#he just chose to use his skills - the same ones that did all that horrible stuff - for something better

[tatsumessy]

——————————————————————

pairing: Neji Hyuga x fem reader

prompt: "give me a chance. to prove what i can make you feel."

warnings: forced orgasm, slight choking, cunnilingus, fem receiving, fingering.

theme: Angst - Smut

synopsis: Neji couldn’t understand why you hated him so much, one day he finally has had enough and take matters into his own hands.

word count: 2k

200 follower special 🧸

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

——————————————————————

You grew up alone in the hidden leaf village being left on the door steps of the third hokage. The only reason he knew you were apart of the hidden L/n clan was based off of a tattoo you had on your ankle.

He and a select few knew what had happened to your clan the horrible massacre that took upon your family leaving you an orphan. The third hokage gladly took you in a raised you as his own daughter but was clear to make sure to not hide who you were and what your past consisted of.

You now at the age of 18 could master all five nature transformations. You went through intense training after the chunin exams and went through hidden training but sometimes the third would have you train with an actual team. And the team he chose was Gai sensei.

That’s when you first met Neji Hyuga, you were both the same age and had the same set of skills. At that time you could only master two of the nature transformations, water release and wind release.

“Third Hokage what a surprise.” Gai said walking into the room, you kept your head down on your paper writing down things to study. “This is Y/n. I would like for you to train her with your team for now.” Gai gladly accepted and brought you to the training grounds where everyone else was waiting.

Lee, Ten and Neji all looked at you with different expressions which made you feel uncomfortable. “Y/n, why don’t you show us what you can do so I can better evaluate you.” Gai spoke moving out the way letting you have the space to show off your technique.

Using you water and wind release together creating ice, Gai and Lee praised your skill while Ten sat their admiring it in silence and Neji scoffed turning away in dissatisfaction.

From that day forward a hatred for the stuck up Neji Hyuga started to form. What made it worse was that it wasn’t hatred at all, you had actually liked him a lot not just for his skill and preservation but for his personality and the person that he holds himself to be. You respected him, but you would never fool yourself to have those type of feelings so the best way to ignore them is by ignoring him.

Currently at the rank Jonin you were sent on many missions along with Neji who became the same rank around the same time you did. This last mission you attended took over a few months to complete and by the time you came back it was evident how much you physically changed.

“Y/N!!!” Sakura and Ten ran over to you greeting you at the entrance of the gate, you gave the both of them a hug and smiled at how much you missed your friends. “Look at you, you are practically glowing.” Ten said grabbing your hand and spinning you around, “Now that you’re here, you can join us on this trip that we were all getting ready to leave for.” Sakura said wrapping her arm around yours while Ten held onto the bag you were carrying.

“I guess. I don’t have any upcoming missions so I guess.” Sakura squealed in excitement, “Neji just came back a few days ago too so that means everyone’s here.” “Wait what?” You said stopping in your tracks. “Yeah. It’s just a trip for us, a few days by a lake a ways out. It’s supposed to be really fun.” Ten said and you immediately shook your head in disagreement.

“I can’t go.” “Why because of Neji? I don’t know what you two have going on, you two have hated each other ever since you joined the team.” Ten said walking forward towards your house with Sakura pulling on your arm. “I hate stuck up people. Simple. Not everyone has lived the life that he has or anyone else.” You say looking down at your ankle at you clan tattoo.

“Well suck it up for a week. Can you do that? We all missed you. It never fails that you tend to take missions that last months.” Sakura complained as you three arrived at your house, you thanked the both of them and went inside to unpack what you didn’t need.

~

You were the last to arrive at the lake due to just coming back from an extended mission so everyone was expecting you to be late. When you arrived Lee, Naruto, Shikamaru and Choji attacked you with hugs and greetings, Neji stayed sitting down where he was sitting while you greeted everyone but him.

“How was the mission? I’m sure it was easy for you but why did it take so long and why was it extended?” Shikamaru asked, “Yeah? When we heard from the granny that your mission was extended we couldn’t understand why. We all assumed you got injured or something.” Naruto asked adding onto Shikamaru questions.

“I finished the mission a couple of months ago. I did get injured which kept me there for at most a week. After that I wanted to stay, the village itself was beautiful and I learned a lot about myself and my techniques there.” You said pushing a small piece of hair behind your ear. You unconsciously looked over at Neji who was staring at you, furrowing your eyebrows you looked away and started to bite on your fingernail.

Recently anytime you would think about Neji this heated feeling would erupt inside of you and now that he was here infront of you didn’t make it any better. You squeezed your thighs together throwing your attention back into the conversation. Everyone decided they wanted to take a dip in the lake so everyone had left to change into their swim clothes.

Gifted by someone from the village you just came from you wore an all black two piece that really showed off your curves that you gained during the mission. You followed out behind Sakura and your eye’s immediately landed on Neji who had just risen from under the water, his wet hair was slicked back revealing his kekkei genkai.

Your insides were doing that weird thing again and you ended up running back inside the building. Your heart was beating fast and your face was heating up and the slick between your thighs was making your life a living hell. You decided to stay in your room for the rest of the night just hoping to get your hormones and body under control.

Hours passed and once everyone had fallen asleep you made your way outside after putting some clothes on and sat down in a secluded area that had a great view of the sky and lake in one. You were busy admiring the lake when you felt a presence behind you, getting ready to protect yourself from and attack Neji showed himself ready for a counter attack.

You let out a small sigh of relief before standing up and getting ready to leave but Neji grabbed your arm forcefully pushing you back into the tree you were sitting near. “Ow. Hyuga. You’re hurting me.” You said trying to pull your arm away but he wouldn’t listen, in the back of your mind this aggressiveness was turning you on so bad but you weren’t going to show it.

“Tell me. What’s your problem with me?” He asked releasing his grip and crossing his arms over his chest. “Why ask after all these years. You didn’t seem to care then so why now?” You asked ignoring his question.

“At first I didn’t care but then it annoyed me that everytime your eyes laid on mine you would either roll them or get up and leave the room. You had no shame and showing everyone that you hated me.” He spoke pressing his fingers on the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He looked back at you seeing as you had your arms crossed and wasn’t looking at him.

“So all you feel for me is hatred?” He asked seeing if that would get you to answer him, “Yes. I don’t like arrogance fools like you, now if you’ll excuse me.” You were about to walk away but he stepped infront of you again blocking your path.

“Fine then.” He let out an exhausted sigh spewing some curses under his breath before looking back up at you. "Give me a chance. To prove what i can make you feel." Before you could answer his hand gripped the back of your neck pulling your face closer to his.

His lips forcefully pressed against yours pulling you into a heated make out session where he took full control. His tongue attacked yours taking over your whole mouth almost making your legs feel weak just from the things his tongue was accomplishing. His other hand made its way down to the bottom of your dress lifting it up to your abdomen giving him full access to your already dripping cunt.

His hand rubbed the wet patch formed around your core and pulled away from the kiss smirking down at you. “Already this wet for me? I haven’t even done anything.” He devoured your lips once again as his three fingers started rubbing your clit through your panties forcing a lewd moan out of your mouth and into his.

He smirked into the kiss pulling away and using his thumb to pull on your bottom lip, he seemed entranced by the expression you were making as his fingers pressed gently on your clit. A moan slipped out again and Neji could feel his member twitching in his pants. He only meant to mess with you a little bit to make you loosen up around him but he took the situation too far and he doesn’t believe he can back down now.

As his fingers rubbed along the inside of your fold gathering the slick wetness that formed, his member grew harder and harder each passing second he had you under him. Your ips started to grind against his hand pulling a shock reaction from him. He watched you pleasure yourself using his hand with no shame, your moans stayed at a low sound as you back arches against the tree.

Pulling your panties down to your ankles he bent down getting on his forcing one of your thighs onto his shoulder. “Neji…stop what are you doing?” You asked covering your reddened face, he ignored your question and used his tongue to lick a long stripe on your core. You flinched from the new sensation as his mouth dove in to lick and suck on your clit, to make it even worse his index finger rubbed light circles around your entrance teasing you to a horrible extent.

“Ahh…fuck Neji stop teasing me please.” You said begging him to apply more pressure to the area you wanted it most, without warning he stuck two fingers in immediately reaching your sensitive spongy spot almost making you cum right there. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you curling them every now and then watching how his fingers would make your body react.

He pulled his mouth away from your now sensitive bud and stood up with his fingers still pumping in and out of you. His free hand grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him and just like you his lewd expression made you want to take him right there. His mouth attached to yours once again and this time his kiss was much more gentle as his mouth pressed kisses along your jawline down to your neck.

You but your lip trying to suppress your moans as the knot in the pit of your stomach was becoming agonizingly tight and the moment his fingers curled again it snapped without warning and you came all over his hand. He removed his himself from you and his free hand ran through his hair.

He was trying to figure out why he did what he did, you looked at him embarrassed for yourself seeing as you let your guard down and he took advantage of that moment. “I-I’m going to go.” He spoke with a hint of blush on his cheek, you looked dazed slipping your panties back on and making your way back to your room.

After that night you and Neji always got awkward around each other. Not in a weird way but for you it was you wanted to do more than just harmless kissing and touching.

#neji x reader #neji hyuga #neji x y/n #Neji fluff #Neji smut #naruto #naruto neji #Naruto Neji hyuga #neji hyuuga x reader #neji hyuuga #hinata hyuuga #hyuuga clan #hanabi hyuuga #hyuuga smut #hyuuga fluff #Neji angst #Neji hyuuga fluff #Neji hyuuga smut #Neji hyuuga angst

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

In the Light of Care

The Aftermath of In The Shadow Of the Study. Aesop Sharp finds the new fifth-year half unconscious in the Slytherin dungeons following an adventure gone wrong.

Shout out to my ever-fabulous partner in crime @tea-withjamandbread

I have a love-hate relationship with Sebastian, on one hand, I love him, on the other, he is an irresponsible blinded hot-headed dumbass.

And then I have a love-love relationship with Aesop, who despite knowing you are going to give him a heart attack one of these days is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you.

In the Light of Care (5.7k words)

tw: descriptions of pain, vomiting

You felt godawful all over. Ominis and Sebastian left you alone a while ago. You put up a brave face for them, but truth be told, you've never felt this terrible before. Your vision was blurry and all of your muscles were still cramping up with a pain that burned so much, you were certain it was burning your veins, dissolving you from the inside like acid. It was only when you were alone in that blasted corridor that you allowed yourself to fall down onto your bum, tears escaping your eyes and falling down freely. You tried to stretch as if that would help. You felt your body was inflamed, fever settling into your skin. You were sweating like mad and it took everything within you not to scream, not to sob, not to let your dinner travel up from your stomach and out of your mouth.

You were glad not to have learned the Cruciatus curse when Sebastian offered to teach you. However, you supposed, that even if you had learnt it, you would never ever use it. Even though the poachers, the goblins, and the dark wizards you've often engaged in combat were absolute scum, nobody deserved to have this cast on them. It was terribly unfair, terribly cruel. This wasn't offence-defence, it wasn't about prowess, or skill, or just plain luck. It was terror. There wasn't a right side of the wand to be on when it came to this. Both sides were horrible. 

You curled in onto yourself. Even after you broke down and onto your knees before the boys, Sebastian seemed to disregard it, being only interested in that blasted scriptorium. He was your friend and you loved him, but at that moment... At that moment you hated him, at that moment he was your tormentor. And he didn't even feel bad about it. You wanted to shake his stupid head, to scream at him, to tell him that he was going to find nothing in the scriptorium but more dark magic, more pain. Salazar Slytherin was a vain and cruel man, why on earth would he have made a cure for something, when it was only agony he wanted to create? It was pointless, and foolish and dangerous to have come here and you regretted it dearly as you tried to bury your pain, keep your tears contained. 

Yet, at the same time, you were glad that you went with them. Because if you hadn't, either Ominis or Sebastian would be forced to cast the curse on one another. And Ominis wouldn't, you knew now. And Merlin knows what would've happened to their friendship then if Ominis' best friend cast that curse on him, the very curse because of which he now had no family. So you chose to power through it, you put up a brave face. 

It almost crumbled immediately after. Sebastian looked like a child on Christmas, looking at everything in the scriptorium, while you were still cowering on the floor. A warm hand landed on your shoulder. On any other occasion, you might have welcomed it, but now the hand burned you, made the already aching muscles hurt even more, and you winced. "Are you alright?" Ominis asked, sounding just as close to crying as you were. And though you were still in agony, you did what felt like an Herculean feat, and put your own hand on top of his and squeezed. "Alright," you said simply. You really should stop lying to your friends.

You felt horrible for making Ominis go through this. When he asked the two of you to swear to never ever engage with dark magic after that endeavour was done, you agreed with him wholeheartedly. Mentally, that is, as you couldn't speak by then. You knew you had to apologise to him later, make it up to him. 

You wondered who would lose first, your consciousness or your stomach. What were you to do? You didn't bring any Wiggenweld potion with you, because you didn't think you might need it. You envied the boys now for being Slytherins, the comfort of their common room so close, while yours was so many flights of stairs away. There was no way you'd be able to crawl all the way there. There was no way you'd be able to crawl anywhere, not Ravenclaw Tower, not the Room of Requirement, not the Hospital wing. Now that you thought of it, you really shouldn't go to the Hospital wing anyway, the questions Nurse Blainey would have would only get yourself and your friends in more trouble.

As you sat and thought, your stomach finally lost its battle. You keeled over and promptly emptied your stomach on the stony floor. You felt the bile burn your throat, your eyes were losing focus. A voice came from somewhere far away. Annoyed at first, but as it got closer, you heard genuine concern. You were dry-heaving when a hand - larger than Ominis' - grasped your shoulder and forced you to turn. It didn't help your nausea at the very least, but seeing as you've already vomited all of the contents of your stomach out, you thankfully didn't throw up into the potions master's face. His striking dark eyes were panicked, his jaw hard, and he was kneeling next to you, which most likely did nothing for his leg. You would've attempted to speak, but your vision got dark and it dragged you down into the abyss.

You fell in and out of consciousness for a while. At one point, you looked down, professor Sharp still at your side but something was different. The smell of vomit was gone. You looked down at your robes and they were entirely clean. So was the floor. It was dark again. You saw professor Sharp's face, the underside of it, to be exact. He looked worried to bits. You felt movement and saw the surroundings change around Sharp's head. You felt strong arms underneath your back and legs. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him you were fine, that he needn't worry for you. Everything went black again before you managed to do so. Before the darkness consumed you, you felt the prickle of his chin on your index.

You woke on a bed after, and this time you stayed awake. You weren't in the Hospital wing, that was for sure. You weren't in your dorm or the Room of Requirement either, however, and you felt rather disoriented by that. Where else would you be, where else was a cot you'd use? When your eyes began focusing once more and your brain regained control of higher functions, you actually took in your surroundings. The air was cool, chilly almost, and it felt like heaven on your still feverish skin. There were shelves around the room, and in the middle of it stood a slightly curved desk. You were in professor Sharp's office.

The door to your left opened and the man in question came into focus. "I am very cross with you," he said, though his voice lacked any actual cut. He sat on your cot, and you now noticed he had a phial in his hand. It contained some dark liquid, still bubbling and looking utterly awful. "Drink," he said as he pushed a hand under the nape of your neck and lifted your head. He brought the phial to your lips and poured it into your mouth. You wanted to resist, the potion being foul enough to cause a dangerous churn in your stomach again, but you were so tired and the professor was unyielding.

You panted heavily after you swallowed the last drop, your body trying to bring it up again, but then you began to feel... Comfort. The pain was being flushed from your body. You didn't notice when professor Sharp grabbed your hand, but you felt his thumb stroking the back of it now. You looked up at him and regretted it immediately. He looked so tired. Once more, you unknowingly reached to touch his cheek. He startled when you did, yet almost right away closed one of his hands around your own.

"You know, I often say that the students will make me go grey prematurely, but I swear, you will make me go bald before you graduate," he said humourlessly. "Either you or your dear friends, Mr Sallow and Mr Gaunt. They told me what happened. Not everything, but the main gist of it. I've half a mind to give them both detention for the rest of their time here for leaving you the way they did. I've half a mind to give you detention as well for getting your stupid self into this, for not speaking up that you're unwell," he paused, his voice quivering slightly, "so clever, the lot of you, yet so incredibly stupid.”

The professor sighed then: “Look, I think I’m really starting to think I understand who you are - a good person who’s always willing to help her friends, which is, of course, noble of you. However, someone should finally tell you that you don’t have to insert yourself into every potentially life-threatening situation for them. In fact, as a Ravenclaw, you should be, and I believe you are, clever enough to talk them out of entering such situations themselves, which is just as good.”

You wanted to tell him that quite the number of these situations you didn't expect to be as dangerous as they turned out to be, and you were literally thrust into many of them. Not to mention there were simply some things you had to do… 

But you didn’t say a single word. Not only did Professor Fig specifically ask you to keep quiet about your ancient magic abilities (which were the reason you got into these situations in the first place), but you knew that if professor Sharp knew… Well, he’d most likely try to get you to stop. Something that was absolutely unthinkable.

Sharp was watching you like a hawk, obviously trying to see if he could find an answer to at least one of his no doubt plenty of questions fleetingly appearing in your eyes. The feeling of comfort the potion he gave you turned into mild dizziness again, and you felt a sudden need to sit up. The potions master seemed to have anticipated as such because he was helping you into a sitting position not a second later, his strong hands having no problem lifting your upper body up from the cot. You were glad for his help, as you honestly felt like you were suddenly made of solid lead.

"Could you kindly enlighten me as to why you mad lot would even enter such a place?" He asked after the dizzy spell went away again. You still felt exhausted, but decided it was easier to answer his questions now, especially if he let you off the hook afterwards.

"Sebastian's sister… She's ill. Well, cursed. But you probably know that sir," you rasped out, wrapping your arms around you to battle the coolness of his office. "Indeed I do," answered the professor, "truly awful what happened to her."

He actually sounded remorseful, but also appeared to have lost himself in his head a little bit: "So what, were you searching for a cure down there? I can assure you, you will find no cures to any ailments under Salazar Slytherin's name, it's not one of the things he was famous for… And unless Mungo Bohnam himself left a little scriptorium of his own here, I am afraid you won't find Miss Sallow's cure in these corridors at all."

The teacher suddenly looked ten years older than he usually looked. You didn't know just how old he was, your guess was perhaps mid-forties, but then again, this and his previous job may have caused him to age prematurely. You realised that he and Anne were in quite similar situations, and seeing as he, an adult, and an experienced former auror was not able to find a cure for his leg, he didn't give Anne too many chances either. 

It was all rather horrible, you thought. You've only met Anne for a while, but she seemed like a genuinely sweet person you could see yourself being friends with. And professor Sharp? Well, he was very different from the teachers you used to have before you came to Hogwarts. In the best way possible. He was strict, like they were, but also fair. He was tough and looked like a man not to be messed with. He administered both criticism and praise where they were due, and was very honest and open about everything. You had to admit that you enjoyed both the potion class, and his extra lessons to help you catch up to your classmates. 

It was a little alarming to see a man who normally radiated authority so… down.

"I think," you said after several minutes, "I think Sebastian is trying to find… the curse itself. Because when he does, finding a cure should be easier…"

"His sister was cursed by a goblin though, no? What makes you think you'd find something about goblin curses down there?"

"I don't… I don't know. I just wanted to help Sebastian."

The potions master sighed heavily, tapping his healthy foot on the stone floor, and you thought you heard him utter something about you being 'so bloody loyal, it’s a wonder you’re not a Hufflepuff.'

"And did you find anything?" He asked after a while, once more fixing you with an intense expression.

"No, not a thing, sir. Some old books and scrolls, half-eaten by rats and other vermin, some egocentric busts and statues of Slytherin himself, a goblet of something I almost drank after… after the torturing curse, because I was so thirsty, but then I realised that the cup's been sitting there for maybe 900 years at least and it might not be wise."

"See, Miss (L/N), you're learning the art of 'not dying' quickly. Indeed, you should not drink anything that's been standing in a cup for 900 years," Sharp said in a deeply sarcastic voice, and he looked like he wanted to throw his hands up in the air. He calmed himself down with several deep breaths: "And that's it?"

"That's it."

Hold on… Something was amiss. What was it? There was one book that wasn't eaten away by any creepy crawlies, wasn't there? A book…

"Are you perfectly certain?" the teacher asked once more, watching you intently.

Should you tell him about the spellbook Sebastian picked up? Did he and Ominis tell him about it? Sharp wouldn't be asking you if you found anything of interest if he knew about the spellbook, would he? It was at the tip of your tongue when you remembered:

'It’s a personal spellbook of one of the founders of Hogwarts! There’s got to be something in there that will let me reverse the curse! Anne will be cured!'

Sebastian sounded like a child on Christmas when he said that, all the while Ominis was pale as a ghost and you were trying not to tremble too much from Crucio’s pain. In the brunet’s voice was something that was just so absolutely convinced that he was right. And what is he was? What if he could really cure his sister with some counter-curse from the book? Maybe then you could also use it and help heal Sharp. What if Sharp took it away in fear that you may use the book for wrong, or that the book itself had a curse put on it? 

Should you tell him?

Your mouth opened and you took a deep breath. A feeling in your chest was telling you that you were signing a deal with the devil, but the 'yes' that rolled from your lips sounded perfectly calm and sincere. 

And there it was. You lied to a teacher who told you explicitly that he hated it when somebody lied to him. But you decided you were doing so out of good intentions. Like when you kept your mouth shut about ancient magic.

He sighed once more: "Alright then… I hardly think that you'd tell me if your goal was to become a dark witch, so I suppose this will have to do."

"I can assure you, sir, that's not the case," you replied weakly before you could stop yourself, "I hate those."

"Oh," Sharp asked, his interest seemingly peaked again, "meet many dark witches?" You cursed yourself inwardly, the last thing you needed was for him to probe at you even more: "I've met a few, sir. But it was enough for me to decide that I hated them…"

The professor's eyes were as sharp as his name, and you felt his gaze burning holes into you. Finally, he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, deep in thought. And then he spoke again, his voice softer this time: "What is it you're not telling me? What is it that causes the bruises and the cuts on your face I see each time you come back from 'a visit to Hogsmeade'? And do not try telling me that you crashed into a shrub or fell off your broom, this excuse can only work on me so many times…"

The professor looked genuinely concerned. He was the first professor to question your occasionally banged appearance, the only one who insisted you tell him over and over again. "Are you in any kind of trouble?" He continued, "Because if you are, just tell me, and I promise I'll do my best to help you."

You put your hands on your face.

"Why can't you tell me?"

You did not answer. You didn't even take your hands away. The office was overtaken by silence. It must have been after curfew, as you heard no sounds from the corridors beyond the potion classroom. After what felt like hours, Sharp sighed once more. "Despite what some students may say about me, I am actually not some heartless monster. I won't make you tell me by force. But please, please, Miss (L/N), can you promise me one thing?"

It took a while, but you cautiously lowered your hands to look at him. He looked tired once more, but he didn't drop his gaze from you for a single second: "If you start feeling you're in over your head, if you feel like you need help, be it anything you're dealing with, please... Come to me. Even if it's just for a phial of Skele-Gro…"

Aesop Sharp was a good man, you decided, and a minute later, you found yourself nodding your head.

"Good," he said.

"May I be dismissed, sir?"

"Dismissed? Lass, the only place you're leaving here for is the Hospital wing! And given the nature of the curse that was cast on you, and the caster, I rather think that you wouldn't like that, would you?" You grimaced. Damn. You truly did not need more attention drawn to your little adventure into Slytherin's scriptorium. Obviously having no other options, you carefully lowered yourself until you were lying down again.

"Do you need anything? Food, water, are you warm enough?" Asked the teacher then, his voice softer once more. "I'm alright, thank you, sir," you replied and closed your eyes. They were so heavy, you felt like you might not open them again. 

"Sleep, Miss (L/N)."

—

When you woke up, you felt disoriented once more, and it took you a few seconds to realise where you were, and what sort of events led up to this situation. Looking around the office, illuminated by the faint morning light coming from the window behind professor Sharp’s desk, you saw the man himself sitting in his chair, sound asleep. His hands were loosely folded in his lap, his leg was propped up on a little footstool he must’ve conjured up for himself, as you’ve never seen it there before (could teachers, unlike students, conjure things in Hogwarts outside of the Room of Requirement? Most likely, how else would he have gotten your cot in here?), and his head was hanging to the side. The silence of the room was occasionally cut through by a snore from the teacher. 

He looked quite a few years younger while he slept, the line between his eyebrows gone, his face relaxed and open, much softer than it normally was. You supposed he was not at all bad-looking when he wasn’t currently giving Garreth Weasley the snarl of Chimaera. 

You lay there, panic slowly creeping in. Was he going to tell the Headmaster about your little adventure to the Scriptorium? Maybe professor Weasley? Fig? Has he already told them? Were you in trouble?

You shortly considered sneaking past the professor and away into your dorm. You were itching to have a nice hot bath and change into a different set of robes. You fainty remembered that Sharp cast a cleaning charm on them, yet they still felt grimy on your body, because what you remembered perfectly was the pain you went through in them. At that moment when Sebastian cast Crucio on you, it felt like your very clothes were choking and burning you, like they were covered in salt and your skin under them was scratched and cut up. You decided to burn them the first chance you got and get a new set from Mr Hill.

Once more you thought about making an attempt to leave but ultimately decided against it. The man was an ex-Auror for crying out loud, there’s no way he wouldn’t wake up if you as much as made a single step from the bed. He probably put a ward on it to alert him were you to get up. Not to mention it would solve absolutely nothing. He knew of the Scriptorium, and he knew of the Cruciatus curse. The only thing you’d achieve if you tried to sneak past him would probably be angering him. 

And so you stayed put, reclining on the cot. It was quite comfortable, which was something you couldn’t appreciate much most mornings. Even when you didn’t have classes to attend, you rarely allowed yourself to indulge in sleeping in, much less just lazying around in bed after you woke up. There was always something to do, somebody to help, someone to run an errand for, a beast to rescue, a potion to brew, a plant in need of fertilising or harvesting, a hot spot of ancient magic, or a Merlin trial to solve. You were a busy woman, you didn’t have time to lie around. And yet, as you did, you had to admit that you felt more well-rested than you had in weeks. 

Professor Sharp on the other hand you thought couldn’t be very comfortable. You were never able to fall asleep sitting up, even during long hours spent on the train when you and your family went for a holiday to St Ives, and the first class coupe you used had seating that was much more comfortable than his chair seemed. But then again, maybe there was some sort of cushioning charm placed on it to make it comfier. 

But then again, maybe not, you thought as a quiet but obviously pained groan replaced the professor’s snore suddenly. “Oh, Merlin’s saggy left-...” growled professor Sharp, his lips forming into a thin line and and the wrinkle returning to between his brows. His hand disappeared into the insides of his robes and searched around in the breast pocket for a bit, before resurfacing with a vial of green liquid. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and gulped the potion down in a single swallow, breathing heavily before his muscles finally relaxed once more.

The potions master opened his eyes, dark circles underneath them indicating that he himself didn’t rest quite as well as you. “Miss (L/N),” he said his voice rough from his slumber, “please know that I hope that you won’t get yourself into such a situation again not for only your sake, but for my own as well. I am entirely too old and too tired for sleeping arrangements like these.” Your quiet apology went unanswered.

A few minutes passed with the teacher having closed his eyes once more, and you would’ve thought that he had fallen asleep again, had his hand not been slowly tapping on the armrest. “How do you feel?” he asked without opening his eyes, and you were actually quite glad for that. “Much better, sir,” was your answer, “thank you… For taking care of me.” His dark eyes opened and bore into your own, their intensity nearly enough to make a chill run down your spine: “That’s not what you’re supposed to thank me for. Or did you think I’d just leave you there, half collapsed in your own sick? Is that what you think of me?” You cringed, your eyes screwing shut.

After a few moments of silence, Sharp sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I suppose I am a bit… grumpier than usual because of my aching body. And while I wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of sleeping in a chair were it not for your little suicidal adventure, it is not your fault that I am an old man…” “You’re not old… sir,” you replied, not really knowing why, you just… you just didn’t like seeing him so resigned. You respected the professor a lot, and you were confident that despite his bad leg, he was very much a force to be reckoned with.

He sighed again: “Be that as it may, know that I would not leave you there. I’m responsible for each and every one of my students. The official job description is teaching you lot the art of potion-making, but every member of staff is sworn to do everything in their power to protect the students. Yesterday evening’s events mean that we have failed in this aspect. And while failure is undoubtedly a part of the learning process, I certainly do not take it very well.

“Now, you shouldn’t be grateful to me because I took care of you, as absolutely any and every one of your professors would’ve done the same. What you should, however, be grateful for is the fact that I kept your little adventure to myself. And I am still not convinced I am doing the right thing doing so.  The fact that Mr Sallow used the Cruciatus curse on you is very concerning. The fact he even knows the curse is concerning! However, as he used it to get all of you out of that place, I might be able to forgive it. I plan to have a long talk with him about it, however. Being friends with Mr Gaunt, he should know better than to meddle with dark arts. He’s a bright young man, I don’t want him to end up in Azkaban because of youthful stupidity. You’re all terribly clever, it’d be an awful waste to lose you because you decided to bite off more than you can chew. And entering a place built by a man who was a single Unforgivable away from being considered a dark wizard is absolutely more than a fifth-year can chew, no matter how capable.

“That said, I offer you a deal - you tell me all about this excursion of yours, beginning with the location of the entrance, so that I can later make sure it is no longer accessible to anyone, followed by a detailed description of the events that transpired so that I can make a clearer picture about the whole situation, and I in return keep it all to myself. Mind, you and your friends will be scrubbing cauldrons by hand for the following few evenings so that I can make sure you’re staying out of trouble and not, for whatever reason, doing something as insane as going back.” You opened your mouth to protest, but before you had the chance to even take a breath, the professor spoke again: “You were mad enough to go there in the first place, how do I know you’re not mad enough to return, even with all that happened? 

“Well, Miss, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”

And so you told him. You told him about Ominis’ aunt and her disappearance within the centuries-old Scriptorium. You told him about a passage that could only be opened by one who can speak the tongue of snakes, therefore making the very first of the rooms a certain deathtrap for anyone and everyone who is not of Slytherin’s descent. You told him of statues that would strike as real snakes would if one took too much time solving their riddles. And finally, about learning of Noctua’s heart-wrenching and untimely demise at the hands of Salazar’s cruel trial. You then described the Scriptorium itself in length, leaving out the part where you found Slytherin’s spellbook.

“So there is another entrance?” asked Sharp, his arms crossed over his chest. He was listening to you attentively, only occasionally asking you to specify or fill in a few things. “Yes, professor,” you replied, “however, I don’t know whether it can be accessed from outside as well.” The potions master thought for a bit: “It would be good to retrieve the poor woman’s remains from there so that she can be given a proper burial, but I do not want to distress Mr Gaunt even more than he already was when I spoke with him yesterday by asking him to go back with me, not to mention bearing witness to yet another instance of the Cruciatus curse, so it would be convenient if the room could be accessed from the other side.”

You bit at your lip nervously. “With all due respect, professor Sharp,” you spoke then, your voice quiet, “Ominis said his aunt and the rest of his family weren’t exactly on the best of terms. I’m not sure if they would give her a proper funeral.” “They may not, but your friend Ominis might… Well, best not to trouble the young man even more now, he seems to have a lot on his mind as is.”

“Will you… will you keep this whole thing to yourself, sir?”

“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep, Miss (L/N). You told me everything I wanted to know, and I will keep my end of the bargain. I must, however, still discuss with Mr Sallow about his knowledge and uses of Unforgivable curses. There are some curses whose usage could perhaps be excused in some cases, but when we start to do so with the Unforgivables, we’re on our merry way back into the Dark Ages, when wizards and witches would calmly cast the Imperius curse at anyone who was merely mildly inconveniencing them. These curses were outlawed for a reason. Please, tell me that your classmate didn’t teach it to you…”

You squirmed in your seat. Sebastian did offer to teach it to you, but you said no. Should you tell Sharp? No, no… Best not to, Seb was in enough trouble as it was, no need to make it worse.

“He did not. And after I felt what it can do, I know it’s for the best… Nobody should know a spell like that! It’s so… unfair. It’s like… It’s like bringing a rifle into a sword fight.”

“That is a very good comparison, Miss,” said the potions master, “and you best never forget that. These spells are like poison, they’re unnatural, and each one tears away at your very humanity. I know that you wish to remain loyal to your friends, and I, once more, praise you for that. But I implore you to discourage your classmate from using such a spell again, even if it’s for a ‘good thing’. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You nodded solemnly. You truly hoped there never came a time in which you’d have to once more witness the foul spell, or any of the other two Unforgivables. Sebastian wasn’t that kind of boy - yes, he did teach you one unsanctioned spell once before, but it wasn’t exactly a dark spell. If you were honest, you used it more during Merlin trials than against adversaries. 

You hoped you were doing the right thing still, not bringing up the book your friend your friend left the Scriptorium with.

Aesop Sharp watched you intently, possibly hoping that you’d perhaps shed some more light on the situation, but when several minutes passed in absolute silence, he cleared his throat, stretching himself once more. “Now…” he said, “I don’t know how about you, Miss, but I could eat a Hippogriff right now.” Despite yourself, and despite the dark thoughts swirling about in your head, you actually giggled: “If you do, sir, make sure it’s not white with orange eyes, that one’s a friend of mine.” 

The professor scoffed: “Friends with a Hippogriff, all the travelling merchants around the Highlands, and two of Slytherin’s three biggest troublemakers. I will need to keep a closer eye on you. This isn’t a joke, by the way, I do intend to keep an eye on you - the things Fig tells me combined with what all I hear about you doing is quite concerning.”

You gulped. You knew he’d find out about everything, sooner or later. After all, even professor Weasley was more than a little suspicious about your activities, but you managed to evade her questions by performing brilliantly in class and helping everybody you encountered. Professor Sharp, a former Auror, would certainly have no problem finding out the truth in the end.

There was only one solution. You had to work faster and harder, You had to carry on with the Keepers’ trials, and you had to stop Ranrok from opening war upon the Wizarding world. And ideally not die in the process. And, hopefully, then Sharp would understand. Maybe he’d even forgive you for the secrecy and the lies.

The teacher sighed and ran his hand over his face. 

“What I said yesterday stands. If you need help, you know where to find me. I won’t turn you away. I promise…”

He stood then, towering over your form, still reclining upon the cot.

“Come on, you’ll tag along with me to the Great Hall, so I can make sure your encounter yesterday didn’t leave any lasting effects. In case it has, perhaps your fellow students will find the sight of you limping next to me amusing.”

You grinned. Despite everything, you truly appreciated Sharp’s sense of humour: “Very well, sir.”

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story. As always, you can find this fic and all of my other works over on my AO3

I am always very grateful for feedback 🥰

#fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #aesop sharp and reader #aesop sharp x reader #protective aesop sharp #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #hurt/comfort #ravenclaw reader #aesop sharp and mc #aesop sharp is a good teacher #reader instert

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Twenty Songs Challenge, written after being so lovingly inducted by the powerhouse that is sweet Mey, @the-ugly-swan . Challenge being to choose twenty favorited songs and write one shots based off of them with any pairing or fandom of my choosing. Being a weirdo and a little burned out in my own created universes beyond the fics already in works, I chose what currently inspired me most, obscure as it is.

Pairing: Henry “Hotspur” Percy and Lady “Kate” Mortimer Percy -early 15th century

Fandom: RPF, Shakespeare? Tom Glynn-Carney’s 5 magnificent minutes of a performance as Hotspur in <The King 2019> the armor alone was amply inspiring. The Hollow Crown fans feel free to imagine whoever, as you like. I love this historical pairing in about any iteration and the plot is drawn from both Shakespeare’s play and real history, the timeline, plot and politics being pretty self explanatory through the incorporated dialogue. NOTE- wordplay ahead with “cur” and “Kerr”, the latter being a Scottish clan holding great enmity with the Percy Family and charged with holding the Scottish side of the border. Also I kept Lady Percy’s name as “Kate” even though it was technically Elizabeth in the records.

Dynamic: a rough northern lord and his too good for him lady -a lady who has, through years of an arranged marriage gone horribly well, come to find his homespun gallantry and blunt ways more than a little intoxicating when knelt before her in amused deference. She could almost find it in herself to be gentle with him -if he hadn’t just started a rebellion whilst away from her at the Capitol.

Dedicated to my wifey @prompted-wordsmith who I did proselytize into the Percy cult one fevered evening with inestimable results, including her contribution of a few choice lines herein.

🕯As it Was ~ Hozier

“There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was”

Warnings: 18+ to be safe. a small amount of sexual content, flirtations, a husband and wife touching in public, verbal sparring and talk of making children and use of the word “bred”, swearing, use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

The sound of hooves in the courtyard rouses Kate from her anxious stupor by the hearth, toilsome grain list forgotten on her lap. The scroll swishes to the floor at her abrupt standing, wafting out of her path as she rushes to the window.

First the clatter of a single, foremost, over-eager rider, followed at a lag by his retinue, skilled riders all and armored as befits the guard of a nobleman. They make such a clatter in the yard when they come in after him. Some petty part of her briefly considers the tactic of staying here in their chambers in protest, a quiet sign of disapproval with his errand, of discontent with his brusque leave taking two weeks agone.

Her Harry would find her anyway, and like it better that she were in their chambers. He would like it well she were so near the bed and like it ill she slighted him in her dutiful welcome -but he would not speak of that. Not one for speaking much, her husband, not on matters that plague her these days, weeks, months. Kate might have it out with him in the old way and slap him about and toss cold quips and get from him little more than the same benign aggravation and good humored laughs between, a couple dozen kisses to her neck and a grapple in the sheets.

That is what talk they would undertake were she to stay up here.

It is that lone, eager, forerunning clatter of his horse that speaks to her, speaks for him. Just as his sword and his reputation and his gruff graciousness has spoken well of him across these northern lands, his eagerness to return to her, to outstrip his men in haste to be back from his fool’s errand and into her embrace -it is all the declaration of devotion she may expect from him. It is the truest form, without jape lacing his tone or tonic of lust clouding his confessions.

Harry Hotspur, as fast to return to his wife as he is to meet a fight.

It is love, of the sort she has grown to be grateful for, and it is that and fear of losing it besides, that rushes her out from their chambers and down the polished steps, out to the great hall and past the giant outer doors, cursing a lousy servant or five and ordering a bath and commissioning supper and refreshments as she goes. The torch flames bend from her flight, a whoosh and a shadow stalking Alnwick Castle’s stone passageways until the gray light of evening pours into her sight from the opened great doors. Squires and stable boys clutter her path but they part as she dashes, nay, only a dignified hasten now, out into the courtyard where nearly all of this fool’s troup have dismounted.

There are doffed helms to the Lady Percy, the jangle of chain mail crinkling with bows and scraps of deference all around them, but she sees only him, with mist dripping on his nose and a face too boyish for the insolence he has returned from discharging.

“Kate.” he utters.

Will ever he say her name lazily? She hopes not, for that alone she will endure the unwarranted cheerfulness with which he greets her on this dire occasion. She has heard it said in anger, in jest and in passion, vows and quips, praise and warning. And now in cheerful pleasure as evening mist soaks her gown and the heavy clunk of her husband's footsteps clang ever near her on the paving stones.

“Lord husband.” she greets, hands folded over her freshly healed womb.

His stride falters and he rocks back on his spurred heels, an arms length away, an embrace so tangible she can see his jaw tick from the watering of his mouth. “Lord husband is it?” he repeats thoughtfully, eyes drifting down to the paving stones for a brief moment as if to recollect some forgotten crime, they flick up soon and in them is jesting scrutiny, “My lady wife rushed all this way, down five corridors and a furlong of Keep only to greet me thus?”

Did her rising breath betray her eagerness? Could he see her in the hall despite his business dismounting?

“Your cheeks are red.” he shows her mercy, some form of it. His form. “But -Lord husband, it is, nevertheless?”

“Unless you would prefer ought else?” she inquires, he had once thought this smile quite chilling, he had admitted after their first babe, now he finds it rousing, he has admitted after their third.

“If it please you.” his shifting stance is noisy, his tabard and sword and still clutched helm a racket of accouterments in the pattering rain.

“I have any number to offer,” she concedes, stepping nearer, a lady’s step, covering one third of the ground between them that he might vanquish in a single stride. Still, he waits. “Knucklehead.” she whispers, her breath a fog and her insult as lost as vapor in the ears of his watching men, her bearing alone must satisfy their curiosity, as must his growing smirk and rising color, “Jackenape.” Another step until each little scar on his face is visible and the little canyons each raindrop make of them. She saw his finger twitching where it grasped his visor “Cur.”

There was the slightest flinch between his brows at that, a furrow that smoothed as his mirthful lips flattened out. “Careful now, lady wife, with words like Kerr* thrown about, my men might think you presumptuous, their lady gone and married to some other, a Scottish laird at that. So sure of my death already, sweet Kate, that you must speak of Kerrs in mine own yard? Ha, ‘pon my word you are qu-“

“Hush!” Her hand, fresh warmed as it was by recent hearthside and rich velvets pressed frimly to his lips, a tingle shooting straight to her toes at touching him at last. He was silent then, only the puff of breath against her fast chilling fingertips. “Tease me not so,” she begged, her own mirth gone out in her eyes, her arch look turned to grief, “not when you are just returned from an errand all but ensuring such an end. It is too cruel, even of you. Handle me kindly, Percy, as you always have, in words this time, if not in embrace.”

He seemed to ponder this before raising that hand not occupied with his helm, clumsy and clad in gauntlet as it was, to her wrist, wrapping the chilled and layered steel round her pale flesh and gently tugging her hand from his lips, only so far as to press it to his cheek instead, their audience of men at arms unheeded. “I betook myself to London,” he enunciated, as if it were their first night all over again and his thick borderland drawl too strong for her courtly ears to decipher, “to remind a king of his debts.”

“And tell me!” she cried fiercely, a choked, barely quieted protest as her hands dug into the wet leather of his jerkin, wrist twisted from the steel grasp, “What errand is that but a fool’s? Have you no fear at all left in this bruised carcass? Do I patch up an animated corpse time and again from your wars only for it never to have soul and feeling and wisdom in it? Do I, Harry? Gone to remind a king? How do you dare such?”

“It is he who has dared too much!” he cried back, loudly where her’s had been choked, a ringing and rebauld defense, worthy of a man who would chastise his monarch in full view of council. “First his debts, and now my son’s land! We did not make children so as to watch like blithe cowards as their birthright is bequeathed out from under our feet -piecemeal!- to a courtly cunt whose only recommendation is his alacrity to pucker and bow.”

Kate glanced about her at the men making show of industry, piddling at harnesses and armaments, walking horses in circles. Her husband's words could be no worse than what he had said to the King’s own face, anyone without stomach to become a rebel would have stayed behind in the Capitol, sensing dissension brewing. Lady Percy could perceive none missing from his number. So, a war it was to be, then.

“So, a new generation of Percys is to play at kingmaking.” she summarized.

“We make no boast of it.” Harry protested in turn.

“No,” said she, “why would you with how poorly your last choice has served you?”

That caused a start from him, a step forward that was neither gallant nor eager but angry as man to man. Kate, still with hands fisted in the crooks of his armor, stepped with him, backwards to his hall. “It is your brother with the better claim.” he showed his plan at last, a slow and conniving admission, one not common for his brash ways and straightforward mind.

Kate gasped at the implication. “Edmund?”

“He was proper heir, all along.”

“Your father-“ she chose her wording carefully, “-did not agree.”

“My father’s preference is not law.”

“It is mistaken for such, often.” Kate smirked in reply. “And Edmund is not suited-“

“-Edmund is not the turd now stealing from his vassals!” her Harry rejoined, his helmet pressed to her chest, “Edmund will do.” he reiterated once more.

Kate stared at his temper, the signs of it in his flaring nose and his wild eyes, the cure was between her thighs but watching mist drops fall from unblinking lashes was sweet prelude indeed. “Edmund,” she replied quietly and in a manner to be heeded, “is not willing or suited, he prefers instead to listen to welsh bards and lay upon the lap of his savage wife.”

Her Harry rolled his eyes at her truth, an admission, or the closest to one, she would ever receive. As if battling some great inner turmoil she watched him purse his lips and heave out a sigh before in a sudden movement the helm was tossed to the ground -much to the scramble and reaction of a half a dozen squires who ran to pick it up from its puddle- and suddenly steel hands were upon her hips, tugging her near to him even as she shied away, her face turned in a pantomime of demureness. “Strange,” he said and his tone suggested he still pondered her report of her brother's amorous preoccupations, “-and her lap so less Devine than mine own wife’s.”

“Then why do you haste from it so often?” she whined, delivering a smack against his belted tabard, right where the lions paraded across his right breast.

“Only a man dying of thirst appreciates that water has a flavor.” he reasoned and Kate allowed the open mouthed kisses that crept down her neck, her face turned stubbornly still to the south wall. The blacksmith's roof will be in need of new thatching soon, before spring. Before war.

She feels stubble against her tender skin, bracketing those pretty lips she once derided him for. No warrior ought to have lips like that, it was not seemly, not when maidens were denied such richness, such fullness, such rosy hue. But there is roughness about his lips and on his jaw as it tucks into the juncture at her shoulder, that show of clavicle her dress allows drawing him in like a siren’s song. He must’ve rode hard the entire way, no inns or refreshment, no shaving or baths, straight to her as from a battlefield. The King’s city is just as loathsome as any field of carnage, but he went to free her brother, to get a ransom, to reclaim their stolen land, to remind a king.

He did it for her, and the babes she gave him.

Kate turns her face from the blacksmith's thatch and raises her hand to his face, tenderly stroking the three days' beard that's grown as he's been on the road, riding hard to get to her. They have backed nearly to the hall’s mouth, the drip of rain off the gutter patters behind her on the threshold, Kate knows he can smell supper and hear the clatter of their children racing to meet him on still chubby legs. How different is the love of home, man to woman, Harry would sooner fight for it and she would cower within. Her thumb swipes at the raindrops making farce of tears upon his cheek.

"Princess," he breathes against her palm as he crushes her into his chest, still half armored and agonized for it as he cannot feel her softness with the cuirass, the leather, the chainmail. There are curves and bosoms and soft flesh he knows too well just on the other side of this awful barrier.

Princess will be her title if his treason succeeds, if her brother wears that cursed crown. “Princess”. It sours her mouth, but it is kind of him to wish it for her.

"You will come back, Harry.” she commands of him, she declares the outcome of this brewing war, “Soaked in the blood of feckless scum, you will come back and put another babe in me. A little prince or princess," she hisses in his ear, and she can tell he freezes at that, her concession to his treason, still as stone in his metal casings.

His eyes are ever so blue as they search hers.

"So I forbid any recklessness, my Lord Husband. Because I want this - " and her hand slips beneath his jerkin and the hem of mail to squeeze his cockstand most assuredly, as assuredly as she was that he would be sporting one for her, gripping it as one might grasp a chalice of wine during a toast "- and the rest of you, in one piece." Harry slumps against her shoulder, panting into the chilled hair and too heavy for her little frame. "Or so help me God." she intones, sharper than any steel he wields. "Swear it, Harry." She gives him another punishing squeeze, and he groans, agonized, as his mouth meets with the softness of her bound bosom, his knees the hardness of the stone cobbles. If she hadn't promised a use for his cock, he'd think she was liable to geld him herself at his presumption to seat and unseat a king, but now that he is out of her grip, for a moment, and looks up at her with such longing he fears his soul has left his chest for hers.

"So help me God." he agrees, it is in providence’s hands, after all, and in Kate’s clasped one’s atop his head.

“Fool.” she says once more as she bends over him, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to her belly and her chilled fingers to his sopping hair, “It is not my brother these men fight for, nor for me. Not when it is you that calls them to it.”

“For what then?” He mumbles into her womb, hands heavy on her hips, the courtyard’s occupants dispersed into the shadows of the eaves, but a couple dozen peering eyes twinkle towards them in the twilight’s gloom.

“How often have I heard it said here, in this very courtyard.” Kate scoffs, observing the strength knelt so adoringly before her, “Have I dreamed each cry of ‘no prince save he be a Percy?’ Ha, to think they fight for a Mortimer, indeed. Ha!”

Harry staggers to his feet at this poke, it is, as are so many of his Kate’s wounds, half torment, half praise. His blood pounds with the elixir of her acknowledgment of his capability. “It is well then, Kate Mortimer,” he recites, daring now to put his lips very near her own, to nuzzle his strong nose with her hawkish one, to tip a chin and bat an eyelash against her wet cheek, “it is well that you are Percy now yourself, through and through, wed-“ his lips meet hers in a brush she chases after, “-and bred.”

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

Hope all five of you who read that enjoyed it. 😆 I know it’s a fragment but as I’m nothing but hyper fixated when some interests resurrects in me, I’ll probably be back with more of them. Drop a note below if you’d like to be on a taglist for such developments.

#rpf #Shakespeare fanfiction #Shakespeare characters #but also #the middle ages #medieval #medieval history #the hollow crown #Kate Percy #Kate Mortimer #edmund mortimer #Henry Hotspur Percy #Harry Hotspur Percy #war of the roses #henry percy #Richard ii #gonna go ahead and tag this as #tom glynn carney #as he was faceclaim #the king 2019 #Tom Glynn Carney Fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #northumbria #joe armstrong #michelle dockery #period drama

[transprincecaspian]

Kyr Farwhisper - The Dark Urge

"Everyone has unseemly thoughts. Being able to quieten them is what sets us apart from the beasts."

Sharing some screenshots from my Dark Urge playthrough, which has just about hit 21 hours. BE WARNED. EVERYTHING BELOW THE READ-MORE LINE IS SPOILERS FOR THE DARK URGE PLAYTHROUGH. There is spoiler content, gore, and violence beyond! I tag with "#durge spoilers" if you want to block.

[Narrator: *You have nothing in your skull, besides your name and a headache. But you are in danger.*

Curse whoever did this to you.

Say your name aloud. You have a part of yourself.

Take a deep breath, shake your head, and start anew.]

The Dark Urge, in my opinion, is an origin that is preferable even to the custom ones that a player can make. Like the origins we get from the other PCs, such as Shadowheart or Astarion, there are custom cutscenes, content, and dialogue options specifically tailored to the Haunted past that you bring to the party. The Dark Urge isn't a play-through I would recommend if you want the feeling of a Noble, Righteous Hero. In some ways, it can be very stereotypically "edgelord"; you have little memory of your past, and are prone to violent and grotesque proclivities.

I suppose if you wanted to truly run an evil route and see how many dear companions you could kill along the way, you could play this route as Indulgent, or giving into the Dark Urge. I chose to play Kyr as a hopeless struggle; he is frightened by himself, and does his best to resist his dark temptations and try to do good. Resistance. It's made for a delightfully fulfilling roleplay experience, especially because I have chosen to romance Wyll on this play-through.

Even recruiting Astarion can be a little frightening.

The intro runs about the same, except when you wake up on the Nautiloid, you are bloodied, frightened, and have no memory of how you got there. In fact, there are no real signs that there is anything wrong with you, at least not in the dialogue you get until after the crash. Everyone's a little nervous, on edge, and then you have the chance to recruit Gale from his little portal. If you give into the Urge... it goes poorly. Fantasize about chopping his hand off?

I didn't make this canon for Kyr's run, but I was curious what would happen. I don't know what becomes of Gale, if you can recruit him later--if you can, how strange. You did just remove his hand for seemingly no reason. Astarion, too, has something to say about it immediately after.

This is your first sign that the Dark Urge run is going to be, well.. full of dark urges. Kyr seems to have a strange and compelling urge to commit harmful, violent acts--but doesn't seem to be aware he's doing it. I went back and he recruited Gale normally, resisting the weird desire to fantasize about chopping a man's hand off. Things were quiet--for a little bit.

Lots of dialogue choices specialized for the Dark Urge present in one of two, maybe three ways--commit this horrible act, or be shocked by your perversions and resist. Along with all of the usual options, such as based around your skill checks and your class. You have fewer culture rolls--you don't remember your past, after all (but you can imply to be Baldurian later on in Wyll's conversations, which I did). The lack of backstory and the amnesia is meant to heighten the strange horror of your situation, but I like building on what Kyr could be missing. A father, maybe, and a mother he never knew.

You can even tell Withers that you don't think your life is worth very much--something that he has a sage rebuke for. It's implied that he might know a little bit more about your circumstances than he's letting on, but if he does, he doesn't deem it fit to share with you.

Back at the camp, you do have options to speak with your party members--even so early--about your concerning affliction. Two new choices are available to you: concern about your memory loss, and concern about your violent urges. So early in the game, I decided I would start to bring up the memory loss. They are... quite flippant! And quick to dismiss your concerns on having to do with the mind-flayer tadpole.

It's late, and I'm getting sleepy, so that's all I'll add for this post. More is to come.

Part 1 | Part 2

#cas plays bg3 #oc: kyrran #oc: kyr #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #durge spoilers #bg3 oc #dark urge spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #fuck it we bhaal

[setzappersto-pew]

I think we all need to take a step back, temper our expectations, try to have some critical thinking skills, and judge the show for what it is instead of what it could or should be. This is Rick Riordan retelling the story for a new generation (in a new medium, which necessitates change--a novel is not the same as a TV/film script) from a future perspective, knowing what the future holds for these characters. He can introduce themes and ideas earlier and hammer them in harder, work on character development in a different way, create slightly altered scenarios to make more tension and drama...because he has a full plan now, not just a bedtime story. Is this future planning a good thing? Debatable. But I'm here for it if it can be done well.

Let's look at episode 6.

While I like our trio just stumbling into places and being dumb kids about it, just vibing at the arcade games while the world spins on...going to the Lotus Hotel with a purpose gives them more agency and drives the story more, even though they still fall into the inevitable trap because they can't escape that magic. Grover's deep desire to be a Searcher (a theme that comes to fruition in the future) is what keeps him stuck there. Percy and Annabeth find Hermes, which brings the conversation back around to Luke; Annabeth's so close to Luke, and Percy is his literary foil, so naturally that's what keeps them trapped. On that subject, focusing so much on Luke and bringing in his backstory so early really hammers in the theme of the gods needing to step up as parents lest they ruin their children's lives and start wars...and the idea that Luke was right, he just chose to do horrible things about it (while also being manipulated by Kronos, I know). We're setting up Kronos and the idea of something much bigger than just the bolt being stolen, which was likely not on Rick's mind in 2005. My point here is that there's more of a thematic purpose with the deviations, and the themes are indicative of a larger story. The downside of this, however, is Hermes kind of giving them the answer--and also keeping them there--instead of Percy figuring out that too much time has passed. You win some, you lose some.

Percy's been given 4 pearls instead of 3? It's meant to set up false hope. One will likely break or get lost, and Percy will still have to make that choice. We hear him say "Hold fast, Mom" in the teaser for episode 7, implying she will stay behind and he will fail to save what matters most. I also think this shows that Poseidon still cares for Sally and Percy, since he seemingly intended for Percy to save Sally too.

The solstice has already passed? Adds higher stakes. Gives Percy a choice: go back to camp, like he wanted to when they were only in New Jersey, or stay the course. He chooses to continue, to do the right thing and try to stop this war and anything beyond (and to save Sally too obviously), the complete opposite of him at first refusing to even go on this quest. He's seen a glimpse of his father's care, has a different perspective on the gods' parenting from Hermes, knows there are worse things to come thanks to his Kronos-dreams, and chooses to hold fast and brave the storm.

Episode 5 had similar complaints. Hephaestus's trap was different, but the goal here was to showcase Percy and Annabeth's growing fondness for each other and Percy's self-sacrificial tendencies and Fatal Flaw of loyalty, as well as establishing Hephaestus as more of a sympathetic ally. No spiders to show Annabeth does get scared (a logistical nightmare they tried but couldn't get to work, according to Rick), but she is scared of being abandoned and of losing Percy just like she did Thalia. Again, this changes Percy and Annabeth defeating the trap by their own skills, but it emphasizes the mindset that Percy holds about the gods being "correct" and the ability for the stubborn gods to be swayed. Grover was just a sidekick in this book chapter, but here he's unfurling the mystery, using his powerful empathy to understand Ares and subsequently trick him into saying too much, providing the misdirection of Clarisse, etc.

Some people need to have a little more patience with this too. No Fates when Percy's leaving Yancy, but we get them later when they show Annabeth the string they cut--which is Luke's lifeline, not Percy's, further tying her to these two characters. I saw some complaints that they skipped the Oracle, only to get it first thing the next episode. Others were worried about Percy's fugitive plotline being gone, when the first real instance of this in the book was after he gets out of the Mississippi River anyway...so, right where we got it in the episode (there was a small instance before they left camp, but I think that's okay to gloss over). Ares presents them with more of this plotline instead of them catching it on a TV, which is such an Ares thing to do so it works for me. No Iris Message in Denver, but we got it in episode 6 when they have more suspicions to report; Luke is still kinda shifty in the call and now he has another person to blame directly, making the misdirection even more fun. Percy and Annabeth don't have their iconic talk in the truck, but they've touched on a lot of it already in other conversations and maybe they will do more before Percy's fight with Ares (she still gives him her necklace as we can see in teasers, so this seems likely). Percy's getting wet under the water instead of staying dry, and we have yet to see him talk to a horse (the zebra is barely seen in episode 6, which I will admit is just silly given the episode title); maybe we'll get those later when it matters more to the plot, instead of just tacking it on as more stuff he can do.

My point here is this: this is not a beat-for-beat adaptation, and I don't think it should be. This is a retelling with the ultimate series themes and events in mind, not just the immediate events. It's got the vibes and the soul of the world and the characters. The deviations still feel like the characters would have made those choices, they still fit in this fictional world. Some are attempting to fix details that worked in 2005 but don't in 2023/2024, or that were extraneous details that filled the pages but not the plot. Some changes emphasize different themes like the gods being able to be swayed in their mindset, while no longer showcasing our heroes skills and abilities--but their skills and abilities are shown in different scenes. It's a trade-off that usually pays off. There are some missteps and pacing issues and exposition issues, but it's a show aimed at kids who don't know the finer points of Greek mythology with 30-40 minute episodes (the latter is Disney's fault). I see the changes and understand that most of them are used to tell the greater story, the story of Percy Jackson and the Olympians, not just The Lightning Thief.

Bottom line: I'm having a good time! This show is making me really happy, while also nailing the emotional beats to really wreck me, and that's all I expected and wanted out of it. I like that some of the changes are making me wonder how things will play out differently with the same end goal ahead; it keeps it fresh and reinvigorates my love for this story. These kids are ACTING, they are these characters, and they have stolen my heart! Do I wish some things weren't changed? Maybe. But different doesn't mean bad. People are allowed to not like it, but I hope they have a good reason for not liking it besides "it's different than the books", especially when it's very much not different in the grand scheme of adaptations. If people would stop crying foul immediately and have some perspective instead, they might have a better experience.

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo tv #riordanverse #annabeth chase #grover underwood #luke castellan #sally jackson #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #aryan simhadri #rick riordan

[whywishesarehorses]

My Wild Horse Story

By Dailynn Palmer, WY

I wanted to write a post about one of the most special horses I’ve ever had come through my life. I’ve worked with hundreds of horses, but my life would not be what it is had this specific mustang not been a part of it.

Meet Oliver.

I forget what HMA Oliver originated from but he was started in a women’s correctional facility in Wy. Oliver had a good start in life and was eventually sold to a wonderful family owned guest ranch/outfitter.

At some point Oliver changed- he became the horse no one wanted to work with. He bucked off some of the best riders who came through that ranch.

I had a series of extremely hard events happen in my life in 2018. I couldn’t face my current life so I decided to disappear to Wy for a time and happened to begin working for this same ranch in 2019.

I worked with some other horses, and listened to everyone talk about the black-listed Oliver. Even one of the other riders, who I truly admired for her skill, was vocally nervous about getting on Oliver. This is someone who would gallop across the 700acre property bareback, jumping anything in sight. I don’t even have the balls to do that.

Well, we were short-mounted one day so I was left with a choice between Oliver and an older gelding. I chose Oliver, and I’m sure glad I did.

There are no words to really describe how this horse healed me. He holds such a special place in my heart, akin to my first horse but so wildly different.

Now this is starting to sound like a fairy tale, huh? Well let’s get something straight- he was an absolute a** when I first started working with him. But I persisted. We spent a lot of hours in the arena just goofing off. Eventually, we built enough of a report for light trail rides outside, which led to days worth of adventures into the wilderness completely alone. We saw the world together. We watched deer, birds, antelope, rabbits, a bobcat and even a couple bears together. This dude had a heart of courage and our adventures together were limitless. Nothing phased him. He reminded me of a time in my youth when nothing mattered and I felt invincible. I felt my fire for life slowly returning and my deep wounds slowly healing.

Eventually, we started with leading out guest trail rides. He loved it. Then we began leading pack-strings in preparation for the hunting season. He loved that. Soon enough, we were leading all the hunters, guides and packhorses through 15mi worth of certified wilderness to go to and from camp. He was a star. Everyone was floored by who this horse had become. I didn’t feel the same way because I simply felt like he was the same Oliver I had to spend a century trying to catch that first day.

Towards the end of hunting season (right around Oct.) things were starting to get very cold and the weather unpredictable. We were headed back from hunting camp, getting close to the ranch, a horrible thunder and hail storm took over earlier than expected. We were leading the pack at this time. We all had to dismount because the lightning was striking so close and quite a few of the horses were shod. It was terrifying. The hail was so strong it would leave marks on your skin, and you couldn’t see a few feet in front of you. We had a long meadow stretch to get through. I was leading three packhorses and Oliver was next to me. He understood his job in that moment and powered forward. He allowed me to shield my face next to his neck and kept me warm as we slowly made it through this wretched storm. It was physically draining and scary. But I had my best friend by my side and a silent assurance from him that he would take care of me and get us home. I trusted him, and at the time it felt like with my life. At that time, we had absolutely leading me.

We made it home.

No damage was apparent until our next pack trip, when I urged Oliver to the front of the line to lead and he stopped completely and refused. He lost all of his confidence in leading, which was his favorite thing a week prior. This broke my heart. It was a slow process but he eventually gained back his courage to lead. It was almost like he rebuilt my courage so that I could help him regain his when the time came.

A month later it was time for me to pack up and leave. I helped haul the horses to their wintering paddock and personally turned Oliver out. I gave him one big hug goodbye and that was the last time I saw that wonderful horse. I have stayed in touch with the owners and have received glowing updates about what a good boy he has been since. But I’ll tell you what, I miss the crap outta that animal.

He wasn’t the prettiest horse on the planet, he had a horrible trot and he was always a difficult catch, but boy do I love that guy. Even now as I write this, I tear up thinking about him and how much he changed me.

I know this was a long post, but I just wanted to share about a mustang that truly changed my life.

[palajae]

tomorrow, again | one.

PAIRING ▸ school president! jungwon x reader x outcast! niki 

GENRE ▸ high school! au, love triangle!, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WORD COUNT ▸ 3k ish

SUMMARY ▸ if you were told that two complete polar opposite guys from your school were eventually going to be fighting over you, you would have laughed it off. that is, until it really happens- but certainly not under the conditions you expect.

AKA jungwon is the peak definition of your school’s itboy and niki is just… there (if and when he actually shows up to school). 

NOTES ▸ mentions of death + related jokes, drug dealers,

masterlist. | next.

1 — WAKE UP.

“i’m sorry, but i can’t.” 

that’s the 12th time you’ve told wonyoung no- and yes, you were counting. she and the others haven’t stopped badgering you for the last week. yet here you were thinking being the head of the yearbook staff was a good idea. one would think you had the ultimatum, but you guess it backfired on you. 

“of course you should be the one to interview our school president, we chose you as the head for a reason!” wonyoung says in a sickeningly sweet tone and you groan as others pitch in their agreement. you don’t know what other excuse to make up and get out of the one thing you absolutely did not want to do. so far all your excuses were bull and they knew it. 

“didn't you quit piano like five years ago?” 

“yeah, and i thought the book club ended for the year already.” 

yujin gives you a apologetic smile. “nice try, y/n, but we know you don’t have other plans. we’re your only friends and your plans are always with us.” 

okay, so they got you there. 

you practically face plant into the desk, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to fend off the denial and accept the truth. but you just can’t. 

if it was literally anyone else in the world- anyone- you would have agreed easily in a heartbeat. 

well, almost anyone. 

“what’s wrong with our school president? he’s our school’s president for crying out loud. i’m pretty sure yang jungwon is one of the nicest people here,” wonyoung asks innocently and you want to curl up into a ball. 

yang jungwon. a senior in the grade above you. (un)luckily for you, he most admittedly had deadly good looks and brain power. you’re sure he got accepted into every college he applied to with that shining executive president badge on his chest. curse popular people like him who were so effortlessly talented.

the man was even deadly skilled at taekwondo. you’re 99% sure he made someone pass out in the past- and that was only a warmup.

but enough of the past, you shake your head. “sure, he is. but no thanks.” 

“now that i think about it,” yuna frowns, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen y/n and jungwon interact before, let alone appear in the same room. like, not even once.” 

“exactly,” you instead nod encouragingly, “so someone else should do it. it’s not that big of a deal. anyone can interview him in no time.“ 

yuna raises an eyebrow, “if it’s not that big of a deal, then why can’t you do it? he’s like the most important person at this school and you’re the most important person on this team.”

the rest join in and you mutter under your breath. “c’mon, y/n! he’s about to graduate and we need to finish his page before he leaves. it can’t be that bad, you know.”

your eye twitches. can it, though? can it really? 

and as much as you try, your attempts to evade the cursed meeting fail- horribly, if anyone was wondering. 

majority vote sucks. 

and it sucks even more knowing that you yourself were the one to implement that rule.

the yearbook draft was due in less than a week, which just again showed how much you were procrastinating this last interview. you couldn’t even describe how much you dreaded this. 

but it had to be done. everyone on the team was relying on you to get the job finished, and you hated to disappoint. 

you despise how easy it is to find jungwon in the hallway. his presence was like a shining beam of light, followed by stares of admiration and whispers from lovesick underclassmen. yeah, he had that kind of reputation. but you also despise how he had the same reputation of being so humble about it while still (kindly) rejecting every girl that confessed to him. 

so, it turns out that it really could have gone that bad. and you like to think that it did. 

first off, you approaching jungwon in itself caused a stir in the hallway. it was completely out of the blue and honestly you felt the same as those random students staring at you. 

you roll your eyes, already regretting your decision to do this in public. but where else could you have confronted him? if you came up to him when he was alone and it was just the two of you- you shiver at the thought- things would have gone even worse. 

you clear your throat to get his attention, not dialing to see his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of you. 

“y/n?”

you ignore the whispers from surrounding people, all of which you’re sure are commenting on how he knew your name. plus others reasoning that he’s the school president and he probably knew everyone’s name.

you suppress the urge to roll your eyes again. 

“i need to interview you for the yearbook. it’ll be short, like thirty minutes max. do you have a day this week that you’re free?” you try to keep your tone as calm and disinterested as possible, gaze focused on the middle of his forehead in order to avoid the horrendous eye contact. 

but when jungwon smirks, you almost lose it, and even more at his next words. 

“are you trying to ask me out?” 

you squint at him and he laughs. what in the world was wrong with this guy?

“whoa, no need to look like that. i’m kidding. how about friday in the library at 4? i have tutoring until 3:30 and cello at-“ 

“yeah. sure. thanks,” you cut him off and push past, eager to escape. you exhale in relief when you’re more than ten feet away from him. at least you got the hard part over. 

or so you thought. 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

when you open the doors to the library on friday, a couple of minutes late, you’re not sure why you suddenly feel nervous. probably because you have to see jungwon again, you remind yourself. and this time, it’s just the two of you. 

you’re not surprised to find jungwon seated at a secluded spot in the corner. of course, he was always on time.  

you mumble a greeting to catch his attention while slipping into the seat across from him. jungwon brightens up when he sees you, and you distract yourself by getting ready. man, you can’t wait to get out of here. 

i’m just going to get started so we can finish early-“ you glance up to find jungwon already staring at you. he nods without breaking eye contact and you adjust your sitting position, uncomfortable. you open your laptop- time to focus. 

you meant it when you said you wanted to finish early, jumping straight into the questions. 

“as our president, do you have any advice to give for the underclassmen?”  

jungwon looks off into the distance while taking his time to think thoughtfully. he straightens up in his chair when he has an answer. “i would say to live your life to the fullest, as much as possible. you can only live once, which means you can only experience high school once. time is precious, so make the best of what you have.” 

the sound of your laptop keys clicking fill the air as you nod, focusing more on getting his answer down than paying attention to what he was truly saying. so far, so good. 

“what made you want to run for and eventually become our school president?” 

while you wait for an answer, this time, your eyes subconsciously fall onto the male sitting in front of you.

you can’t help but studying him and all his features. he finally speaks up and you snap out of it. “it was probably the people in my life. they inspired me to want to do better, be better. they were the ones i became ambitious for. i guess i just,” he pauses for a moment, "i guess i wanted to become the reliable person everyone thought i was."

his words make you hesitate, but you only nod while typing quietly.

“i just didn’t expect the whole popularity explosion,” he adds with a wink and you hold back a scoff. the rest of the interview continues on, with jungwon being strangely cocky and confident and you not succumbing to any of his dumb tricks. 

when you finally scroll down to the last question you internally let out a sigh of relief. but when you read it, you falter. 

“do you have… any regrets?” 

you hate the way you say it, waiting in anticipation for his response. jungwon looks you in the eye and you feel the atmosphere switch as you swallow at his answer. 

“of course.” 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

“what did you do to jungwon?” chaeryeong asks as you walk together to class, “i’ve never seen him act like this before. did it have something to do with that interview you were talking about?”

you sigh in defeat, “yeah, the one for our yearbook.” 

after that day, it was like you kept seeing jungwon everywhere- and you despised it. 

at first, it was something simple and trivial like accidentally making eye contact with him before immediately looking away. but the more it kept happening (you swear on your life it wasn’t on purpose), the more confident jungwon would grow. you despised how he started waving at you, sending you winks, even going so far as to put an arm around you.  

you actually felt so uncomfortable from the stares and whispers surrounding you and him. but it’s not like you could blame them,  you would’ve been exactly the same in their position. 

yang jungwon was the polite and reliable president (that never accepted a single confession or even seemed interested in any), so why was he suddenly flirting with someone he’s never even talked to before- 

you, a junior, and the head of the yearbook staff? 

it was always one of two things. jungwon must like you, or you two must be dating, people figured. you don’t know how many glares you got from girls and how many times you had to explain that you weren’t dating jungwon and he was just being crazy (for some reason that you don’t want to know or think about). 

either way, jungwon’s sudden change in behavior causes a rouse throughout the school. and you’re not okay with it. 

meanwhile, niki simply thinks it’s hilarious (and a little infuriating but he refuses to admit that). it referring to all the rumors surrounding you and jungwon. he’s seen how you try to avoid your own school president at all costs, all in desperate measures. 

but he doesn’t show that he’s amused, of course, and it’s not like anyone was paying attention to him anyway. niki almost wants to join in, though. he’s quite interested in how it would play out if he were to do something. 

little did he know it would soon become that way. 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

you actually hate your chemistry class. 

not because of the subject (well, kinda) but because of your lack of friends in that period. 

everytime the teacher announced some sort of group or partner activity, you were forced to tagalong some already established friend group awkwardly. and there was nothing wrong with that, but you still hated the struggle. 

so when your teacher assigns a partner project nearing the end of the year, you cry internally. assigned project and assigned partners?

even worse. 

you slump down in your seat, waiting for your name to be called. when it is, you perk up. 

“y/n and… niki.” 

your head shoots up as your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. you have actually got to be kidding me, you think. 

as you take the sad walk up to the teacher’s desk to grab the assignment details, you catch a few pitying looks directed at you. god, even the teacher gave you sympathetic smile. 

poor y/n has to work with the loner who barely shows up to school- 

is probably what they’re thinking, but oh no, not you. 

you don’t dare look your partner in the eye as you awkwardly hand him a copy, feeling his eyes actually burn holes into you. 

you think the world is doing this to you on purpose.

at least you have your friends to comfort you at lunch. wonyoung looks at you mournfully, “good luck doing the project by yourself, y/n.” 

you have a blank look on your face as you stare off into the distance. “at least you don’t have to deal with a know-it-all or a creep,” yujin adds. you still don’t budge, not even a single reaction. 

to make it worse, you see jungwon entering the cafeteria with his friends out of the corner of your eye and you turn your head to face the opposite way. then chaeryeong frowns, “i dunno, niki’s always wearing that black hoodies that’s always covering his face. and didn’t someone say that he was a drug dealer-“

“he’s not a drug dealer,” you speak up sharply. 

your friends jump at your sudden entrance into the conversation, the first words you’ve spoken since chemistry class. suddenly, everyone’s curious and you want to bury yourself into a deeper hole. 

“how do you know, y/n?” 

“have you talked to him before? are you guys friends?”

“i swear he’s doesn’t have any friends… have you been lying to us, y/n?”

this time, you get up and stalk out of the cafeteria with a strange finality, failing to notice the two pairs of eyes that follow you out. 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

well, it’s as awkward as you expected. 

the day after receiving the project, you figured it was best to get a head start and suggested niki come over to your place on a whim. mainly because you didn’t think he’d offer his place or even show up in the first place. 

so you stand there gaping when you open the door to reveal niki, a stone-cold expression on his face. the same one he had on at school. or at least, when he showed up. plus the same black hoodie he always had covering half his face. 

wait so, he actually showed up? and also, did he think the whole emo phase was cool or something? 

for the first time though, you look at him.  “u-uh, come in,” you start off lamely. 

niki silently enters and takes a look around your house, noting the changes. you lead him over to the living room, where your stuff already is. you take a seat and so does he, a remarkably wide distance between the two of you on the couch. 

“i just started, but i didn’t know how you wanted to divide up the work,” you speak quietly. you glance at niki nervously only for him to shrug, uninterested.  

you frown, taking a deep breath in, “how about i take the first half and you do the second? we can meet up in a week to check over everything before turning it in?” 

your voice comes out hesitant, shy, unconfident. the silence is unbearable as you study the floor, picking at your hands.  

niki picks up on the action, so he finally says something and his deep voice makes shivers run down your spine. “okay.” 

unsure, you glance up at him.  

“are you sure you can do it? i-i can do some more if-“  you stop when he rolls his eyes.  

“i got it.” 

“okay….” you glance off into the distance, “then that’s all.” 

niki chooses then to leave quietly and you still can’t believe what just happened. 

the week goes by fast, as you get caught up in schoolwork. still, you ignore jungwon’s overly friendly greetings and niki’s stares into your back which you can obviously feel more and more as time goes on.  

nearing the end of the week, you arrive at the cafe you planned to meet niki at. your house was too messy and your mother didn’t want anyone over at the house, so you suggested some random place to meet up and he surprisingly agreed. 

you’re (not surprisingly) the first one there, and you take your time ordering a drink first and double checking your work as you wait. 

you’re so focused you don’t realize the chair across from you sliding out at first. 

when you finally see niki, you jump slightly and this time you catch the tiniest hint of a smile on his face from your reaction before it drops. 

he’s only like… 20 minutes late, you shrug.

niki glances at your drink and almost smirks. 

“i’m not surprised you ordered that,” he comments simply. 

but you freeze at his words before coughing slightly- 

“so, i did my part and i saw yours so is it alright if i combined the two and finish it up before we present next week?” 

he doesn’t fail to note how fast you changed the topic. 

that night, you reflect on the day’s events. which somehow included- 

jungwon giving you his milk at lunch (to which you gave away to a hungry yuna with ease) and niki after school doing the bare minimum on his half of work and giving you only one word answers (and you desperately just want a high grade on this project). 

why those two of all freaking people in your school, you don’t know. and you also don’t know which one is making your life worse right now. 

you think about jungwon winking with that charming expression, and niki rolling his eyes under that dark hood of his. since when did things become like this? you realized it with a heavy sigh. 

they’ve changed, and so have you.

TAGLIST ▸ @hiqhkey @axartia

send an ask/dm to be added to the taglist!

#tomorrow again. #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #niki x reader #niki x you #nishimura riki #jungwon #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #riki x reader #jungwon fluff

[ystrike1]

One Take - By Applepie (9.5/10)

Stand up and start applauding everyone. This twisted story about actors, obsessions, and sociopaths is probably better than what you're reading right now. The horror builds. The drama is there from the start. The villains are pawns, and the bullies are actually misguided good people. Do yourself a favor and don't spoil yourself. Just read this one. It's under fifty chapters of exactly what you're looking for.

Mr. Jang is a b-list actor in his 30's who looks like a scumbag. He was almost popular seven years ago, but then he was hit with the worst kind of scandal. He got caught attempting to molest one of his female co-stars. That co-star never sued him, and she quit show business. She's the only one besides him who knows the real story, and without her he doesn't have a solid alibi.

His career has been dying bit by painful bit. His manager believes in him, but he refuses to explain himself. Mr. Jang is a good guy. The kind of good guy that can't reveal other people's secrets. The actress he was caught with did get assaulted, but the situation is far more complicated than that. A random man didn't attack her. Her downfall was a symptom of a greater problem that he, one rising actor, was not strong enough to take on.

The actress who was attacked is named Im Ah-Yeon. She is a decent woman, who gave Jang advice when he was younger. He used to be kind of lazy, but Im Ah-Yeon told him the hard truth. There are thousands of actors who wish they had his talent, so he cannot squander it. He has to work harder, for the sake of everyone he defeats. Thanks to Im Ah-Yeon Jang became a passionate actor. Sadly, she told him that story for a reason. Im Ah-Yeon was a regular actress. Nothing special. She decided to sell her body to get roles. Na Yerin is another actress who was friends with Im Ah-Yeon. She hates Jang and believes he is a rapist, until the finale of the story.

A horrible pervert named director Park took advantage of Im Ah-Yeon's desperation. He pimped out dozens of actresses and let his equally evil investors sleep with them. The victims were recorded to ensure their silence. Jang stole some of the recordings to help Im Ah-Yeon. If he ever releases the videos Park will be screwed, but Im Ah-Yeon will face even more backlash. Exposing a cabal of pimps isn't easy, or safe. After Im Ah-Yeon chose to retire she stopped speaking to Jang. He decided to hang on to the evidence, and keep quiet. He can't really come forward. If he starts accusing other men of rape he'll only look more suspicious. He's stuck in hell, and Director Park has too much power.

Hyunje is an A-list actor. He's strict, stiff, and curt towards everyone. Jang finally gets an acting role in a show, as a villain of course. Hyunje is the lead man. Jang instantly falls hard...for his acting skills. Jang thinks his co-star is handsome and talented, so he becomes a huge fan. Wants his autograph. Photos with him too. The whole deal. It's fun watching Hyunje and Jang interact, because they're so different. Hyunje lives in a bubble. He works all the time. He secretly owns an investment company...that invests in his own movies. He's a scary kind of genius. Na Yerin starts saying weird shit in the background. She thinks Hyunje is being too nice to Jang.

They're supposed to be bullying him as a team, because this project is a trap set up just for him.

The tv project that hired Jang is called "Trap". It is literally a trap. Park wants to ruin Jang. He's an investor behind the show, and all the actors know about the "plan" to bring Jang down. Shady reporters are following him, and trying to plant evidence on him while he's working. That doesn't work though, because Jang is a normal guy. By the way Hyunje's investment company also invested in "Trap".

That's weird.

Hyunje hangs around Jang a little too much. He practices lines with Jang. They hang out outside of work. Hyunje seems friendly, but cold at the same time. The other members of the cast claim that Hyunje is a control freak. He only ever gives orders. He doesn't speak to anyone really. His conversations are just commands, but he's not like that with Jang. Everyone has noticed how close they are, except Jang. Jang doesn't suspect a thing. When Hyunje buys him dinner and a hotel room he doesn't figure it out. Hyunje has really strong sexual feelings for Jang, but he doesn't know if it's love. Hyunje is too good at acting. Jang has noticed how...less alive he looks when he's not acting.

It's a little scary. So, Jang rejects him. They don't sleep together after dinner, and their strange friendship continues instead.

Anyway the rest of the cast slowly starts to trust Jang. He's clearly not a creeper. He's polite and professional. Even around the interns. The rumors about him are all hosted on awful gossip trash sites as well. This idol boy used to be fat and unmotivated, but Jang encouraged him in a rough way. Their time together in acting classes made him into the idol he is. He isn't 100% sure that Jang is innocent, but he wants to believe it because Jang inspired him. It's very sweet.

Shit keeps going downhill. Park won't back down. A false witness comes forward. Jang is accused of rape yet again. The show is under pressure. Jang must be fired for it to continue. Hyunje goes off the rails. He threatens to quit acting and retire if Jang is canned. He locks Jang up in a secret apartment, and says he'll take care of Park himself. Hyunje wants Jang to be a star, because he loves him. He doesn't know how to love properly because both of his parents were psychopaths. He has thousands of videos of Jang on his laptop. The passcode to his apartment is Jang's birthday. The play Jang wrote and acted in as a college student convinced him to start acting. He didn't understand human emotion, so he tried to emulate it through acting...like his favorite actor Jang.

Everybody who knows what Hyunje is actually like warns Jang. They tell him point blank that dating Hyunje is a bad idea. He most likely is a high functioning sociopath, who can get attached to people. The problem is he can only portray emotions because he learned how to fake it. The "Trap" show was actually a set up for Park, not Jang. Park and everybody else THOUGHT it was a set up for Jang...but nope. Hyunje masterfully planned everything so he could see Jang on screen again. Then when he started working with Jang he realized he sexually desired the object of his obsession.

Im Ah-Yeon returns to do a press conference. She's getting married and she's gotten over her trauma. She tells the truth because she's sorry for leaving Jang alone with such heavy knowledge. Seeing Jang on tv made her feel guilty enough to go public about the pimps. Everyone who hated Jang apologizes to him.

I shouldn't have to say it but Hyunje is a fantastic yandere. I didn't know what kind of yandere he was until he revealed it. Everything from chapter one is his plan. He obsessively collected videos, creepshots, and recordings of Jang for seven years. Before the main story even began.

He's....something...

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #One Take

[deusluxuria]

A whole bunch of Doppio headcanons because ehh

( Spoilers: Part 5 / Golden Wind / Vento Aureo )

( Warnings: abuse, stalking, christianity )

( Note: These HCs are based around another HC I have that Doppio does not have DID, but rather Diavolo is an obsessed stalker from Sardinia, a childhood classmate of Doppio's, who became so attached to Doppio to the point of having cosmetic surgery to look almost exactly like him. )

-He was never named by his mother. The priest who adopted him gave him the first name "Domenico" and the priest's last name "Voltolini." Diavolo was the one who gave him the nickname "Doppio," as a way to claim ownership of him and to dub him an extension of himself.

-Loves guns and tanks. Maybe even too much. He uses guns and other weapons for a majority of combat, more than his Stand. He can use King Crimson to quadruple-weild, and even though he can throw a mean punch, King Crimson's arms are way stronger.

-Despite being highly skilled with weapons, he overuses ammo and gets overzealous. He's definitely not someone who can "just injure" an opponent, unless it's by accident. He's very prone to frustration and rage (i.e. in canon, the fight with Risotto where he completely loses it and screams while banging King Crimson's fists at the ground and the empty air), which means strategy is not always viable.

-Can wildly swing from being gentle and friendly to being snappy and snarky... to being all-out violent and aggressive. People who have witnessed this range are usually in awe. Especially since he typically comes off as kind, silly, and even shy. Some know him as being fun to be around, others know him as a cataclysmic mess.

-Loves guns but also practices knife-throwing, archery, and swordfighting. Most of what he did for school involved hands-on experience instead of learning math or writing essays and whatnot, and his favorite subjects involved learning how to fight. He also knows how to make traps and use bombs.

-He was taken in by Tiziano & Squalo after accidentally getting involved in a fight between Passione and a street gang. That's how he initially joined Passione, before The Boss noticed him and promoted him to the Assassination squad. Tiziano & Squalo still consider him like a son.

-Doppio was with the Assassins for a few years before Diavolo chose him as an informant.

-Risotto was very nice to him, even protective, but most of the others were terribly mean to Doppio, particularly Formaggio (whose favorite thing is to target people he sees as weaker than him, whether younger or of smaller stature -- Doppio is older than him, but definitely smaller), who often made accusations that a scrawny guy like Doppio who won't even use his Stand must only be in the mafia because "The Boss likes you in his bed too much to fire you."

-It wasn't the reason why Doppio stayed, but other members of Passione certainly got the vibes that Doppio was sleeping with The Boss. Sleeping around in the mafia is commonplace, but no one else had ever been in the same room with The Boss or heard his voice. Which is why, when the other mafiosi found out Doppio had daily phone calls with him, and his body language and tone of voice had sensual implications (according to them), they started to resent Doppio and assumed he was in on the horrible ways the other mafiosi were treated by The Boss and that Doppio had no objections to the abuse.

-Before the other mafiosi started spreading rumors and resenting him, he brought by far the most light into the organization. He's playful and loving, and cares about his fellow mafiosi way more than Diavolo ever could. It was common in the Assassin squad for a scenario like: Risotto going to get a mop to help Doppio after he used way too much laundry soap, only to come back hearing laughter and seeing that Doppio had started a friendly fight with the others of running around throwing laundry suds at each other. Sure, the other mafiosi were fun and laughed together plenty, but it just wasn't the same without Doppio.

-Pesci has an intense crush on him. The two would've been able to connect about how they were both stuck in toxic, co-dependent situations with a superior (Pesci's being Prosciutto who has only decided he's better than his brother). To Doppio, the crush was obvious, and he once kind of snapped at Pesci and said, "I bet you're like all the others and you think I'm some soft, cute, innocent sprite or whatever, but if you knew anything about me, you'd want nothing to do with me outside of business. I'm just as rotten as everyone here, maybe worse. I've known plenty of others like you, and you're all only interested in one thing, and it involves some illusion of me that doesn't exist. Look around you and realize where we are. Wake the fuck up and realize that people like us will never know love, only emptiness and hedonism. There is nothing on the other side of infatuation for us; there is only indulgence to distract from the suffering."

-Doppio does secretly speak to a therapist. But only about his substance abuse, dangerous promiscuity, other self-destructive problems, and his lack of prospect or life goals. It never really helped because Doppio never brought up Diavolo, his own involvement with the mafia, Trish, or the fire that killed the priest and wiped out his hometown. Those things, mainly Diavolo, were major causes of the problems he talked about.

-There was a different boss of Passione before Diavolo, who murdered the old boss around the time Doppio joined. Tiziano and Risotto were the first to notice something had changed. But as no one was allowed to know the Boss's identity besides his informant, anyone who had suspicions about a change had to stay quiet. It was only when things in Passione started becoming unbearable that Risotto admitted his theory to his team. That's when Gelato & Sorbet tried to find The Boss, which resulted in their deaths. Risotto then deeply regretted saying anything, though circumstances had become so dire that the two likely would've made that act of resistance anyway.

-Diavolo had ordered Doppio to kill Sorbet & Gelato, who were another two of the assassins who had always been nice to Doppio. Doppio stayed as collected as possible while carrying out the attack, but after he was done, he spent a long night bawling his eyes out and couldn't eat for days.

-When Diavolo promoted him to informant, he subjected him to what Doppio would call "extremely violent hazing rituals" to test if he was strong-willed enough for the position. It was essentially just days of nonstop torture. Diavolo would never admit to Doppio that he would've chosen him no matter what, and that he'd put him through the torment for his own enjoyment.

-Doppio already had endured a great deal of extreme bullying as a child (though it became less obvious after the priest, who adored him, found out and raised hell about it). So he was already wired with learned helplessness. This is a huge reason why he pretty much let Diavolo treat him however he wanted. If Doppio had survived after Diavolo's death, it would take Doppio a long time, and a lot of help, to realize that he hadn't deserved Diavolo's abuse. But realizing in the first place that it was abuse would hit him like a ton of bricks.

-Wasn't nearly as religious after his hometown burned to the ground, but sometimes when he's particularly stressed he'll still make the sign of the cross or say his Hail Mary's (i.e. after nearly getting in a car accident). As he'd say, "You can take the man out of the Italian Catholic home, but..." Although, Doppio's attachment to Catholic symbols and ideas are mainly because they remind him of his adoptive father, who would've taken a bullet for him. While the priest was very open-minded and understood the importance of children having freedom of ideas, his religion was one major way he expressed his love. Doppio has a tattoo over his heart of the rosary the priest wore, and one on his back of the chapel their home was connected to.

-Has other tattoos, mostly of guns and gun-related things. But then there's his tattoo sleeves, which Diavolo copied. Except, Doppio's sleeves are of vines and floral motifs inspired by the priest's decor in his childhood home, and Diavolo's were closer to resembling octopus tentacles and reptilian details.

#doppio vinegar #headcanon #golden wind #vento aureo #risotto nero #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba

[tiianwens]

29. Reaction to sudden interpersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) --- for the excessively detailed hc meme !

the excessively detailed hc meme.

putting his heart under a thousand locks and doing what needs to be done, and then processing it much, much later. too many people died on him, and he's been hurt in other ways too many times (in both lifetimes), but any sort of disaster is usually a call to action. his skills are needed, so he has to stay level-headed and cool to make sure no one else gets hurt, and of course, the first instinct that kicks in is to protect his disciples. the aftermath will leave him shattered where no one can witness it, but on the outside he would usually appear so calm and unperturbed that it would be only natural to assume he doesn't care at all.

the same applies to conflict/interpersonal painful situations. if it's possible to leave and avoid, he'd leave and avoid. if it's not (e.g. in 0.5 verse where the discomfort is constant and escaping the situation physically isn't an option), he'll try to distance his mind and heart from it as much as possible, usually involving going nonverbal and avoiding any form of communication. the man is too proud to let his true feelings be known. he's not really used to anyone giving a damn either, so it's easier to just keep everything bottled up and slowly pull the thorns out one by one and assess the damage while no one watches.

but when i think of the worst case scenarios for him (big story spoilers ahead for those who are reading the book and don't want plot twists to be ruined!!), there are two amazing illustrations:

— the realization that he fucked up in 0.5 if he managed to a) allow his disciple to be affected by a horrible, irreversible curse that slowly but surely eroded and erased his entire personality and b) watch the man he loved turn into a monster and deem it the result of his own hatred rather than a curse. because when conflict occurred, CWN was the one to distance himself where he could've apologized (he wanted to apologize, yet he chose to do it by proxy who followed his instructions and didn't mention that he was the one who made the goddamn wontons).

and it left him with the horrible knowledge that he couldn't share with anyone, as he knew that whoever was behind it would be watching closely and things could become worse. it left him defenceless on so many levels because he couldn't do anything to help (as it was too late and he didn't have a golden core anymore) and he couldn't even hide behind the facade of resentment anymore — it's easy to hate a self-made monster, but not so easy to hate someone you loved and failed. when i say that sex scenes in 2ha aren't skippable because they contain essential character development, chapters 247-250 or around that are the ones on my mind. the realization left CWN in such an intense emotional disarray that he threw the remains of his dignity out of the window and for the first time showed that he wanted this too. and for him, in that verse, it's huge. and yet he collected himself and managed to come up with a plan to do something, even though he had nothing to counter with and the damage was irreversible.

— and secondly, having to deal with a massive calamity after losing many people he held dear and most importantly, Mo Ran. i can't think of anything worse than what he's gone through at that point. he watched the man he loved get destroyed by an angry mob, knowing that he wasn't guilty. he slaughtered his way through to at least give him some peace, while being very much aware that saving him was no longer an option. and after all that he knew he had to go on, he had to face the living corpse with the same face and the same memories, the twisted and distorted projection of his beloved.

but he managed to put that grief on hold and he almost single-handedly thwarted the big evil plan in action. he made sure that whoever wanted to be saved was saved, and only then did he ask to 'let him be selfish for once'. and that selfish want, to him, was to die with Taxian-jun (the wording still sends me, it's such an insane detail). so he locked that pain away, did what had to be done, and then allowed it to finally consume him.

#hc. #an excessively detailed answer ig #these two scenes haunt me daily. but they just prove the point here. the man is resilient af when he wants to be

[kalid-raven]

Name: Leander Julia Harrison Alias: Lee Gender: Cis Male Age: 26 Sign: Aries (March 25th) Height: 5'9" Hair: Semi-Short, layered, curly black. Eyes: Grey Ethnicity: Caucasian/Mixed, no idea who his father was. Sexual Orientation: Straight Notable Traits: Small spattering of freckles on his face, and a few moles over his person. Two small ones under his left eye. Job: Stripper Unofficial Job: Serial Killer (with a Conscience)

Weapons: A tire iron, sometimes modified piano wire for strangulation

Personality: Fiery, Short-tempered, Sarcastic, Protective, Suspicious, Jealous, Violent, Impatient, Observant, Highly affectionate, Confident, Excellent liar, Adaptable, Stubborn, Trustworthy.

Morality:  Chaotic good, he doesn't give a damn about the law, he feels it fails people more often than not. He has standards for who he kills, and his primary motivation is to protect those like him and his mother; Strippers and other types of sex workers. He won't raise his weapon to those he feels don't deserve it.

Background: (Summary) Leander's mother, Julia, was a sex worker in New York city who accidentally ended up pregnant, much to the ire of her "boss". Still, She chose to be a mother and brought her son into the world, and loved him dearly. Due to the nature of her work, she wasn't sure of the father, and it was doubtless whoever it was would want anything to do with them as it was. Julia did all she could to take care of Leander, but she had one vice that would be her undoing; drugs. She used them to cope with the terrible circumstances she was under, until eventually it took her life from an overdose when Lee was barely seventeen.

She wasn't perfect, she made mistakes, but she was still his mother and he loved her so much. Losing her broke him, and he blamed her "boss" for it. Still, he couldn't touch the man as much as he wanted to, as the wretch had thugs with skills and weapons the boy didn't have. Leander was left to try to pick up the pieces of his life and rush to find work, dropping out of a school. Julia had wanted him to focus on his education, but that wasn't even viable anymore for him. For a time he barely scraped by, working at a grocery store and odd jobs as he could. He always had a violent temper, he was used to restraining it, but that didn't mean he didn't think about smashing someone's face into the wall from time to time. Or beating them to a pulp in the parking lot. Or- you get the picture.

Lee was eighteen when a slightly older friend of his suggested her job to him; stripping. It wasn't news to Leander about her job choice, he grew up surrounded by people who worked jobs like that, his babysitter when he was little was a friend of his mom, who did the same work as her, just on different days. With bills piling up and his current job being miserable, he agreed, though didn't know how to start. This began his lessons in pole fitness and pole dancing, thanks to his friend, Sandra. She was a good teacher, and he learned a great deal quite quickly, as he was a very determined individual. He found he actually really enjoyed it.

It wasn't long until he applied for the job, wanting a good grasp of the skill before hand. He was accepted, and began working. He learned through his life that people could be horrible to sex workers, but he got a front row seat to it in his job. Sandra was a curvy stunner, so it was no surprise she was often a target of those who didn't want to obey the rules, or were too drunk to remember what they were. He nearly got into fights on more than one occasion with patrons who were too handsy.

The major turning point in his life that lead him down the path of killing happened one winter evening after work. Passing through the parking lot, he heard scuffling and muffled screaming. Rushing to the scene, he found Sandra fighting for her life to escape a creep trying to wrestle her to the ground. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

Leander tackled the man and proceeded to beat the living hell out of him in a fit of rage, completely disregarding any pain or damage to himself in the process. He recognized the man, he had gotten thrown out for getting too handsy with the strippers. All Lee could see is red when he finally stopped punching the man and proceeded to choke him until he finally stopped struggling, and continued even after that, wanting to be sure the bastard would never get up again. Killing the man, stopping him from doing the unspeakable to Sandra, filled Lee with a profound sense of power and vindication.

Since then, Lee has found himself unable to shake that feeling nor the knowledge that he had capability of destroying them and make things safer for those he cared about, and those he didn't even know. That was the start of Lee's trip down the path of vigilantism, eventually settling on a tire iron to beat people to death with, and piano wire to strangle them if he acted more on opportunity since he can carry it in his pocket. He has been doing so for about two years now, and targets those who prey on strippers and sex workers of other kinds, and sometimes monsters in general as he sees them. Lee genuinely feels justified in his actions and that he's doing right by the world, and won't hear different.

A/N: Only took me forever ugh x.x Here's my dear Lee, with his sharp cheekbones, sharper glare, and intense rage threatening to explode every five minutes from his 5'9" frame. XD

#slasher #oc #slasher-verse #lee #Leander Harrison

[vickyvicarious]

OMG your tags on that Eliot/Experimental Job gifset!!!! And especially "eliot just becomes that abyss staring back" because wow a) what an amazing phrasing and b) the general tone of incredibly sad but beautiful reading of the scene/character/background. Such an amazing scene and phenomenal acting and writing.

(the post and little tag meta in question.)

.

Ahaha, thank you! It really struck me - that scene has always gotten to me. Not only is Eliot’s part in that whole episode showcasing a part of him we rarely see so clearly, but that particular scene involves him weaponizing it. He so often is assured in his skills, enjoys being underestimated and then showing off and freaking people out with his competency, but it’s almost always softer than here. It’s nonlethal, it’s him using his skill to take his opponents down but not permanently. He generally has fun fighting, you can see it on his face. Only when things get serious does he get like this - not to say he doesn’t take his opponents seriously usually, but the level of intensity and lethality he displays is totally different.

One of the earliest scenes where you see him not messing around in this way is when he just grabs that gun the thug has tucked in his belt in The Miracle Job. It’s not nearly as intense, and honestly just comes off hilarious in the scene, but it also stands out to me as an early moment where he just moves forward and very deliberately shuts his opposition down by exposing the vast difference between their perceived toughness and someone who is actually deadly. You stick your gun in your pants to show off you have a gun? That’s not scary. What’s scary is the man you were trying to threaten stepping right up into your space and holding the trigger ready to fire directly into your junk.

This is that same kind of psych-out, except with far more rage behind it, and no physical threat whatsoever. Nothing directly stated or even too openly implied. But Eliot (who is literally resisting torture before and after this conversation) says just enough, lets his voice and gaze and complete calm say the rest. This man is completely out of his league in trying to get into Eliot’s head, and Eliot shows him that.

I love it. It’s really badass, really scary like I said, and honestly, yeah. Very sad. Because in order to do that sort of thing, you have to be genuinely deadly. You have to be the kind of person who has done those sorts of things. Not just fighting, but deliberate murder. Not just once, but enough that hesitation is a choice rather than an instinct. Eliot can, has, and if the situation required potentially would again be able to calmly kill someone. And that’s one of the other scariest parts of his little speech: he mentions names, who begged, who didn’t, he mentions “what food was on their breath” and that’s the one that floors me. That means he was up close and personal with them. Not just physically - to remember something like that, something so specific, means there is no mental distancing whatsoever. It’s no sniping from a distance, or pressing a button to set off a bomb, and not really processing that you just killed a person. Eliot was there every time, he did that and he knows it and will never forget. He regrets what he’s done so much, but he doesn’t waste time just wallowing in guilt any more than he blames anyone else: the fact is that he killed those people. It’s done. And his acceptance of that, combined with his certainty that he’s already brought upon himself the worst sort of torture by doing so, allows him to have these moments. 

He knows what he’s done, knows he can do it again. He doesn’t want to, but Eliot already knows how to live with himself after the fact. And when he shows that in this scene, it is such a powerful moment. I do stand by “abyss staring back” because honestly, when you watch that guy’s face - look at how smug he still is in the third gif. Then when Eliot starts talking in the fourth, his eyes are caught. He is pulled in, staring, gets so still and so unnerved. He can’t look away until Eliot finishes and the moment is broken, and at that point he is shaken. Trying not to show it but he can’t even fully meet Eliot’s eyes.

I really, really do love that scene so much. Like you said: great idea, fantastic execution.

#leverage #eliot spencer #leverage meta #angelrtsy95 #replies #my meta #thanks for giving me even more reason to babble about this scene #this is a trope i tend to love: the soldier who has done horrible things and is now dedicated to peace #ranging from old cowboy films to like... uncle iroh #but eliot is such an excellent case of it because he's not really retired #he just chose to use his skills - the same ones that did all that horrible stuff - for something better #and he did so early and he never stopped. his dedication to peace isn't just settling down on a ranch somewhere and never fighting again #it's actively doing good in the world #idk i love it

[sepublic]

The Golden Guard: Eda’s Dark Parallel?

           Does anyone else think that the Golden Guard actually reminds Lilith a LOT of Eda, specifically Eda as a kid, during the good old days before she got cursed?

           Think about it… They’re both sassy, hot-headed teen prodigies with an owl motif and yellow attire. And the way Lilith angrily talks about the Golden Guard, it seems her feelings of resentment mirror how she felt towards Eda back when they were kids? Lilith, who was by-the-book and traditional, worked so hard… And then there’s this younger person with an Owl motif who just swoops in out of nowhere and through talent, completely outclasses her!

           If you go with the idea that Lilith wanted Gwendolyn’s approval and had to compete with Eda over that… Then for all we know, maybe Lilith lowkey wanted Belos’ approval as well, but felt like she was being cheated out of that with the Golden Guard, who kept stealing the spotlight from her! 

          Like she was afraid he’d take her spot as head of the Emperor’s Coven, the way Lilith feared that Eda would win the initiation duel back when they were kids… And lo and behold, the Golden Guard DID take that! Granted Lilith left an obvious vacancy from her own betrayal of Belos so of course he took that spot, but still; It’s quite a sore spot.

           In some ways, perhaps Lilith is aware of this, deep-down or not; She might see the Golden Guard as just Young Eda, but without any of the emotional connection, nor any redeeming qualities; If he does have them, again, it’s not like Lilith knows the Golden Guard well enough to know these traits, much less take them into account.

           LOTS of text and speculation and analyses below!!!

           The Golden Guard is even sixteen years old… Which, is very likely EDA’s age, back when her and Lilith competed for the Emperor’s Coven! That can take on a whole new, dark meaning for her… 

          Perhaps Lilith is low-key disturbed by the Golden Guard’s existence, because he reminds her too much of Young Eda? Eda, before she was cursed- So it’s like the memory of her is coming back to haunt Lilith, in the form of someone who has no concern for Lilith whatsoever to hold him back, unlike the actual Eda.

           And in a way, it’s a horrible reminder that some things never change, that some things stay the same and Lilith can’t get past them, she can’t outgrow it like she thought she did; Because even now, even as head of the Emperor’s Coven, there’s still a 16-year-old prodigy with an owl motif and yellow attire, who is sassy and playful and mischievous, who threatens to upstage Lilith’s self-esteem and sense of power. Somebody Lilith is afraid of; Thirty years later, and she STILL has to deal with this kind of person in her life, but it’s worse because she’s actually older and should be better, yet somehow isn’t…

           Who knows? Maybe Lilith even recognized the similarities to Eda, enough to actually be sympathetic to the Golden Guard at first? Perhaps she, on some level, saw the Golden Guard as a way to vicariously redo her past with Eda, but without the mistakes… Maybe she tried to be nice to the Golden Guard, but then he quickly turned out to be a snob, he’s not REALLY Eda; So Lilith settled on never cursing him like she did Eda, but then otherwise decided that she didn’t owe him any love and could just quietly loathe his guts.

          Lilith failed Eda in part because she was an older sister who abandoned her in a time of need, but there’s not really that expectation with the Golden Guard, so why bother? She’s got enough on her plate as is, and an ACTUAL Eda to worry about, to look after, to be concerned for and patch things up with.

           I’ve even seen people make the very good point that in a lot of ways… The Golden Guard is like a Dark Eda? In the sense that, he’s Eda, had she joined the Emperor’s Coven as a kid. He’s a look at Young Eda, if she didn’t reject the Coven System, and joined Belos- Reveling in her own talent and power as granting her ‘special treatment’ over the rest, so any downsides to the coven system weren’t HER problem anyway!

           Again, this adds another layer to the Golden Guard being very reminiscent of Young Eda, and even current Eda as well… Except, he never lost his magic and was never cursed. Maybe that’s another thing he unknowingly haunts Lilith over; He’s lowkey a reminder of what Eda could’ve been, had Lilith not been selfish and a coward, or had she communicated better. Yet at the same time, he’s frustrating- Because the Golden Guard is like the worst parts of Eda, the parts that Lilith hated and made her resentful…

           And this constant reminder of the past, of her own issues with Eda back then that culminated in the curse- It could’ve made it a LOT harder for Lilith to really resolve things with Eda, because this kid keeps reminding her why she was so angry, and it’s impossible for her to move on because the Golden Guard isn’t some distant memory, but an actual person who continues to threaten her, the way Eda had…

          And of course, the Golden Guard reminds Lilith of the Eda she lost; The happy, carefree Eda who wasn’t cursed, the Eda she could’ve had in a sense. The Eda that Lilith in some ways wanted, yet is forced to confront and acknowledge is a very obnoxious and terrible person that makes her unhappy…

          And this kind of rude reminder that the Eda that Lilith wanted would’ve continued to make her miserable, if not moreso, is not something she appreciates shattering her dreams and low-key denial, of a world where things had just been a little different.

          The person you’re trying to get, maybe get BACK, wasn’t so great after all- So you just have to move on, and be glad for the Eda who IS happier with her life and more mature, despite being older and more cursed. You gotta move past your guilt Lilith, and realize that Eda is in a better place- Not that she ever needed the curse, but she doesn’t quite need saving from the parts of her life she actually chose for herself, in part to be kind to Lilith no less! Because I bet Lilith believes that deep down, she didn’t deserve Eda’s kindness, so she wishes to reverse that compassionate decision of Eda’s that only resulted in Eda suffering because of how terrible Lily secretly is.

           But, back to the subject; There’s more similarities to Eda and the Golden Guard, especially at the end of Separate Tides; How he makes an ominous warning before casually, happily yelling “BYYEEEE!!!”, just like Eda when she warns Luz about trying to have a Moonlight Conjuring in Hooty’s Moving Hassle, before heading off to the Night Market. His widow’s peak even bears a decent resemblance to Eda’s, doesn’t it? Which…

           Combined with all of the talk about bird motifs being a Clawthorne thing, it DOES raise many questions about the Golden Guard’s potential connection to Eda. Is he some long-lost son? A third child that Gwendolyn had later in life, because witch biology might allow them to do that? Some homunculus, crafted from bits of DNA from Eda, and maybe even Belos? Belos does seem weirdly fond and trusting of him, the two are placed together in the Season 2 outro when nobody else, not even Kikimora, is there; And of course, the Golden Guard wields a staff, red magic, and fleshy creations, VERY similar to Belos…

           I can’t say for sure- But the idea of the Golden Guard as an alternate Eda is fascinating. An Eda who became completely arrogant, and didn’t stop to care about others; Her cockiness and mischief becoming cruel and obnoxious, essentially the worst parts of Eda, down the path she’d always dreaded. A look into another life, a different choice in such a pivotal part of her past… Personally, I LOVE this kind of dark parallel of a character, so I’m hoping these similarities are commented upon in-universe, assuming they’re not outright literal!

           In a way, the Golden Guard could haunt Eda, because he reminds her of herself… Of her carefree youth, but what she could’ve had… But also, the terrible things she’d done. And obviously Eda despises the coven system too much to really change her mind, and it’s safe to say that the Golden Guard is not at all what she wanted to ever become… But still, it’s a neat bit of character writing and parallelism. If Belos is like a Dark Luz, what Luz could’ve been had she not grown… And the same could apply between King and Kikimora;

           Then who knows? The Golden Guard could be a Dark Eda, who got by talent and continued to take things for granted. An Eda who swore loyalty to Belos and was embraced by the emperor for her skill and ability. Jovial and cheery, but without any of the actual compassion that makes this genuine with Eda. An immature brat who never grew up (granted he’s only sixteen and hasn’t gotten the chance), unlike Eda. And if the Golden Guard is an alternate Eda;

           It’s fascinating how his roles are reversed with his alternate Luz… The Eda parallel is younger than the Luz parallel, learning from them, and taking after their motifs as well! But I guess it’s not all too surprising, with how Eda and Luz both learn from one another, though I suspect Belos and the Golden Guard aren’t as mutual, but who knows? 

          It does make you wonder about Kikimora and King as potential mediators between these duos, whose placement remains consistent… How does Kikimora, the King parallel, interact with her Luz and Eda? Did she become close friends with HER Luz, while, as Dana’s art suggests, she seems somewhat irritated by and resentful of her own Eda? So it’s like Eda and King never grew to be friends and conquer differences… As well as if King never grew to respect Luz and saw her as just a “f*cking nerd”?

           With how Luz is taking after Eda, and possibly getting a Cardinal palisman to complete the Clawthorne motif as a new member of the family… Who knows? The Golden Guard could be an intriguing character for her to bounce off of narratively, maybe as someone Luz might have, in another universe, learned to look up to and admire? How well Luz’s relationship be with the Golden Guard, if they are a Dark Eda? And how can this indirectly show us about how Luz and Young Eda would’ve interacted, what Young Eda was like, what Lilith went through as a kid…

           And, for all we know- The Golden Guard’s owl motif doesn’t hint at a pre-existing connection to the Clawthornes, but rather a future one… Maybe he’ll end up being adopted by Eda, the way Luz was? I’d love to see the Golden Guard become an evil older sibling who’s protective of Luz… 

          I ADORE that trope to death; Evil older brother with bright, younger sister, whom he cares about, and the sister cares for him too, even if it’s complicated because the sister believes in the brother to be better, while the brother doesn’t want to be better, or is at least reluctant about having to change…

           I’d love to see another Hugo and Kipo dynamic, and actually… If the Golden Guard parallels Eda, then who’s his Lilith? Could it be Luz herself? I’ve talked before the similarities between Luz and Lilith, as kids who were bullied and struggled with a lack of talent, but made up for it with hard work and ingenuity; They’ll give you a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, but then happily leap at the opportunity if they think someone is improving.

           And, as Separate Tides has also shown us; They both grapple with guilt over making Eda suffer, unintentionally to varying degrees. Luz and Lilith both learn that they’re not a burden and that it’s okay to ask for help, and come to terms with their guilt with Eda… If Belos and the Golden Guard are Luz and Eda reversed, then could Luz and the Golden Guard also be Lilith and Luz, reversed?

          With the Eda parallel being the older sibling in this scenario… An alternate timeline where Eda and Lilith were the same people, but switched places in birth, and it was EDA who ended up being the cruel and toxic sibling who left the younger feeling demeaned and worthless. I imagine if that were the case, the Golden Guard’s toxicity would occur largely in the beginning, as he acts adversarial to Luz and mocks her, taunts her over Eda’s loss of magic, and her own glyphs no doubt; The Golden Guard doesn’t seem to acknowledge glyphs as a valid form of magic himself.

           But then, if he were to get a redemption, the Golden Guard’s tune might change as he matures and learns to treat Luz more kindly… In a way mimicking how Eda really grew to care for Luz, but also the way Eda has begun to reconnect with Lilith, except with the Golden Guard as the one with the baggage and guilt.

           And, a redemption might not be too implausible, because… He is literally only sixteen, the same age as Emira and Edric, and likely the same age as Eda when SHE was cursed. Younger than Lilith, when she made the worst mistake of her life, because she didn’t understand the coven system for what it truly was –and who could blame her?- and was grappling with a likely terrible mother in Gwendolyn… The Golden Guard is literally a minor, and possibly an overworked teen prodigy.

           After all, the first glimpse of his personality Dana gave us, way back in 2020, was of the Golden Guard admitting that he was tired; And despite his usually cheery personality, all of our glimpses at his face behind the mask (symbolism!) have had him look likely serious and glum… But then again, we don’t see the lower half of his face, so who knows? 

          Perhaps the Golden Guard is abused and overworked by Belos, kind of like Amity with her parents… The Golden Guard is a child dealing with a very toxic influence, and a huge burden of responsibility no less. And with all the potential connections to Belos as maybe even a literal father, or at least a parental figure, it’s not hard to see why the Golden Guard would turn out so messed up. And the Golden Guard being ‘tired’ could be a connection to how Eda is left exhausted from her curse, too.

           So, who knows? Because of his age, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect, or at least hope, for a redemption for this kiddo. But a recent sister show to The Owl House has taught me anything, kids aren’t free from death, and Infinity Train made it clear that you can humanize and sympathize and mourn someone who deserved better, yet ultimately dug their grave and was condemned to a sudden death because of that; All because they didn’t know any better, and really couldn’t have.

           And on another note- Maybe the Golden Guard has owl motifs like Eda… Because in a lot of ways, he actually admires her? He admires the Owl Lady, or at least the certain ‘past’ version that others such as Lilith may have brought up… Maybe the Golden Guard seeks to supplant Eda the Owl Lady as The Most Powerful Witch in the Boiling Isles. Maybe he sees himself as Eda, but better, and this rebellious, hot-headed kid feels the need to prove himself by defeating someone he sees himself in.

           Maybe the Golden Guard is like Lilith, as someone who wishes Eda could’ve joined the coven system, and he’s disappointed in how all her talent was ‘wasted’ on other things. Maybe the Golden Guard was disappointed in Eda losing her magic, losing further respect for his ‘problematic idol’, and/or he felt some validation and vindication in being a successor to Eda. 

          Does he hold some grudge? Did the Owl Lady’s power excite him, give the Golden Guard a goal to recklessly challenge and defeat, so he can experience the thrill of victory and add to this feeling of invincibility that teenagers, especially the talented ones, have?

           Eda as a kid, and even now, has always been fond of spiting what others say she can’t do, or setting new precedents and accomplishments to prove herself. Maybe the Golden Guard is like that, and hopes to take on the onus of outdoing the Owl Lady; Perhaps he admires Eda, and wishes she could’ve joined a coven like him. As an outside admirer, he mourns Eda’s ‘potential’ in a way similar to Lilith, but different; Because he’s a kid who looks up to her, and not an older sibling that has an actual childhood with Eda. If so, then that’s another dark parallel to Luz;

           After all, Luz got frustrated by Eda in Adventures in the Elements. So maybe the Golden Guard is someone who grew resentful of Eda for not living up to the legend he hoped, the image he wanted, sort of like Lilith! I’ll go out on a limb and even suggest him as a past apprentice, who unlike Luz, never learned to be patient and appreciate Eda’s teachings, so he turned to the coven system and Belos for easy gratification. He didn’t want to be challenged… And in that way, the Golden Guard could parallel my speculation on Belos, as also a Dark Luz.

          So of course, it makes sense that Belos would recognize this same dilemma in the Golden Guard, and perhaps be sympathetic and take him under his wing for it. Eda might not recognize the Golden Guard because he’s changed a bit himself, is hiding his own identity –Lilith doesn’t seem to know much about the witch beneath the mask either, just the public image and façade- and Eda’s been having memory issues. Maybe this will add to the Golden Guard’s resentment, who knows? He really might just be a rebellious teen who Eda failed, unlike with Luz… And that could add to more envy, perhaps.

           At the very least; Dana’s fondness for the Golden Guard takes on a whole new meaning… What with how Eda is pretty much one of, if not THE most favorite character of hers, the one who really jumpstarted this entire show and world to begin with… Having this other character she likes essentially be a canon AU version of that beloved creation, would certainly make a lot of sense! Dana likes Eda, she likes to show us about Young Eda; So a character who IS Young Eda, just on a different path, would likely appeal to her. We’ll see…

           I think it’s worth noting that in her art of the Golden Guard, it depicts him as essentially a normal, lazy teenager who’s asking someone else to do his chore for him, while he lounges around to do something else. I could see a young Eda as occasionally fulfilling that role and asking her older sister Lily for a favor- And maybe this could allude to the Golden Guard being frequently exhausted from being overworked himself, hence “I’m tired” and wanting to extend his breaks as much as possible. We’ll just have to wait and see…

#the owl house #the owl house golden guard #the golden guard #the owl house the golden guard #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #the owl house belos #emperor belos #speculation #theory #analysis #essay #the owl house hunter

[xoxo-teddybear]

Just Stay - Bakugou Katsuki - pt.2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, cursing

Summary: it’s been almost 2 years since the breakup and Bakugou refuses to move. No matter how many times people tell him it’s time, he ignores them because he knows he’ll run into you again. And he was right all along.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Pt.1 Pt.2 

Almost 2 years. About 24 months. Around 104 weeks, 730 days, 17520 hours, or 63,072,000 seconds. And every second of everyday, you run through Bakugou’s mind.

Memories of the two of you always pass through him and he always smile at the good ones. But as time went on, he realized he really wasn’t the same person anymore. Especially not to Y/N. In the beginning, he was hopelessly devoted to you and he craved to be around you. He always wanted what was best for you until he realized in the end he grew selfish. He stopped caring about your needs, neglecting you, and just assumed you’d stay because you still loved him the same way he did you. He was wrong though, and the horrible day of your split arrived.

After you left his house that day, Bakugou remained in the same place for hours. He stood there and cried with his back facing the front door, and when his legs grew tired, he fell to the ground and continued to cry.

Everybody thought he would move on but he didn’t. He still held onto hope. So for 2 years, Bakugou worked to fix himself just for you. He went to therapy to work on his excessive anger, he stopped going out as much with his friends and worked around the house to improve his home skills to help you out when you would return, and he even went as far as to get a lil dog for himself to learn to be a little more loving and compassionate.

His name was Bomber. He was a Pomeranian.

During those 2 years..it’s like you disappeared. Bakugou, and none of your friends, saw sight or heard word of you. Some people thought you moved, some thought the worst had possibly happened. But Bakugou was still going strong. If something was wrong, he would’ve felt it in his heart, but his hope was still going strong. He knew you were out there.

And he was right. For the past 2 years you’ve lived...everywhere! You never stayed in one place for too long in fear of someone from your life may get word of you being around. You’ve lived in the beautiful islands of the Caribbean all the way to the blissful cities in Paris. You’ve been all around the world and you’ve enjoyed all the sights, but you were getting tired of not really having friends and spending so much money. You missed Japan. The food, the culture, the songs, the celebration. The people. And so you decided it was time for you to head back.

You moved back home about a month ago and you made sure none of your old friends would hear about you. You wanted to settle for a little bit before interacting with the people who were a huge part of your old life and you enjoyed the quite peaceful nature. After some time, you decided it was okay to meet up with your old friends, but instead of going out and looking for them, you waited to see what destiny brought you, and now the moment has come.

You sat in the old park you used to love being in when you lived in Japan. It was spring time and the cherry blossoms were out as they covered the trail you made for yourself when you came here. In the past, you found a hidden area of the park forest that seemed...magical. There was a crystal blue lake that were filled with Lilly pads, lotuses, and koi fish. The sunlight hit perfectly on the patch of land, and dusted it with a golden honey scheme. The cherry blossom trees surrounded the place along with tall pines that reached the clouds. The cute little creatures that lived in the secluded area included bunnies, fawns, beautiful birds, and adorable foxes.

It’s been so long since you’ve been here. The last time you even stepped foot into this park was when you were with..Bakugou. But even then, the last time you went with him was about 4 months before your breakup. He was the only person you ever told about this spot and you both had so many memories here. You weren’t gonna lie, you missed him, but you didn’t know who he was now. As the 2 years past, Bakugou has gone through your mind a couple times, and you smiled towards the sky as you wondered what he’s like nowadays. If he’s any different than the last time you saw him. You really wished nothing but the best for the man you love.

Every once in awhile, Bakugou would step into the hidden sanctuary that Y/N showed him. He enjoyed going there to get away from his reality and thoughts of Y/N always came to him when he entered that special place. This time, his imagination seemed really strong because he felt like he was staring at the real deal.

He looked ahead and leaning against the tallest cherry tree was the beautiful goddess herself, Y/N L/N. She held her cool expression as she held a cute little bunny and her golden jewelry sparkled in the sunlight that hit her body perfectly. She truly did look like a goddess.

Bakugou smiled as he saw you, but he quickly shook it off as he realized there was no way it was possible. He then chose to walk to the spot, hoping that the image of you would just disappear, but he also hoped that you were real. He snuck up on you from behind but you were smarter than that. Once he got close enough you walked to the other side of the tree, out of his line of vision and went into stealth mode as you quickly used your quirk to be seated on a high branch. Bakugou saw you walk and disappear so he sighed as he “realized” you were just his imagination. However, when he finally settled and looked out beyond the valley, you jumped down to surprise him. You hopped off the branch, grabbed Bakugou and spun you both around so that you were laying against the tree and he was facing you.

“Long time no see, Bakugou,” you said with a little break in your voice as you spoke with such a “cool girl tone.” You held a sassy smile as you stared at him with all the confidence radiating off your body. Bakugou just looked at you in shock. His mouth hung open as his wide eyes traveled all around you to make sure you were real. He shook a little as he stared at you and soon his tears began to pool at his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. You don’t gotta cry, it’s okay,” you said with a concerned smile. You wiped a stray tear that fell from his ruby eyes with your thumb and you felt heat rise to his cheeks as he leaned into your palm. “....Bakugou?....Are you- woah!”

Without warning, he quickly grabbed you and pulled you in by the waist to give you a hug. He held you tight as you were shocked but you smiled against his chest and held him too. He cried on your shoulder and after some time he finally spoke.

“I’ve missed you so much Y/N.”

“.....I’ve missed you too Katsuki.”

—

���Where have you been?” He asked as you both were seated on the grass. You and Bakugou both held onto each other for awhile as Bakugou cried his heart out like a big baby. You finally settled him and you both were sitting next to each other laying against the tree as you both sat on the grass.

“I’ve been everywhere!” You laughed out, “I’ve went to the states and hung out in L.A and Hawaii, took some time in New York and hung out in Florida. I then went to the Caribbean and partied in the Dominican Republic, and I even traveled to Europe and stayed in Paris for a bit. I’ve been all over the world traveling and finding me again.”

“You seem happy about that,” Bakugou said as he looked at you with loving eyes and a small smile that only you could ever bring out.

“I am. Ever since...um...you know...I’ve been a little lost. I lost myself and I missed the old me. My trips and alone time brought out the old me again and I’ve been feeling so much more alive,” you sighed as you settled, “but I’ve missed my roots. I’ve missed Japan and the people.....I’ve missed you too Katsuki.” You said with kind eyes as you smiled at him causing him to blush immensely.

You both remained silent as you guys enjoyed the sounds of spring. You felt the breeze blow in your hair as the warm sun comforted you. Soon, you felt Bakugou’s hand slowly touch yours. You knew he was scared to go and do anything else, but you openly welcomed his touch and he clearly became less tense.

“So...what have you been up to while I was away?” You calmly asked. You noticed Bakugou’s hesitation and deep breath before he spoke.

“I’ve been....I’ve been trying to better myself for you.” Your brows raised and eyes opened up a little wider. For the past 2 years, he’s been trying to better himself...just for you. “I’ve gone to therapy for my anger, stop going out as much, learned to do more around the house...even got a little dog to learn to be a little more compassionate.”

“Ouu! What kind?” You excitedly asked. He chuckled at your cute aura and answered your question.

“Cute little Pomeranian named bomber,” he admitted.

“No way! Cuteeee!” You squealed and Bakugou just laughed at you once again. How cute. As you thought about everything he said, your smile dropped a little into a little lip curl. A silence came over the two of you before you spoke again.

“You...you did all that for me?”

“Mhm. I wanna prove to you that I can change. That I have changed. ....I’m not telling you this to get you to come back to me..I want you to come on your own choice but I want you to know if you do decide to come back, that I’ve become better.” He explained.

You smiled and hummed to yourself in happiness. Your cheeks dusted with warmth as you smiled so much it hurt.

“Why don’t you show me how much you’ve changed Katsuki?” You offered.

“What?”

“Hehe, let’s start over. I don’t know if you’re still down for anything...but I’ve missed you over the past 2 years and I remember you saying that if a certain ‘goddess’ wanted to come back..you’d be waiting with open arms...” you looked at him and he gave an open smile that held more disbelief and happiness than excitement.

“Can we try again Suki?” You quietly asked, but Bakugou stood and picked you up. He pulled you up by your arms and pulled you even higher which caused you to jump and wrap your legs around him. You laughed out in excitement as he held you like that and rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“I should be on my hands and knees asking you that, princess.” He softly said with a broken voice but it was clear he was letting out tears of joy. You wrapped your arms around his neck even tighter as his hold on you never faltered. He started sniffling and you pulled him out of your neck as you wiped his tears.

“Suki! Stop crying,” you giggled, “this is supposed to be a happen moment.”

“Shut up! I don’t cry!” He said with a flushed face as he looked to the side but still holding you. You raised your brow at him and he only nervously laughed as he placed you down. He stuck out his hand for you to grab onto but you placed it down and wrapped your arms around his. You pecked his cheek and leaned on him as he smiled down at you. This was the moment he’s been waiting for. His princess finally came back to him. Everyone told him to move on but he knew better. If he did, he would’ve never been here right now with you again. And this time, he would make sure you’d stay.

“Suki?”

“Yes princess?”

“.......Can we go see Bomber?”

“Heh...whatever your heart desires.”

A/N: STAWWWPPP YALL THIS WAS SO BAD BUT IT WAS SO RUSHED! IM TRYNA HURRY CUZ I HAVE ANOTHER PART 2 TO WORK ON, I HAVE TO START ON THE NEXT PART OF MY SERIES AND I HAVE SO MUCH WORK TO DOOOOO😭😭😭 IM SO PISSED AT MYSELF BRO THIS COULDVE BEEN SO MUCH BETTER!!! BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED WHATEVER U COULD CUBS! See u next time! 😭💗🧸

#bakugo x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #boku no hero bakugou #my hero academia bakugou #my hero academia #my hero academia katsuki #mha katsuki #mha kacchan #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bakugou katsuki fluff

[zodiyack]

Lacking In Facts

Requested by @ateliefloresdaprimavera​: Y/n’s having a heart to heart with Enola, she finally admits to someone that Sherlock is the love of her life, but she believes he's in love with her cousin, Irene Adler. She says she knows this because he still has Irene’s picture in his study, and he used to mix up their names. BUT, Sherlock is behind the door, listening to everything, and she couldn't be more wrong! She thinks he married her out of pity, but the truth is that he was never very good at expressing emotion, and he thought she was just shy. So, when they go back home that day, Sherlock tells his wife everything he's feeling, and they finally made up (and maybe, some kids in the future)

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, me not proof-reading oops

Words: 1,185

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @thewarriorprincessxo​, @maan24​, @beckster07890​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​

Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist

Y/n was in the office, arms behind her resting atop the smooth wood of the desk she leaned against. Enola, sitting in her brother’s chair like a little doll in a child’s seat, listened with furrowed brows as her sister-in-law spoke. Her detective skills were put to use throughout their conversation. Every now and then, the Holmes girl’s face would morph in thought but her words were saved in a little pouch until Y/n would wait for her opinion.

“Why would you think that?” Her tone held genuine curiosity but the question also helped in getting more context.

“Look at the desk, Enola. The photos. They...see for yourself.”

Enol nodded and leaned forward, inspecting the variety of framed pictures her brother had placed on the surface. One of their family, one of him and Y/n, and then- Her eyes doubled in size, the small gasp telling Y/n she’d seen it.

“My cousin. Now, why would my husband keep pictures of Irene on his desk?”

“Perhaps they’re just really good...friends?” Enola couldn’t even believe the words that left her mouth. The disbelief put her at a loss for words, which was rare for Enola and her genius brother. The greater feeling was disappointment. Disappointment in her older brother for...whatever this situation was. “What else leads you to such a conclusion?”

“The fact that he couldn’t remember the difference in our names until only recently.”

“Explain, please.”

“Behind closed doors, he’d call me Irene or Adler, despite our names being different. In public, he’d refer to me as wife or something sweet, but when we were alone it was always the wrong name.”

This one had an explanation...if Enola’s theory was correct. She hoped with a strong passion that her brother only confused the two for reasons such as similarities in their faces. Then again, Y/n and Irene didn’t look as similar as siblings would.

“Does he still tend to mix your names?”

“No...not really...”

‘That’s a relief’, thought Enola. “Are you sure he wasn’t just confused?”

“By who he’s married to? Then yeah, he’s confused. Otherwise, he’s not. I...Do you think he married me out of pity?”

Enola choked on the air she’d inhaled, looking towards her sister in law with wide eyes once again. This time, Y/n had turned to face the girl, deep hurt sprawled across her features. Her brows were knitted and her eyes looked glossy- as if she would cry any moment. The tone of her question seemed to hold just as much sorrow as her e/c orbs, her voice even breaking near the end of her words.

“Y/n...”

“Enola. I’m...I’m serious. I don’t see why he would willingly marry me if he’s in love with my cousin. I want him to be happy but in order to do that, it would require me to be unhappy.”

“Are you happy? Like, truly happy?”

Y/n hesitated with her answer. “Somewhat.”

“Could you expand on that?”

“I’m happy with him...he’s the man of my dreams yet knowing he doesn’t belong to me only brings a cloud of hurt to my heart. I can’t live with a man who doesn’t truly love me.”

“Do you love him?” Enola already knew the answer. She’d seen the way Y/n looked at Sherlock, and the way Sherlock returned the look- however, her brother was a harder person to read. Perhaps she’d misread her older brother?

“Honestly? Yes. With all my heart. I’d die for him if it came to that,” she chuckled softly and thanked Enola for the handkerchief she’d passed after the first few tears spilt, “but what kind of wife would I be to hold him back from happiness?”

Unbeknownst to the two, who continued the debate, the man of the topic was standing behind the door. He sighed deeply and held a look of regret as he walked away.

“Darling?” His voice rang throughout the home. It echoed in silence for a moment before the sound of steps rushing down a staircase responded. “There you are. When did you get home?”

“About an hour ago... I took a bath whilst waiting for you.”

“About that...” He frowned. There was no way she was actually waiting for him. If she truly felt insecure about her role as his wife, she did an amazing job hiding it. A flaw and gift all the same. “We need to talk.”

Y/n’s posture adjusted, the smile upon her lips, undoubtedly forced, falling. “Is something wrong?”

“Please, Y/n. This can no longer be avoided.” He tilted his head towards the sofa and held his hand out to direct her. As they relocated from the spot beside the stairs to the cushions, Sherlock thought over the words he’d say. She watched her husband with furrowed brows laced with concern.

“Sherlock, what’s bothering you?”

Sherlock almost laughed. “Nothing. The question is, what’s bothering you, Y/n?” Her head moved from the confused tilt back to it’s natural upright position. Brows unfurrowing and body suddenly still, he knew he asked the right question.

“Whatever do you mean by that? I’m fine...”

“No, you’re not. You tell me that over and over...” he scoffed, “I’ve never thought about how good of an actress you are.”

“Thank you?”

“Tell me, Y/n. Why won’t you tell me? You’ll tell Enola but when I ask, you act like nothing in the world could bother you. As much as it warms my heart seeing you happy, knowing that it’s all an act is like a stab in it and its faux joy.”

She couldn’t tell if he was hurt or upset. The smile he held, full of astonishment and disbelief, did nothing to help her reading. No words came to her for a defense but he spared her wordlessness as he continued.

“I would’ve told you, Y/n.” He grabbed her hands, causing her to lift her eyes to his. “I would’ve told you the truth if you’d just asked.”

“What truth? That you’re in love with-”

“No. I’m not in love with her. That would be a lie. The truth is that I’m horrible at expressing emotion. The truth is that I thought you were shy. The truth is that I’m in love with you, but in fear that I’d drive you away, I chose to keep it to myself. The truth is that I had just as hard of a time admitting it to myself as you did unto yourself.”

Y/n’s bottom lip quivered with the threat to spill more liquified sadness from her eyes. The confession had certainly caught her off-guard. Sherlock’s palms met her cheeks softly, forcing her to meet his eyes again before he slowly leaned in. Their lips met and with that single kiss, they’d reconciled.

“So...you aren’t in love with her?” Y/n asked after they’d pulled away.

Sherlock let out a hearty chuckle as he shook his head. “No, Y/n, you just simply had a lack of proper facts.” Y/n began to giggle along.

“Perhaps I should leave the detective-ing to you and Enola.”

“Who’s to say our children won’t become detectives? They could use some of your acting as well.”

“So they could.”

#sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry sherlock x reader #henry holmes x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #imagine henry cavill #henry sherlock #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes #enola holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #x reader #reader insert #imagine #all readers #enola holmes reader insert #enola holmes imagine #zodiyack

[darkacademicfrom2021]

All flavours of wrong (part 1)

Masterlist Part 2

Pairing: Loki x Reader (gender neutral) (reader gets called princess and Queen mockingly, but it can have no gender connotations, just as in a joke).

Summary: You got an arranged marriage with the firstborn prince of Asgard, inheritor of the crown, God of Thunder. But your heart has other plans, that your brain cannot yet comprehend. And on Loki’s side it’s not getting easy either.

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: Sexual tension (a lot). And honestly not much more? Mentions of blood.

I used prompt #293 and prompt #279 from @creativepromptsforwriting to take me out of a block, so thank you so much to this page, it’s incredibly useful! I recommend all writers to check it out.

“Thor”, whispered Loki. But since his four failed attempts at calling him discreetly went wrong, he stepped on his foot under the table, making him spill wine all over his trousers.

“For Gods’ sake, brother, what do you want?”.

“Well, finally. Are you ignoring me? I’ve been trying to get your attention all dinner”.

“Yes, of course I’ve been ignoring you”, said as if it were obvious. It wasn’t.

“Why?”, Loki asked, trying to not sound hurt.

“You know why”, muttered under his breath, faking a smile when his gaze met his mother’s. “And shut up, we’re not supposed to talk if Allfather is not here yet”.

“Look, if it’s because I set on fire your History books, get over it, it’s not like you were doing great with that anyways”.

“You… you did what? It was you?”.

“Yes, of course. Oh, you didn’t know. Well, what are you ignoring me for, then? Ah, I know. Is it because I broke the…”.

“How many things of mine have you been destroying lately?”, Thor raised his voice slightly.

“Boys, enough”, interrupted Frigga. “Cut it off, your Father will be here soon”.

The siblings went back to their plates, and Loki kept stealing glances at his brother, trying to figure out what was wrong. Thor was nervous; his leg kept bouncing and bouncing, he barely touched his food (which was very suggestive, given that he usually ate it all in two mouthfuls), and he was refilling his cup with the strongest wine of the table, as if he needed to loosen up for something. Loki decided it was better off to just pay attention to what would come next. It was evident his Father would be bringing the thing that made Thor so nervous.

And then it hit him; it was already June.

The previous year Odin announced the possibility of an arranged marriage to whoever was winning on the competition for the throne, if he hadn't gotten anywhere near a possible royal companion. Thor was winning, by far; of course. And he didn’t show any partner, or even the possibility of a future partner, so no wonder why he was so nervous.

Loki went back to his plate, not sure how to feel. Annoyed, that was for sure. He knew he wasn’t going to be King (at least not until his brother died, if he didn’t die first), but the preparations for his inheritance got there faster than he expected. It was all too quick. And the disappointment grew bigger the more he thought of it. His father was not even giving him the chance to get better in the competition, and instead he just assumed it was Thor who’d win. Frustrating. Obvious, but still frustrating.

The doors opened and a young and bright warrior followed the footsteps of Odin. He, with a smile from ear to ear, waited until getting the attention of everyone, and, directly looking into Thor’s eyes, introduced you with your full name and current social status. Loki couldn’t stop staring with his lips slightly parted.

That was it. That was what annoyed him the most. His brother got to marry that.

He just couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked fast to see if there was something deceiving his perception, if maybe his whole family arranged a joke to him, if maybe that little warrior was an illusion casted by his Mother to laugh at how unfortunate he must have been looking at that moment. At the moment he realized his brother was marrying the perfect partner for Loki. You were, at least in the physical sense, his literal type. He was baffled.

And that didn’t go unnoticed by Thor either, who stole a glance from him and chuckled mockingly. Loki went red of embarrassment and tried his best to hide from you, to avoid your gaze, but he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He felt hypnotized, and bothered. You didn’t look at him. You looked everywhere but him. You were amazed by the palace, by everyone around you. It was obvious you were not familiar with a royal life.

“You seem bewildered, brother”, Thor whispered in his ear.

“And you don’t seem as astonished as you should, brother”, he answered with levels of sarcasm in his tone he didn’t even know he had.

“I shouldn’t, this is merely formal”.

“You’re marrying them. It’s not entirely formal. It’s a whole future and family”, Loki discussed, but he knew his brother didn’t care about it enough. His brother didn’t even want the throne that badly, yet he was the one getting it. More and more frustration flowed through Loki’s veins. He kept staring at you with a frown. “Besides, look at that piece of art”.

He looked so tough, so serious, until you stared back. No, you didn’t even stare. You looked up and found his eyes. He quickly softened his expressions as you gifted him a gentle smile. His heart skipped a beat.

And just with a smile he knew, he was completely fucked.

Loki closed his eyes and shut his fists as hard as he could, trying to focus and concentrate only on what he was supposed to. The spell.

But you were looking, and it was hard.

A week passed by, and you were already living in the palace, bonding with your future husband and trying to learn as much as possible from the new life you would acquire once the wedding passed. You met him everywhere; in the halls, on the meals, on the trainings, on the classes; everywhere. He had no means to escape you. Nor did he want to. But he couldn’t get used to that horrible and sweet feeling of his chest getting tighter, face warmer and balance unsteadier when he saw you.

“You’ve got this, Loki. We’ve been over this”, Frigga said from the other side of the training room. “Just remember what we practiced yesterday”. But the only thing Loki remembered from yesterday was when he was trying to train that same spell and you were, at the same time, practicing your archery skills outside. Sweaty. Tired. Ecstatic. Smiley. Red.

He opened his eyes and dropped his arms, completely giving up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do even a simple spell in front of you.

“What is it that’s distracting you so much, son? You have your head too full for this”, Frigga commented, getting closer to him.

“I’m simply tired, Mother. Don’t worry about it, had a poor night of sleep”.

“Well, get it together for this afternoon. We’re trying again after you get some rest, alright?”.

“Yes, Mother”.

You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation prince Loki and the Queen had. You were way too focused on how uncomfortable the clothes you had to wear were in you. You could barely breathe, and had to fix your posture to avoid choking. Besides, you could feel prince Thor’s eyes on you, and somehow it made you extremely uncomfortable.

You knew you would marry him. Then why couldn’t you at least fake a little bit of interest in him?

You redirected your attention to prince Loki, once again, and the corset was not the only thing that made your breathing harder. Gods, and for the Nine Realms, the prince’s training clothes were something else. Not even compared to Thor’s tank top and weird-looking shorts; Loki’s were almost made exactly for him and his silhouette. Black leather pants and top covering him almost entirely, tight even where it shouldn’t be that tight. Gold endings everywhere and little patterns in his long sleeves and trousers; details that only made it harder for you to not look. But you didn’t even know where to look, if you looked.

Well, you knew exactly where you should’ve been looking. To your side. The blonde and huge man with the big hammer that promised you a crown, a throne and a good place for your family to live in.

You shook your head, and got up to make yourself some tea, hoping the wrong thoughts would fall off your brain and you’d finally come to your senses.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you realized you shouldn’t have gotten there by your own. Unable to get used to the fact that if you wanted some tea you should ask for the maids to make it for you (as with everything, even the clothes you would wear, the foods you’d eat, the way the bed should be made, and an infinite etcetera), you ignored it and put the kettle on the fire.

You tried to reach for the tea box on the countertop, and stood on your toes, failing to even touch it with the tips of your fingers. As you turned around to look for a chair to climb to, you blundered against the God of Mischief’s chest.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry”, he apologized, taking a step back. “I was about to get the tea box for you”. You felt yourself completely red.

“It’s… it’s fine, thank you. I’m sorry” you stuttered nervously, with the echoing feeling of his torso against your arms and chest, making you blush even more. You wondered if he did that accidentally.

He smirked slightly and reached for the box effortlessly, making deep eye contact. Was he… was he flirting, somehow? you asked yourself. No, of course he wasn’t. That would be a hundred percent inappropriate, and he was completely appropriate and polite all the time. Even when he shouldn’t have. So, what was that about? Did he usually look at people like that?

“Breaking some rules, I see?”, he added after a painful minute of silence in where you chose the tea and mug. You turned around and realized he was still staring.

“What?”.

“You shouldn’t be the one making the tea, you know”.

“Yes, I know”, you answered calmly, trying to not show the tremble in your voice. Just the presence of that God in the same room made you feel… tiny. Weak. Maybe in a good way. No, definitely in a bad way; he shouldn’t be making you feel anything, for that matter. “And we shouldn’t be in the same room all alone”.

“Are you kicking me out?”.

“Just stating a fact”.

“Hm”.

“And offering you some illegal tea”.

He smiled. You were way too good for Thor, he thought. You would be bored if you married him. You had the trouble spark in your eyes and Loki was the perfect companion for that. It was so evident you were made for each other; then why would his parents think you would be better off with Thor? He was still clueless at how they could’ve made such an imprudent and blind decision.

“I’d love to, princess”.

You chuckled. “Princess? Really?”.

“Not good?”.

“No”. He lowered his gaze and put a strand of hair behind an ear. “Which kind would you like?”.

He stepped closer to you; so much closer that you could feel his slow breathing grazing your forehead. You tried your best to not rise your head and sink in his sharp features. He grabbed with two fingers a tea bag from the box you were holding. Your hands were trembling slightly. He then got a little bit closer (even though you didn’t think that was possible), slowly stretched his arm and picked up a mug that was conveniently behind you. As soon as he stepped away, you realized you held your breath the whole time.

“Are you alright? You look nervous”, he mocked, which only made you even more embarrassed.

“I suggest you stay in your place, prince Loki”, you said, trying to get back to reality. It was not okay. You could not flirt in any way or form with your future husband’s brother. Wrong. Wrong! All flavours of wrong.

“Suggestion denied”, he said with the same troublesome smirk from before, that still hadn’t wiped off his face. “And you can call me Loki”.

“I will not”, you said, filling his mug with the boiling water. “And you’ll call me by my full name, as you should”.

“You know, in our actual position… you should be the one recieving my orders”, he said, lowering his already deep voice. You swallowed, but tried to keep a determined and confident look on your face.

“Which are...?”. You knew you’d regret even asking, but he was right. He still was your prince, and you still were a mere warrior. He raised an eyebrow.

“Call me Loki”.

“Or?”.

“Well…”, he whispered raspily. You felt he was about to step closer to you again, but the voice of one of his tutors interrupted his flirting.

“What on the Realm are you two doing in here without an escort?”.

“Terribly sorry”, you muttered while you rapidly left the kitchen. Loki stood there, observing you leave and sighed. His tutor looked at him with disapproval and he simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled innocently.

But he had already decided, you were going to be his.

You couldn’t help but to wander the palace as much as you could. The place was enormous and nothing compared to anything you’ve seen before. You only knew the tiny houses you grew up in Asgard, and the occasional visit to other Realm’s palace in the middle of a battle.

But you had to be careful. Nobody would approve you nosing everywhere, much less at those hours of the night. But, well, it was the perfect time, because the palace would not only be empty, but also illuminated by only the soft glimmering of the candlelights. It was gorgeous.

You roamed around through the hallways, until the sharp sound of a fall stopped you dead on your tracks. The sound was followed by an “ugh, fuck” from a particularly familiar voice, and your curiosity grew bigger. What was prince Loki doing at those hours in… the library, was it? You thought, as you tried to read the sign in the doorframe. All signs had to be in old Norse, of course. And you could barely speak it, let alone read it in the dark.

Peeping from the entrance, you got to see what the prince was doing. With a big and dusty book on one hand and a frown in his face, he was trying to make a pile of books from the floor levitate.

He shut his eyes close and once again, pointed at the books with the palm of his hand. A green light surrounded the objects and two of the three books got suspended in the air. With effort, prince Loki pushed harder upwards to make the third book levitate too, but soon got tired and the rest of the pile fell to the wooden floor again, making the same sound that brought you there in the first place.

He then left the open book he was holding over one of the tables and tried again, this time with both of his hands. In around five minutes he got to make the three books fly above his head, as if they were dancing. His eyes glittered and an ear-to-ear smile lit his face. You’ve never seen him smile so innocently, so childishly before.

How adorable, you thought, as you leaned on the doorframe. But the smile on his face got interrupted when you sloped wrongly over the door and fell down with a sound that felt more like a scream than a subtle gasp.

Loki ran to see where that sound came from, and found your flustered face on his feet, trying your best to not look too embarrassed by the fact that you were hovering, or even spying on him.

“May I help you with something, princess?”, he held your hand to help you up, but didn’t let it out when you were already on your feet.

“Thank you. And, please, don’t call me princess”, you said, freeing yourself of his hand.

“‘Please, don’t call me princess’? Darling, you’re begging for the wrong things in here”. You got chills from the seductive tone of his voice, and tried to ignore it through a laugh. There was nothing else to do but to hope he wouldn’t notice how blushed you’d gotten.

“It’s not appropriate that you keep flirting with me, Mischief”.

“I like that nickname”.

“Did you even listen to me?”.

“Yes, I know. You don’t want me to flirt with you because you’re afraid of being inappropriate. But, between us, which one was the one stalking the other one in the middle of the night?”.

“I wasn’t stalking. I was simply observing and hoping you wouldn’t notice”.

“That’s the dictionary definition of stalking, my dear”.

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him. He would know if you lied; and that’s probably why he kept flirting. Because he knew you didn’t mean it when you corrected him. You liked it. You truly enjoyed it.

“What are you doing?”, you asked after a while, pointing at the floating books that were now almost touching the roof.

“I really need to focus for this one in particular. If I need silence and emptiness, this place and time are usually a good idea. Unless, of course, there’s a little spy falling off the doorframe”.

“Sorry about that”, you chuckled, and he smirked.

“It’s fine, I basically finished it anyways”.

“Looks like you mastered it, though”, you complimented. Loki looked at you with a little smile.

“Well, I…”. He was about to answer you, but you reached out for a strand of hair on his face and moved it behind his ear. The books fell off abruptly, and Loki did his best to cover you from their impact, covering your whole body with an embrace. He didn’t let go of the hug, but looked at your face with shame. “I’m truly sorry. I got.. surprised, I guess”.

“Don’t worry. And sorry, didn’t mean to make you nervous”.

“Nervous?”.

“Or surprised, whatever”.

“You’re right, though”. He smiled gently once more and lowered his gaze. “You make me feel things, little warrior”.

“Prince Loki, you really shouldn’t…”.

“I can say it, you don’t need to answer it”. You sighed and gave him a knowing look. “If it makes you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop. If not, let me flirt with you. I don’t need you to flirt back”. You laughed at his proposition and he stared, waiting for a confirmation.

“Fine. But don’t call me princess. You make it sound diminishing”.

“As you wish, my Queen”.

“Oh my God”.

“Precisely”.

You both giggled and tried to keep it down just in case somebody else was awake. The moonlight making its way through the gigantic windows of the library were the only lightning, and the sharp features of the God became even more fascinating by the contrast. His eyes looked deeper. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you with them. You felt naked at his eye, and maybe not in a bad sense.

"What are you thinking about?", he asked after a while. You were both in silence, contemplating each other. Oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable. With Thor, on the other hand, you only felt uncomfortability; even if it wasn't an awkward situation, you knew you were not welcomed by him. Maybe not even his friendship.

"I'm… I think I should get going".

"Why?" he asked, and immediately grabbed your hand. "Stay".

"It's late. Thor might awake and not find me there".

"So?".

"Let's not cause a scandal, Mischief. I have to do what I have to do".

"Maybe you don't have to", he insisted, and you rolled your eyes. With a sigh, he let go off your hand. "I understand. I know you'll be better off like this".

"Yes, I will", you said, faking confidence. Maybe it was your sleep deprived brain that couldn't see right, maybe it was the sudden urge to do what you wanted instead of what you needed; either way, you lingered your way out.

He waited for you to go, but you stayed a little longer, delaying the sneaking back to bed with the man you didn't want to be with. You just needed one reason, only one reason to stay.

"Good night, darling", he said after a while. He knew better than to ruin your future and reputation for his selfish desires. He didn’t want to let you go, he wanted you to be his and only his. But he knew better than to make you a part of his brotherly quarrels. He appreciated you enough to keep you out of it.

"Good night, Loki".

He smiled as you walked away. As much as he shouldn’t have, he got you to call him by just his name.

Not even two weeks passed by and everyone around him already suspected the obvious; the mischievous and rebellious brother was trying to make Thor’s partner fall in love with him. What not everyone knew was that it was completely working.

The stolen glances from up the shoulders in every meeting, every dinner, every event. The long walks around the Gardens, talking about literature, magic and general life. The trainings in one-to-one combat with him that lasted a bit longer than with the rest of the trainers. And you couldn’t help but smile at everything he said or did; it was so much harder than one could think, to hide such thing from Queen Frigga; she saw it all and knew better than everyone in romance. She also knew better than anyone both of her sons, and it was evident how they both felt about you. Because Thor’s stone cold indifference wasn’t one to go unnoticed as well.

In dinner, Loki was again sitting by Thor’s side, and couldn’t help but to chatter about the subject that bothered him so much.

“They’s late, brother; you’ll marry a terribly mannered warrior”, he mocked. Thor rolled his eyes and contraatacked.

“At least I’m marrying them”.

“You say it as if I wanted to”.

“Please”, Thor scoffed.

“Marriage is a boundary. I merely desire them”.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to hold their hand from the Throne, or to put a crown on their head”, mocked Thor. Loki sushed him, because he was completely right. Loki would’ve loved to gently caress your hair and kiss your pink cheeks, to fidget with your ring as he held you in the mornings and nights. Gods, he was lost.

“I do not, anyways. But if you plan on borrowing me wedding night and spare you the annoyance you’d feel by bedding them… I agree”.

“Will you keep on making sexual jokes to avoid real feelings all your life or do you grow up after the 1100 year?”.

You opened the door and got in with your head low and breathing unsteady, embarrassed and apologizing. The princes stopped the chattering and followed you with their eyes. Loki didn’t even hide his expressions of pure and raw desire. Your hair was a disaster, and you were still in your ripped warrior clothes, covered in mud, blood and scratches. The dagger strapped to your thigh was, too, covered in blood.

“Hot”, said Loki, unintentionally louder than he should have. Dear, he loved when you looked like a threatening mess.

“What?”, you asked in a breath, still agitated.

“Eh, hold. Hold the door, I meant”, he corrected himself (everyone was looking, even the guests, and he knew better than to be that inappropriate on certain occasions). But you knew exactly what he said and smirked slightly, just enough for him to notice.

“You were saying… you didn’t want to?”, whispered Thor just before Loki got up and walked through the tables. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do, but if he said ‘hold the door’ he had to keep it verosimil, didn’t he?

As he walked past you, slowing down, he whispered “library, tonight”. And then left the dining room, leaving an even more blushed you to imagine what could he possibly want from you. And your imagination was not precisely innocent.

You took a deep breath and held it for a minute before getting inside. After wandering around the bookshelves, you noticed the room was still empty. Maybe too early? It was barely midnight. Everyone was already asleep and the Palace was, as every night, dead silent.

You sat on the couch and caressed the texture with the tip of your fingers. Was he coming? Did he say it just to make you blush in lunch? Perhaps he was messing with you. He was the God of Lies and Mischief after all, wasn’t he?

After ten minutes you stood up and decided to look for something to read. You wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, so might as well make the most of the night; with or without prince Loki.

You walked slowly, reading carefully every title. If something had your attention, you’d read it on that beautiful velvet couch, in front of the fireplace. Even grab a mug of coffee, to keep you up until you finish your readings. The plan sounded marvelous, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed you wouldn’t spend the night with him.

You weren’t expecting to actually get physical, of course. He was not your fiancé and would never be. He was barely a lover. Not even that. He was the man you loved and desired, yes. But merely platonic. It wouldn’t go any further. It couldn’t go any further.

But you were expecting to have that precious alone time he gifted you in the nights, where everything was off and both of you were the only flame alive in the whole Kingdom. The glances he threw at you, the smiles he drew to let you know you were appreciated; you were wanted, you were loved by him.

As you reached for one of the books, a bigger hand wrapped around yours and the book, making you gasp.

“Hello”, he whispered in your ear, earning a shiver from you. Just that, he didn’t need to do any more than that to set on all your alarms and get your face redder and hotter than ever.

You turned around and smiled. He didn’t move away; in fact, he raised both his arms to your sides and locked you between him and the bookshelf.

“Seems like you won’t let me go away, won’t you?”.

“I don’t think you would even if I gave you the opportunity”.

“And how are you so sure about that?”.

“You came here, as I asked you to”.

“So?”.

“Are you actually going to play dumb?”.

You both laughed slightly, still not wanting to make a single noise. He got a few inches closer, and you did too. You raised a hand and fondled his hair. Moved your hand all the way from up his ear to down his neck. He slowly slipped down one hand to your waist and the other one to your collarbone, making the same deep eye contact he made with such lust; that desire he always looked at you, but amplified to a hundred and ten percent.

Now both of your hands were cupping his face. He was warm. And smiley. And… God, gorgeous. Godly gorgeous, as he always was. You traced with your fingers his cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. You sighed.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, getting even closer. His breathing was slow and you could feel it on your face. His question was barely audible, yet so strongly loud to you.

May he kiss you? May you kiss him? You weren’t supposed to be even that close with him. You weren’t allowed. You shouldn’t look at him the way you did. Or touch him the way you wanted to. But there he was, asking to kiss you. And you had no other words in your vocabulary else than;

“Please”.

#loki #loki of asgard #asgard #prince loki #king loki #thor #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki odinson #odinson #laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x you #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #thomas hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #the hollow crown #tomhiddleston #lokilaufeyson #reader