospital outside of Todoroki’s room, he thinks he feels a million emotions at once.

Some he’s familiar with like fury, annoyance, and the protective fire he venomously denies exist are the ones off the top his head. But there’s also fear. An emotion he’s embarrassedly familiar with. A deep anxiety clawing it’s way out of his chest while still somehow keeping a tight grip on his lungs. It commands he stay rooted in the middle of the bleach white hallways that even so quiet he thinks they must be louder than he is. He wants to say something. He wants to yell, scream, curse, kick the fucker out the goddamn window, but he can’t.

Until the number piece of human shit takes a step closer to the door.

“OI! You can’t fuckin’ go in there!”

It comes out like the nasty snarl he was hoping for. The pro hero glances at him with a look disdain before reluctantly taking a step away from the door. Bakugou assumes he must not want to cause a scene. Doesn’t stop the stubborn shit from arguing with him though.

“He’s my son, I have a right to visit”. His tone was clipped, formal, placating, like he was delusional enough to think Bakugou was going to lose this fight.

Bakugou Katsuki was not a loser.

“Last time I checked, trash belongs outside not stinking up disinfected air.” He lets his gaze linger on a door across the hall. “Besides, I don’t listen to losers.”

Endeavor seems to puff up like a pissed off cat. God, so that’s where Strawberry Shortcake gets it from.

He looks like he wants to beat Bakugou into the ground and Bakugou lives by the philosophy of ‘If it can crawl, it can brawl.’, so he’s up for anything this fucker has to offer. But he doesn’t, instead he closes his eyes and inhales like he’s having an fucking asthma attack.

“You shouldn’t insult your elders.” Endeavor says after a beat. Bakugou huffs a laugh.

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” It’s an attack and based on the way the hero recoils, he knows it. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows it because it was broadcasted on live television. It was like a car crash, so gruesome but you just can’t tear your eyes away until you see that everyone is okay.

However, like a car crash, it’s abundantly clear that no one in the Todoroki family is okay. But, Bakugou didn’t find out when the crash happened. No, he knew the truth deep down when he saw the unsteady swerves of one of the drivers who had the audacity to essentially give him first place at the Sports Festival.

Bakugou thinks about that moment a lot. Usually at night when he can’t sleep because he feels like someone’s watching him, he wonders what Todoroki saw that snuffed out the fighting spirit he’d paraded around before their round.

He’s young, but he’s not naive. Not anymore. He knows, undoubtably, that during their fight Half ‘n Half didn’t see Bakugou’s drive to win, he saw his father’s flaming fists.

He feels his usual scowl paint itself onto his face, “How does it feel knowing your entire family is afraid of you?” The older man doesn’t say anything, deciding that floor is much more interesting than the conversation Bakugou wants to have. The conversation he needs to have.

“Number One Hero, hah?,” he mocks, “You know, that’s really fuckin’ funny. That’s a hoot ‘n holler. You could be a stand up comic.” he gives a pause waiting for a reaction. He doesn’t get on.

“Too bad they don’t like sacks shit lyin’ around.” A pause. “You didn’t answer my question by the way, so tell me, how does it feel knowing your whole family is afraid of you? That you have no friends because you decided you didn’t need them, you only needed to be on top. Well,” a sharp bitter laugh echos through the hall, “congratulations.”

He stalks up to Endeavor and gets up in his personal bubble. He can see a blue eye trained on his own red ones. With a pointed grin, the blond knows he has the man’s attention now, so he keeps going.

“How does it feel knowing that you lost? And before you open that fuckin’ cavity ridden mouth of yours, you’re gonna listen and you’re gonna listen good.” Endeavor had tried to open his mouth to object because apparently the idea of losing something was getting to him. Bakugou could deal with this.

“How can you call yourself a hero after everything you’ve done? How do you do that? How do you sleep at night knowing that the so-called number one hero can save a civilian but fuckin’ torment his family?”

Endeavor is trying to ignore him. He can tell because his eyes are once again back to the floor. He won’t let him though.

“How does it feel knowing that, after all these years, even though you won, you lost.”

Bakugou is, and has always been competitive. He wants to be the best, he needs to be the best, because only the best people can be heros. He’d always adored All Might growing up, but not the same way Deku did.

When Deku saw All Might, he saw a beacon of hope, a peace bringer, an unstoppable force of nature. He saw a role model. A mountain of a man who was as strong as a tiger, yet gentle like a rabbit. Someone who uses their power for good instead of evil.

When Bakugou saw All Might, he saw a winner. A strong man who beat villains into the ground and obtained more money and praise than anyone else could ever hope for in a lifetime. He didn’t see a man, he saw a king who had kept a tight hold on his crown. He wanted to take it. So, yes he liked All Might for his position of power, but he respected Endeavor.

Endeavor may have been the number two hero, but Bakugou saw himself in him. He saw the fights on tv with the walls of fire, the punches, the yelling, he saw it all. Endeavor was not like All Might, he never backed away from a fight, never bothered to try and find a peaceful resolution, but he always won. He won with fiery fists and scowls and he didn’t smile for the press, he wasn’t fake.

Bakugou thought he felt hate for Deku, but now he knows better. This is hate. This feeling in his heart that’s screaming, hurting, burning.

This is hate.

This is hate because he can see his reflection in this monster draped in human skin.

He sees himself pushing Deku away because he thinks he’s superior, kicking, hitting, burning, screaming, he can see it all. He can see Deku become smaller and smaller and he remembers how happy it made him because Deku knew his place and that meant he won.

He sees Endeavor hitting his wife, screaming til he’s blue in the face at Todoroki, his siblings tear-streaked faces when they realize Touya is never coming home. He sees Todoroki’s determined expression flicker with fear before dropping to the ground like a rag doll. He sees Endeavor’s please smirk turn into a sour scowl because his son didn’t get first, he didn’t win. He sees Todoroki sitting in the main area while all their classmates pack up to go home for the holidays with raised hackles and paranoid glances at the slightest noise. He sees what once was Todoroki Touya on live tv telling the whole world his father’s sins and he wants to make him pay.

He sees the ambition, the anger, the low tolerance for anything that isn’t the best, the need to be the best at everything all the time but, Endeavor didn’t win, did he?

Endeavor became the number one hero because his rival fell, but he did not win. He was a martyr to the public, but a monster to his family. He was the monster under bed, the demons in their heads, the footsteps they should fear, and the man they should not love, but worship.

He took and took and took until his family had nothing left to give. He sleeps at night uncaring that his family don’t have a home they have a graveyard full of phantom memories of the lives they never got to live and the dreams they never got to chase. They get the ghosts in the mirror, a walking corpse for a body, and the perpetual state of mourning the love they’d never receive.

Then again, maybe Endeavor didn’t win or lose, because you can’t win a game you aren’t even playing. The moment he insulted, or raised a hand to his wife or children, he was disqualified.

Bakugou knows he’s no saint, but he’s not a loser. He’s worked hard to get his head outta his ass because he already loss. He lost his best friend and any dream filled nights that may have come to him. He learned.

Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he glances back at the man he’d looked up to and respected for many years. A man he hopes karma kills as slowly and subtly as he had with his family. He huffs.

“Yeah, I don’t like losers. Now, go the fuck home before I call security.”

He backs away but doesn’t leave the doorway as the sack of shit made the right choice and shuffled away. Bakugou makes a noise of satisfaction.

The explosive blond glances inside Todoroki’s room where the staff drugged him up on sedatives and silently wills him to get better. He’ll never say it out loud, but they were friends, and he did care.

(He also fears, that maybe, the news is right about how insanity runs in the family and that maybe he didn’t chase Endeavor off fast enough before Todoroki lost it completely like his mother and brother. Bakugou hopes that maybe he finally did something good.)

The vibrating of his phone jolts him from his thoughts and he reads the notification.

Shitty Hair: hey bakubro we wanted to know if ur still coming to movie night

Shitty Hair: no stress tho!!! a lots happened so we get it if u wanna skip

Another huff of laughter, this time less bitter, escapes from his lips.

He allows himself to smile and tells Kirishima he’s on his way and that they better not start without him. Yeah.

Bakugou Katsuki is a lot of things, but he’s not a loser.

#reblog #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction #bakugou angst #bnha todoroki #bnha endeavor #bnha kiribaku #bnha kirishima #bnha izuku #bnha oneshots #bnha angst #bnha 305 #ao3 todobaku #todobaku #tododeku #bakudeku #kirikami #shinkami #dabihawks #bnha dabi #bnha 302 #bnha all might #bnha touya #bnha incorrect quotes #fuck endeavor #character study #ao3 feed #bnha ideas #bnha funny #todomomo

[xwasted-days]

𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 || 𝖇.𝖍.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

A/N: It’s probably been done before, but I wanted to throw together a little song-fic based on Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars. I’m sappy and I like sad things. Also, this is my first tumblr fic, pls be nice. Requests are open and I have no tag-list, because it’s a new blog. 

Work Count: 2, 276

Complete Story Warnings: Major Character Death, Pure Angst, 10/10 sad. Also, probably language. 

The battle of Starcourt was turning in favor of the party and all therein, but war was never without casualty. 

Billy Hargrove had a questionable character and reputation among most in Hawkins. People wanted him as a friend or a fuck, and those that didn’t wanted him gone. Few succeeded in ever knowing Billy as more than the sad little king of his sad little hill, and even fewer knew the plights he faced at home. A minimal two: Max, the step sister, and Y/N, the girlfriend, who rushed into the center of the mall behind Mike Wheeler, unable to help as Billy threw himself in El’s path. Y/N moved before her mind could register: scrambling forward when Billy caught the mindflayer’s clawed gullet in his hands. Those beautiful, calloused hands with the feather-soft touch. She took another step forward, faltering as a tentacle dug into his left side, the sickening crunch of torn flesh and splintering ribs echoing in the building silence. The second hit came and she rushed forward again, slipping on fragments of broken glass. Y/N’s knees hit the ground hard, the sharp sting barely registering as the hits kept coming, clawing all around his torso. He screamed each time, every cry cutting off in a strangled garble at the sharp shock of another tentacle landing its blows. Billy screamed, daring the monster on, and Y/N screamed, begging it all to stop. 

The final blow landed in the center of Billy’s chest, silencing him. Max’s scream sounded somewhere behind her. 

As the mindflayer pulled away, thrashing, snarling, wailing in defeat, Y/N ran forward, slipping in rapidly pooling blood as she pulled Billy to her chest. 

I remember tears streaming down your face, when I said, “I’ll never let you go.”

The words, even as they left Y/N’s lips, felt like the deepest and most real thing she’d expressed since the moment he was taken by the mindflayer. 

Since the darkness had fallen over Hawkins, she’d felt vacant, plastic, unreal. She supposed the notion came first when Barb had gone missing; when the trio of sub-popular girls was first fractured. Everything seemed to fall apart until Y/N found out what really happened to Barb, what was haunting Will Byers, and what hunted the people of Hawkins.  

Life was a ceaseless ebb and flow of highs and lows; still, she never expected the tide to pull away as it was now. Nothing could compare to this feeling: her boyfriend tucked in her arms, fading away before her, was what would cause the tidal wave to break. 

Cool and fragile, the rapid thundering of his heart beneath Y/N’s palm, the salt of crystalline tears sliding off his angled pale, cheek, his hand gripping her arm as he clung to waning life. Billy opened his mouth, hoping for any words to form. None did. He felt the pain with each blow, but as the creature yanked itself away and Billy fell, there was no sensation. Nothing but an icy numbness. After his mom left, Billy prayed for nothing more than to lose his feeling, and now it was gone he wanted it back. 

He wanted it back because he wanted to stay with her. He’d always known he was a selfish bastard, but this instance wasn’t for himself. It was for her; his Y/N. The only girl he gave a shit about for longer than one night at a time. And now, he was going to lose her. “..I-” he struggled again, shivering in her arms. 

When all those shadows almost killed your light

“Shh,” Y/N cooed, bringing her hand up to brush sweaty, blonde curls off of his forehead, ignoring the scene that played out around them. Billy was never meant to get caught in this crossfire; he was meant to be as he always was: cocky, stupid, young and reckless. Seated atop his lifeguard seat, staring out over the crowds of Hawkins Community Pool as a king surveyed his kingdom. Instead, he was out there, vulnerable to to the upside down, taken as so many others had been.

Y/N glanced down at the gaping, bloody hole that forced the pale colored fabric of the shirt at Billy’s chest to dip inward, the rich, viscous, and sickly stain making her stomach churn. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, a meager attempt at staunching her tears as she played strong for Billy’s sake. She felt his hand at her arm give a squeeze, her attentions drawing back toward the boy in her lap. Y/E/C eyes connecting to Billy’s steely blue ones again, she offered a shaky smile, her thumb smoothing along the arch of his cheek. 

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone…"

Billy’s voice was soft and hoarse, barely audible as the commotion of the party and the mindflayer fizzled on around them. The fair haired, beautiful boy Y/N had fallen so deeply for let out a soft grunt of protest at the ache, his body twitching involuntarily as pain coursed through him.

“Think you can get rid of me that easily, ya little shit?” Y/N asked with a gentle chuckle, keeping her shaky grin to ease Billy’s worry. Her tears flowed more freely now, slipping down her cheeks as she held him close. “Gotta try a whole helluva lot harder than that, Hargrove. You and me. California, remember?” 

The broken king of Hawkins High put on a woozy, pale-lipped smile and hiccupped on a sob, coughing after. A soft mist of blood peppered his lips and chin, staining his teeth crimson. California, their would-be paradise, far away from Indiana and all their worries. He’d sworn up and down that they would leave one day, go back to his home and flourish in ways unimaginable. His promise now seemed as broken as he was. He was fading. Y/N didn’t have enough time.

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight.

The flutter of Billy’s heart was growing more and more faint, and the beats, which willed themselves with great difficulty, grew slower and slower in their efforts. 

Billy leaned his weight further into Y/N’s body, slack and woozy. All the coherency in his head fading. She had promised that wouldn’t leave, said she wouldn’t let go, but she had. Or hadn’t she? He could hardly tell, his vision fading in and out, gleams of purple and pink, the hazy sound of distant chatter. Billy felt his chest heave with a great gasp, and his jaw open and close with the effort of breath. It happened again, and again. He felt hands on his arms, squeezing, but he couldn’t register the effect of the sensation. He was cold, so cold. He wished so vehemently that he could ask Y/N what was going on, but Billy couldn’t seem to find his tongue. 

That’s a first, he thought, trying to squeeze back the person in his numbed fingers. Every bit of him was so cold, probably frozen from where he had been, lost in darkness with the delicate snowfall. He was sure another erratic breath would leave him in shards. His head lulled to the side, hardly-seeing eyes registering the plume of Y/H/C and a small streak of fiery red. He searched between them, hoping to register on either of the faces that peered down on him, but none came. He coughed, gagging on something oozing in his throat, feeling hands tighten and voices raise. 

Soft curls of blonde hair fell over her his forehead, even as Y/N pushed them away, shifting his weight so Billy’s head was more firmly pressed to her chest. He was growing more and more still, even as she and Max begged him to stay. The girl took a breath, fighting down the body-trembling sob that wedged in her throat. “Billy? Wake up, Billy, please?” She asked, watching a tear of her own fall down to slip against his cheek, rolling down onto his stubbled chin.

Billy took a deep, shuddering breath, so loud he scared himself. He'd forgotten to breathe, and the muted voices he heard in his haze kept him there. Her voice. The voice he listened to in the quiet solitude of a shared bedroom, or in the crowded halls of Hawkins High. The voice he grew to love before he could even remember what love felt like. The voice he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

He blinked, trying to clear the tears in his eyes, focusing on Y/N and Max hovering above him.

“....I’m sorry.” Billy shuddered as his eyes glossed over,  a sudden cloud overtaking his vision. The clarity of the world was fading into shapes, then shadows, and careening rapidly into darkness. There was a loud bang somewhere near him and had he retained the strength, he would have jumped. Another bang. And another. One, two. One, two. One. Two. One. Two, each pair of beats getting further and further apart. Billy breathed out, defeated, overcome by the realization that those noises were thuds of his heart stopping. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel, he couldn’t taste anything but the heavy black goop on his tongue, he could only smell the coppery, acrid stink of blood that clogged his sinuses. All that was left was hearing; Billy was caught listening to the terrible, awful rhythm of his once-small heart, stopping. He listened again, hoping to hear the voices, praying they would draw him out of it, but there was no sound. Nothing. Not even the beating of his heart. Just his remaining consciousness, slowly going black. Billy Hargrove was dead, he knew. He wanted to scream, to panic and cry, but nothing was there. 

He didn't see the light that everyone blathered about, he didn't feel the peace. He was the hollow, lifeless shell of a boy who could have been more than a lifeguard with an attitude problem. And he was dead. And he left her behind. 

His beautiful Y/N, whose voice and smiles and touches were forfeit to the darkness that consumed. 

Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone. 

Y/N  felt the final, sickening beat of Billy’s heart beneath her hand. Another tear fell onto Billy’s face, then another. And another. Max whispered, begging her step brother to wake, her small hands shaking his bloodied shoulders to no avail. A hard, broken, centuries old sob tore through Y/N’s chest and echoed through the mall; the cry of everyone who had lost someone they loved for good. The cry that begged death to return a loved one to the land of the living that always fell on deaf ears. 

“Billy, please,” she whimpered, trembling fingers soothing the lifeless skin of the boy she loved. Every thought, hope, wish, and dream connected to him was gone, dead as he was. 

Jagged orange patterns began to dance on the ground all around them, and offered the girl nothing but a ghastly illumination along her lost lover’s gaunt, pale face. It made him look hollow, as if no happiness, no mischief, no curiosity had once been lurking behind those coy, gorgeous eyelids. His once tanned, golden flesh was sickly and pale, the adonis within snuffed out forever. Y/N  snarled and sobbed hard, holding Billy closer, hiding him from the sickening yellowed light of the fire that grew.

She heard feet scramble around as the party gathered, their footfalls echoing like hard beat of the drums of war.

Villains never prevailed. Heroes never lived. No one was ever truly saved. Y/N’s shoulders caved and shook as she sobbed, broken and holding onto Billy’s body. Stifling a hiccup, she sighed sadly and started humming and rocking him back and forth; their song mumbled on tear-stained lips. She was chained to her place on the ground, lost. 

She didn’t see the others there, she couldn’t hear their words. She didn’t take notice when Max hid her face in El’s shoulder and sobbed for her lost brother.  

The world around her was crumbling into vacant nothingness and Y/N felt herself heave with another sob. She leaned back, her blood stained fingers gently brushing the infallible, pure flesh of Billy’s cold cheek, smoothing the tears she’d left there away with another broken whimper. “I love you…” She whispered longingly, her voice needy and raspy. 

A hand pressed to Y/N’s shoulder. It didn’t matter whose it was. It wasn’t his. And she hated that it pulled her back. The distant thrum of helicopters rattling in the skies, the sobs that left Max as she cried, the soft sniffles that sounded from El as she sat in mourning solidarity with her friend. Steve’s voice low as sirens began to wail in the streets. 

“Y/N. We gotta go,” Steve said, joined at her flank by Robin, whose thin hand came to rest on Y/N’s arm. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave him. Another sob leaving her, Robin leaned forward to rest her head on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing her arm gently as she could, tears flooding her own eyes as she looked across to Steve’s battered face. 

Harrington hated Hargrove with all he had, but he didn’t deserve this. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Nostrils quivering as he fought to keep strong, he gave Robin a solemn nod. Together, they helped place Billy on the ground where he fell and pull Y/N back, consoling her as she cried. 

Just close your eyes. The sun is going down You'll be alright.  No one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

#bh. #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove #st3 #stranger things #oneshot #billy hargrove oneshot #stranger things billy #stranger things fanfiction #fan fiction #song fic

[fangirl-creates]

Curtain Call - Chapter 1: Showtime

Blitz found himself lost again. The room he opened his eyes in was small—thick red and white vertical lines were painted on the wall, and a hardwood floor that was so dirty that the dust coated the bottom of his shoes. He looked around for a door of some kind, but the room had no exit. A light bulb dangled from the black painted ceiling, being the only source of light he had.

He was afraid to pull the string and turn it off. He didn’t know what was waiting in this room for him to do that, that once the darkness took over he’d never see the light again. He nearly had a heart attack when the light started flickering, now watching it with fear in his eyes to make sure it didn’t go out. But even with his eyes glued to it, it continued to make him nervous by flickering more. Until finally-

Bzzt.

It went out, Blitz now completely engulfed in darkness. He stood perfectly still, his heart beating rapidly as claustrophobia started to kick in. His breathing was heavy, finding himself curling up into a ball on the dusty floor. It was a defense mechanism, but he felt somewhat safe when he did this.

He heard muffled noises coming from outside the room. Talking. Cheering? He couldn’t make it out.

Footsteps made him stand.

Had someone found him? How would they even get inside? But…what if they were the ones who trapped him in here? What if they were coming to hurt him further?

He backed up against a wall, suddenly feeling it push against his back. His spines felt crushed under it, but he held back the urge to react. For even the slightest sound could let the enemy know he was there—if they didn’t think so already.

The footsteps got louder, the wall pushing Blitz further towards the front of the room.

His back and tail went numb, his feet slipping on the floor as he struggled to fight the wall.

A light nearly blinded him, his arm instinctively going to shield his eyes. But then-

“Blitzo? You ready to go on?”

He opened his eyes and looked in front of him. The front wall had been opened like it was just a curtain, a figure standing in front of it. She was a female imp, dressed like some sort of staff member.

The back wall was gone, the room being reduced to nothing more than a red and white changing tent.

“Well?” She looked at him with a slightly annoyed expression. “The audience is getting impatient.”

Blitz looked down at himself—he was..wearing his old performance outfit? When did he-?

“AHEM.” She cleared her throat rather loudly in front of him, making him look at her.

He didn’t know what to say, but she would most likely get more upset if he continued to stay silent.

“U-Uhm..yeah I’m ready..?” He answered half-heartedly, still confused.

“Finally!” She rolled her eyes. “Now get going.” Her tail swished angrily as she walked away, mumbling something about how she ‘didn’t get paid enough for this bullshit’.

Blitz stepped out of the tent rather quickly, not wanting to get trapped again. The tent seemed to disappear once he did so, leaving him out in the open—a dirt floored, tent hallway.

There were more lightbulbs this time, lining the floor as a guide for him. They blinked in a motion that lured him closer. Cautiously, he walked into the hallway, hearing the sounds from earlier getting louder the closer he got.

He could hear the cheering clear as day now. Something about it made him nervous, like he was about to step into dangerous waters—one wrong move and you could drown.

A loud ‘Whoa’ from the audience made him jump. He could hear people stomping their feet in rhythm to something, more ‘Whoas’ along with the beat.

He felt something grab his arm. He turned to look at it, only to be met with a face he hadn’t seen in years.

Barbie.

What was she doing here?!

She smiled at him, letting go of his arm as she gave him a friendly, light punch in the shoulder. “Ready, Bro?”

“I—I..” He couldn’t speak, his face going pale as he struggled to find the words. None of this made any sense.

She laughed, taking his hand as she led him towards the end of the hallway—another curtain light up ahead.

“Let’s make this one they won’t forget, kay?”

His body stiffened. He didn’t know where she was taking him. He didn’t want to know. “Barbie I-”

Another ‘whoa’ from outside, followed by a familiar voice singing to an audience of thousands. Blitz couldn’t make out who it was, but something about the voice drew him in.

“Ladies and gents this is the moment you’ve waited for..”

Another ‘whoa’. Blitz felt his feet moving closer to the light, Barbie still smiling.

“Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor..”

One final ‘whoa’.

“And buried in your bones, there’s an ache that you can’t ignore.”

He stepped closer in tune to the beat. Was it father away?

“Taking your breath,”

Step.

“Stealing your mind,”

Step.

“And all that was real is left behind—!”

He was finally out of the hallway, he and Barbie now inside the main tent. Demon’s eyes were on them like glue, some sort of figure in the middle of the tent. They stood with a bright spotlight on them.

“Don’t fight it, it’s coming for you, running at ya.”

Blitz gulped.

“It’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after.”

He felt Barbie grab his hand again, pulling toward the center.

“Your fever dream, can’t you see it getting closer?”

Lights flashed within the crowd. Cameras probably, he thought.

“Just surrender cause you feel the feeling taking over—!”

The stomping and cheering got louder.

“It’s fire, it’s freedom, it’s flooding open! It’s a preacher in the pulpit and you’ll find devotion—!”

The figure’s eyes were a fiery orange, teeth glowing along with their intimidating grin.

“There’s something breaking at the brick of every wall it’s holding—”

Blitz was suddenly pulled to the center even faster, he and Barbie now on opposite sides of the figure.

“—I’ll let you know…”

In that moment Blitz could see the face of the figure. Once it registered in his mind, blood went cold.

The music paused for a second, leaving the audience in suspense.

The figure’s face—a lion with burned and matted fur, a mane made of flames—leaned over to him, his lips close to Blitz’s ears as he whispered.

“Don’t let me down, Blitzy.”

For some reason, Blitz nodded in response, despite the fear coursing through his veins.

The lion demon turned back to the audience with a big smile, the song resuming.

“So tell me, do you wanna go—?”

The whole circus lit up.

“Where it’s covered in all the colored lights,”

Barbie ran over to him, grabbing his hand once more as she pulled him to another area of the tent.

“Where the runaways are running the night,”

He found himself placed alongside other demons who performed—more faces being recognized the longer he stood there.

“Impossible comes true, it’s taking over you!”

The lion pointed a staff at the audience as they shouted to him on cue.

“OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

He grinned at them.

“We light it up, we won’t come down!”

“AND THE SUN CAN’T STOP US NOW!”

Like puppets on a string.

“Watching it come true, it’s taking over you!”

“OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

The ‘whoas’ returned. Blitz suddenly found himself holding onto a large silver ring, standing on a platform so high, everyone below him looked like ants.

He saw Barbie on a platform across from him, holding onto a different silver ring.

Shit.

He knew what this was.

“Colossal we come, these renegades in the ring,”

“WHOA!”

“Where the lost get found in the crown of the circus king!”

Barbie took a few steps back, getting a running start.

“Don’t fight it, it’s coming for you, running at ya!”

Blitz felt his legs doing the same.

“It’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after! It’s blinding outside and I think that you know,”

They both jumped off at the same time.

“Just surrender ‘cause you’re calling and you wanna go—!”

Like instinct they both let go and grabbed onto the opposing ring, doing a spin in unison before landing on the opposite platform.

“Where it’s covered in all the colored lights,”

Again.

“Where the runaways are running the night,”

Again.

“Impossible comes true, intoxicating you—!”

“OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

They put their hands together the fourth time, spinning around as their tails and legs held onto the rings.

“We light it up, we won’t come down!”

“AND THE SUN CAN’T STOP US NOW!”

“Watching it come true!”

“IT’S TAKING OVER YOU!”

“OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

Barbie let go of his hands, both of them now spinning on opposite ends of the tent.

Blitz felt the wind on his face, gliding past the audience and that captivating ringmaster below. That…horrifyingly captivating ringmaster. His voice echoed in Blitz’s ears, throughout the tent.

“It’s everything you ever want,”

Blitz felt like he had the hang of this.

“It’s everything you ever need,”

He closed his eyes.

“And it’s here right in front of you,”

He dangled upside down, his arms spread out.

“This is where you wanna be.”

His tail and legs held on tight.

“It’s everything you ever want,”

Don’t let go.

“It’s everything you ever need,”

Don’t let go..!

“And it’s here right in front of you,”

He heard something snap.

He opened his eyes.

“This is where you wanna beeeee—!”

The music got louder.

The floor got closer.

He panicked.

He was running out of time.

Maybe someone would catch him.

Maybe Barbie would-

THUD.

The song did not continue…one final voice was heard before it faded to black.

“Looks like you let me down...”

—————

“NO! SHIT!” He screamed.

His eyes opened in a cold sweat, falling off the bed he was in. The blankets wrapped around his legs, stopping his head from hitting the floor.

He took a minute to check his surroundings.

He was in Stolas’ room. In bed.

The circus was gone.

Barbie was gone.

It was all a dream.

“Oh..”

He untangled himself from the bed sheets, struggling to get up as he proceeded to climb back onto the bed.

Since when did his dreams become so…vivid? So real? And why did it have to be there? With Barbie and…and..

“Blitzy?”

He flinched at that nickname, but soon relieved to find out it was only Stolas beside him. He turned to see the Owl Prince sit up, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Is everything alright..? I heard you shouting.”

He didn’t know how to explain it. Or even if he wanted to.

No.

No, he couldn’t.

His tail swished. “Yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Stolas cupped his face gently, surprised when Blitz leaned into it. “Perhaps I could make you some tea or—?”

“No…no I don’t need it.” He took one of Stolas’ hands, closing his eyes as though if he let go of it, he’d fall again.

“Can we just..” He looked up at him, his eyes looking hurt by something. Something Stolas didn’t know. “…go back to sleep? Please?”

The ‘please’ made Stolas even more worried, sensing something was amiss. Regardless, he let Blitz hold his hand as they laid back down together.

“Ok.”

Blitz let out a shaky breath, his eyes starting to close. He was still afraid he’d go back to that dreamscape, but maybe his mind would let him rest this time. It was all he wanted. It was what he needed.

“And Stolas?”

“Hm?”

“C-Can you…” He bit his lip. “..wake me up if I start to..?”

Stolas put a finger to his lips. “Of course I will. Now get some rest, Blitzy.”

Blitz hid the blush on his face, sinking into the oversized pillow. “Thanks.”

Once his eyes closed, Stolas made it his task to stay up the rest of the night. Owls were naturally nocturnal, anyway.

But even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what had gone on in the imp’s head. What sort of nightmare could have been so bad, that even Blitz would be shaken up by it..?

Whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn’t happen again.

(First chapter of Curtain Call! More coming soon!

Also here’s the song used in the chapter:

https://youtu.be/NyVYXRD1Ans )

#helluva boss #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss stolitz #helluva boss stolas #blitzo #barbie wire #helluva boss oc

[clevercxs]

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 3]

[MORE CHAPTERS]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Word count: 7.5k ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

If you read Sigefrid’s lines in his voice… *chef’s kiss*

_______________________________________________

By nightfall a blissful silence had bestowed itself upon the mead hall. After a night of revelation, the Danes were lulled off to sleep by the sound of rain drumming against the roofs of their homes. They dreamt of what fortunes awaited them come the day King Alfred and his men set foot in Beamfleot — a momentous occasion though dreaded by a certain Dane and his princess. 

The sounds of their drunken snores were loud enough to wake the dead, had they not relished in horns of ale alongside the living, that is.

While vivid dreams of glory and great victories transpired beyond their wildest imaginations, Lady Blædswith was left wide awake to face the harshness of her reality. 

If she had been born and raised as a Dane, worshiping Odin instead of God, such a celebration would have been a great honor. However, the princess’s ailments reminded her that she was no guest of honor, but rather a bargaining tool at Lord Erik and Sigefrid’s disposal. 

Her ribs ached and groaned with each breath she drew; unsure if it would be her last. Her lungs, frail and winded, wheezed as if she’d inhaled plumes of smoke from the blacksmith’s forge. Her stomach growled like a ravenous hound starved from unsuccessful hunts despite the rations she was provided.

Her dirtied cheeks, stained with blood, sweat, and tears, were caressed by the emitted light of dancing flames, illuminating her pale skin with a golden hue of the gods. The tattered remains of her clothes hung off her limbs like those of a decaying corpse left to rot. She finger combed through the tangled knots and frayed ends of her hair, gagging in repulsion at the dirt and grime beneath her nails, and embedded in each crevice of her feeble hands.

King Alfred’s daughter looked, and felt, no better than a befouled slave girl.

Ghastly shadows were cast throughout the hall, dancing across the ceiling and hurdling over tables, chairs, and thrones alike. The shadows formed obscure shapes which taunted her weary mind, though not without providing her with a sense of calm; a distraction, even.

As her eyes adjusted, the fire became rather mesmerizing to watch; vibrant hues of yellows and oranges were a stark contrast from the cold, lifeless world around her. 

For a brief moment she lost herself entirely. She was no longer a hostage, nor in any sort of discomfort. Her worries, her guilt and sorrowful prayers that went unanswered were no more. The rampant thoughts that coursed through her mind seemed to stop entirely. 

The longer she gazed into the flames, the more her mind played devilish tricks on her... 

Within the fire pit emerged a vague image of herself: fearless; unafraid and carefree. She wielded a blazing shield and longsword of fire, fighting alongside the Danes instead of against them. In the end they were victorious, as the sounds of bone-chilling battle cries echoed throughout Midgard; throughout her mind. Sigefrid jogged up to Lady Blædswith, wrapping not one but two hands around her waist, and spun her around before tightly embracing her warmth. The two of them pressed their foreheads together; thanking the gods, rather than her God, for sparing each others’ lives and guiding them to victory against King Alfred of Wessex…

“Agh! You are not real.” She growled in a panic, squeezing her eyes shut and tugging at the roots of her hair as tears dripped down her face. “That, that will never be real.” She gulped dryly, “Not for me.” The princess ran a clammy hand over her face and wiped away her resentful tears as new ones began to fall. 

She wanted nothing more than to subside the affliction in her chest; within her aching heart that suddenly yearned for the impossible.

A throbbing pain surged through her shoulder once more, and reminded her of what she must do; the main reason she had sought to free herself from the cage that once confined her. A seething gasp escaped through her gritted teeth as she unwrapped her fur pelt and set it aside. 

The princess found herself sitting on the long, rickety bench once occupied by the Thurgilson brothers. Her fingertips mindlessly traced over carved intricacies in the woodwork, stalling, until she felt the coolness of metal beneath her palm. 

Taking the leather-bound handle in her firm grasp, she dipped the knife into the fire, watching as its blade glowed with an orange hue. Leaving it be, she ever so carefully tore away the rest of her blood stained blouse and fed it to the flames, pinching her nose at the foul smell of burning blood and sweat. With chills ripping through her exposed chest, she wrapped her arms around her core to preserve any remaining heat. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move beside the cage. Craning her stiff neck around, she surveyed the limp body of the Dane tasked with keeping a close watch over her as she slept. However, his own curiosities led him to an early demise, as he had ventured too close to the cage...

She was startled by the twitching of his leg; the toe of his leather boot seemed to repeatedly nudge one of the cage’s wooden panels. 

Furrowing her bushy, unkempt brows, she steadily rose to her feet and tiptoed towards the guard to investigate while the knife heated up. When a couple of mice scurried out of his pant leg, Lady Blædswith nearly squealed like a pig, shooing them away before she could impale them, too, with the knife. 

The mice found themselves inside her cage, willingly, as they sniffed around for leftover crumbs of bread. 

Pressing a firm hand against her thumping chest, the princess sighed in relief that her foolishness hadn’t woken anyone up - and that the guard was, in fact, dead. 

Kneeling beside the Northman she had slain, she retrieved a smaller blade from his pocket and began sawing off a piece of his leather armor. After all, what good was such armor to a dead man now enjoying the company of his gods, drinking ale within the Great Hall as beautiful valkyries fly overhead?

Surely, it would not be missed. 

She then crawled over his lifeless, pale body and carved a sloppy ‘B’ into the side of his bearded cheek, before using the bars of the cage to get back on her feet.

Within her eyes was a hatred that burned brighter than the fiery depths of Hel. Lady Blædswith spat on his corpse and seethed,

“Te sunt a vili, preverted partem de stercore. Pedicabo ego vos!”

(“You are a vile, perverted piece of shit. Fuck you!”)

Making her way back to the fire, the bare-chested Saxon took a seat and braced herself for what would be the greatest test of courage and inner strength. Now biting down on the piece of leather, she retrieved the blade from the fire and took a deep breath.

Do it, God Damnit! Just do it!

Her stomach was in a queasy knot; her vision faded in and out of a blur the longer she waited.

Slowly, trembling, she raised the glowing knife to her gaping arrow wound and pressed it into her skin. The ungodly sound and putrid smell of her sizzling flesh caused her to dry heave. Her wailing sobs of agony were somewhat muffled by the coarse leather between her teeth...

She could taste hot, salty tears upon her lips as every tendon and muscle in her body strained and constricted in agony. Lady Blædswith, breaking out in a hot, sticky sweat, continued to force the blade against her skin until she could no longer handle it. When she had enough, the princess collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as she could feel herself suffocating.

“I-it’s almost over.” Lady Blædswith spat out the leather square and huffed convincingly with a breathy half-chuckle. “God damnit!” She writhed, instantly clutching a hand over her mouth to conceal her whimpers. “J-Just once more on the other side-” Just she began to hoist herself, unsteadily, back onto the bench - she stopped.

Frozen in time like a guilty thief caught in the act, she could hear a pair of quickening footsteps growing louder by the second. Snapping her gaze upright to the wooden balcony overlooking the hall, it was none other than a disturbed Sigefrid Thurgilson awoken from his much needed slumber like a bear out of hibernation.

“Dear God.” 

Her hands briskly shot to cover either of her breasts as she scrambled for her pelt, immediately wrapping herself in it to preserve what remained of her modesty. Seemingly agitated, the eldest Lord of Beamfleot descended down the stairs like a bat out of Hell. 

“S-Sigefrid.” She greeted nervously, not knowing how he would react to her newfound freedom. Her brown eyes were wide with sheer terror - that much he could see. 

What were the odds that he of all people had heard her? Perhaps he was already awake, enjoying the company of a beautiful slave girl who, to some degree, reminded him of King Alfred’s daughter.

Sigefrid’s rather unkempt, bearded jaw had plummeted through the creaky floorboards revealing sharp rows of teeth. His dark and unruly brows were furrowed tightly together and turned upright with worry and utter confusion. 

Except for a light cardigan over his arms and baggy pants hanging dangerously low on his pelvic bones, he too was without a shirt. His hand-blade, to no surprise, was strapped on tight and ready at his side. 

“Lady-” Sigefrid began in a hurry, panning around the room until he spotted his most trusted hound gnawing on the cooked, severed arm of the guard he’d instilled to watch over her. “What… did you do?!” He cried in disbelief, now approaching the cowering Saxon who seemed worse for wear. “I… I heard your cries.” Frowning, Sigefrid took a light seat upon the furthest end of the bench after making sure she was out of harm’s way.

Ever so slightly pulling back the trim of her pelt, Lady Blædswith revealed her newly charred, cauterized shoulder and the haunting imprint left from the blade she used. 

The princess watched as a look of horror overcame the Dane’s face, causing him to avert his gaze out of discomfort.

“My arrow wound became infected. It was slowly killing me so I… took it upon myself to handle it.” Peering over to the dead guard, she cleared her throat and attempted to justify herself, “Y-you should be grateful. After all, what good is a dead princess to a king? I-I had no choice but to save myself.”

The hound began coughing and heaving until it hacked up a whole finger by Sigefrid’s bare foot, only to be shooed away out of sheer disgust. Sigefrid then grumbled with a slight grin, “Damn dog.”

“Well, I had to keep him quiet somehow.” She shrugged, now lifting a hand to warm it by the fire while the other held her fur in place so she wouldn’t reveal herself. “He prefers his meat well done.” The princess teased lightly, only for Sigefrid to sternly furrow his brows and ever so slightly cock his head to the side out of concern. At first he was unable to see the humor behind it, but as moments passed he began to lighten up. 

Eventually, the corners of his lips cracked into a bright, toothy smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle after realizing that she was, in her own way, just as crazy as he was. 

“I…” Sigefrid sighed, shaking his head in defeat as his arms dangled between his knees. “I underestimated you. You are clever, Lady.” 

After finding a sense of comfort within his soothing words, she simply nodded into the fire, “I am resourceful,” whilst mindlessly sliding the knife towards Sigefrid by its handle. “Take it. I no longer have use for Erik’s knife.” She couldn’t help but bite her tongue, knowing her emphasis on his brother’s name would likely cause trouble between them. Perhaps, even jealousy.

“Erik’s? How did you get my brother’s knife, thief?” Sigefrid roared like a mighty brown bear standing tall on his feet, all whilst nearly knocking the bench, and the princess sitting upon it, over out of anger. He found himself, now, towering menacingly over the princess. Sigefrid’s dark, piercing eyes searched her face for any signs of untruthfulness yet deep down inside, he knew better than to not believe her. 

She felt as if her heart had been startled back to life, almost as if struck by a high voltage of electricity. His sudden outburst sent her entire body into a numb, temporary state of shock. Any regained color in her cheeks had been drained out of fear for what he intended to do to her. 

Sigefrid inhaled and exhaled sharply through flared nostrils, scowling down at himself for acting so irrationally towards King Alfred’s daughter.

“How did you get his knife?” He slowly reiterated in a calmer, more civil manner before taking a courteous step backwards to distance himself.

“Well… when an opportunity unfolds before you like a blooming wildflower ripe for picking… you do just that. Pick it.” She narrowed her eyes and smirked wickedly. “And I am not a thief. Unlike you, I have never stolen-”

“Say what you must, Lady.” Sigefrid groaned impatiently, running a calloused hand over his reddened, sleep-deprived eyes. “Go on.”

“Erik gave it to me himself. It was wrapped in the fur pelt,” She flapped her elbows beneath said pelt, which remained draped over her shoulders. “The one he placed inside the cage.” She chuckled lightly, though found herself wincing at her shoulder.

“What I do not understand…” Sigefrid paused, crossing his muscular arms over his toned, exposed chest sprinkled with faded scars. He now found himself sitting closer beside her on the bench, conscious of the remaining space between them. “Why would Erik do that?” 

The princess carefully shrugged. “Your brother knew I would surely make use of it. Whether on him, my guard, or… you.” She slowly cast her gaze towards the Dane through glossy lenses. Shaking her head with a frown, she shamefully looked down at her lap. “But I-I could not have killed you. Even if I wanted to. I have every reason to, but… I can not will it.”

“And if it is not by the will of the Gods,” He quirked an eyebrow, “then it was not meant to be.” She suddenly felt the warmth of his calloused hand caressing the side of her cheek, guiding her to face him once more. She traced small circles atop his rough knuckles and closed her eyes. 

Sigefrid Thurgilson seemed unable to stop himself from rambling like a love struck boy, “I believe the gods intended for us to meet. I wish… under better circumstances.” 

To Sigefrid’s surprise, he could feel her nodding along beneath his hand. “Your gods deserve my thanks, for they have nearly saved me from marrying a stranger. They have prolonged the inevitable; given me a few final days as a… somewhat free woman.” She sighed, gently removing his hand from her cheek though it remained within her grasp. 

Sigefrid watched her every move through sparkling eyes with such awe.

Changing the subject, for better or for worse, the princess confessed, “The knife was likely to pick the lock. You have nothing to worry about, Lord.”

“Yet, you killed a man with it.” He sighed and narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her every last word. “To get the key.”

“I did not need the key. Killing him was not my intention, truly… but he made it very easy.”

“You better start making sense, woman.” He growled as she witnessed his short temper, once more, getting the best of him. The scorching influx of pain from his cauterized hand likely contributed to his hot-headed irritableness.

One thing was for certain: It doesn’t take much to get on Sigefrid’s bad side.

Slamming her hand down on the bench between them, Lady Blædswith leaned forward and growled, “He opened the cage himself, with the bloody key, because he intended to rape me. Is that what you want to hear, Lord? How your brother saved my life, and that a man you so ‘trusted’ to protect me nearly got away with such an act?” She leaned in close to the dark haired Dane, “Ohh,” She chuckled bitterly and bore her fiery gaze into his now softening, brown eyes, “How it must burn knowing he nearly humped me before you could!”

Scowling down at himself, Sigefrid muttered, “He...he was not thinking...”

She scoffed, “There does not seem to be much of that around here, Sigefrid!” Wrapping both arms around her stomach beneath the pelt, she leaned back on her tailbone and took a deep, calming breath. With the shake of her head, her body seemed to melt to the bench beneath his gaze. “I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you-”

“Lady.” Sigefrid suddenly interrupted. “I should have been there. Not him. Me.” He pressed his thumb firmly into his chest. “I am the one who brought you here. You are mine. It will not happen again.” He leaned closer to her and placed a warm hand upon her tender shoulder, mumbling rather darkly through gritted teeth,“I swear it.”

“I believe you.” She replied softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she shyly looked down upon their hands - which seemed to fit perfectly together like the long lost pieces of a puzzle. “Do not make me regret doing so.”

“You will not regret it, Lady.” Sigefrid nodded to himself and repeated firmly. “You... will… not.” Sigefrid gently gave her shoulder a squeeze, causing the princess to wince in pain. Immediately removing his hand, he sighed and muttered. “Right, right. I apologize...”

“I never thought I would live to see the day when I asked a Dane for help, but...” Lady Blædswith shimmied the pelt down to her waist, turning to show him the open wound on the back side of her shoulder where she couldn’t quite reach. 

Sigefrid, understanding what she had asked of him, furrowed his brows and ran a quick tongue over his thin, pursed lips. Though he was apprehensive of causing her further pain, Sigefrid knew it needed to be done in order to save her most valuable life. 

He had no problem inflicting pain on others, but her? It was almost unimaginable. Almost.

After all, as Lady Blædswith put it: what good is a dead princess?

“I will do it...” The Dane nodded, causing her to frown when he set Erik’s knife aside, and away from the fire. “...and I will be careful. You tended to my hand,” Sigefrid drew out slowly and lifted his hand-blade ever so slightly, “so I shall do the same, for you. I do not wish death upon you, Lady.”

“I do not wish death upon myself, either.” She teased, cracking an unusually wide smile that seemed to hatch butterflies within the Dane’s stomach. Unmistakably, she could feel the warmth of her flushed cheeks beneath his tender gaze. 

The two stared into each other’s eyes as if longing for something greater; something mutually forbidden and seemingly unattainable. It was a brief moment, rarely even shared between wedded lovers. There they sat, enjoying the sound of the crackling fire and the comfort of each others’ presence. They were finally alone, with no Danes to judge them nor intrude on their subtle intimacies.

There was a comfortable silence between Saxon and Dane that just felt… right. And for the first time, the princess was able to admit to herself that she felt safe and out of harm’s way, though couldn’t help but wonder why he had rid of Erik’s knife...

It had pained Sigefrid, seeing the woman he had grown to admire in such discomfort and disarray. He yearned to rid her of her inner demons and the burdens she carried upon her aching shoulders. To see her restored to her fullest potential, fighting alongside him as the shield maiden she was born to be - now that would bring an everlasting smile to his face.

The two couldn’t be more different, yet they both wanted the same thing. They were opposite forces of nature capable of destroying the other, no different than fire and water. 

She watched as Sigefrid rose to his feet, now passing by her hunched over form.

“You said I was ‘yours’. Did you mean that?”

“Yes.” He mumbled bluntly. “I did. I still do.” Sigefrid nodded subtly before instructing her to stand up, and reposition herself so that she was facing the main doors with the fire burning on her right. There she sat, anxiously waiting for his next cue, as she straddled the bench between her jittery legs and began tapping her toes against the wooden floorboards. 

Looking down at her lap as Sigefrid’s shadow was cast upon the wall opposite of the fire, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he paced around the hall rolling up his sleeves and repeatedly, anxiously, stroking his beard.

What if I go too far? What if it kills her?

“And you still intend to give away ‘what is yours’ to my father?” She dared to ask, looking up as Sigefrid neared the bench once more after he’d convinced himself to cauterize her wound, therefore inflicting an excruciating pain onto someone who’d endured so much already.

“I… have no choice, Lady” He pouted, taking a close seat behind her on the bench. Carefully, he dipped his hand-blade into the fire. His left hand gently gathered handfuls of her soft, dark curls that draped down her back, and brought the lengths of her mane to the left side of her neck, out of his way. 

As chills ran down her spine - quite literally - she peered over her shoulder at him and whispered, “That is a lie even you do not believe.” 

Sigefrid exhaled slowly and brought his body closer to hers, slithering his hand past her waist from behind, now gently resting palm up on her thigh. 

Filling the gap between their bodies, between their hips, Lady Blædswith pushed herself backwards until her shoulder blades bumped into his bare chest. She could feel his warm, seductive breath down her neck, though she couldn’t help but feel self conscious around him in her current state of filth.

“How can you stand to be this close to me?” Sheepishly, she took Sigefrid’s calloused hand between her own and gave it a squeeze. “I am a filthy, broken, hideously burnt… sorry excuse for a princess.”

“We are not so different, Lady. My hand was cauterized, not unlike your shoulder. I, too, am ‘hideously burnt.’” He teased lightly, though not without grinning ever down at himself. “Life will go on.” After receiving a sigh and nod of approval from a very grateful princess, Sigefrid lifted his glowing, sweltering hand-blade from the fire. He could feel her hands beginning to tighten around his like a boa constrictor, although he hadn’t yet touched blade to skin. 

“This is the only way.” She hummed. “I trust you.”

And with that, the scorching blade of metal was forever branded into her skin, serving as a permanent reminder of how the Lord of Chaos, Sigefrid Thurgilson, saved her life once more.

Her blood curdling cries echoed throughout the hall undoubtedly waking everyone in earshot. 

After what seemed like an eternity of suffrage, Sigefrid unbuckled his hand-blade contraption and tossed it to the floor, before allowing Lady Blædswith to fall back against his chest - one that was panting heavily and sticky with sweat. Sigefrid wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to his heart as she waited for the pain to go away, and her rapid heartbeat to steady.

With heavy arms draped over his, she gently began to interlock their fingers. Sigefrid, well aware of her affections, leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

Wiping away new fallen tears with the backs of her knuckles, Lady Blædswith spoke softly, “Thank you.” she then sniffled, “You have done more for me than any man ever has.” Slowly reaching forward as goosebumps and the hairs on her arms began to raise, she pulled her pelt to her chest. With Sigefrid’s careful aid, in a matter of minutes, she was back on her wobbly feet.  

“H-how can you look at me like that?” She wept quietly, burrowing her face within the fur.

“Like what?” Sigefrid, teasingly, hummed and tilted his head to the side as she swayed before him. “You are a beautiful woman. Is it wrong, for a man, to stare?” Sigefrid, whilst still supporting her weight, moved closer to face her. “You have not seen what I have. You are a shield maiden like no other. Your grace; your beauty. It is all still there.”

“How can you tell?” She whimpered, shaking her head in disagreement, as flattering as his words were. “Look at me!” She violently grabbed a fistful of tangled hair. “I-I look as if I belong on a slave ship, o-or amongst the livestock!”

“You are wrong.” Sigefrid challenged with a smirk, chuckling in response to the naive Saxon. “You will see, soon enough, what I have seen all along.” Sigefrid guided her back to the bench, where she willingly took a seat. He motioned for her to wait there, patiently, for his return. “Do not move.”

“Where would I go?” She muttered sarcastically.

When Sigefrid returned, accompanied by three heavily armored guards and a frightened slave girl trailing close behind, the princess immediately stood up, defensively, eyeing around for the nearest weapon-like object.

“W-what is this?” She stammered nervously, watching as the menacing Danes, whom Sigefrid had alleviated from their nightly duties, surrounded her on three sides. “Sigefrid?” Frightened, she could feel her voice waver as she realized she was sorely outnumbered. Sigefrid had the power and resources to do whatever cruelties he wanted to her, yet he lacked the will.

“Shh. You talk too much.” He grinned from ear to ear, then focused his attention to the surrounding Danes.

“I want her bathed, fed and watered.” Sigefrid ordered, receiving definitive nods from those he’d chosen. “Nothing is to happen to her. Understood?” He glared from Dane to Dane, narrowing his eyes at the familiar slave girl before addressing the princess’s escorts once more. “Do not disappoint me.” He warned sternly, emphasizing the grave importance of keeping the king’s daughter out of harm’s way, seeing as he failed to do so once already. 

With a tight, supporting hand clutched to either of her elbows, she was practically carried through the main doors, unable to see past the towering Danes to where Sigefrid stood. He chose to remain inside, not wanting to overstep his bounds, and shortly after was accompanied by his sleep-deprived brother, Erik. 

Once the doors closed behind them, and the princess was out of sight, Sigefrid sighed in relief knowing she was to be taken care of. He would rather have her bathing in the lake, now, during this unusually cold night, then under the morning sun where all eyes would undoubtedly be on her bare figure. 

When the time was right, mutually, Sigefrid was to be the first and only Dane to lay eyes on her nakedness. Sigefrid believed her to be a gift sent to him from the gods, one he wasn’t too keen on sharing. Her purpose was not to be ravished and disposed of like a common whore, but loved and cherished; worshipped, even, like the goddess Sigefrid saw her to be.

“You care for her.” Erik grinned softly, placing a hand on Sigefrid’s shoulder as they stood staring aimlessly at the closed doors. 

“I do.” Sigefrid was hesitant, though accepted that he couldn’t lie to himself, much less his own brother. “The gods have played a sick game.” Sigefrid growled, walking away from his brother as the nearest fire tempted him closer. Erik, knowing better than to leave his troubled brother’s side, followed in his footsteps and sat beside him, rubbing his hands together over the dimming flames. 

“What will you do about Alfred?” Erik asked, pressing his elbows into his knees for support as he leaned forward. “You made a great promise.” Erik eyed his brother sympathetically. “Do you intend to keep it?”

Sigefrid sighed, and rested his drowsy face within his palm, “I do not know what to do. I grow more fond of her by the hour.” He admitted gravely, now teasing his bottom lip between his sharp teeth. 

“What do you truly want, brother?”

“You know what I want.” Sigefrid snarled with a distasteful glare, almost offended that Erik didn’t know him better by now. “The leaves have already fallen. I need her ransom paid in full by winter’s end. An army by spring.”

“And a king’s crown by summer.” Erik chimed in, recalling the conversation they last had. “Are you sure of this?”

Sigefrid narrowed his brows and raised his arms slightly. “Sure of what?”

“That you are ready to let her go?” Erik, trying his best to comfort his eldest brother, could see the look of hurt upon his face, therefore in his heart. 

Sigefrid closed his eyes, now fighting a bit harder to stay awake. “I am not ready. I will never be ready... to let her go. I will think of her every night in my sleep. I will see her face in every woman, Dane and Saxon. She is both.” Now staring into the flames, as his beloved princess once had, he tried to imagine the rest of his life without her. 

No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t. 

“I will never be ready.” He grumbled to himself once more, turning to face his kind-eyed brother before standing up, reaching into his pocket, and retrieving Erik’s knife. Holding it out for him to take, Sigefrid spoke in a low, hurt tone, “I do not blame you.” Before retreating upstairs where he would impatiently wait for Lady Blædswith’s return. 

Erik, twirling the stained knife between his fingers, could feel guilt gnawing at his insides. Sigefrid knew he didn’t trust him around King Alfred’s daughter, and that the knife was Erik’s way of looking out for her. Erik realized, now, that he no longer had to do so. 

She was more valuable to Sigefrid than any amount of the king’s riches, regardless of the cold front Sigefrid put up. Judging by the way Sigefrid has already treated her, Erik knew his brother would do everything in his power to ensure her safety. Everything. 

Even if it meant turning against his own people.

____________________ ➴  ____________________

The night air was crisp and unforgiving. The moon, in its fullest bloom, illuminated their way through the darkness. Venturing down a steep, well worn path towards the shore, the princess aimlessly followed the glow of a single torch like a moth drawn to candlelight.

The trio of Danes waited atop a low, grassy hill, allowing the timid slave girl to lead Sigefrid’s pet the rest of the way down. Compliant to their Lord’s orders, the men turned their backs whilst the king’s daughter undressed, though not without sneaking quick glances over their shoulders with wirey, toothless grins.

Once the slave girl had staked the torch into the damp earth near the water’s edge, creating a dimly lit aura of light around them, she apprehensively stepped towards the shivering Saxon. Her hand, as it reached out to take Lady Blædswith’s fur pelt, trembled out of fear of mistreatment from her Lord. She was, very obviously, under tremendous pressure to please him. Her small, childlike hands were even dirtier and more bruised than the princess’s own. 

With her arms folded tightly against her breasts, the princess tiptoed into the cold lake water, feeling it seep into the soles of her feet, then up her calves as she waded on. A light mist sprinkled on the tops of their heads, and a deceitful breeze often toyed with the princess’s remaining warmth.

Her arms were rough with prickly goosebumps as she descended beyond the shadowy waters, clenching her jaw and fists tightly as her teeth began to chatter like rattling bones. She began to adjust, very uncomfortably, to the lake’s frigid temperature. 

There had been no words exchanged between princess and slave — for there was nothing to say. Lady Blædswith’s hot breath, like a dragon’s own, escaped through her chapped lips as did steam rising from her core.

The slave girl, fully clothed yet up to her shoulders alongside her, had dunked a piece of cloth and a metal bucket beneath the water. “I-it is time for me to bathe you, princess. Before we both freeze.” She practically whispered through a thick, Scottish accent that didn’t go unnoticed. 

It had pleasantly reminded Lady Blædswith of a certain Irishman back home. 

Sigefrid’s slave averted her gaze from Alfred’s daughter out of respect; out of fear, even. Lady Blædswith noticed this, and frowned before closing the distance between them. The young, blonde haired girl began to wash the princess’s lovely figure, mindful of her various bruises and fractured bones.

“You need not fear me.” She soothed motherly, feeling chills ripple through her entire body as the breeze began to pick up. “I will not let anything happen to you... as long as I am here. You have my word.” The blonde looked up at the Saxon, eyes sparkling with tears though her lips curled into a tight smile.

“T-thank you, Lady.” She humbly nodded, now tilting the princess’s head back before pouring a bucket of fresh water over her thick, curly locks. With their backs to the entirety of Beamfleot, Lady Blædswith couldn’t help but gaze into the distance, watching ripples along the water’s surface reflect the moon’s vibrant rays. 

The bashful, fair-completed princess

smiled. “You may call me Blædswith. What is your name?” She asked the beautiful slave out of curiosity, and by the surprised look on her face, she was the first person in a long time to ask such a thing. The girl hesitated, almost as if struggling to recall what she had once gone by, rather than the cruel insults she was called on a daily basis.

“My name is Moira, Lady.” She then squeezed her eyes shut and corrected, “Blædswith.” She hummed as she worked her way around the princess’s grotesque, multicolored torso. “I have not been asked that in some time…”

“Tell me, Moira... what is Sigefrid like? You have certainly known him longer than I have.” Blædswith grinned as Moira began to scrub the dirt from her hands and face. Though reluctant, Moira felt the princess deserved to know the truth, seeing as her Lord had taken a particular liking to her in light of recent events.

“Lord Sigefrid is… an ambitious man.” She shook her head grimly. “He gets what he wants, n-no matter the cost.” Moira sighed to herself, almost shamefully. “If I am being honest…”

“Please, do.”

“He does not think with his head. That is what Erik is for.” She tapped a finger to her own scalp. “He thinks with his cock. Well, he did… until he found you. Now I’d say things are different.” Moira rang out the cloth and used it to gently dry the princess’s face. “It is no secret how he feels about you, Lady.”

“He has been rather kind to me. I even sat bare chested before him and he did not touch me. Perhaps he does not wish to.” She shrugged.

Moira couldn’t help but grin. “I can assure you, he would very much like to. Any man with eyes would.” She then rubbed down the princess’s chest, adding, “After all, you are Alfred’s daughter.”

“Sweet Moira.” Blædswith chirped and brushed a loose curl from the slave’s face. “What... if I were to live here? You could tend to me, only, and I would care for you.” She could see herself and Moira living together almost as sisters, if not like mother and child - despite her being a slave. She felt drawn to protect such an innocent soul who, despite being sold into slavery, seemed nothing but kind and gentle. “I would protect you.”

Caught off guard, Moira nearly burst into tears of joy, turning away before Blædswith could notice. “I… I would be grateful to serve you, Lady of Wessex.” She then looked up at Blædswith with a slight frown, “Or, would you be Lady of Beamfleot?”

“I would simply be Blædswith. No titles, if I could help it.” She shrugged, and once her shoulder and the rest of her body had been washed ever so carefully, Blædswith was instructed to stay in the water whilst Moira retrieved her fur. “Do not be long!” She called after Moira light-heartedly, having thoroughly enjoyed her company thus far and did not wish to go without it. 

Aside from the Thurgilson brothers, this poor slave was all she had. 

As Blædswith mindlessly overturned rocks with her toes and sliced through the still lake water with her hands, she’d become one with nature’s tranquility in waiting for Moira’s return. 

“Sorry for the wait, Blædswith.” A distant voice rang out from beyond the darkness, though Moira was not yet visible. “Dagfinn hid your pelt in the bushes hoping to see you na-”

Moira had stopped dead in her tracks, her vibrant blue eyes wide with sheer terror as she dropped the pelt at her feet. A thick, crimson stream oozed down her mouth as she began to gurgle and choke on her own blood. Before Blædswith could react fast enough, or at all, Moira’s eyes rolled back into her head as her knees gave way, causing her body to limply topple over, revealing Hæsten with a bloodied dagger in hand and a devilish glint in his khol-smeared eyes. 

“Princess.” The Dane greeted wickedly with a haughty, half-assed bow.

As he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, seeming unable to stand completely still due to the excessive horns of ale he’d downed, he let out a low chuckle before walking across Moira’s body like a bridge, wiping his muddied boots against her back. Blædswith could hear the crunching of her frail bones beneath his heavy boots.

“No!” Blædswith wailed, immediately back stroking to distance herself from the drunken Dane who began stumbling towards her. As much as it pained her to do so, her arms began flailing in and out of the water in a panic. “Y-you bastard! She was just a girl!” Blædswith shrieked, unable to stop herself from hyperventilating as she swam further and further away from shore out of fear he would try to drown her, or worse. 

Hæsten could see she was very naked, and very much afraid. “Ah yes. But she was a girl you cared for.” Hæsten then placed the tip of his dagger to his lips as if telling Blædswith to hush; as if saying “there is no point in screaming when nobody will hear you.”

As loud as she physically could, Blædswith began calling out for help; for her designated guards to defend her against such a creature bearing ill intentions. 

They were nowhere to be found.

“You will freeze to death, princess.” Hæsten began walking along the water, now up to his ankles. “You can not stay out there forever.” He began to twirl the dagger between his fingers before wiping the remaining blood on his sleeve. “What a shame.” The blonde Dane looked over his shoulder at the crumpled body he’d slain. “She was a good hump.”

“Sigefrid!” Blædswith cried once more, “Sigefrid! Erik! Please! H-hear me!” The princess realized she’d swam out far enough that her toes no longer touched the bottom - they were not even close - therefore her voice would likely never penetrate Beamfleot’s walls.

“Sigefrid can not hear you. He is busy planning how to sell you back to Alfred.” Hæsten sneared, “And he has decided not to give me any of the silver.” His tone was rather accusatory as if she were to blame. “And do not forget; you humiliated me.” He proceeded to near the princess, the water now up to the soaked knees of his trousers.

“Hæsten. Sigefrid will never forgive you.” She warned breathlessly, feeling the cold waters numb her tender arms and legs. Her bruised, aching lungs felt impossibly heavier as she fought to keep her head above water. “Please,” she gasped, spitting out a mouthful of lake water. “Don’t. If this is about silver, I-I have plenty in Wessex.”

“I do not want your silver, nor Sigefrid’s forgiveness. I want you to suffer for what you did to me. You ruined me, woman!” Hæsten roared drunkenly, nearly falling over on his arse though he regained his composure.

“Anybody! Help!” She wept, forcing her body to stay afloat as long as she could.“Sigefrid…” Completely winded and moments away from slipping into the night, her voice had fallen to a mere whisper at the acceptance of her fate. 

If she were to die tonight, it would not be at Hæsten’s hand. She would not grant him such pleasure; the satisfaction in knowing he’d gotten what he wanted. If anything, it would be the water’s icy depths that would take her to the great beyond — The Great Hall of Valhalla.

She could feel a dark shadow cast from above, as if the moon itself had already shut her out. 

“S-Sigefrid I… I’m not ready…”

There was a large splash in the near distance. An eruption of violent yelling rang out in the night, as did the sounds of metal clashing upon metal. Though muffled, she could make out the loud, rhythmic grunting of someone swimming towards her. A pair of strong arms hoisted her above the water, throwing her good arm over their shoulders as they proceeded to swim her back to shore.

“S-Sigefrid!” Blædswith, once conscious, gasped as she recognized the dark haired Dane who so valiantly came to her rescue. “Sigefrid you heard me…” She slurred out of shock and disbelief. After swimming them to shore, he carried her out of the water and wrapped her entire body in an oversized fur.

“I did.” He nodded windedly, pulling her against his chest for comfort; his and hers. “I heard your cries, and I was there as fast as I could.” Sigefrid leaned his head back and caressed the side of her pale cheek with his hand. His sorrowful, glossy eyes scanned over her face as his voice faded to a boyish whimper. “I thought I lost you.”

Sniffling, she shook her head and burst into tears of joy; of relief, and pressed her pruny hand against his cheek with a weak smile. “I’m here, Sigefrid. I-I’m alive.” Almost instantly, she could feel her body regaining its heat, though that didn’t stop her from shivering in his grasp.

“This,” Sigefrid shook his head and panned around the scene, where four dead bodies now littered the shore. “This is all my fault.” He then gritted his teeth and cursed at himself beneath his breath. “I let you down. I did not protect you, I,” He paused to run his hand over his beard. “I can no longer trust anyone…”

“Sigefrid, please.” She placed a calming hand to his chest, now standing on her toes to look him in the eye. “This is not your fault. But if it must be, then I forgive you.”

“How?” Sigefrid himself began to fight back tears of his own. “How can you forgive me? Tell me. I am not worthy of your-”

Blædswith cupped the back of Sigefrid’s neck and crashed her lips onto his unexpectedly, smiling into it as Sigefrid hungrily kissed back. She could feel the sweetness of passion; a million loving thoughts condensed into a single moment. Sigefrid and Blædswith were undeniably their most vulnerable selves.

It was as if time had collapsed into one tiny speck, then exploded at the speed of light. Her universe began and ended with him. As they embraced once another, the world - Midgard - seemed to halt on its axis. There was no time, wind, nor rain. There was no fear of what their futures entailed; no physical pain nor sorrows. 

Lady Blædswith was, truly, at peace. 

She did not worry about what this would mean for them; A fearsome northman had fallen for the Saxon daughter of his sworn enemy, and a princess had fallen in love with the Dane who kidnapped her. This would not be something either side takes lightly.

Sigefrid supported her lower back with his arm as she leaned against his bare chest. When their lips parted Blædswith whispered breathlessly, 

“You talk too much.” 

Sigefrid leaned down and placed a soft, prickly-bearded kiss to her lips once more as he tangled his hand through her wet hair. 

He then whispered in her ear with a growing smirk, placing a hot kiss to the side of her neck as his thumb moved to cares her throat.

“I thought that was my line.”

_______________________________________________

A/N: I Hope you all enjoyed this longer chapter! If anyone would like to be added to the tag list, let me know :)

TAGS: @inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @eclipsedbymyheart @henrycavill19 @aesirharvorsson @finantheagile @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously @chlomidgard @dagonet-ironside @marv-llous @littlebirdgot @curlyrat

#The Last Kingdom #vikings #fanfic #sigefrid #sigefrid thurgilson #erik and sigefrid #tlk #Uhtred Ragnarson #finan #finan the agile #finan tlk #bjorn bengtsson #morgana #katie mcgrath #mark rowley #Uhtred #alexander dreymon #arnas fedaravicius #Sihtric #period drama

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXXIV

Noctis pushes open the doors to the throne room, flanked by Gladio, Prompto, (Y/n), and Ignis. Looking up, he gritted his teeth as he sees corpses hanging from the ceiling.

Prompto gasped in horror at the gruesome sight. "What is that?"

Ardyn sits above, on the throne of Lucis, with Callyx by his side. Facsimiles of the corpses of the emperor, Regis, Lunafreya, and Nyx Ulric hang from chains before the throne. Ardyn smirks as the group walks to the center of the room to stare him down. "I'm afraid you're out of luck. The throne brings you here? It seats only one."

Noctis glared at the man. "Off my chair, jester. The king sits there."

Ardyn stands and places one foot on the throne before scowling down at the king. "Oh, Noct... How I have waited for this. Longer than you could ever know." He slowly raises his hand into a fist. "Tonight, the dreams of the blood royal...come to an end."

"Spite's all that's kept him going," Gladio grumbled, eyes narrowed as they focused on Ardyn.

"Talk about a grudge," Prompto muttered.

Ignis lowered his head, his tone of voice dropping. "Ardyn sits the throne?"

"Not for long," Noctis scoffed. "This is my ascension."

Suddenly, Callyx summoned his sword as his eyes focused on Noctis. With a running start, he leapt into the air and targeted the king. Before any of the men could move, (Y/n) had already summoned the Creator's Blade and stood in front of Noctis. She blocked the spirit's sword and pushed him back. He glared at her, lowering his blade. "I've been waiting for this for ten years."

"I can tell. You've aged horribly," she sneered. She smirked in amusement when seeing her insult irked him. "How about we take this outside where we can unleash our true powers?"

Callyx bursted out with laughter. "You'll regret that decision."

"We'll see about that," she spat. Without hesitating, both spirits vanished. They reappeared in the streets of the city, not too far from the Citadel. Facing off against each other, they readied their blades. (Y/n) twirled her sword around with a grin. "To think you hit on me when we first met... Makes my stomach churn."

"If you honestly believe I was interested, you're wrong," Callyx snarled. "I was only hoping to lower your guard and stab you where you stood, but that damned human kept getting in the way. What's sickening is spirits like you who fall in love with humans. They're weak and gullible."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "You're such a hypocrite, you know that?"

"Oh, really? And how's that?"

She raised her blade and pointed it at him. "I know who you really are, Callyx."

His eyes narrowed. "Like hell you do." He lifted his sword, infusing it with lightning. "Enough of this chatting. Let's get this over with."

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

Callyx was the first to attack. He charged towards (Y/n) and slashed at her numerous of times. Their blades clashed over and over again, sparks flying around them. When their sword clashed for what felt like the hundredth time, they tried to push each other back. The girl took advantage of their situation and kicked him in the chest, causing him to stumble back. She raised her hand and sent a fireball at him, but he sliced it in half. Lifting his sword, he manipulated the spell he casted on it and sent the lightning towards her. She sidestepped just in time to avoid being electrified. With the others gone, she would have to be extra careful because she didn't carry around any curatives.

The emerald-eyed guardian released a war cry when he enhanced his body. Two wings grew from his back and green stripes covered his face and exposed areas of his arms. Using one wing, he swatted at her and sent her sailing through the air. Her body slammed against one of the crumbling buildings with a grunt of pain. Pushing herself free from the indentation in the bricks, she landed on her feet. Her legs shook slightly from the pain. Pushing through it, she performed another sidestep just as Callyx appeared and tried to stab her. She kicked him in the back and caused his own body to collide with the building. A few bricks from where she made impact rained down on him, hitting him but causing no real injuries.

Putting some distance between her and Callyx, (Y/n) ran down the street. She turned around at the sound of maniacal laughter. The male spirit was sauntering towards her and clearly wasn't in any hurry. Two black horns sprouted from his forehead, eyes glowing brightly. The moment she blinked, he suddenly appeared in front of her. A soundless gasp fell from her lips as he grabbed her throat and lifted her body up effortlessly. She gasped for air as her throat was crushed in his hand. She weakly glared at him as she latched onto his arm with both her hands. In his eyes, she could see the psychotic glint in them.

Having no other choice, (Y/n) enhanced her own body. Tails grew from near her tailbone and her nails turned into sharp claws. She plunged them into Callyx's arm, which forced him to drop her. She coughed, trying to regain her breath. She manifested a single throwing knife and threw it at her fellow spirit. It pierced the man in the shoulder. Then, she formed a fiery vortex around him and casted her own lightning spell, weaving it around the flames.

Callyx chortled in amusement. "Look at you. Now you know how to wield lightning. Never took you for a spirit to learn another element."

"Yeah, and I didn't take you for a spirit who would betray his own master," she snarled.

"Ardyn is my master," he spat.

"No, he's not." She jammed her blade into the ground. "Your true master is-"

Callyx's eyes widen when he heard the one name he hadn't heard in centuries. "No..." He dropped his sword and grabbed his spiky hair with both hands, yanking on the sable locks. "Don't you dare say his name again, you bitch!"

"Touchy subject?" She asked.

"Damn you!"

The male guardian released another battle cry. He morphed into his spiritual form and roared as loud as he could. It echoed through the empty streets of the city. He emerged from the vortex, breaking through the flames and the lightning. It caused him pain, but nothing too severe.

(Y/n) took a few steps back before also transforming. She screeched threateningly at the winged tiger. Forming a ring of fireballs, they spun around her. She ran around the street, hurtling the fireballs one by one. Callyx dodged most of them expect for one. It nicked him in the side and wound up resulting in him to lose his balance slightly. Some of his fur was singed and his skin was burnt. Fueled by anger, he flapped his wings and took to the sky. He flew overhead and created a large storm. Lightning struck near the fox and forced her on defense. She leapt around, trying to predict where the bolts would strike. However, she was nailed in the back by a single one. She shrieked and searched for a way out of the storm.

(Y/n) escaped the vicinity of Callyx's spell and hopped on the roof of some of the buildings to get a higher vantage point. She leapt from rooftop to rooftop across Insomnia, hearing the tiger flapping his wings as fast as he could. He may be able to fly, but her agility made it difficult to keep up. Reaching a tall enough building, she immediately spun around and pounced on the flying tiger. She sunk her teeth into his neck as her weight dragged him and her down. Blood spurted from his neck as he wriggled around in mid-air to try and escape.

Eventually, the guardians' bodies crashed through the roof of one of the buildings. They pummeled through floor after floor until reaching the bottom level. The building came crumbling down around them. (Y/n) unlatched her jaw from Callyx's neck and jumped to safety. He, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

With a thunderous roar, half of his body was buried underneath a pile of debris. He felt shards from the metal support frame of the building pierce his body, pinning him to the ground. When he tried to move, a fierce amount of pain ripples across his entire body. Forced to revert back to his human form, he coughed up a large amount of blood. The crimson liquid trickled from the corners of his mouth as he weakly glared up at his opponent with his one good eye. "D-Dammit... After ten years, and I...fail..."

(Y/n) changed forms and kneeled in front of him. She wasn't happy about her win, especially after learning from Brahma who Callyx truly was. "You fought well, Callyx. I'm sorry it had to end like this. If only you were on our side..."

"Don't pity me," he spat. "Dying like this is the least I deserve after all the shit I've done. Are you happy to see me go?"

"Of course not," she sighed. "Not after learning the truth."

"Who told you...?"

"Brahma. Those ten years I was asleep, he spoke to me." She stared intently into his good eye. "You are Callyx Vespertine, the guardian of the Founder King, Somnus Lucis Caelum. After Ardyn was branded a monster by his own brother, you wanted to help him because you didn't agree with Somnus' methods. You tried desperately to save him before he was consumed by the scourge, but it was too late. When Aera died at the hand of Somnus, the rage over her death caused Ardyn's infection to fully manifest. At the time, you didn't know he had infected you with the Starscourge which bound you to his soul. You were no longer Somnus' guardian but Ardyn's."

Callyx chuckled weakly. "I was a damned fool... I chose my master's brother over him..."

"Do you wish to make up for what you've done?" She questioned.

"It's too late for that..."

"No, it's not. Are you willing to hand your own soul over to the Astrals to undo the wrong you've done?"

"Yes..."

(Y/n) summoned the Creator's Blade and jammed it into the ground in front of Callyx. "If you're truly ready to pay for your sins, touch this blade and Brahma shall see to your soul himself."

The emerald-eyed guardian thought back to his life with Ardyn and Somnus as he gazed melancholically at the sword. A single tear trailed down his cheek as he reached out to touch the weapon. The moment his hand grazed it, he could feel his soul leaving his body. "Thank you, (Y/n)..." He whispered with his dying breath.

She watched in silence as his soul left his body. His body, now lifeless, gradually began to vanish. She watched sorrowfully until there was nothing left of Callyx. "Farewell, Callyx..." she whispered. Grabbing Brahma's sword, she headed back to the Citadel. Stopping for a brief second, she looked up at the sky as it began raining. She heard the creator address her.

The price has been paid, Child of Pneuma.

"Thank you for granting such a selfish wish, Brahma," she smiled before continuing forward.

Back in the courtyard at the Citadel, (Y/n) saw the men standing by the stairwell. They had yet to notice her presence as she strolled up and listened to their final goodbyes.

"So this is farewell," Ignis spoke up.

"Yeah. Here we are," Noctis muttered sorrowfully.

"It's all you," Gladio said.

Noctis nods, turns, and begins ascending the steps just as Prompto melancholically mumbled, "No turning back now."

However, Noctis does indeed stop and turn around. He addresses each of his friends in turn. "Prompto. Gladio. Ignis." He then spotter the girl standing a few feet behind them. "(Y/n). I leave it to you. Walk tall...my friends."

All are silent for a moment. Ignis was the first to shatter the silence. "Godspeed...and take care." He, Gladio, and Prompto all put their hand over their chest and bow. "Majesty."

Behind them, two iron giants begin manifesting up out of the ground. Noctis puts his own hand over his chest. "The time has come." He turns and continues ascending the steps.

Prompto, Ignis, Gladio, and (Y/n) turn to face the approaching daemons as more iron giants begin manifesting. The men raised their weapons and were ready to attack, but were stopped as the guardian strolled past them with her sword resting by her side. She could hear Brahma's voice as he spoke to her.

Our bodies shall become as one. Our fused powers shall smite all those that dwell in the dark.

Coming to a stop, (Y/n) eyed the approaching daemons. She then jammed the Creator's Blade into the ground. The cosmic glyph appeared underneath her as she was enveloped in a column of light. From the light emerged a large fox that towered over the daemons. Its body was composed of the reflection of the galaxy, its eyes glowing a pure white. A golden halo floated around its neck and many more were hovering around the tip of each tail.

The fox lowered its head as the cosmic glyph from earlier manifested underneath it. Hues of purple, white, green, and blue shone from the glyph as a large cosmic rift appeared in the sky. A powerful gust of wind began pulling on the daemons. Their bodies were lifted into the air and were swallowed up by the rift. The daemons that were fortunate to escape the rift were sliced in half when a large ring of light pulsated from the fox's body. Their corpses slowly decayed, leaving nothing behind.

The streets of Insomnia were purged of daemons. The cosmic fox's body discorporated, the glyph fading with a blinding light. As the brightness subsided, (Y/n) stood where the beast once did. In front of her loomed Brahma. The god kneeled down as he addressed her.

You have served me well, Child of Pneuma. Not only I, but the True King himself as well. I unbind our souls. You are free.

She smiled up at the Astral. "Thank you, Brahma. What will you do now?"

Return to the stars from whence I came. This world no longer needs me.

Her smile fell. "So you still wish to remain the forgotten one..."

You seem sad, Child. Why is that?

"You've been a part of me for so long. It feels like I'm losing a piece of myself," she said.

Look to the stars for I shall be there. Farewell, Child of Pneuma. I shall be watching over you and this star for all eternity.

Brahma stood up, his body slowly fading from existence. (Y/n) watched the god vanish before looking towards the Celestial Crescent. Her smile returned seeing just how brilliantly the stars radiated. Turning around, she saw Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio stand there. Before any of them could say anything, the rays of the rising sun caught their attention. The darkness was vanquished as the rays of the sun casted across all of Eos for the first time in ten years.

Although happy to see the sun, the men were saddened by the loss of their king. (Y/n), on the other hand, had a stoic expression. Her mouth opened slightly to say something, but her eyes darted over to the entrance of the Citadel when the doors opened.

The three men turn around, eyes widening when they saw Noctis walking down the steps to join them. The king smiled at his friends, amused at their expressions. "Sorry I'm late. I thought it would be better to watch the sunrise with you all."

Prompto's legs shook slightly as if he was learning to walk for the first time. He took a couple steps towards his best friend, eyes wide as saucers. "H-How...?"

"This isn't some crazy dream, right?" Gladio asked, his expression matching the marksman's.

"How is this possible?" Ignis gaped.

"Someone already paid the price." Noctis looked over at the only girl in their merry band. "It was you, wasn't it, (Y/n)?"

All eyes fell on the guardian. She clasped her hands together behind her back. "I may have asked Brahma to pull a few strings..."

"The Astrals do not simply change the course of destiny by listening. What did you offer in exchange?" Ignis inquired, curious as to how she was able to keep Noctis from perishing.

(Y/n) met Noctis' gaze. "A soul of the same bloodline. Let's just say I found a small fragment of one of your ancestors and offered it to the Astrals in exchange for your life."

Prompto was the first to react. He grabbed and pulled her into his arms, embracing her tightly. He felt tears of joy cascading down his cheeks. "Thank you for saving him, (Y/n)."

She soon found herself in the center of a group hug. A gentle smile tugged at her lips, enjoying the joyous moment. Her golden eyes trailed up to the sky, her smile widening. "It truly is a happy ending."

••••••••••• A/n: I originally had planned for Noctis to die as like on the game, but I'm a baby and still can't accept that ending. The next chapter will be the last one and it'll just be pure fluff. Love you all!!!

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#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ffxv #ffxv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄14

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (intercourse, choking); violence

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: This chapter kinda took on a life of its own but I like it. Hope you do too.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your bag arrived at your room shortly after you did. You were certain the porter had met with the same discourtesy from Loki as the valet, so you tipped and thanked him as he left. You dragged your bag over to the cushioned bench that faced the wide glass doors that opened onto a balcony similar to Loki’s. You unzipped it and pulled out a night shirt and draped it on top. 

You peered around the suite. It was too much. As big as, if not bigger, than your New York apartment. The sky was dark and you were eager to bury your worries in the duvet pulled over the king bed in the next room. You passed through and continued into the attached bathroom. The shower was encased with clear glass and the tub opposite was large and round; a dozen jets embedded along the walls. It welcomed your aching body.

A bath might help you sleep. Or help wash away the taint left by Loki. Or not. Could you ever rid yourself of that sickening sensation?

You went to the tub and bent over the tiled ledge that framed it. You cranked the faucet and tested the flow of water with your hand. You adjusted the handle until a ripple of warmth shot through you. You pulled away and avoided looking in the mirror as you began to undress.

You left your clothes on the polished table by the door. You yawned and the steady deluge of water echoed in the tub. You neared and lifted a leg over the wall and drew the other in. You turned and lowered yourself against the ceramic. The basin was large, spacious enough for several other bodies. You sighed as the water swirled around you as the tap buzzed.

As the water reached just above your chest, you turned the faucet and resumed your recline. You spread your arms over the back of the tub and closed your eyes. You let your head fall back and sunk deeper. The peace was brittle. You knew it could not last.

A moment. Two. Your eyelids grew heavy as the hot water shrouded you in drowsiness.

“That looks wonderful,” The voice shook you and you sat up suddenly. You bent your legs and wrapped your arms around them. Bucky pushed himself away from the doorframe. How long had he been there? “You mind if I join you? It’s been a long day.”

“If I say no, will it matter?” You sneered and got to your knees. 

You pushed yourself through the water and reached for the towel hung from the bar not far from the edge of the tub. You didn’t try to hide your nudity, it was pointless. He’d seen you already and it would be pathetic to cling to modesty you didn’t have. The towel was swept away before you could grasp it.

“Done already?” He slipped the towel free and felt the lush fabric between his fingers. “Stay. Relax.”

“Give me the key,” You stood and splashed water on the floor as you stepped out of the tub. You barely kept from slipping as you grabbed at the towel. “You asshole. I should’ve known.”

“Ah,” He kept hold of the towel, a tug-of-war between you as you struggled to free it from his grasp. “Not even a thank you? This place isn’t cheap.”

“You can keep your room,” You huffed as you continued to tug at the towel. 

“Oh, but you seem to be enjoying it so much.” 

His eyes drifted down your body and he wrenched the towel away entirely. He tossed it over his shoulder and his brows lowered suddenly. He reached out and you tried to back away. He caught you before you could fall against the side of the tub. He held your hips as he frowned down at your naked pelvis. His thumb brushed Loki’s carving; the outline of the snake raised on your skin. Still tender and healing.

“He did that to you?” His eyes flicked up. For a moment, you were foolish enough to think he really cared.

“Thanks to you,” You tried to shove him away. 

He caught your wrists and drew you close.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, sweetheart,” He warned. “And I did not come to hurt you. That’s never been my intent.”

“Get away from me,” You hissed. “What do you think he’ll do when he finds out about you being here? If you don’t want me to get hurt, then fuck off.”

His lips formed a tight line as he considered you. You could hear Loki’s words in your head; Enjoy your night. Alone. Bucky’s hands slid up your arms and he gripped your shoulders. He turned you sharply to face the tub and nudge you forward.

“Loki doesn’t need to know.” He purred.

“Isn’t that what you said last time?” You swung your elbow back and he dodged it with a grunt.

He grabbed your arms and held them behind you. Your left arm still ached from Loki’s assault.

“Even if he finds out, what is he gonna do about it? I’ve got him by the balls and he knows it.” Bucky snarled as his hot breath grazed your ear. He pushed himself against you. “I know he’s poured a great deal of his holdings into this casino. It’s why I couldn’t pass up Diablo’s offer.”

“Diablo?” You blinked.

“Oh, the man is great at holding a grudge,” Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms. “He doesn’t appreciate Loki harbouring his enemy’s daughter. Flaunting her, even.”

“I never did anything to that man,” You huffed.

“We don’t get to choose our blood. Sadly. Just look at that snake and his lug of a brother,” Bucky chuckled as he released you. “If this place goes to shit, Loki won’t be able to keep up on that bounty.” You went rigid as he cupped your ass. “But I’ll happily buy him out.”

“And? Then Diablo’s wrath turns on you. You should just turn me in and get it over with.” You snarled.

“You’re too much fun for that,” Bucky hummed. “And Diablo owes me. It’s how I got such a good discount on the sty he sold us.” He pinched you and backed away. “Get in the tub, sweetheart, before it gets cold.”

“What are you trying to do?” You faced him as he shed his jacket, streaks of dust down the sleeves.

“You think I wanna stay in Brooklyn the rest of my life. That’s gristle. I want the whole steak.” He slung his jacket over your dress and unbuttoned his shirt. “Get in the tub. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

He cracked his knuckles and stared at you. You didn’t move and he sighed.

“You don’t want Loki to know, then you gotta convince me to keep a secret from my new partner.” He said.

You sucked your cheeks in angrily and angled yourself over the side of the tub. You lowered yourself into the water and huddled against the wall. He carried on undressing until he was entirely nude and neared. His arousal bobbed before him. You looked away and cursed your luck.

“I didn’t ask you how your shopping went,” Bucky stepped into the tub and lowered himself next to you. 

He reached over to the dial and fiddled with it until the jets began to blow. He flinched in surprise and adjusted them to a soft stream. You frowned and didn’t answer. He looked over at you and slid his arm over your shoulder.

“Ah, the silent treatment. I didn’t think you had the discipline for that.” He winked.

You rolled your eyes and lifted your chin defiantly.

“Or maybe… Steve got a little handsy?” He raised his brows. “I told him not to give you too hard of a time.”

You tilted your head and scowled at him.

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell him to keep his hands to himself either,” He shrugged. “You didn’t get into any trouble, did ya?”

You slapped his chest as he drew you closed. You curled your fingers and tried to punch him straight in the face but he easily batted you away.

“You’re an asshole!” 

You struggled with him as he flipped you into the water, your head plunging under as you flailed out. You choked on water as you broke the surface.

“And you’re a fiery bitch,” He retorted, “Christ, you know I wouldn’t let him do anything.”

“How could you stop him?” You struck out again and he grabbed your wrists.

“What did he do?” He asked. You shook your head and scoffed.

“Nothing,” You sniffed. “Nothing worse than you’ve already done to me.”

“I don’t think it was so bad,” Bucky mused. “But I can do better.”

He pulled you closer. You tried to free yourself as his hands left your arms and he grabbed your knees. He drew you to straddle him as you nearly fell backwards. You latched onto his shoulders to save yourself and he grinned. 

You tried to wrench away from him but he was quick to wrap his arms around you. He hugged you until you were trapped against him and you felt his erection pressed against your cunt.

“Sweetheart, I can keep you up all night or you can work with me and at least get a good couple hours,” His hand came up to frame your chin. “And trust me, I will put you to sleep.”

“You’re so… gross.” You snapped.

“And you’re wet,” He said. “I can feel it.”

He rescinded his hand and reached beneath the water. He lifted you slightly as he dragged his cock along your folds. You tensed and pushed against his chest. He found your entrance and forced you down. You gasped and bit your lip.

“Jesus!” You uttered as he impaled you entirely. A jolt went through your spine.

“I told you, he’ll never be as good as me.”

“Shut up,” You smacked his thick arm and he laughed again. 

He tilted his hips and your lips formed an o at the thrill it sent through you. Your own body betrayed you so easily. You turned your face away and clamped your lips shut.

“You can keep pretending,” His fingers stretched over your ass, “I kinda like it.”

He raised you and slammed you back down. The water swirled around you and you slapped him across the face. His head snapped back and he purred.

“Again,” He rocked you again and lowered your hand. “Aw, come on, sweetheart, it was just getting fun.”

You gulped down your revulsion and stared over his head. You were disgusted more with yourself than him. He moved you again, keeping a steady rhythm as his length teased your walls and your core rippled along with the bathwater. You shut your eyes as you bit down and your fingers clawed at his muscled shoulders. 

“Mmm, so easy,” He hummed. “Look at you.”

“Quiet,” You hissed, focused on your rising climax.

“Choke me,” He grabbed your hands and pushed them along his shoulders. “Come on.”

“Stop--” 

You bit down on your refusal and let him wrap your fingers around his neck. Your core pulsed deliciously and you just needed a little more. You squeezed without thinking and he groaned. His hands fell away from yours and he guided your hips once more. The water splashed around you as he sped you up. He slammed you down harder and harder. You lost your will as you were filled with that insatiable warmth. 

Your fingers tightened as you got closer and closer. You threw your head back as you came and he kept you moving. Your hands loosened around his neck and he moaned, “More.”

You gripped him tighter as he groans grew more and more strained. He quivered as he bucked into you from below, holding your hips in place as the water churned around him. He let out a tortured grunt and you felt his heat seep into as he orgasmed violently. 

He pushed his body back against the wall of the tub and slowed you. His hand brushed down your thighs and he kneaded your flesh. Your vision focused as your hands remained on his throat and you didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. You squeezed even tighter and his eyes rounded. 

He latched onto your wrists as you pressed your thighs around his. You kept choking him as he forced you backwards. You swiftly wrapped your legs around his waist with him still inside of you. You could end all this right now. 

You were stunned by the sudden force that cracked across your cheek. You let go of him and he shoved you back into the water. He slipped out of you and his cum leaked into the water as you reached out to keep yourself from being submerged entirely. 

He grabbed you as he stood and forced you to your feet. He spun you and kept you from falling with an arm around your neck. He added pressure until you were slapping at his forearm and bicep helplessly.

“Not smart, sweetheart,” He growled. “Fiesty, but stupid.”

Your nails dug into his arm and you gulped for air as he threatened to crush your throat.

“Doesn’t feel very good, does it?” He snarled. “Now, you do that again, and I’ll cash in that bounty myself.”

He released you sharply and you stumbled and slipped down to your knees, barely catching yourself against the tub. Your arms shook as you tried to stand and he smacked the back of your head.

“Uh, uh,” He warned. “You stay like that… This night isn’t even close to over.”

#loki #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #thor #dark loki #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #Dark thor #loki x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark loki x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!loki x reader #dark!bucky barnes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #omerta #mob au #mob!au #mafia au #mafia!au #marvel #mcu

[spideymarvelws]

What The Eyes Can’t See

Chapter Two : Opposite Reactions

Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (Royal!au)

Main Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Warnings : mentions of death, cursing

Series Summary :

People are afraid of change, afraid of the impossible, afraid of things that are not known. But how can they not be curious? How can they stay in the kingdom grounds, knowing that they live everyday on a repeat until their grave? Aren’t they curious to what lies beyond the forests? Whats hidden behind the trees? The wonders that lie outside the harsh walls that are set around them?

“The king be dammed,” you muttered, the rules that where set upon you the furthest thing from your mind. Riding your horse out of the borders, you did what you have always done best, you ran, the only thing keeping you going was being back with you family, your home. You could hear the guards quickly approaching, the shout of your betrothed growing closer. You can’t give up, not yet, not when you have your own love chasing you, looking for you, waiting for you.

But yet, you couldn’t decide which direction they were coming from.…

Word Count : 3.1k

...

Bucky sat near the fireplace in his chambers. The button up, off-white shirt he wore was torn open, revealing his bare chest to the heat. It had constricted his breath, becoming too tight around his chest when he took heavy breaths to control his growing anger when her barged into the room a few minutes prior. The tunic he wore was also torn but completely off his body lying on the floor next to his bed along with a shattered lantern that we threw against the wall. 

The room itself was covered in darkness, the only thing chasing it away was the blazing flames, threatening to escape the fireplace. The food his maid had brought in before he returned was cold and untouched, except for the chalice of wine that he now held in his hand.

As he brought the chalice up to his lips, his gaze never left the flames in front of him, fiery and alive. The more he stared, the louder the screams of the men and woman echoed in his ears adding to his pounding headache. 

He gulped down the sweet liquid, hoping that that the burn down his throat would help him forget, but it didn’t. The image of the each of the mens faces as they begged for mercy was engraved into his mind. He hated the guilt that he was feeling along with the number of thoughts questioning if what he did was right.

Deep down, Bucky didn’t want to be king. Unlike the people he was surrounded with everyday, the power hungry gene that had been passed through his family for centuries never resonated with him. But it was his duty, as leader, as king, to keep his people in check. Keep them fearful and afraid with his every move.

“Power is fear,” his father would always say, “Without fear, the people will start to think for themselves, and difference in opinion is what leads to war,”

He was eight when he first heard him say it, right after he saw three men hung for treason against the crown for being deemed as outsiders. He didn’t look away, he couldn’t, he needed to be the son his father wanted, the leader and king he wanted. 

But what about the leader the people needed?

Bucky was no fool when it came to the opinions of the kingdom’s folk. He hated spending time in the Spring Vale, the richest and most brainwashed part of the kingdom guarded by the walls. He much rather spend his time in the castle grounds by himself or with a maiden he found for the night. 

His father never really cared about his whereabouts during the day outside of scheduled meetings and classes, so during that free time, he usually grabbed his horse and rode outside of the red wall to visit the rest of the kingdom.

He was never really shown the outside villages surrounding the walls, making it easy for him to blend into the crowd with the right clothes and behaviour. Despite the lack of borders, the outside villages were just as trapped as the ones inside. Guards constantly patrolled the streets with weekly checkups in houses to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary.

Compared to the lush life he grew up in, the surrounding village was horse shit. Most houses weren’t even standing, cracked ruins and walls stood in there place, enough stability to throw a sheet over and have decent shelter. The few that were standing had cracks along the walls paired with non-existent doors and windows.

The market place was the busiest place in the villages. Food came in every week, half of what the kingdom would use in one day. Seeing people fight over something that the crown they served should and could provide in quantity made Bucky think for himself for once in his life.

Along with all the comments that the townsfolk would make, comments that now himself he would think off, comments that he couldn’t blame them for having.

It made him question everything he was taught growing up, everything that his father did as ruler and everything he did and king. 

But he could never question it, unless he wanted his head on a spike. An abrupt knock filtered through his ears followed by the creak of his door. He didn’t make any acknowledgement, waiting for the person to state the reason for its presence. He also needed the time to zone back into the space of the ruthless king he was known to be, but he needed a distraction if he wanted to last for the next day.

When he didn’t hear anything, he let out an annoyed sigh, “Are you going to say anything or just stand there like a frightened goat,”

He stood up from his chair to face the intruder. She was one of the maids, on the younger side compared to rest and relatively new considering how frigid she was. 

Perfect timing, he thought.

She was looking around his mistreated room, fear running up her spine. When he started approaching her, she stopped gawking at the state of his room and hesitantly looked him up and down, a dear caught in headlights.

“Speak up will ya? I haven’t got all day,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I-i’m so so-orry, my king,” she stuttered, bowing her head down, “But Lord Barnes re-equests you presence in his ch-chambers,”

Bucky stood directly in front of the girl now, gripping her chin between his finger to pull her head up and meet his gaze, “That wasn’t so hard now was it?” He questioned mockingly, lowering his voice to a course whisper, “Now be a good girl and clean my chambers for me for when I return,” he brought his lips close to her ear, “And maybe I’ll reward you if you do a good job, hmm?”

Leaving her stunned and frozen in place, he smirked, letting out a huff before opening his door, stepping out and slamming it behind him. Walking down the dark corridors, he tried to keep the smirk on his face for the guards as he was passing by but he could feel his exterior crumbling. 

And of course his father chooses this time to call him to talk.

His father lived in the east wing of the castle, bare of anyone except a few guards and two maids that only passed by in the morning to deliver food and do some light cleaning. Usually, he would stay in the library when his tasks where finished for the day, but for the past few months, his health had been deteriorating, leaving him bound to his bed. 

Greeting the guard that stood outside his father’s chambers, he opened the door, stepping inside the room. It was welly lit, candles in every corner with the fireplace as angry as his. However his father was not lying in bed, he was standing by the open window, gazing out into the night sky.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Bucky questioned, straightening his posture. “What’s the point when I’m dying either way,” he responded dryly, taking a sip of wine.

Bucky didn’t want to stay long, his father never failed to irritate him and he knew this visit wouldn’t be an exception.

“Why did you call me here?” Bucky questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t use that tone with me boy,” his father replied, turning his head slightly, “You may be king, but I won’t hesitate to put you in your place,”

Bucky felt his anger boil, “Yes father,” he grumbled, self consciously rubbing his forearm, “Why did you call me here?” He asked, trying to mask the edge in his voice with much calmer tone.

His father took a sip of wine from the goblet in his hand. He stayed facing the window as he spoke, “Do you know why we rule the way we do?” He asked. “Yes, father.” Bucky replied, itching to get out of the dank room.

“Then why did I see you hesitate to behead the men who decided to betray us,” Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Of course his father noticed, his silent hopes that he had blinked in that very moment were broken. But he knew better than to lie to the son of the Sovereign.

“It was my first time father,” 

“But you’ve seen it countless times before,” he spat, “hesitation is not trait found in a king meant to rule,”

His father turned around and walked up to him. He grabbed the back of his neck, locking his grey eyes on his, “are you questioning the laws, James?”

“Of course not, father,” Bucky said, maintaining eye contact. 

After a few seconds, his father finally let go, “Good,” 

He walked back to the window, taking another sip of his wine.

“Is that all father?” Bucky grumbled.

“One more thing,” His father said, “The Grand Ball is tomorrow, I expect you to choose a queen by the end of the night. This kingdom needs an heir.”

His tone left no room for negotiation, “Yes father,”

With that, Bucky walked out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

…

“What do you think she’s talking about?” You questioned, laying your head in Steve’s lap.

“Maybe you would know if you tried to pay attention,” Steve said, poking your side as you rolled your eyes.

“She says the same thing every single assembly. Plus after that long walk I could use a nap right about now,” you grumbled, nuzzling further into his thigh.

Steve let out a chuckle before focusing back on the meeting held in front of him. Every month, a gathering was held to update the people on what was going on and what goals had to be reached by the end of the month.

“Things will be different this month Y/n,” Steve said determinedly, “I can feel it,”

You looked up at the blonde, “Not to be rude, but you said that last time,” you paused, “And I’m pretty sure you said that the time before that as well,”

Steve sighed, looking back down at you. He took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “I know, I know, but you want to know why I know this time is going to be different?”

“Enlighten me,” you hummed.

“Because, Valkyrie has a special assignment for you,” you shot up into a seated position, “Or so I’ve heard,”

“What?” You gasped, “This isn’t going to be another stupid horse back ride to the other camp is it?”

“If it was then she would’ve announced who’s going by now don’t you think?” Steve smiled, “Clint told me about it when I went to get our rations for the day, said that she stayed back after the council meeting with the head guard and he heard your name,”

You sighed, laying back down on Steves lap, “Then it’s probably nothing then, you know Clint likes to gossip. It’s probably just another exercise to improve my skills for the big fight,”

“Oh the optimist,” Steve hummed, playing with the sleeves of your shirt.

“You love it,” you smiled, looking up at the blue sky above you.

“yeah yeah,” he mumbled, focussing back on meeting, “Maybe it is,” 

Valkyrie voice vibrated thought your ears, loud and clear for all the people surrounding her to hear. You always wondered how one person could hold so much power in just their voice, gaining enough respect to get everyone around them to listen. It was one of the reasons why you looked up to her, not just as a leader but as a mentor.

Her lover, Carol, stood behind her with the same stance, tall and proud. It was a strange contrast to what you had experienced in King’s Empire. The levels of respect and what decided who deserved it were a stark difference to the open environment you grew up in with the north camp. Most things like woman leaders and relationships with the same sex were forbidden, something that never made sense to you given the home you grew up in.

Which is why you were so conflicted with the feelings of change.

You were comfortable with what happened in camp, the routine you had every week. Waking up in Steve’s arms, completing whatever tasks where given to you that day, talk with whoever was around you at the time and have dinner with the camp to end the day.

It was what you did since you came to camp so many years ago. You was fine to the little changes that had been made here and there, but the talk of something big happening made you fearful for the months to come.

But you stayed open minded, not just for the people who needed it, but for Steve as well.

“Hey, dream bug,” Steve poked your cheek, “Meetings over,”

You blinked rapidly, “Shit, really?”

“Yes really,” Steve chuckled, “Do I need to do the recap?”

You sat up, turning to face your boyfriend while stretching your legs, “Do I need to answer?” You crossed them quickly.

“Well,” he started, clasping his hands together. “Thor gave the updates on resources concerning food, they seem stable for the rest of the month. Loki mentioned that the weapons are coming along, along with intel from the other camps. Carol announced that our army is growing bigger and bigger.” He tapped his finger on his chin, amused with the long yawn you let out, “Oh and Valkyrie wants to see you in the map room directly after the meeting,”

Your eyes widened as you shot up from your seat, “Why didn’t you tell me that!” You shouted, turning to run towards her hut.

“Maybe listen next time,” Steve shouted back, laughing as he watched you speed towards the hut, knowing fully well you still had time before you had to arrive.

As you reached the hut, you yanked the clothe covering the entrance open, smelling sheepishly at your leader, “Sorry i-“

“Y/n! Thank you for coming early,” she smiled, motioning for you to enter, “We still have to wait for people to come,”

You huffed under your breath, “Fucker,”

“Is Steve not with you?” Carol asked, removing her armour in the corner of the room.

“He should be on his way,” you sighed, sliding your hand across the large table in the middle of the room, walking to stand next to Peter, one of the newer recruits.

“Y/n,” you decided to introduced yourself, not sure if you had spoken to the boy before. You had seen him around the field training with all the other recruits. you remembered being impressed with his skill and agility. You’d never seen such a quick learner when it came to the ways of the camp.

“Oh, uh- Peter,” he blushed, looking towards the floor.

It was silent between both of you as you waited for people to file in for the gathering to begin until he cleared his throat.

“Do- do you know why we’re here?” He asked shyly, playing with his fingers.

“Not really, no,” you thought, leaning against the tabled on your forearms, “I’m sure it’s just a personal assignment to venture out or to search the surrounding areas, nothing to hard,”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled running his hands through his curls.

You looked at him with curiosity, “How long have you been here Peter?” 

“Two months,” he shrugged, a small smile creeping on his face, “I assume you’ve been here much longer?”

“Try fifteen years,” you chuckled, looking up at him, noticing his stiff posture, “Don’t worry about what other people think of you, here, we have no room for judgment,”

Your eyes caught the movement of the man who walked into the hut, “Well most people don’t,” you grumbled, picking at your nails

“Y/n,”

“Brock,” you muttered.

“Brock,” You heard Valkyrie repeat, just as annoyed as you were, “What are you doing here, you should be with Clint and the new recruits,”

“Well I ran into Stevie on the way here, heard that one of those recruits are in here,” he sent a pointed look to Peter.

“He’s here because I ordered him too. Don’t forget your place here Brock” Valkyrie countered  crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Ah yes, how could I forget,” he smirked, walking over to Peter and slapping a hand on his back, “I just don’t think this one is ready for whatever you’re going to assign him too,”

“You mean the Peter who toped all of his skill classes by a landslide? The Peter who ran four laps around the camp without breaking a sweat? The Peter who took you down in his third fight with you?” You raised one of your eyebrows, standing up straight, “Whatever is it, I’m sure he is more than capable to do whatever he has to do,” you smiled sweetly, “Way more capable that you could ever be,”

Brock walked over to you, his fists and jaw clenched tightly. You didn’t move an inch, paying no mind to the tension that rose in the room, you continued.

“Maybe that’s why you have to find some excuse to get in here and hear something that confidential, It bothers you that someone you consider beneath you gets to instead,”

His anger only made you more amused and proud of yourself for pushing his buttons in the right ways to frustrate him the most.

Without a word, he stomped out of the room, bumping Steve in the shoulder on his way out.

You beamed returning to your original position against the table. Valkyrie and Carol stood with smirks on there faces while Peter smiled shyly. Steve stood confused by the entrance.

“Should I ask?” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“It’s nothing important,” Valkyrie smirked, turning to face Carol.

“Thank you, Y/n,” Peter said, letting out a loud breath, “No one’s ever stood up for me like that before,”

“It was my pleasure,” you grinned, leaning into Steve as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “Brock’s a dick, don’t pay any mind to what he says. He pulls most of it out of his ass anyways.”

You and Peter chuckled while Steve sent you a look of confusion. Before he could ask what ever happened, Bruce came rushing into the hut.

“Finally!” Valkyrie exclaimed, “The man of the hour,”

“Sorry, I was discussing clothes arrangements with Wanda,” he mumbled out of breath, “Apparently the design wasn’t native to the kingdom so she had to do the stitching over before it was ready to wear to the castle,”

“To the castle?” You uttered, looking at bruce confused.

“Yes, for when you and Peter head to castle tonight?” He turned to Valkyrie, “Did you not tell them?”

...

A/n : So uh hi, it’s been a while. A lot of stuff has been going on in my life and adding that with school starting back, things have kind of been overwhelming. But now i think i’ve caught my bearings (hopefully anyways) and i got some inspiration to write so i took it. I hope you enjoy!

Feedback is always appreciated 🥰

Taglist : @jadegill​ @bluevxnus​ @learisa​ @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @un-viaje-en-las-estrellas 

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers smut #stucky imagine #peter parker #royal!au #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #king!bucky barnes x you #king!bucky #king!bucky barnes x reader

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon I

Jason is a CEO: Part I

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

i fear it might break me

then break

break

let spirit crack you open

-a letter to the king

There was something almost sinister in the whiskey-induced haze of a Manhattan skyline. The buildings nothing but dark blocks, uneven stairs.

There was something lonely about the haze too.

But Jason Grace couldn't give two shits about the blackening playground of buildings, couldn't give two shits about the incredible view from his twenty-second story window, couldn't give two shits about anything except his whiskey bottle and the burn because today could only be described as hell. Worse than hell maybe.

His son of a bitch ex-boyfriend and his son of a bitch new girlfriend, well ex-girlfriend now, had decided to christen his office. The deal he'd been working on for months didn't get legal approval, which meant everything had to be redrafted. And on top of everything his sister called to tell him she’s setting him up on a date with a quote, unquote ‘lovely girl who seems just right for him.’ He wanted to slam his phone across the room, and he would have if he didn't believe she had the supernatural abilities to know when he was pissy.

The shrill ring of said phone interrupted his anger.

"Talk to me"

"Hello Grace, you sound like shit."

"I'd sound better if you didn't fucking call me, you ass."

A laugh echoed down the phone.

"What do you want Valdez?" A smile played at Jason's lips, despite his day.

"Just wanted to check in and see how you were doing," Leo Valdez sighed, "I heard what happened with bimbo and brainless today."

He winced, "I don't know if I want to burn my office or throw them in an unmarked swamp to swim with the crocs."

"We can do both." His friend replied, conviction lacing his words.

He chuckled darkly shaking his head, "I think I'm just gonna drown myself in the good stuff tonight. I'll face the world tomorrow."

"Okay, I've sent over a tub of your favourite ice-cream. Sorry I can't be there; The lady has been raving about this theatre show for months. I'll be dead if I bail now."

"No worries Firefly, thanks for the ice-cream. Let's meet tomorrow for dinner?"

"Sure bro. I'll book us at the Labyrinth."

"Great and bring your better half!"

A laugh was the only reply before the call ended.

Jason collapsed onto the couch, folding his body into the corner of the seat and taking a large swig from the whiskey. Every time his mind wandered to the horrors of the day he drank. It took a horrifyingly short time to see the bottom of the bottle. The world blurred and tilted, swayed like young trees fighting against the wind. Tears spilled hot and fresh down his cheeks- he didn’t bother to wipe them away. Today he was allowed to cry, today he was allowed to break. It was okay, okay...

“OKAY!” He yelled, trying to untangle his legs from the blanket and wipe the drool on his mouth.

The banging at the door started up again and he cursed a blue streak. With a growl he yanked the door open, “What?”

“Well good morning to you too Mr. Grace,” A cheery-faced Hazel Levesque greeted.

“Hazel,” He sighed “Hi, sorry I- come in,”

“Everything okay Boss?”

“Had a bit of a rough day yesterday, I’m sure I smell like the inside of a whiskey bottle,”

“Uh-I don’t know if I should say anything to that,”

“Good call, I might burst into tears if you do.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look but he waved a dismissive hand, picking up the pillows he had flung in rage and the bottle he had discarded just before he crashed on his couch.

“I’m going to go shower; I’ll update you over some breakfast.”

She gave him a long look before nodding and taking up a set at the kitchen counter. He thought about explaining or offering her something to drink but his soul was exhausted; at the very least he could help himself to a shower before he had to face the world.

The water scorched his back, his forehead pressed to the cool tile. He considered himself lucky for having eaten before he got drunk, otherwise he would have spent the morning with his head in a toilet bowl. His brain pounded against his skull but the alcohol was only half to blame; crying for two hours had its fair contribution.

“Okay you can do this. You’ve gotten through a lot of shit, you can get through this.” He stared himself down in his mirror, fixed the clasp on his watch and shouldered his suit jacket.

With a deep breath he stepped out of his room, his business face firmly in place.

“Shall we grab coffee at Reedpipes, you can update me on my schedule on the way.”

“Sounds good Boss let’s go,”

And within a matter of moments they were stepping into their favourite café. Flowers bloomed in the middle of every table and ivy wrapped around the industrial fixtures above them. A bright hello sounded from the barista’s station.

“Good Morning Grover,” He smiled, at the bearded man already frantically working on their orders.

“How’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a hot minute.” Warm eyes twinkled up at him. It took immense self-control not to burst into tears.

Grover, oblivious to his turmoil prattled on, “Hazel how’s the strawberry pot coming along? Did the compos-“

Jason zoned out, the world becoming a blur of sound and moving colours. His mind hurtled him back to yesterday when he had walked into his office– oh gods it hurt to think about. The evidence of them had been everywhere. Clothes strewn on the floor, his papers and trinkets thrown like a hurricane had swept through. And they had just grinned, like they were waiting, like they planned for it. His stomach flipped, ache and regret flooding him.

“Mr Grace!” A small hand shook his shoulders.

He startled back to the present, “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay” Hazel gave him a weird look, “I’ve got our coffees let’s grab a seat.”

He nodded letting her lead them to a little wooden table in the corner of the shop. Sun was just starting to filter in, and the beams caught on the subtle gold accents rimming each table. Once they had settled in across from each other she handed him his cappuccino and took a long slurp of her iced coffee before setting her intimidating golden eyes on him.

“Spill Boss.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Yesterday I went back to my office after the meeting with Titan Industries, we need to do a redraft for that by the way,”

She nodded, already tapping on her phone to diarise an appointment with the legal team.

“So I get the office and Piper and Luke–“ He gulped, steeling himself, “They decided to use my office as their playground.”

He didn’t know how to put it delicately and little Hazel shouldn’t have to hear his real thoughts on the matter which mostly sounded like ‘fucking fucks, stupid dumbass wankers’ and various other curse words

“Oh Jason,” She gasped softly, reaching out a hand to squeeze his, “I am so sorry. Why are you even coming in to work today? You should have taken the day to yourself.”

“I still have a business to run Hazel, and besides I can’t let their selfishness stop me.”

“You are allowed to be hurt Jason.”

“I know, I know. But I can be hurt this weekend, right now we need to redraft that stupid contract and I need to make some calls about the new buildings starting this week,”

“Right will add that, don’t forget we need to get your suit for the alumni dinner on Friday,”

“Ugh I forgot about that, okay just pencil that in for some time today and maybe call Drew or Silena to find out if they can have a few ready for me to try on. Also I have dinner with Valdez tonight so no calls after six thirty.”

“You got it Boss, and hey­–“ She tugged at his sleeve making sure he looked at her, “If at any point you need to stop, you let me know. And if I see you neglecting yourself like you did last time, I will book a trip to the smallest island in the middle of the damn ocean and throw you on a plane myself,”

He laughed at his fiery assistant, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Yes ma’am.”

***

Jason’s day wasn’t going great, but it was at least fifty times better than yesterday. All his belongings had been moved to the floor above and his tainted office was being cleaned out. He didn’t know if he wanted to go back there ever again but maybe he could convert it into a room for his employees. At least they won’t be haunted by the events that occurred. His call with Miss Arellano had gone surprisingly well even if the drafting of this stupid Titan Industries project was proving to be a real pain in the ass. He didn’t even know if it was worth it to do this much readjusting.

“Hey boss,” Hazel knocked at his door, “Frank is here to take you to your suit appointment,”

“Damn is it already four?” He frowned at his watch, “Alright give me two minutes to finish this email and then I’ll be ready. You should go home for the day.”

She snorted, “Thanks, but I got some admin to catch up on. You mind if Frank comes back to drop me off at home afterwards though?”

“No problem, you know he would be happy to do it.”

And maybe if Jason hadn’t been so distracted, he would have caught the blush his assistant was trying so hard to stop.

“Right well, let me know if you pick out a suit or if I need to reschedule. Also Mr Valdez called to confirm your reservation at the Labyrinth for seven thirty.”

“Thank you,” He gave her a brief smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before turning his attention back to his blinking cursor.

***

“Hello ladies,” He entered the open, marbled boutique that was Aphrodite’s Armour.

“Jason!” A sweet voice squealed, coming towards him for a hug.

“Hello Silena, how are you?”

“Much better now that my favourite customer is here,”

“Aww,” Another voice pouted, “I thought I was your favourite customer?”

“Babe you don’t count,” Silena laughed, booping her fiancé on the nose.

“Well if it makes you feel any better Drew, I know she’s lying because she says that to all the customers.”

Silena gasped, smacking his arm, “I DO not.”

“Yes you do hun,” Drew laughed, “You here for your suit Mr Grace?”

“Yea it’s for the alumni dinner at SPQR University this Friday,”

“Oh yes we’ve heard a lot about this dinner. We’ve had all manner of folks come in these last few days.” Silena nodded, already making her way to the back of the store.

“I’m sure. It’s the big charity dinner where they get all the ‘successful’ alumni together and then milk us for all we’re worth.” He shook his head with a smile.

“Ah you rich people can afford it,” Drew scoffed, smirking at him over her shoulder.

“Yes I do agree,” He nodded, “Where’s my favourite of you lot?”

“Oh Charlie isn’t in. It’s Wednesday so he has to go to his sites.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you though, I think he has some project he wants to pitch.”

“Tell him to give me a call, I’m always happy to talk business.”

“Yes, although I’m sure he’ll be much happier to get down to business with you,” Drew cackled.

“And how would his two fiancées feel about that?” He raised a blonde brow.

“Quite excited,” Silena bubbled, a glitter in her eyes.

Jason let out a real laugh for the first time all day, “Sorry darlings but I don’t think I’d be much fun right now.”

Drew gave him a kiss on the cheek “Well, we’ll be here when you do.”

“Much appreciated,” He grinned.

“Okay, I think I have the perfect one!” Silena moved from behind the racks shoving a black bag into his hands, “Go try it on.”

He stumbled into the changing room and pulled out a gorgeous maroon suit. The lining was a deep blue and the detailing on the seams matched it perfectly. He knew immediately this would be a favourite of his and got confirmation when two minutes later he stepped out to gasps and applause.

“Mr Grace,” Drew’s eyes were wide.

“This is the best one yet,” Silena sighed, assessing him.

“Thank you ladies, it really is beautiful.”

“I think the wearer may be more so,” A low voice from behind them said.

Jason’s head shot up only for his gaze to land on the most exquisite person he had ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on. The beautiful stranger stood with their hands tucked in their pocket and an appreciative look on their face.

“Oh Mr Jackson we didn’t think you’d be here so early.” Silena jumped into action, ushering him through the door and out of site.

Jason was standing stock-still unable to get the image of sparkling green eyes and molten brown skin out of his head.

“Who was that?” He breathed.

Drew was pulling at his suit, synching it and marking the fabric with needles.

“Oh that was Mr Jackson, he comes in here fairly often too. It’s a wonder you haven’t met before, I’m sure you run around the same social circles, what with your fancy parties and all that,” She was mumbling around a mouth full of measuring tape.

“I’ve never seen him before in my life. Trust me I would remember a face like that.”

That got the seamstress’ attention, “Oh someone has a crush,”

“How could you not? We did see the same person, right? Tall, wonderful curly black hair, unbelievable sea green eyes, a voice like crashing waves and earth and-“

He was cut off by her laughing.

“What?” He frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall so hard from a five second interaction.”

He blushed, looking away from her all-knowing gaze, “I’m just saying what I saw.”

“Well I’m pretty sure he’s going to the dinner on Friday so maybe you can talk to him there.”

‘He’s what?” He whipped around to look at her, eyes comically wide.

“Yea, he was telling us all about it when he came in earlier this week.”

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” He muttered, heart racing.

“Oh don’t panic, he’s honestly one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.” She shrugged before pulling at his arm to take the measurement, “Alright, all set to go. You can pick up the suit tomorrow afternoon or we can send it tomorrow evening?’

“Uh yea, send it.” He said distractedly, already pulling on his clothes.

Drew gave him a cheeky smile, “Goodbye Mr Grace,”

“Bye Drew, tell Silena I said bye, and tell Charlie to call me.”

He stepped into the entrance of the shop, but the beautiful man was nowhere to be found. With a final glance around he made his way into the street, ready for dinner with his friends.

“Hello Grace, glad to see you haven’t gone full hermit,”

“Hello Leo,” He snorted, “It was the ice-cream you sent last night. It gave me hope.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” His friend laughed, “How are you though, seriously?”

“I’ve seen better days, but I’ve seen worse too. I’ll get over it.”

“There is no doubt in my mind Jason Grace,” A soft reassurance floated towards them.

He smiled, pushing out of his seat, “Hello Annabeth,” He enveloped her in a hug.

“Hello my darling,” She gave him a gentle smile.

He let her go and she moved around him to give Leo a quick peck. He smiled at her with overflowing adoration and muttered a soft, “Hello love,”

“Tell us what happened?” She sat down next to her boyfriend and reached out to squeeze Jason’s hand.

So he took a deep breath and relayed the story of his nightmare yesterday. By the time he was finished the couple looked like they were ready to storm the castle and beat Luke and Piper with sledgehammers and drawing compasses.

Annabeth’s grey eyes were hard and stormy with anger, “I’m going to kill them,”

“Don’t worry babe I’m there to help.” Leo said vehemently.

Jason couldn’t help but smile at the protectiveness of his friends, “Thank you guys but I’m fine. Really.”

They gave him a dubious look, their expressions so similar it was comical. He gave them another, hopefully, reassuring smile before they launched into a discussion about work.

Both were engineers with too many degrees to count and an abundance of knowledge circling between them. It was almost scary how exquisitely their minds worked. Jason had recruited them time again for his projects– from designing the education center to building the water systems and electricity grids in the downtown area. His work helping small businesses and improving ‘run-down’ neighbourhoods would be a thousand times harder if he didn’t have them to help him in design and implementation. Annabeth, as the civil engineer, often went to sites with him and over saw a fair few of his community projects. Leo was a mechanical engineering professor at the university they all attended but he was always willing to help if need be. Jason was eternally grateful for that because he didn’t trust many others to oversee his works.

When dessert had been cleared away sometime later the three were laughing and ribbing each other like they were back in college and not big-time owners of various companies.

“Okay, okay,” Leo gasped, “No more of your stories man. Annabeth doesn’t need to know all my secrets.”

The lady in question snorted, digging her elbow into his side, “You wish you had secrets. If you can’t recall I was there for ninety percent of your dumbassery in varsity and I’m here for one hundred percent of it now.”

“You don’t know what happened on our guys nights,” Leo narrowed his cassiterite eyes at her.

“Keep telling yourself that honey,” She smirked.

Jason watched on in amusement as Leo’s face morphed into panic.

“Tell me she’s lying Grace?”

Annabeth’s smirk was wicked, “Oh yes Valdez I know about the ‘pants on fire’ situation, and the ‘jumped off a Ferris wheel situation’ and the–“

“Okay stop. How did you ever choose to date me knowing all these things?” He looked at her with some mixture of horror and wonder.

She shrugged, “I figured if you were smart enough to get a PhD and a Masters you were smart enough to know when I’ll kill you for doing something stupid.”

Jason burst out laughing, “She may be taking your space at the top of my favourite’s list Firefly.”

His friend gave him a look of disgust, “That’s just rude, we’ll see who takes your phone away next time you’re drunk on vodka,”

They all dissolved into fits of giggles after that and Jason felt his heart grow a hundred times lighter.

“Are you guys going to the dinner?”

Annabeth nodded, “I heard the university has a proposition for us this year.”

“I’m mostly excited for the mini tacos,” Leo grinned.

“You’re always excited for the tacos,” She rolled her eyes playfully.

“I can’t help it, there’s just something about them, you know?”

Jason couldn’t help but agree. They really were delicious.

“I guess I’ll see you guys there.”

“You can count on it,” Annabeth gave another of her dazzling smiles, reaching forward to rest a hand on his arm.

“And don’t worry bro I know for a fact Luke isn’t going to be there.”

“Yea I know,” He sighed, “I asked Hazel to check this morning.” They stepped into the chilly night.

“Call us if you need anything,” Leo gave him a look before pulling him in for a hug. Annabeth echoed the sentiment and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

He watched them walk towards their car, fingers intertwined, Annabeth’s blonde curls resting against Leo’s shoulder. A flutter of ache washed through him at their closeness, their easiness. He had had that once. Until Luke had gotten greedy with his ambition. And he may have had that with Piper if she hadn’t decided to screw his ex.

His life was a mess.

Yet when he crashed into bed that night he felt more hopeful and loved than he had in a long time. He slipped into sleep with a soft smile playing on his lips.

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

Okay what are we saying? How do we feel? GIVE ME THOUGHTS!

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts​ @leydiangelo​​ @queen-of-demons-and-hell​ @msdrpreist​ @sparkythunderstorm​ @nishlicious-01​

#empires on the horizon #jason is a ceo au #jason grace #jason #grace #jercy fic #jercy #percy jackson #percy #jackson #baby fanfic #baby fanfic series #mini fanfic #mini fanfiction #PJO #HOO #part I #annabeth chase #leo valdez #hazel levesque #frank zhang #piper mclean #luke castellan #PJSSG series #PJSSG fanfic #it's a slow burn y'all #we in this for the long haul #jason is a ceo

[thatwriterkei]

-Moment of Tangency-

Series Summary: When Y/N's favorite fictional characters come to life, a mystery ensues as a killer wreaks havoc in Bangor, Maine.

~

Chapter Summary: What started out as a sleepover with your best friend turned into a night of unexplainable events.

Warnings: cursing, underage pining if you squint, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here's the first chapter of the big series I was talking about! I really hope you guys enjoy this, I've been working on this for about a month and it would mean the world to me if you have feedback and brought attention to this to those who would enjoy it too! I'm really excited to see how this goes.

~

Main Masterlist

MOT Masterlist

click here to be part of my taglist

_________________

Chapter One: The Beginning

"You will soon receive support from an unexpected source.." 

The red letters of your fortune stared back at you ominously.

"Hey, that's great timing huh?"

"Too soon, Marcus..Too soon."

A sheepish smile formed on his freckled face, "Sorry..Here, have another."

You shook your head, waving away the cookie. "I'll just stick to mine. I only have a little bit of room left for it." 

You took small bites, slowly indulging in the delicious treat, afraid of letting it go to waste with just two or three bites.

"I'm surprised your dad let me spend the night."

"Honestly, me too..I don't think he noticed that you're in the middle of transitioning."

"He probably just thinks I'm gay or something.."

You let out a choked laugh, "Maybe because you are."

"Hey, you can't tell me that Mr. Fisher isn't hot as fuck!"

"He isn't, oh my god!" You tried to finish the rest of your cookie without inhaling crumbs, suppressing the laughter building in your stomach.

"Have you seen his hands?! Y/N, I don't think you understand how much I adore him!"

"He's 20, Marcus!! Not to mention, he sucks at teaching physics."

"Hey, I didn't say my future man had to be smart."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yes, yes I am. Oh! Speaking of guys, any good gossip for the ship of a century?"

You could help but roll your eyes at his teasing, blood rushing to the apples of your cheeks.

"Kolby and I haven't spoken since last week. I don't think he likes me anyway. He's been talking to Heather more recently.." 

And, for some reason, you weren't too interested in him either. Yes, he was a nice looking, athletic guy but you just didn't care enough to go further than a 'hi, how're you?' with him.

"Well, his loss. You're a wonderful girl and it's a shame he's wasting your time with his boyish nonsense. Besides, he doesn't even wear watches like Mr. Fisher."

"I swear to god, if you mention him or watches one more time.."

"You're right, sorry," he held up his hands defensively before putting them down, "I just don't wanna see you get hurt, Y/N/N.."

"I know you're worried, Marcus, but I'm fine. It's our junior year, I don't think long-term relationships are supposed to happen for us until we're in like college."

"You never know..Anyway, what do you even see in him?"

You let out a sigh, sinking in the mounds of pillows and blankets that are laid astray on your bed.

"Umm..He's cute, without a doubt. His jokes are sometimes funny, depends on who he's around. He has a nice sense of style, I guess? I don't know..We've only known each other for a little over two months."

Marcus laid beside you, rolling to his side with a dopey grin plastered on his pale face. "And a lot could happen in two more months if you just talk to him. I promise, I won't even bother you in Algebra..Okay? Just trust me on this.."

You groaned but, nevertheless, agreed with a silent nod.

"Love shouldn't be this complicated.."

"Sometimes it is, sweetie..But only time can lead you to where you're supposed to be.."

"Yeah, I know...Since when did you become my therapist?" You let out a scoff.

"Since third grade! Now, c'mon, get off your lazy ass and let's do something cool!" 

He pulled at your limp arm once he stood up, dragging you to the floor and down the hallway towards the mini library your stepmom installed about a year ago; who has yet to use it.

"If you were looking for 'cool', you brought us to the wrong place." 

Your eyes scanned over the bookshelves, catching titles of famous works.

To Kill a Mockingbird

The Great Gatsby

War and Peace

Charlotte's Web

"You only have that perception because you hate her."

"Of course! Have you seen her?"

"Yeah, but this is still cool! You should take advantage of it while you can." 

Marcus released his hold from your ankle, scampering over to the section of the library where a red and white book was gleaming for attention.

"Oh my god! Miranda got the newest edition of IT?"

You stood up abruptly and made your way over. "She got what?!" 

"Holy shit, this is amazing! We haven't fangirled over this book since freshmen year."

"Oh yeah, our biggest obsession since One Direction." You laughed, taking the book out of his hands and running your finger over the textured title.

"Not gonna lie, the older cover looked better."

You rolled your eyes and ushered him over to the desk in the middle of the room. "Wait, let's see if they kept in that one part.."

"Which one? Does it have to do with Stanley? You had a major crush on his fictional ass." He teased, pulling up another chair beside yours.

"No no no, the one with Eddie and-Oh, I found it!"

Man, he had hated it when Richie called him Eds…but he had sort of liked it, too. It was something….like a secret name. A secret identity. A way to be people that had nothing to do with their parents’ fears, hopes, constant demands. Richie couldn’t do his beloved Voices for shit, but maybe he did know how important it was to creeps like them to sometimes be different people.

"Oh, I absolutely love this part..It's just, mwah, beautiful. Stephen King certainly knew what he was doing.."

"C'mon, let's go back to my room and reminisce." You took his arm and pulled him back to your bedroom.

~

You internally screamed at Marcus's onslaught recollection of memories.

"Oh, and that one time when you had a major attraction for-"

"Okay okay, that's enough reminiscing!!" You tossed the book at him.

"Aww, what? Feelin' embarrassed, sweetie?" He barely dodged the book, letting it bounce off your bed and onto the ground with a dull thud.

"Shut up.." You grabbed the nearest pillow and slightly smothered yourself with it.

The memories he continued to bring up brought back some nostalgia but looking back at it now made you cringe. You were practically grown up now, not 15 years old. 

"Okay, I'm sorry. But wouldn't it be cool if the losers club was real? Like actually around, in real life? Derry was based off of Bangor so it's more than likely you could find your own Stanley Uris." 

You cracked a smile at that and threw the pillow at him, situating yourself underneath the covers of your bed. "Yeah, yeah. I wish."

Marcus promptly pulled out his phone and checked the time, turning it over towards you  and flashing the bright light in your face. "Well, it's almost 11:11..Make a wish!"

"Seriously?" You deadpanned.

"C'mon, it wouldn't hurt!"

You sighed, sitting up on your elbows and closing your eyes. "Tell me when. You wish it too, okay?"

"Okay," some time passed, "now."

I wish the losers club was real..The entire gang. Every single one of them.

I wish I could blow Bill Denbrough.

You opened your eyes after you recited your wish a couple of times, sighing. You raised an eyebrow at Marcus, seeing him struggle to contain his laughter though the crimson red covering every inch of his face gave it away.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I wished that I could blow Bill."

"Goddamnit, Marc."

~

It took about a half hour before the two of you could fully relax into a deep sleep but once you guys did, Marcus took up most of the bed. 

A heavy gush of wind pushed open your window, the cool air from outside blowing into your room. You snuggled a little more under the covers, face being buried into someone's back. They smelled so nice, a light hazelnut scent and freshly washed hair that reminded you of late night drives with your older cousin when you were younger; Just absolute nostalgia exuded from them. You felt your entire body relax against theirs, the warmth overtaking your slightly exposed skin from the nippy air coming through the window.

You hear a quiet groan from the opposite side of you, the noise causing you to stir from whatever you were dreaming about prior; It was a bit fuzzy.

"What the fuck? Dumbass window.." It was just Marcus.

You felt the weight from the bed disappear, his dull footsteps moving around the carpeted room as he shuts the window.

He turns around and gives one look over the room, his eyes partially open. He sees a couple of people in the room, the sight confusing him in his drowsy state.

"What the..?"

A mix of someone screaming bloody murder and a smoke alarm going off floods the room, echoing off the walls and throughout the house. Even Marcus wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors heard him too.

It takes just a few seconds before your sleeping mind can process the screeching, thus causing you to flip over to your other side and turning on the lamp. Your eyes are piercing with annoyance, though you were still a little concerned about your astonished friend across the room.

"Marc, what the hell?! What's wrong? What happened?"

You cast a glance around your room, trying to pick the oddball out.

"What the hell?!" You hear from behind you, the sudden noise alarming you and making you jump off the bed towards the ground. 

Your head whipped around so quickly you were sure it was the dizziness that made your imagination run wild from the sight. There laid a guy, around your age, with very curly light brown hair that just looked absolutely divine to twirl your fingers around.

Underneath you comes a strangled groan, almost upon impact. Looking below, you find a girl with fiery red hair in a bob style. You push yourself off of her and scoot away until your back hits Marcus's legs.

"Who the fuck is yelling-Oh, holy shit..!" You hear another slightly deep voice exclaim. 

Turning to your right sat five other guys with drastically different appearances, one after another coming to the realization that they had no fucking clue where they were.

The room grew quiet, fear growing in your eyes as you try to find a person to focus on but the thought only made you even more dizzy than before.

_________________

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