#i remember the bitter hills well

[charmedreincarnation]

Success Story Using Your States Challenge 🎉

Hello Maya! I've got to confess, I used to despise the concept of states. It made it seem to me like bloggers were simply being lazy and deceiving us because at first, it made zero sense. If I could just choose to embody any state, then why was my life in shambles? Why was I poor, why was I abused?unattractive, and suffering? When did I choose to embody these states?

But then it hit me! Whether consciously or subconsciously, whether due to coincidence or purposeful, whether knowingly or ignorantly, I realized that if I wanted to manifest my dream life, I had to take accountability for the negative aspects as well. That's the law of reversibility. It was a bitter pill to swallow initially because I've been through some really tough shit experiences that I wouldn't wish upon anyone.

It wasn't my fault, but I kept replaying those old stories, and reliving them hence creating my reality . But I learned that I could use this to my advantage. I could replace the old story with a new one that fulfilled me.

I started making choices aligned with my dream life. Every time I encountered something from the old story, I chose to perceive it differently. Working with an abusive manager? Odd, because in my state, I'm a trust fund baby. Seeing an unattractive reflection in the mirror? Confusing, because I have a social media following based on my looks alone bc of pretty privilege. My bank account nearing zero? Must be an error, because I have millions in savings and investments.

I strongly recommend checking out these posts for additional insights:

Pink's post on overcoming doubt

Angel's advice on states

Bambi's tips on manifesting under unfavorable circumstances

Maya's post on time

Since embracing this mindset, I've manifested so much! Like literally waking up with a whole new life. I've moved to LA, gained a large social media following (100k on Instagram, 200k on YouTube, and 1 million on TikTok), and now live in a beautiful house in Beverly Hills. I attend a prestigious private high school with other celebrity kids. My dad (revised) is retiring from the NFL, and my mom is a successful interior designer.

I've also manifested my dream body (Alexis ren), dream face (I am so pretty it’s not even fair) dream cars (Lamborghini Urus, Tesla Model X, and Porsche 911 GT3), an enviable closet and room, a loyal friend group, and much more. My list was about 100 pages long, very specific, and yet my life turned out even better than I could have imagined!

Thank you so much and Happy New Year! 💋

I am very happy for you! I’m glad you kept reaching for your dreams and inspiring yourself and thank you for inspiring others 🤍🕊️✨Honestly I forgot what state challenge you’re talking abt bc I genuinely lowkey don’t remember making that post… like who knows where my mind was but regardless wishing you a lifetime of happiness and success! So glad I could help

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #my asks

[dduane]

Hello! Do you think your conception of magic in YW is influenced at all by computer code? Between High Wizardry and some of the website admin stuff you discuss here, I'm guessing you've coded at least a little.

I'm an actor-turned-librarian who's cobbled together a little bit of coding competency through goofing off. The other day I tried to explain how I conceptualize a coding project and, well, first you need to figure out something's name -- and make sure you're properly specific for the context, you may need a lot of detail in how you name it -- and then you can start figuring out how to persuade it to do what you want ....

So I guess it's sort of a chicken-and-egg question: have I conceptualized coding in the image of my favorite fictional magic systems, or have I been generally drawn to magic systems with a sort of code-y, process-y inspiration?

I wouldn't like to second-guess your in-brain structure. But I can talk about my historical processes a bit, as they may apply to this.

Let me step back slightly. Before* I was a writer, I was a nurse. Before I was a nurse, I was studying to be an astrophysicist. Both of these arts/sciences require a certain sense of the hard structure of the universe—of the ways it requires you to put bits of it together if you're going to get anything useful done. This general outlook has determined, to a certain extent, how I interact with the nuts and bolts of the online world.

More historically speaking: I'm one of an unusual stratum of computer users who were technologically orphaned by the (bankruptcy) failure of the Osborne computer company in the mid-1980s. Those of us who had these machines, and who were at all techie-oriented, quickly became WAY more so in an attempt to keep our Osbornes running after the company went under. We learned how to keep our babies going without any available support, and when we moved on to other machines, we quickly became expert in fixing them... having learned the bitter lesson that when your computer fails, most of the time you're the only one you're going to be able to rely on to keep it going.

We learned to do things for ourselves, from the bottom up: hardware to programming. That mindset has remained with me from then until now.

After my Osborne, I moved from an early Apple (lent by our old friend Michael Reaves) to various early DOS/TRS machines when I moved over to this side of the Atlantic. I wrote Star Trek: The Kobayashi Alternative on a TRS-80 Model 100, gods bless its gentle hardworking heart. (I can still see in my mind the pale, pine-panelled interior of the ancient creaky London hotel, just south of Notting Hill Gate Tube, where I did most of the Trek work while I was in town on other business. I'd hooked the computer's modem to the hotel's phone system with alligator clips.) While Peter and I were later sorting out where we'd live on this side of things, for a long time—before portable computers, except for the TRS—the big machines lived in the boot of the Volvo while we migrated from place to place. And always the alligator clips were there.

Finally we settled in Ireland, and not too long after us, so did the Internet. (But not before I had to go up to Dublin one time, with the alligator clips again FFS!, and show the adorably clueless national telephone company guys how to hook up/in. ...I never pass that building without thinking of it: once Telecom Eireann, then Eircom, then Eir. Now it's a Starbucks. No matter. I remember where to hook the alligator clips in.)

And then, with the internet, lo, there came the (net-oriented) coding. Our first household web site went online in 1995. I handcoded our site's HTML. (Because what's a girl to do: wait for the techbois to make such work accessible or affordable? Bwahahahaha.) I continued to do that until the early 2000s, at which point I moved our sites to Drupal and learned its obscure ways. These days—having decided that Updating Damn Drupal Core Every Week is not what my mom raised me for—I've migrated all our household sites to WordPress, and I like it. I still pay a lot of attention to them, but at least I don't have to custom-code every whole damn page. I'm happy enough to let Elementor do that, while inserting occasional custom CSS, because (a) I have other writing to do, and (b) Life Is Too Short.

(I also used to hand-build our household computers, because (a) money was short and (b) why not know exactly what all your hardware is? But more recently I've started letting Scan in the UK do that. It's another Life Is Too Short thing... and Scan does good work. Lovely tight builds, and good customer service when needed.)

So: yeah, I code. :) Is the Young Wizards universe’s spell structure influenced by that? Uh, yeah. Inevitable, I’d think. Habit is such a taskmaster.

Meanwhile, summing up: I'm fluent in HTML. I'm nearly as fluent in CSS. I have enough PHP to be dangerous (to myself as well as others). I have memories of C that I can dredge up when necessary. I generated most of the Rihannsu language in MS-BASIC, gods bless it. ...And beyond that (as we say around here), deponent saith not. :)

*Or “while”, as I started writing when I was six or seven.

#coding #writing #Young Wizards #Young Wizards meta

[crystalskiesandcherrywine]

And all the pieces fall, right into place // Part One

So Feyd Rautha is still on my mind and that’s my second try of writing about him and an Artreides!Reader.

This will get smutty later on, but not in this chapter.

Summary: As the Princess of House Atreides, you don’t shy away from what ever must be done for your family. Your impending union with a Harkonnen, though anticipated, doesn't unsettle you. However, the events take an unforeseen twist, placing your fate on a precarious edge. This sudden shift brings about consequences far beyond what you could have ever envisioned.

English is not my first language.

All feedback is welcome <3

Part two // Part Three

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

There are so many songs that make me think of our favorite psychotic Harkonnen, but I stick with „Found“ by ††† (Crosses) for now.

_____________

Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

FxM

1.349 words

___________________

The dim light wandered through the corridor, veiling most of the space into a velvety dark. The earthy brown and green tapestry on the wall illumined ever so slightly by the flowing arms along the wall. But even if there would be no light, you know the way by heart, having followed it more times than you can remember. Your feet shuffled along the floor, finally stopping at a closed door almost hidden at the end of the passage. Before your knuckles can touch the polished wood, a slight gap appears.

„You are late“ Paul says, and pulls you in, closing the door behind you at once.

„Well, you can take it up with our Father. I love him with all my heart, but with him being in the library for so long there was no chance of getting past him earlier“ 

„He seems to spend an awful amount of time there nowadays“ Paul muses and lets himself fall on a cushion on the floor. 

„That’s true. I believe he hides from Mother.“

Both of you cannot suppress a laugh. Since Lady Jessica is with child she seems quite easily irritated with everyone, especially with the Duke. 

„Well, at least she will have a new baby to take care of when we are gone“ 

„Let's drink to that“ Paul says, and produces a bottle of wine and two glasses from a cupboard. 

The liquid is the perfect ruby color, reflecting the light on the walls. It feels like all of your home planet has been distilled into the glass in your hand: the sweetness of the sunshine rays, the vibrancy of the hills covered in forests, the deepness of mountain lakes you wandered with Paul & Duncan, the acidity of the soreness after training with Gurney and the light twinge of bitterness of the goodbyes Paul and you were to say so soon. 

„We have about a fortnight still“ he says, as if reading your mind. 

„How about you stay out of my thoughts, “ you reply, but there is no sharpness to it. He is right, your future is about to unfold, but now you are here still, far away from the harsh and unforgiving Giedi Prime where the man you were promised to awaits.

„I really should go there and tell them off“ Your father sighs, his eyes still resting on the book he has had for half an hour without reading a single word. 

„And what good would it do? Let them, they will need the memories to sustain them through what’s to come“ Lady Jessica says with a benevolent smile. 

Her hand rests on her belly, instantly protective of the new life. But she feels the same unease as the Duke, with hints of trouble in the air being almost tangible to her. 

_______

You regret the last cup when you wake up the next morning. Your mouth feels dry and ashy, your head throbbing. Your handmaidens say nothing, but a vial with medicine is placed wordlessly on your nightstand. You gulp it down and rush to the private dining room, where your mother and Paul are already there. 

A servant plates some bread on your plate but is dismissed by Lady Jessica with a stern look. 

„No, please. Not now“ you whine „ We practised for so much already“ 

Lady Jessicas looks at you sternly „And yet there is a need for more“.

Your eyes wander to your brother 

„Don’t look at me for help. I had earned my breakfast already“

With a sigh, you sit upright and focus on your mother

„Give me the plate“

Like in a trance, her hands move as she grabs the plate from the servants' hands and puts it next to you. 

„Good, now what else do you want?“ 

_______

Days pass by in training, between the library and the combat space, with afternoons free for you and Paul to do as you please. To sit at the cliff just outside your ancestral fortress, with seagulls rushing over your head, while you look at the waves crashing at the shore is something you cannot believe to be able to leave without. The hours spent in comfortable silence are so precious to you that you almost can’t find back the tears prickling in your eyes. A servant comes running to you one of those afternoons, visibly distressed. 

„My Lord, my Lady“ he finally gets out between snapping for air „You are requested at the guest hall at once. Please come“ Paul and you get up, exchanging a glance. In the hall, the fireplace is lit and everything is a buzz with servants carrying silver plates, candles and chairs. Your father stands next to the fire, his hands clasped behind his back with the message scroll he holds so tightly his knuckles are almost white. He turns around, and his expression is carefully neutral.

„There has been news for you today, my children. Paul, you are to leave for Arraki with me in a week. We will meet the Fremen delegation there and your wedding is to take place in Arrakeen. You, my daughter, however, will be gathered by Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and Na Baron Feyd Rautha here. Baron Vladimir and his nephews will arrive the day after tomorrow. They will take you to Giedi Prime after the wedding“ 

Paul seems as confused as you are. You were to travel as a family to Giedi Prime so that your wedding could commence after Na Baron's Birthday celebrations. But now he and his family make the effort and spice to travel to your home. This news leaves you puzzled and unsettled. „Now go to Lady Jessica at once“ he says and with a bow of your head, you rush to her chambers. 

Lady Jessica seems calm, compared to you. But she has years of Bene Desserts training that you are yet to acquire. She holds out her hands to both of you. „Something is not right“ she admits, „but there is nothing to gain in worrying now. We have too much to do“ 

And with this, your packing begins.

_____

Metal plate touches the ground with a soft thud, revealing a row of Harkonnens soldiers, all in their full combat gear, looking out of place in the middle of the green field their vessel landed on. „Quite a show“ Paul signs to you and gets a „Behave now“ as a reaction from your mother. 

They march in unison and behind them a grotesque floating figure is revealed, followed by multiple tubes, connected to dark glass orbs. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen floats, with his drape touching the ground and collecting the morning dew on the edges of it. His face is soft and plump but also full of hardness, small eyes beading at you with a hostility you cannot understand. Glossu Rabban, a mountain of muscle, follows slightly behind him, glancing between your family and the surroundings. Light breeze reaches you, carrying the smell of the sea foam and shells and raising the banners of your House behind you even higher. You lift your chin a bit, trying to mirror it and your gaze falls on the man next to Glossu. His skin is so fair that it looks like snow on a mountaintop, unblemished and almost sparkling. His uniform is tight, with black leather at his shoulders, knees and boots, which only makes his skin more striking. You are aware of his reputation, so his calm pace doesn’t fool you. Behind this facade of tranquillity is a person who is rumored to be the most ruthless soldier in the known universe. His eyes seem to look straight at your parents when suddenly his head turns to you and his dark blue eyes meet yours. For a split second, the corner of your mouth twitches nervously and he catches that, causing a hint of a smile on his face. He doesn’t look away as if to test you, so you try to withhold his gaze with the same amount of pride. His lips form a proper smile now, with the promise of a story yet to begin.

________

to be continued ...

#dune part ii #feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #feyd smut #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune movie #paul atreides #feyd fanfiction #arranged marriage #no cannon in sight #shameless smut #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #i can fix him #no but seriously

[romanoffsbish]

In Your Corner

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | WC: 3,885

It had been supposed to be another great year that had come to a close for you. Every year, without fail Tony would throw you a party, but this year he was preoccupied with his family. He hadn't even had the time to send you a text.

That hurt, but you new infants were a lot of work so you gave him and Pepper that pass, but as you entered the communal kitchen you found yourself disappointed again. You'd been used to waking up to the smell of a homemade breakfast made by your best friend, but this year Wanda was off to Cannes with Vis for an impromptu trip, she too had forgotten to text.

The remainder of the team had seemingly also forgotten, each one just hanging around the compound and your lover was off on a mission so you couldn't fault her for the lack of text.

——

So, there you sat, on your shared floor with a pint of whatever frostbitten ice cream was left in your freezer as you watched Friends reruns and cried into your couch cushions as Rachel and Ross fought over the terms of a "break".

The show continued on, laugh tracks sounding off, even when it wasn't really that funny but your focus had since shifted to your dry phone. When you realized no one would remember now as it'd already reached noon you settled into the loneliness and slipped off into a nap.

—

Natasha was stressed to the max on a quinjet, pacing back and forth as Clint flew them home. She'd been gone for two weeks now, and she told Fury that there was no way she'd miss your birthday. It was too important to her that the two of you at least have time to celebrate.

Your life was the most important thing to her, so of course the day of your birth was as well.

So he sent in some agents to replace them as the bulk of the work had been completed and all that was really left was the clean up. There was no reason to extend what had already been extended from a weekend away to two weeks.

When they landed she rushed off the jet and went straight to the common area. She was softly panting from the exertion, but her breathing slowed to nothing as she surveyed the room. Steve and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couches reading, while Sam and Peter were on the ground, the former one cursing as they played a round of Mario Kart.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Clint's eyes widened as he walked in as Natasha growled. The men in the room looked to her confused, the youngest of them all was the first to speak. "We're having a chill day Mrs. Romanoff."

"Wrong answer," Clint tossed out before rushing out of the room to debrief with Hill as he promised Natasha he'd do for her sake.

"Now why would you be doing that Parker?"

"Natasha, we don't have the energy for your riddles, so speak your peace," Bruce boldly piped up from the corner he'd been sat in.

"Banner, I suggest you leave now," she gritted, her fists bunched up, and the scientist lost all of his bite when he remembered the Hulk wasn't going to be on his side. He soon left with his head down and metaphorical tail tucked.

Which was the best gift your wife could honestly offer: his disappearance. He'd been nothing but bitter since you two got together.

"What's wrong Nat?" Bucky asked, much softer and genuine. Of all people here he'd be granted a pass as he'd not been here in the years prior.

"I'm just wondering where the decorations are, and why my wife isn't here surrounded by the people who she celebrates joyously every year."

Expressions of guilt, and trepidation overtook the entirety of the limited team members faces.

"Friday, where's Y/N?" Natasha asked, only adding salt to the wounded men as she replied: "Asleep upstairs on your couch, it appears she had cried herself to sleep about a half hour ago. Shall I wake her for you Agent Romanoff?"

"No, please do let me know if she wakes up." Friday agreed, and she shifted her attention back to the men who'd all stood to their feet.

Natasha's heart had sank at the notion of you feeling the way you did, as if you were easily overlooked, and not valued, so she knew she needed to fix the mess everyone had made.

"Peter, swing to the bakery at once and return with a tray of those cupcakes." The young boy looked defeated, your wife didn’t hold this against him, on account that he was a kid, but she didn’t waver with her glare and that got him to scramble to activate his suit and leave.

“Wilson, Rogers, and Barnes, go decorate the garden, leave behind your generous gifts, then stay out of sight for the rest of the day."

The redhead then shot off texts to everyone else to scold them just in case they too forgot. Then she took off to the gym lockers so she could freshen up without having to enter your shared floor and risk waking you up just yet.

After she changed from her suit into a pair of shorts and a muscle tee she set off to collect you for a day of last minute, but proper plans. The guys had just finished their part, and left to Wilson's apartment so she could fix the day.

As she entered your shared space she was greeted by an obnoxious laugh track, your melted ice cream and your sleeping form.

Natasha took a minute to survey the scene, and after a moment of admiring you her heart effectively broke as she eventually saw the dampened fabric of your couch. If not for her desire to celebrate your birth she'd be stealthily bringing an end to all that made you this sad.

With a quiet, determined step she moved about your shared floor, cleaning up the mess you'd been accumulating ever since she left. Then she settled a kiss to your cheek as she shut off the TV before venturing off down the hallway to run you a warm tub full of water. After she set the place up with a sprinkling of gifts, and a whole lot of love she’d set off to collect you.

To her luck you'd just groggily sat up, she found it funny that the silence is what woke you up as you'd just been snoring through Friends only a half an hour prior. "Natty?"

"Good morning sleepy head," she teased as she moved out of the hallway and into your sight. There was a dullness to your gaze as you tiredly surveyed her, not subtle at all as you looked her over for wounds, then again to check her out.

Natasha smirked, and began to approach you, she settled down beside you and cupped your cheek. There was a glimmer of hope in your gaze, and she spoke fast, making sure not to crush it. "Happy Birthday moya lyubov'."

"You remembered?" You sobbed, a bit dramatic you'd realize later, because of course she did, but in the moment you felt relieved. "Oh detka, how could I ever forget such an important day, hm? It's my most treasured."

Her lips pressed to your cheeks, catching the tears that slipped through your lashes, then they traversed the expanse of your face until they finally landed on your own as she pulled your body into her lap in one swift motion.

"Why's my pretty girl up here alone on her most special of days, hm?" Natasha knew, but she wanted to try and get your perspective and see the best possible way to change it. "Because everybody forgot Natty," you hiccuped as you burrowed into her neck. "Except for Friday."

Natasha hummed, her body slowly rocked yours in an attempt to hopefully soothe you as her own blood boiled with pure contempt.

"My sources say there was a cosmic fluke on Wanda's behalf, because she adores you so."

Natasha prayed for her sake this was true, because though she'd lose in a fight with the unfair advantage of powers, she wouldn't refrain from smacking her around anyways.

"The rest were simply forgetful idiots, but they felt terrible and have started the apology train," she decided to be honest, forgoing her initial plan to lie to protect your feelings. The men didn't deserve such shielding, they instead deserved to stew in their guilt for eternity.

"I-I don't mean to be dramatic Natty," you sniffled, "But I never forget anyone, why would they forget me? I just want the same in return."

"I understand detka, it's fair to expect," she agreed with a soft tone, "I just want you to know I would never forget, I only didn't text because I was racing home to surprise you."

"I know you would never forget honey, some years it's you who has to remind me," you giggled, and it instantly brought a smile to your lovers face to see you already perking up.

"Well, in the spirit of such a monumental occasion I have ran a tub for you, and set out a new outfit for you to slip into for our plans."

Your head whipped back from its place on her shoulder, face instantly lighting up, "Plans?"

Natasha shook her head with a fond smile, her fingers then raised up to her lips to imitate a zipper and so you whined: "Natty please?"

"Detka, I want it to be exciting, so go get ready and meet me in the garden when you're done."

The two of you stood to your feet, reluctantly moving apart, but before you fully separated your wife pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

"Take your time, and relax your mind Y/N." She pecked your lips a final time, then left.

As you entered your room your heart swelled at the sight of the outfit she'd bought, you'd been eyeing the fit for awhile, and of course she had been watching you just the same. Nothing was ever going to get by your super spy of a wife.

Once you finished your soak, with a new set of body products, you slid out and into the new royal green cropped sweater vest, and skirt. Then after handling your skincare routine you skipped all the way to the garden where you found your wife stood there patiently waiting.

Natasha subtly gulped at the sight of you, and for a moment the both of you remained silent as you looked the other over. She had changed from her casual locker attire into a loose fit black button up polo, with a pair of grey slacks. It was a simple choice, but still deeply alluring as her arms managed to bulge out the stretchy fabric, and her pants were form fitting enough that you could admire her toned behind.

Once you reeled in your devious gaze you were reduced to a woman on the verge of another breakdown. There stood your wife with a bouquet of black roses, and honeysuckles. It had become her goal to pick you meaningful flowers, and the contrast in bright colors meant to symbolize eternal love, intermixed between the more dark, morbid version of the classic rose was for an that leads to a beginning.

In the moment your curiosity was peaked, but you settled on letting the day play out before you sought out clarity. Your wife was cunning, and never moved without a plan, and you were never one to doubt her so you'd easily wait.

Natasha's free hand hung in the air, beckoning you to approach her, and as you accepted she swiftly pulled you into her body. She lowered the bouquet, allowing you the chance to smell the unique combination before she set them in a vase on the center of the decorated table.

“You look gorgeous love.” Natasha blushed, and softly huffed, “That was my line detka.”

As you giggled mischievously into her chest she gave the nervous spider-teen who was lingering on the side of the compound a thumbs up from behind your back. Peter lowered the pink box, and white bags onto the table with his webs, then as previously instructed he vanished.

“He’s just a kid Natty,” you called your wife out as you tried to pull away from her, but she kept your bodies connected with a hand on your lower back, as her lips sought your warmth.

Once satisfied she let you go, eyes admiring the way that yours stayed shut an extra beat, you always took a moment to recover, even when it was just a peck on the lips. You swore you’d never get used to the feeling of hers against yours. It was electrifying, and no matter how brief there was never a lack of love to be found.

Once you shakily breathed out through your nose, and your eyes fluttered open you were met with your wife who was patiently waiting. Natasha pursed her lips, then doubled down. “That’s true Y/N, that’s why I still let him see you, but he also has a phone with a calendar.”

You knew not to push it, because in the end she wasn’t wrong. Instead you thanked the boy via text, and put your phone in dnd, no longer caring about the sudden influx of well wishes, as your greatest one to be was sat before you.

Natasha handed you a sandwich, and then after listening to you animatedly tell her stories of the guy’s stupidity, she reflected back and told you all about Clint’s on their mission. Then as if having the power to summon him, the man was beside you with a candle and a lighter.

“Happy Birthday Y/N/N,” he greeted with a grin and a stubbly kiss to your temple. “The kids made you this,” he passed you a paper with the whole Barton family on it, and right to the side of them was you in Nat’s arms with Liho on your shoulder. Then he passed you an envelope, “And Laura purchased you this.”

While Natasha pulled out a gorgeous cupcake decorated to look like a peony you tore it open.

“Oh my gosh, no way!” You shrieked, “We’re going with them to Disneyland Natty!” She met your enthusiasm with a nervous chuckle, then seamlessly blew passed her anxieties as she lit the solo candle and began to sing. Clint joined her in the celebratory tune, but fortunately for you your wife’s melodic voice carried the tune.

Clint slipped off a moment later, with a to go container of various flower inspired cupcakes, then Natasha guided you to her sports car. It never ceased to make your heart flutter when she naturally moved to buckle you in. There was never a time in your whole entire time knowing her that she didn’t do this. It was actually how you realized she liked you in the way you did her. Because once you actually saw how she unbuckled Tony’s for him in contrast.

“Where are we going?” Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly, “Stop asking baby girl, you know I’m a steel fortress with this stuff.”

You grumbled all the way, until you saw the arcade, with Yelena and Kate grinning outside. Natasha couldn’t contain her laughter as you raced from the car and into her sisters arms. The blonde spun you around, then after you were back on the ground Kate pulled you in.

“Come on Y/N,” Yelena shrieked, “We must play as many games as possible. The final winner gets the crown in Kate Bishop’s hand.

You raced off with a shout of: “Game on!”

“Thanks for coming so last minute, I know you just got home from an undercover mission,” Natasha genuinely said, and the archer turned to her with a tired smile. “It was the least we could do, plus, look at how happy they are.”

Natasha did look, her eyes hardly ever left you to begin with, but in moments like these, where you were in the middle of unbridled joy, she especially wanted to be a spectator. Seeing you and Yelena playing like little kids always made her heart soar, and her mind run with dreams.

Of a future similar to this moment, but with house parties and summer barbecues. It was all she wanted, and she reckoned it was time you two got started on the rest of your journey. So, after about an hour of free fun, where you beat Lena in the final game, reigning you champ she called out to you both to say it was time to go.

“You’re welcome for letting you win,” Yelena angrily said, making you giggle as you realized she most certainly did no such thing. Her eyes narrowed, but a grin soon overtook her face as you yanked her into a goodbye hug. “Thank you for coming out to celebrate my birthday.”

“I will never miss a chance to beat you at air hockey Y/N Romanoff.” Her arms tightened, and she softly whispered: “Happy Birthday.”

“Okay, let’s wife swap now.” Natasha’s tone was playful, but a spark of jealousy was easily detected. “Hold your panties Natalia. Y/N is all yours. Also Kate Bishop is my fiancé, not wife.”

“She’ll be your was with that attitude,” you teased as you shifted to say goodbye to the archer. Who, as was her job, coronated you the ‘Arcade Supreme’ just before slipping you a gift bag then taking off with her grumbling fiancé.

“We’ve got a few more stops detka.” Natasha escorted you back to the car, then the rest of the adventure unfolded as she took you to all of your favorite places. Including the cat cafe where she surprised you with an adoption.

You’d been begging for months to get Liho a girlfriend, but then you ended up getting a male orange tabby, with a missing eye. “He looks kinda like Fury, let’s take him to shield!”

“Detka, I want to live a long life with you,” she teased as you held the cat up. “Stop tempting your fate with the doppelgänger of our boss.”

“At least you agree with me,” you huffed, then set the cat back down before letting your wife take you out of the cafe with the promise of returning in the morning for the little fella.

“You think Liho will mind that his girlfriend is a boy?” You shrugged, smirking around the straw of your frappe. “Love is love Natty.”

It was encroaching evening now, so you’d figured that the night was coming to a close, but when your wife passed the exit for the compound you realized her plan was ongoing.

With the windows rolled down, and your hand interlocked with your wife’s as she drove you across city lined you began to realize the burden of your depressing start had dissipated. The tension in your body melted away, and in a show of direct appreciation you brought her knuckles up to your lips and kissed them.

“What was that for?” You were looking out the window at the vast greenery of New York, but you could hear her smirking and had to fight off the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I need a reason to show you, my dear wife, affection?”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose not, but if you were saying thanks, I’d also like the same gesture deposited upon my lips please.”

Just as much as you were left a total mess after each kiss, she was left with an insatiable need for more. If she had it her way you’d never part. Her lips would be against yours all day, and if not there, at least somewhere on you.

Before you could even consider her proposal the redhead had pulled over abruptly, the blur of greenery was now more clear to you, and a feeling of serenity washed over you at the view.

“Where are we love?”

Your wife was nervous, something she rarely ever felt, and never let anyone see. Today is going to change the trajectory of your life for good, and she just hopes you’re happy with it.

“Home.” You furrowed your brows as you whipped your head around to meet her gaze after processing the word she’d just blurted. Seeing her nervous smile upon doing so made you lose the frown of confusion. A much softer crease overtook your face as you matched her smile as best you could. “What do you mean?”

“Here.” Natasha unbuckled herself, then she hopped out and gently pulled you from the car. “I, well actually, Tony and I have been working together on this for awhile now.” You cut her off with a gasp of genuine surprise, “You and Stark have been working together and he gets to live to tell others about it?” Natasha rolled her eyes, but before she could clarify you gasped again, this time with a horrified look.

“Oh my gosh Natty, did you kill him?” Her face fell into one of pure mortification. “What? No!”

You cast her an unbelieving glance, but then you lost your edge, tone obviously teasing, “Maybe that’s why he didn’t text me today…”

Natasha glared at the notion, and vowed to trip the wires in his suit for such a slight. Then she remembered his hologram that was waiting for you with birthday wishes beyond the hedges.

“Detka, please focus,” she chided, then pulled on your hand until you were just beyond the greenery, and stood before a gorgeous home. The walls were painted a blue tinted grey, with black trimmings, and it was two stories tall.

“This is,” she began, but you cut her off with a squeal, “Our home? Are we finally…” Natasha cut you off next, “Yes, we only have one final mission detka. To settle down for good now.”

“I love you so much Natasha!” She gladly took you into her arms for a hug, then before you could protest she scooped you up like she did on your wedding day, and ran the both of you beyond the threshold of the home. Her lips slammed to yours in the heat of the moment, but the kiss was weak as neither of you could refrain from smiling like idiots. “I love you too Y/N, more than I ever dreamed possible.”

When the night came to a close a few hours later, you heard your phone ding just as your eyes had shut. You begrudgingly peeked an eye back open. "Happy Birthday Y/N/N, I had no service, but I promise you a stack of chocolate chip pancake's when I return on Monday. ❤️"

You smiled, grateful for Wanda's gesture, albeit late it was much better than never at all. All you ever wanted was to have a group of people to love you the same way you'd loved them.

With Natasha pressed into you from behind, an arm wrapped tightly around you as she snored softly you knew without a doubt that you were at the very least loved with reciprocity by her.

—

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x wife!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #gxg

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Bastard’s Mistress ~ A Don John x Servant!Fem!Reader Fic

So I caught the don John brain rot this weekend…very contagious, 10/10 recommend. This might be @scarlettspectra ’s fault, from all her beautiful gifs she’s been posting!😆 I didn’t go full Shakespearean here but had some fun with the syntax. I apologize in advance. Reader is properly deferential for the time, but she’s got a little spunk.😬 

Warnings: the line between dubcon and noncon here is VERRRY thin. I don’t even know. So if that bothers you do NOT read this! What else. Period correct misogyny and degradation. Corruption. I’m so bad at itemizing these things. Please take care. If u have squiks i probs wouldn’t read this…

You are a chambermaid in His Excellency don Alejandro’s hacienda. It gives you a certain distance from things, as you come and go, doing your best to keep the country house clean and stay out of sight. But don Alejandro’s bastard, the fire-eyed boy with such a burning contempt for the world, has always seen you. 

When you were young children, don John would play with you all, the offspring of the servants who were too young to work. Not because he enjoyed your company, but because he delighted in ordering you all about. Luckily in those days he ignored you as often as he tormented you. 

Then there was a time, when the two of you hovered on the precipice between childhood and adult responsibilities, that you had almost been friends. Or at least, not enemies. He, the bitter outsider with the privileges of a full blooded son, but none of the standing. You, unmoored in your fatherlessness, the fever having taken your sire when you were just a babe. 

Don John goaded you into shirking your chores one day to go play in the hills. He’d only taunted you a little, as you played your silly games, which mostly consisted of him manipulating you, ordering you to do this and that, always testing just how far he could go before being met with rebellion. It was still better than working your hands raw in the laundry. “We should run away,” he’d said in that devil-may-care way brash young boys have, so sure the world is destined to fold for them. You, however, had begged to go home, for all it won you. Upon returning your mother absolutely tanned your backside, and you never associated with Don John in such a familiar way again.

You saw him around the grounds, of course, as you scurried from one backbreaking chore to the next, and as he went through the motions of learning how to become a gentleman. Amidst his riding lessons he would wink at you from astride his fine black horse, but the cruel turn of his mouth never failed to halt you in returning it, even if your heart quickened in your chest.

That did not mean you didn’t think of him later though, on your lumpy cot of straw, as urges began to awaken in your body that was well on its way to becoming a woman’s. You saw his face at night, so achingly handsome you could hardly contain your longing. It felt like madness, and so you shoved it down in the deepest dungeon of your heart, as far as it could go. 

It was not helpful, or good, the times when young don John passed you in the halls, and you felt that he would like to just eat you up. He would tug at your apron strings with a smirk before striding on to whatever lark he plotted for the day. The unholy feelings just a look from that man called up in you had you reaching for your rosary–and late at night, when all others lay asleep, between your legs.

You’d felt a certain relief when he went off to war with don Pedro. Even though your heart ached for the inevitable change, a part of you hoped he would never return.

As it turns out, your hopes were not to be realized. He has returned to his father’s country house, on the tails of some scandal in Messina. His temper is even fouler than you remember. His scowl, crueler. He has met with some disappointment, out in the world. You hope he will not take it out on you blameless servants.

Perhaps that is too much to ask of the upper caste.

You feel his eyes upon you again, as in the old days, but different. There is a weight in his gaze that makes you uncomfortable in your own skin, as though it no longer fits upon your own bones. It makes you ache for something no pious unmarried girl should yearn for, something you cannot name, only feel in the darkest hours of night when you lay awake on your mattress of straw, your sinful fingers exploring the bud of flesh between your legs.

You decide don John carries the flames of Hell in his burning dark eyes.

You dream of him, as though he has possessed your flesh in your sleeping hours.

He corners you one day, as you are changing the linens in one of the many airy rooms of the hacienda. You eye him warily, as he shuts the door, his large and forbidding form blocking your exit. His dark eyes upon you are black as night.

“What a flower you have blossomed into, y/n,” he muses, stepping slowly into the room with the measured calculation of a predator stalking prey. “No longer the knees and elbows girl I remember.”

“You…have also changed, my lord,” you offer cautiously. No longer the awkward, rail thin youth, his shoulders have the breadth of a man who rides a charger and wields a sword. You have tried not to notice.

“How so?” he fishes, canting his head with a smirk.

Your face feels as though you have caught on fire. “You are…taller,” you offer, winning a cruel little chuckle.

“Oh? I do like the sound of that. What else?” Another step closer, his booted heel clicking on the floor, and you are veritably boxed in between the walls and the oversized bed.

“My lord?” you stall, mortified.

“Did you miss me, y/n?”

This question also takes you aback, and perhaps that is why you answer honestly.

“Sometimes.”

“Well. That is more than any of my relations here will bother to claim,” he answers bitterly. In that moment you still see a boy just striving, yearning for his father’s recognition. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but you always felt bad for him, in a way.

“Did you hear the happy news? Don Pedro has taken a wife, and opts to dwell in Messina,” snarls don John with a mocking brightness.

“How…fortunate for him.”

The man before you makes a sound that suggests he barely restrained himself from spitting upon the floor in his half brother’s name.

“Indeed.” He takes one more step, and you know you are done for, your heart in your chest. There will be no escaping now. “What of you, fair y/n? Assumed the yoke of marriage yet?” The disdain in his words hangs bitter in the air.

You are tempted to lie, but know no good should come of it. “No, my lord,” you answer, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“How fortunate for you.” 

Perhaps in your fear, you forget yourself. “John, please–”

He moves to strike, and you are but a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, quick but not quick enough to evade him. His arm is like a band of iron about your waist, lifting you off the floor in his fury. He slams you down–albeit upon the feather mattress–a luxury you’ve never experienced for yourself, your back accustomed to scratchy tick straw.

“Insouciant wench! How familiar you are, to address me so.” He sounds so cruelly delighted by it, wedging his lean body like a knife between your legs, his narrow hips locked against yours. When you attempt to sit up he easily pins you down, his large hand spanning two of your wrists with ease, his other pressed lightly over your throat. You can hardly hear, hardly think, over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. He can surely feel it in your pulse, fluttering against his fingers. You are filled with fear–and the sharp ache of desire, God save you.

“Please, my lord…”

He makes a low sound in his throat, his lips tracing your jaw. “Please what, pretty maid? I have a mind to make a meal of you.”

“Please…don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? That is up to you, my dear. I will have you. Sweetly, or by force, tis your choice.” Your heart lodges in your throat. Your mother warned you about this, time and again. Men are dogs and gentlemen the worst of them. Never let them catch you alone.

And in your darkest heart of hearts, you know that a part of you hoped don John might do just that.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, surprisingly gently for such a villain, but you attempt to turn away. It only wins his annoyance, his large hand turning your face back to him. Before he can press his mouth to yours you say, “You merely seek to make sport of me in your boredom here. It is not right.”

He laughs at that. “Sport, I shall make,” he muses, hiking your skirts above your thighs. “Let us test the truth of your righteous outrage?” Boldly his fingers climb the trail of your leg, to the apex where he finds the damning evidence of your treacherous loins. “My lovely girl, so wet for such a reluctant quarry.” His long fingers dip inside your weeping center, and the sound you make does not resemble protest at all. He smirks down at you like the very devil. “And a virgin my little rabbit is not.”

Javi the stableboy took care of that for you, in a quick and disappointing tumble in the hay. His touch…had felt nothing like this, if truth you tell.

Ashamed, and burning, you look away. Tears trail out of your eyes, and a part of you wishes it shall just be over soon. He frowns at the shining tracks of water upon your cheeks, a menacing scowl that makes your eyes screw shut tight.

“Do not seek to engage my sympathy or my better nature, for you know I have none,” he growls above the dip of your throat, his lips searing as a brand upon your chest. 

“That wasn’t always true,” you dare, winning naught but a growl from this ravenous beast of a man above you.

“You are the only one who thinks so.” For the barest moment you see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes–the ghost of the memory of the boy he once was, there and gone like ripples in a pool. It is as though this second of softness spurs him on in his deed, as though he must shove it aside to enjoy his sordid pleasure.

Clever fingers tear at the laces of your stays; you are freed to breathe, but you are bared to his hungry gaze as he tugs down your shift for his delectation. “Such lovely fruits, just ripe for picking,” he muses, cupping your breast in his hand, suckling upon a nipple.

You never knew how such a thing could make your insides clench, your sinning cunt tightening in its aching emptiness. Your hips move against his of their own accord, your legs wrapping about him as you mindlessly seek some relief from this madness. He withdraws with a dramatic pop, laughing at your body’s treachery.

“You are a fiend.”

“Pray, tell me,” he taunts you.

“I hate you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your master?”

He is enjoying this far too much.

“You forget your place, don John, as ever.” 

That is when he slaps you. Not hard, nay, your own mother has hit you harder, but it certainly gets your attention. “I will rule here someday, y/n. Have a care with that tongue. I can think of better uses for it.” His piercing eyes fix upon your lips, a moment before he falls upon you, kissing you as though he means to devour you. You tense, thinking to bite him for being so cruel, so conniving, for just using you for no other reason other than he can.

He plays a very dirty trick on you, though.

That dexterous hand slips under your skirts again, swiping up your slick before circling that small nub of flesh that causes you such great tumult and shame. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile wickedly against you.

This man is the very devil, you are sure of it.

“Now who is ready to forget?” he taunts you, rubbing you in slow circles that drive you mad, make you writhe for the unbearable tightness coiling between your legs.

You can only manage a small cry, words escaping you. You’ve never felt anything like this, not at your own hands, and certainly not with Javi the stableboy.

“Please,” is all you can manage, and you’re not even entirely sure you know what you’re begging for.

“I like to hear you beg so sweetly.” He reaches to free himself from his breeches, his swollen tip hovering at your entrance. “So beg, wench, what favour is it you ask of me?”

You should entreat him to leave you be–you should beg for his mercy. But the delicious weight of him atop you, this dastardly man whose touch is such sweet sin–you are not sure you wish for him to leave you be. Your whole life has been such a march of drudgery. Even just the possibility of feeling something that is not pain or exhaustion makes you willfully forget every lesson your mother ever taught you, every fiery sermon the Padre ever flung down from his pulpit. Tis easy to renounce the Devil, until temptation has you in its clutches.

“I know not what to ask for,” you answer cautiously, and that at least is true.

Don John smirks down at you, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. 

“Ask for my cock, you stupid girl, and if your quim pleases me perhaps I may be moved to share in the spoils.”

“Yes.” You strain your hips towards him, craving that satisfying, stretching burn of a man’s first thrust. That, atleast, you know something about.

“Yes, what?” he taunts you, delighting in your torment as he holds himself just out of reach.

“Yes, my lord,” you whimper, hating yourself as much as him in that moment. “May I have your cock?”

His smile widens in his devilish delight, almost showing teeth. “Remember that you asked for it.” But he taunts you no further, his thick head penetrating your weeping hole, the fullness of him stealing the very breath from your lungs. He groans once fully inside you, burying his face in your neck. 

“I’ve always known you would have the sweetest little cunt in the sierra,” he growls against your skin, and he begins to thrust.

If there is one thing you have always known about don John, it is that he loves to hear himself talk.

“You are mine, little maid,” he goes on, filling you so deeply you fear he must be in your belly. You are not sure you like it, and you only whimper in answer, straining for a better angle against him, seeking that certain friction that made you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, understanding what you seek very well. You whine, turning your eyes to the ceiling. You know you are a mere peasant, and you know you do not own anything, much less yourself. Yet some small defiance rises in you, for his demanding tone.

“Perhaps I shall, if you make it so.” 

You wait for him to strike you again, but to your surprise he smirks with a sort of dark delight, only turning your gaze back to his with a rough hand upon your jaw. “There is the saucy wench I remember of our youth. Do you remember how you used to defy me?”

You don’t very much, recalling that he usually always emerged the master and victor of your games.

“No, my lord.”

“You do not recall striking me with a stick, in defense of a hapless bird?”

You blink, finding it rather unfair of this man to expect you to command the capacity to think in this situation. But then you do recall. You had all been small children. The boys sought amusement in throwing rocks at an injured sparrow. You had taken exception to it. 

Don John had sworn he would tell his father and have you executed.

You’d cried for days, but the sword never fell.

You’d nearly forgotten all about it, perhaps willfully burying the memory out of shame and fear. Mostly fear.

The bastard had deserved it.

He never forgot a slight, it seems.

“I always told myself I would have my revenge for that,” he tells you with a smirk, pressing his thumb into your mouth. You try to shrink away, but he has you like a fish on a hook. “Suck,” he commands you. You do not understand why those jetty black eyes boring into yours, paired with that unyielding tone, makes your needy cunt clench around him, only that it is extremely satisfying to see his eyes flutter closed, even if just for a moment.

You do as you’re told.

He uses your own saliva against you, reaching between your legs with that spit-wet thumb to touch you again. 

You forget everything else, but the carnal heaven that is his clever fingers with his manhood inside you. The sounds the two of you make are barely human, as you strain and writhe against each other, chasing your release from this hell. Those full lips made for sin devour you–his mouth on your breasts makes you see God, a searing pleasure crashing through you in a spine-cracking rush. How can something that feels so wonderful be so forbidden? Only then does don John truly let himself go, the sound of flesh striking flesh filling the room as he takes you with all his pent up fury. It is not long before he roars his release, filling you with ropes of his hot seed, his powerful body trembling in its tangle of limbs with yours.  

For just a moment you wished would last, his fingers lace with yours rather than pin you, his head heavy on your chest as he catches his breath. Yet when he lifts his gaze to you, his eyes gleam with their usual malevolence. 

“You will come to my chambers tonight,” he orders you. “For I am not finished with you yet by half.”

When your mouth opens–indeed to give protest–he silences you with a hard but heart-melting kiss, his long fingers tangled unforgivingly in your now loosened hair. 

“Do as I say, servant girl. Though if you don’t, I may enjoy making you.” That proud mouth ticks as he seems to imagine it, that fire igniting once more in his mesmerizing eyes. The thought simultaneously makes your blood run cold–and a thrill of desire run raucous down your spine.  

This man is the very devil. You are as sure of it now, as you know when the household goes to sleep, you will find your way back to his merciless embrace.

#don john #much ado about nothing #don john x reader #don john keanu reeves #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic

[noosayog]

[Not just Nostalgia] ft. Miya Atsumu

wc: 2.3K

contents/warnings: exes to lovers

noos's notes: I love exes to lovers but I feel like I really didn't do it justice here :( i'm not the biggest fan of this but I spent so long writing this, I wanted to share. I hope at least y'all enjoy it :)

Often, when you return to your hometown in Hyogo, you can’t help but be swept up in nostalgia. It happens when you walk by the convenience store and remember eating popsicles with your classmates. It happens when you pass by the rolling green hills and remember riding your bike along the cherry blossom lined path. It happens when you pass by your high school and remember all the memories you made there. Somehow though, there aren’t any memories that outshadow the moments you shared with your then-boyfriend. You remember helping him bleach his brassy blond hair, sitting in the stands long after school to wait for his practice to end, and tutoring him despite your being one year younger than him. 

But nostalgia is just that and you know better than to let yourself be swept away by sentimentality. You know better than to let yourself forget the reason why you had to leave. Being back here for the summer is a risk, but surely you can’t spend the rest of your life avoiding your home, whether that be a home of rose-tinted memories or bitter heartbreak. 

– 

Your hometown is a small one and running into Atsumu is hardly an improbable outcome. It happens a bit sooner than you’re expecting, but it’s been over a year now and you have to muster up some courage. The only thing more pathetic than still moping about the break up is being the ex-girlfriend who can’t move on from the man who broke up with her. 

When you see each other, Atsumu doesn’t hesitate. There’s no prolonged staring match and no awkward silence. In fact, Atsumu seems to have completely forgotten what happened the last time you saw each other because he greets you with an unreserved hug and an excited “It’s so good to see you again!” 

You can’t deny the fact that it hurts that this is so easy for him, but you’d rather it be like this than the estranged limbo of being exes. Being with him, even in this capacity brings you back to high school and you’re swept along in his pace all over again. 

You never stopped, really. 

He asks about your family and reminisces about how much your mom used to love him. In the same breath, he invites himself over because he wants to see how she’s doing. In spite of his easy demeanor, you notice the slight flicker in his gaze, endearingly worried that he might be overstepping his bounds. Your longing for him returns in full force when he looks at you with those straightforward eyes, mixed with sweet caution. Like he still cares that he might be making you uncomfortable. 

So what’s a girl to do but let the object of her affection bulldoze through her plans to remember why she keeps the door to her heart tightly shut? 

–

“Hi, ma’am,” he grins at your mother when he walks through the doors. 

Your mom looks up from where she’s chopping garlic and welcomes Atsumu with a curt hello. Considering she’s ignored every friend who has ever visited, she’s making it pretty clear who her favorite ex of yours is. Turning back to her garlic, she commands you, “go take your boyfriend to the living room.” 

She still doesn’t like him enough to remember his name and you find comfort in that at least. 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, mom.” You remind her often when she asks about your blond, tall boyfriend. 

“Oh. He’s not?” she shrugs. “Well, go get him some tea.” 

“Yes, mom.”

Atsumu smirks when you meet him in the living room with tea. “She thinks we’re still dating?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head. She just doesn’t care enough to remember our history.” 

He wiggles his brows, “our history?” 

Insufferable. 

He keeps this up all night. Your mother, impossible to charm, continues to throw blunt remarks at him over dinner, but he lets them glide over his head. He even makes your mom laugh. 

It’s because he’s like this that you can’t let him go completely. He makes it too easy to imagine what could have been. 

–

For Atsumu, seeing you again was an out of body experience. He barely remembers the moment he said goodbye to you at his graduation ceremony with the flimsy excuse of wanting to focus on going pro. But he does vividly remember the day he came home a year later, only to find that you had left town the day you graduated. And despite his love for the sport, not even he could spend every waking hour playing. The hours that weren’t preoccupied by practice were spent thinking of you. Turns out, he proved himself wrong. Apparently, he really could balance going pro and being with you, because even though he didn’t have you anymore, you still owned the other half. 

Shameless as he is, he could not bring himself to pester your friends or your mom to find out where you had gone. It was the least he could do for you. For you. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Then he runs into you at the supermarket. He sees you first, lugging a basket around and looking perfectly fine while he’s in complete shambles. He follows you around for a good 5 minutes, never mind how creepy that is, practicing conversations in his head. It pays off when he weasels his way into your house, then all the more when he feels a flare of pride in knowing that he’s the one your mother remembers.

The remaining semblance of his composure comes crashing down when Kageyama, whom Atsumu has always found pleasure in competing against, shows up without warning. 

It’s a pleasant surprise, really, when he happens to see Kageyama in front of a vending machine with his signature scowl. Atsumu calls out in his jolly, pleasant facade, but Kageyama skips over Atsumu in favor of greeting you.

You smile. “What are you doing here, Tobio? You should’ve told me!” 

“You know each other?” 

You both turn your attention to Atsumu. 

“Yeah,” Kageyama nods. 

“We live in the same building in Tokyo,” you supply. 

“Oh.” 

Atsumu has read enough shoujo manga to imagine the worst. 

It’s no longer imagination when he hears you tell Tobio to swing by to see your mom. He watches Kageyama nod and then make this exit without fuss. The whole interaction leaves Atsumu confused and uneasy. 

–

You think the universe must be playing jokes on you when you come home and find Atsumu at your front door. You’re not sure if this is some sort of torture or Atsumu really just wants to be friends again. You sigh and let him in, walking past your mom in the kitchen again. 

“Oh?” your mom begins. “Here again?” 

He grins, all charm. “Couldn’t stay away for long, ma’am. Your cooking is too good.” 

She harrumphs. “I know you’re here for my child.” 

Atsumu laughs, but she’s already back to cleaning the vegetables in the sink. 

Atsumu’s halfway to the living room and you’re preparing the tea when she abruptly stops chopping and whips her head up towards you. “What about the other boy?” 

Atsumu freezes.

“What other boy, mom?” 

“The black hair one. Doesn’t talk, only nods.”

You ignore her and she just goes back to chopping vegetables. It was just a passing thought for her, but you can only hope Atsumu didn’t hear. 

–

“Doesn’t talk, only nods.” Atsumu hears your mom say. 

He freezes in the hallway, hoping to hear any elaboration you or your mother has. You say nothing though, and meet his eyes as you round the corner. He hopes you’ll explain but you don’t say anything and brush past him to the living room. He feels a hot flash of anger; doesn’t he at least deserve an explanation? 

But it cools quickly when he reminds himself that he does not. He does not deserve an explanation or anything from you for that matter. He’s just an ex-boyfriend. 

Atsumu used to tell himself that if you ever found someone else, they wouldn’t compare to him. What could that anyone have that he doesn’t? He’s tall, an olympian athlete, close with your mother, the list goes on.

He never thought it would be this easy for you to find someone who meets all of those requirements just as easily. Except, Kageyama had a leg up in that he didn’t break up with you because he wants to focus on his career.

Irrational, boiling hot, searingly stinging jealousy floods his gut. God, Atsumu has never been more aware of his decision to break up with you, that he somehow conjured up the thought that he couldn’t handle going pro after high school and maintaining his relationship with you. He has had moments like this, regretting his decisions and missing you to like crazy. Seeing you back here in Hyogo, he had tricked himself into thinking everything would be the same after all the time that has passed. Yet, in your time apart, maybe you have moved on and someone else has presented themself as the better option.

That was time he had practically gifted to someone else. 

He wishes so badly he could yell out that he isn’t satisfied with the way things are. 

I don’t want to be just an ex. I’m not just an ex. I can’t just be an ex.

It’s sometime after dinner, your mom urging you to at least walk “boyfriend one” to the door, when Atsumu finally asks.

“Am I just an ex to you?” 

You open your mouth to answer but Atsumu barrels on. Not because he has more to say, but because he can’t stand to hear your answer.

“Actually, no. Don't answer that. I can't just be an ex to you. I can't just be your ex.” 

You’re silent. 

“What-” do I have to do to make you choose me again. 

“How-” can I make you fall in love with me again? You were in love with me once. Why can’t you do it again? 

“Why-” him? 

Miserable, he blinks up at the sky, eyes heavy. 

“You were in love with me once, why can't you do it again?” he whispers.

Either you don’t hear any of his questions, or you choose to ignore them, but you do say, “Tobio and I went on one date in Tokyo.” 

Atsumu keeps his eyes averted. It’s the explanation he asked for but not the one he wanted. 

“And that was it. We’re just friends now. He ended up needing to visit Hyogo once and he came over for dinner as a friend. That’s when he met my mom.” 

“Then why does she remember him?” still trying to keep up some semblance of nonchalance, when he feels anything but. 

“She just likes tall men. You know that, Atsumu.” 

He doesn’t like the implication that he’s only a favorite because he’s tall. In that case, any one of his teammates except for Shoyo has him beat there. 

“What about you,” he whispers, fists clenched. 

“What?” 

Atsumu takes a deep breath. He needs to make a decision here. Is he going to lay it all out for you here or is it finally time to let you go for good? Would you even give him a chance after all this time? 

The decision is easy, selfish even, to make. 

“What about you,” he says, voice shaking, eyes watering, but he doesn’t hide it from you anymore. 

“Atsumu… what about me?” you ask, not understanding. 

“What about how you feel about me? Right now?”

Atsumu watches your expression shutter, exactly like how it did when he broke up with you. 

“Because,” he rushes out. “Because I’ve never stopped loving you. I made such a big mistake when I made the selfish, one-sided decision to leave you with that stupid excuse. If anything, with the amount of time I spent missing you, that proves that I can do both. 

“And I know it’s incredibly selfish of me to do this now. To want you to come back after all I did and how long I waited to tell you all this, but if there’s even a chance…” 

He’s practically giving a soliloquy now, so he doesn’t notice that you’ve stepped into his space until you’re grasping him by the forearms. 

He cuts himself off with a deep inhale when he feels your warm touch. You bore into his eyes, staying silent. He calls your name in reverent whisper. 

“Atsumu, do you know how much you hurt me?” 

He nods. 

“Do you really regret it that much?” 

He nods. 

“Then why didn’t you come to see me?” 

“I-” he has a number of excuses. He could say that he didn’t know where you went. That he wanted to give you your space. But he was just scared this whole time. Scared of what he’d find when he found you and it was only luck that he ran into you at the grocery store. He tells you the truth. 

You ponder this for a bit, eyes wide but unreadable. 

“Do you know why you’re my mom’s favorite?” you ask after a while.

“Because I’m tall?” 

You laugh, your hands that were still holding onto his arms sliding down to slip into his palms. Atsumu’s mind isn’t keeping up here, because surely this doesn’t mean that you- 

“Tobio’s tall too,” you respond. The suspense is killing him. 

“You’re her favorite because she’s my mom and she knows me. Atsumu, if I didn’t still love you, you would’ve never stepped foot in my house again.” 

His wheels are still spinning when he feels your thumbs brushing the tears in his eyes away. You smile, and it’s the same smile he remembers. You know you’re both thinking the same thing when your eyes finally meet. It’s definitely not just nostalgia, the way fireworks explode when your lips meet after all this time.

#noos writes #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq angst #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader

[thehighpriestess1]

Be Mine : Wounds

Summary : With a little help from a close friend Gojo gets a deeper insight into y/n’s feelings. He loved her, watched her from afar but failed to see her pain, but now that he has, who dared stop him?

Pairing : Yandere King Gojo x Knight reader

Warning : mentions of traumatic relationships, physical abuse, bleeding, injury, yandere themes. Minors do not interact. 18+ only.

Previous

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You stared at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom as tears rolled down the corner of your eyes. The confession had left a bitter taste in your mouth and now you regretted saying it. You remembered Gojo’s face as the words had left your mouth, it had gone paler and a look of hurt was evident on his face. But maybe you were being delusional and his face was just the same. When he offered you a one week medical leave you did not refuse it. Any time away from him was appreciated. You couldn’t stand being in the castle and after that excruciating night you packed your bags and came straight here. But it turns out the ache in your heart was not tethered to a place. You turned on your side and looked outside the window, far away you could see the ivory tower you climbed out of glowing on top of a hill. The castle always looked beautiful at night but it was also the loneliest place at night. Somewhere within those castle walls Niko was lying in his bed, he would be discharged tomorrow and maybe his company would help you feel better. 

You looked at where his balcony would be, now that you had been there you knew exactly which balcony led to his chamber and which led to his office. Is he asleep right now? Or is he with the woman he loves? Does he even think about you? Or is he too occupied with her? Does he still have the Omamori? You closed your eyes and let the tear roll over the bridge of your nose. You were not going to fall in love with him, you reminded yourself. No matter what happens, you are not going to fall in love with him. 

Gojo sat on the plush chair,on the balcony, with his feet propped up against the foot rest. His eyes were closed and head rested against the edge of the chair. To a passerby it would look like he is simply resting, but the faint tear at the corner of his eyes would prove otherwise. He could see you clearly, tossing and turning in your bed. Were you having trouble sleeping? When you gazed out of the window it felt like you were looking straight at him. Ever since you had left Gojo could hardly eat or sleep. He was always angry, always hurting. He had never felt more lonely. He knew your confession was half hearted, he knew it wasn’t the truth, and yet the words pierced his heart. If you didn’t want to be with him then there was nothing he could do. He would love you from afar all his life if it meant that you’d be happy. But why weren’t you happy then? Why were there tears in your eyes? Were they for Niko? He wanted to cradle you, kiss your tears away, love you until you forget what pain feels like. 

-X-

You were in the middle of brewing your morning coffee when you heard the knock on your door. Wiping your hands on the apron around your waist you opened the door and squealed when you saw Niko standing there with his ever charming smile and wrapped your arms around his neck. Niko’s hand immediately rested at your waist as he lifted you off the ground and stepped inside. 

“Oh god you are okay!”. You got down and stepped back to look at him.

“Better than before!”. Niko smiled and kept his duffel bag on the couch. “I smell coffee”. He scrunched his nose and tilted his head.

“Settle in, I’ll get you some!”. You smiled and immediately walked inside the kitchen to wash another cup. “Are you on medical leave?”. You asked, wiping the cup with a cloth.

“Yes I am!”. Niko replied from the living room. “I guess it’s well earned”.

You chuckled and poured the coffee in two mugs and brought them out on a tray. “I was really worried about you, you know?”. You said with a concerned frown as you kept the tray on the table and sat down next to Niko on the couch.

“I know. You were also very stupid”. He said as he sat sideways to look at you and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You sighed and looked down at your lap, “I wish I could explain why I did that”. 

“You don’t have to. Just promise me that you would never do something that stupid again”.

You rolled your eyes and picked up your coffee mug, “Fine! I promise!”.

Niko smiled at you as he sipped his coffee. He was glad that you were on leave as well. Now both of you could actually spend some time together without interference from anyone.

“By the way..what really happened that night?”. You asked, keeping the mug back in the tray.

Niko sighed and bit the corner of his lip. “I don’t remember a whole lot but Commander Kento and I reached the sector with everyone and then we split into two groups when we reached the diner.  He left with two men and two men stayed with me. I had just crossed the roundabout when a lady came up to us and asked me for help as a few curses had taken over her building..”. Niko took a sip of coffee and his eyes were fixed at a spot on the couch, “...at the same time two curses came out of nowhere so I sent the two men with her and fought the two curses”.

“Were they the ones that attacked you?”. 

Niko shook his head and looked up at you, “No. When I was done with those two, a third one..I believe he was a grade 1, materialized from where I was standing and held my foot and just..”. Niko raised his hand in a swinging manner and chuckled, “ ..swung my in the air. I tried to fight it but the other tentacles grabbed my arm and it spewed something on me and it left”.

“It left?”. You frowned.

“Yeah, just like that. It just left”.

You stared at him with your mouth agape. Curses just don’t leave.

“Next thing I knew..I was in so much pain that I could barely breathe and when I opened my eyes I was in the hospital”.

You nodded your head, it was possible that the trauma had distorted Niko’s memory. “Did you wake up right before I got there?”.

“No”. Niko grunted and put his cup down. “I had awoken almost 30 minutes before that”.

“Oh..when did he get there?”.

“Surprisingly he was there when I woke up”.

“What?!”.

Niko chuckled, “Yeah. He was there when I opened my eyes and then he ..questioned me about what happened and what I remembered and then you showed up”.

“Oh..did he..see you again after that?”. 

“Noppeee”. Niko grabbed the tray and proceeded to talk to the kitchen and kept them in the sink.

You sunk further into the couch and ran both your hands through your hair. You had been debating telling Niko about everything that had happened with you. 

“What has been up with you?”. Niko asked, coming out of the kitchen and looking at your lost-cause expression.

“So much…I don’t even know where to start..”. You said bleakly. 

“Start from the beginning..what happened after you left with Gojo”. 

You took a deep breath and began telling Niko everything that happened with you. From the curse to waking up in his bed to the Omamori and the library. You told him about the other woman and your conflicted feelings and how you told Gojo that you were in love with Niko only to stop yourself from developing any feelings for Gojo. Now that you were putting things into perspective you realized how stupid your decision was but it was too late.

Niko listened to each word carefully. He wasn’t surprised that you were feeling this way, this is what men like Gojo do. They care till they want to care and then they discard. Your feelings didn’t mean anything to Gojo and Niko could bet that Gojo had a bet going on where he makes you fall in love with him and then break your heart. But he had a feeling that there was something more sinister going on here. 

“Am I being too delusional and reading too much into this?”. You asked, fidgeting with your fingers.

“No, I think you are right to feel uncomfortable. He should understand that he is the King and even if he wants to be your friend there are certain boundaries that you just can’t cross. If he fails to see how his caring or over-caring nature is making you uncomfortable then maybe he is not really your friend and he has some other motive behind all of this”.

“I wasn’t exactly..uncomfortable. To be honest, I don’t know what I feel and how to put all of it into words..”.

Niko took your hand in his’, “It’s alright. You don’t have to think about him while you are here, okay?”.

You smiled and nodded your head. “Okay”.

-X-

Gojo lay on his bed with his one arm covering his eyes and another in Shoko’s hand as she took his pulse. Ijichi, who had been by Gojo’s side since you had gone on leave, was excused as the King wanted to see as few people as possible. 

“When was the last time you slept properly?”. Shoko asked.

Gojo replied with a sigh. He had no idea. All his time was spent either dealing with the most important work or keeping an eye on you. Sleep didn’t hold importance in front of you. 

“Oi, Satoru! I asked you something!”. 

“Ugh, I don’t know, okay?”.

“When was the last time you had eaten a full meal?”. 

Gojo groaned in response and Shoko assumed it was the same answer. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is but if you continue this then we will have to find a new King”.

“She loves him..I think”. Gojo slurred. He removed his hand and turned to look at Shoko. His eyes were red and puffy and it deeply worried Shoko.

“So?”. Shoko raised a brow.

“He loves her too”. Gojo swallowed harshly. 

“So?”.

“I..I can’t live without her”. Gojo sniffled.

Shoko took a deep breath and ruffled his hair. “It’s fine. If you really love her then don’t give up”. It was unlike Shoko to speak softly and give advice on love. But Gojo had done the same for her and she was just paying him back.

“I don’t know what to do”. Gojo shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.

“You should stop keeping an eye on her. It’s draining you”.

“I can’t. I could have lived without her had I never met her, but now..now I can’t. You know, whenever I am unaware about what she is doing or where she is, I feel like I am drowning. But as soon as I see her I feel like I have made it to the surface again”.

“Satoru…she will be here soon. You just have to wait a few days”. 

“No!”. Gojo groaned. “You don’t understand! Anything could happen to her! Someone could try to hurt her or kill her. You don’t know her Shoko, she is extremely stubborn and doesn’t think twice before risking her life! What if something happens and I am not there to stop her?! No..No..”.

“Fine”. Shoko spoke calmly. “I understand. I will help you but only if you get better”.

Gojo’s eyes widened, “Will you? Really?”.

Shoko rolled her eyes, “Do you want to see her or not?”.

“I do I do I do!”.

“Fine. She will still be on medical leave though and you can…maybe meet her for..I don’t know! We’ll see! God I regret this already”. Shoko began packing her bags and Gojo sat up straight. 

“What if she doesn’t come?”. Gojo asked. 

“Tough luck then!”. Shoko said and got up pulling her bag over her shoulders. “But till then..no more of the”, Shoko pointed at his eyes and swirled her finger, “..six eyes thing”.

“I promise!”. Gojo smiled.

Shoko had known him for over a decade and knew when something was up. “Swear on y/n. Swear on y/n that you would not use your six eyes”.

Gojo’s shoulders dropped and he rubbed his eyes. “FIne. I swear on y/n I will not use my six eyes until she comes”.

“Good!”. 

“Shoko?”. Gojo called out as Shoko was at the door.

“What?”.

“If she comes…would that mean she loves me?”.

Shoko stared at him and sighed, “Maybe”. She shrugged, “but it would definitely mean that she cares about you enough to leave her friend.. whatever his name is”.

-X-

You picked up the apple from the pile and inspected it, the tote bag on your shoulder was already digging in your skin but this was the last purchase for the day. Niko was still back at your home. You didn’t ask him to come with you but you hoped that he would at least offer. But when you told him that you were going to get groceries he simply handed you his list with a goofy smile. So now here you were, packing his apples.

“Hey!”. A woman's voice called out from behind and you turned around to see a woman with straight brown hair and a beauty mark under her eye smiling at you. She seemed familiar but you couldn’t exactly recollect her name.

“Yes?”. You asked, turning away from the pile of apples.

“You don’t remember me ,do you?”. She asked as she walked over to the pile and picked up the same one you had before.

“Don’t take that, it’s bad”. You replied nervously, feeling embarrassed at being caught. “I’m sorry I don’t really remember you”. 

“I am Shoko Ieri. I treated you a few days ago”.

Your mouth formed into an O as you remembered Gojo mentioning her name. “Right! I’m so sorry! Thank you so much for treating me!”. You chuckled nervously.

“How are you feeling now?”.

“Better. Much better”. 

“That’s good. Any friend of Satoru’s is a friend of mine”. She winked at you and began walking in a different aisle and you walked by her side. 

“You’re friends with him?”. You asked, adjusting the tote bag as the pain had begun to travel from your shoulder to spine.

“Yeah. Since childhood. So I couldn't really say no to him when he brought you! God it looked like he was going to have a heart attack”. She rolled her eyes. 

Though she had a stoic face her smile was warm and reassuring but yours dropped. “You..didn’t want to..”. 

“Oh no no no. It’s not like that”. Shoko turned towards you and shook her palm vigorously and you giggled at her embarrassed face.  “It’s just that I don’t treat non-sorcerers. Not that I can’t, but the council wanted to keep the medical history and conditions of sorcerers separate from the non-sorcerers”.

“Oh…”.

The two of you began walking again as Shoko continued, “But Satoru can get really persistent when he wants to and he basically refused to leave until I treated you”.

You smiled sadly as you adjusted your bag again, “That’s sweet of him”.

Shoko sighed,”Yeah but now I have to treat him. He is the worst patient ever!”.

You stopped walking as Shoko stopped a few steps ahead and turned towards you, “What happened?”. She asked, feigning innocence.

“What happened to him? Is he hurt?”. You asked, trying your best to hide the anxiety rising inside you but Shoko could read your face like an open book.

“I wish it was simply a physical injury, it would have been easier to treat but he has just..exhausted himself completely. I am afraid if he does not stop and take care of himself it can be really detrimental”. Shoko looked around and walked over to you and whispered in your ear, “I am not really supposed to discuss his physical state because he is you know what but it’s really bad. He can hardly get up and still insists on working”. She backed away and gave you a sympathetic nod.

Your shoulders dropped as you imagined him lying alone in bed, sickand with no one to talk to. “Do you think I could..maybe see him?”. You asked hesitantly. “I don’t get my badge back for another two days so I can’t really get into the castle grounds”.

Shoko nodded and pretended to think for a moment. “It’s really tough to enter the palace grounds then”.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked down, “Yeah. If I could send a message through-”.

“But I can help you!”. Shoko cut you off before you could get another idea. “Only if you really want to..I don’t want to pressure-”.

“I do! I want to!”. 

“Okay, I can write you a consultation slip and you can use that to get inside”. Shoko smiled and you reciprocated. 

“Yes. That would be really helpful!”.

Shoko opened her purse and took out her notepad and seal and within seconds handed you the consultation slip. You took it from her and stared at it. Did she just write all of this now? She is really the best doctor in the kingdom. “Thank you so much doctor!”.

Shoko smiled, “Please feel free to call me Shoko”.

You smiled and nodded your head, “Okay Shoko”. You looked back at the slip and frowned, “Wait…but this is for today”. You looked up at her, confused.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m on leave for two days starting tomorrow”.

You pressed your lips and stared at the slip.

“Is everything okay?”. Shoko asked, tilting her head forward.

“Yeah. Everything is fine. I better hurry I guess. Bye Shoko!”. You laughed nervously and ran off in the other direction.

Shoko stood there, staring at you run, “Hook,line, and sinker. You owe me Gojo!”. You chuckled and walked away whistling.

-X-

You kept the heavy bag on the table with a grunt and moved your shoulders. “Niko!”. You called out and Niko walked out of the bedroom with a book in his hand.

“You’re home! I was so hungry!”. He said, stretching his neck.

“I need to go”. You tied your hair into a ponytail and made your way towards the bedroom, pushing past Niko. 

“Wait! Where are you going?”. Niko followed you into the bedroom. You stood in front of the wardrobe rummaging through your clothes. You knew you couldn’t tell Niko that you were going to see Gojo as he would try to talk you into not doing it and you had no time for debate. The castle gates would close in an hour and you needed to hurry.

“A friend of mine is really sick so I am visiting her. I might not come back tonight”. You replied examining your white shirt. It would have to do. You pulled out your black slacks and coat and made your way towards the bath. 

“Wait!”. Niko grabbed hold of your arm as you were about to pass him again. “Is it Amante? I’ll come with you!”.

“No!”. You shook your head. “It’s not Amante. It’s..Shoko. She is the chief Medical officer and..she is the one who ..who treated me and..I think that it’s only fair that I visit her now that..you know..she is unwell”.

Niko scanned your face, “How did you become such close friends?”. He asks, frowning at you.

“She is the chief medical officer and works closely with the King. There aren’t a whole lot of women on that side of the castle”. You replied, sternly. “Now let me go”. You shrugged your arm away and walked into the bath slamming the door behind you.

Niko didn’t buy your story and stood outside the bath with his hands on his hips. “What about dinner?”. He asked.

“What do you mean, what about dinner? I got the groceries! Cook it yourself!”. You replied ,taking the top off of your head.

“God y/n! I am starving here and not only are you late you are also leaving!”. 

“You are not a child Niko! Cook for yourself!”.

“But I like it when you do it for me!”. Niko walked back and sat on the edge of the bed.

You got out with your dirty clothes in your head and your face flushed, “You did not even do the dishes from noon! I did! I got the groceries! I have been cooking and cleaning all this while! It won’t kill you to at least cook for yourself for one fucking night!”. You yelled and walked past him again and picked up your messenger bag and shoved the slip inside. 

Niko sat in silence and watched you put your boots on. “Are you going to see him?”. He asked, looking blankly at you.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Niko! Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend!”. You spat out and stood up to put on your coat.

“I thought that’s what you wanted me to be”. Niko walked over to you and gently fixed the collar of your coat. 

You swatted his hand away and took a deep breath, “I want you to be understanding”.

“Are you mad at me?”. He asked softly. “Just …don’t burn the house down while I’m away”. You smiled and walked out the door.

Niko stood at the doorway and watched you climb down the stairs. Something was different. In the days that he had spent with you, even though you were with him you had a far off look in your eyes. Whatever it was, he wasn't just going to sit and let another man take you away from him, even if the other man is a king.

-X-

Gojo sat at his table in his robe and trousers. His one hand holding the scroll in front of him and his other supporting his chin. If he can’t keep an eye on you then at least he can read about you. He had deployed his most trusted spies to gather information about you the day Shoko told him about your dormant technique and what he found made his blood boil. If he acted hastily it would cause a civil war in the Kingdom but god was he so close to doing it. His mouth twitched as he read about things that he was sure you were unaware of. 

A faint knock on his door had him groaning in response. He didn’t want to see anyone right now. And chose to ignore it hoping that whoever it was would go away but the second knock had him gritting his teeth. “Go away Ijichi! I don’t want dinner!”. Gojo yelled and focussed his attention back on the scroll in his hand. Fucking Idiot, he muttered under his breath. He was more irritated than usual today, partly because of your history and partly because of the promise he had made to Shoko. 

When he heard the knock again he tossed the scroll on the table and marched towards the door, determined to severely reprimand the person who dared disturb him. With his anger at its limit and his head pounding, he yanked the door open and within seconds everything calmed down. His anger evaporated, his headache subsided, his heart beat returned to normal, “Y/n?”. He asked, questioning himself, wondering if you were really here or were you a mirage.

“Your Highness”. You curtly bowed. You looked up at him and your heart clenched. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks sunken. The eye bags were a clear indication of lack of sleep and the pale skin indicated that he was essentially starving. “May I come in?”. You asked, snapping Gojo out of his thoughts.

“Yes”. He stepped aside and you walked in, gripping the strap of your bag with both of your hands.

Gojo closed the door behind you, “What are you doing here?”. 

You lifted up the consultation slip, “I had come to see Shoko and thought I should check up on you”.

Gojo took the consultation slip from your hand and walked over to his desk smiling  to himself. Shoko really outdid herself. “Missed me too much?”. He smirked as he sat down on his chair and with a flick of his hand sealed the scrolls in a cylindrical tumbler.”..or did your boyfriend bore you already?”.

You pulled the chair and sat down on it with a scoff, “I leave for a few days and this is what you turn into?”. You raised a brow at him making Gojo chuckle. You noticed now that he was essentially shirtless and you tried your best to not let your eyes wander too far. You felt like a ticking time bomb from the moment Shoko had told you about Gojo but now that you were here, you were concerned and yet at peace. Even back at home with Niko, you were always a little anxious and on the edge but with him it felt like the outside world did not exist.

“I had been busy”. Gojo replied.

“..and sick”. You added a smirk.

“Yes, sick”.

“..and annoying”. 

Gojo tilted his head and squinted at you with a smile, “Who told you I’m being annoying? Who dared complain about me?”.

“Shoko”.

Gojo chuckled,“Oh, yeah I have been annoying her”.

“And the way you yelled at me thinking I was Ijichi makes me sad for him”. You shrugged.

Gojo rested his face on his palm and leaned forward on the table. “Yeah. I am a terrible boss”. 

“Oh you don’t have to tell me that, I know”. You scrunch your nose and look at him.

Gojo sighed, he missed you so much. He missed being teased by you, he missed your smile, he missed your laugh, me missed your voice. “That’s why you came to check up on me? Because I am a terrible boss?”.

You laughed and shook your head, “Just wanted to see what I’d have to deal with when I get back to work”,

“Oh, Is that so?”. Gojo raised a brow at you while still retaining his amused smile.

“Yes!”.

“Okay then”. Gojo quipped and leaned back in his seat. “Now that you have seen, you may go now”. He shrugged.

The playful smile on his face told you that he didn’t mean it but you were not going to concede to him so you picked up your bag and stood up to walk away. “As you say, your-highness”. You bowed and turned around to leave.

Gojo sat on his chair with a wide grin plastered on his face, “If you think I am going to stop you, you are wrong”.

“I don’t want you to stop me”. You replied without looking back but as you reached the door the doubt crept up in your mind. Was he really not going to stop you? Anyway it was too late to turn back now so you pushed open the door to walk out but somehow you were walking back inside his office. You froze as you stepped in and looked at him wide eyed. 

“I thought you were leaving”. Gojo said, biting his lower lip.

“I..”. You looked back and saw the hallway, “..was”. You walked back as you closed the door but as soon as you turned around, instead of coming face to face with the painting on the wall right outside his office you were staring at him sitting on the desk.

“You’re still here?”. Gojo questioned in a mocking way.

“I..”. Maybe the stress and hunger had gone to your head. “..am”. You turned around and pushed the door open but again you were walking inside his office. “Okay..what’s happening?”. You looked at him.

Gojo shrugged as he rested his face on his palm , “If you don’t want to leave you can just say so”.

You scoffed, with your hands on your hips you looked at him, “You are doing this, aren’t you?”.

Gojo smiled widely, “I am just sitting here, watching you leave”.

“Okay, Okay okay..I will leave for sure now!”.

“If you say so”. Gojo chuckled. 

You kept your eyes fixed on him and walked backward until your back touched the door. You stretched your one hand back and pushed the door open while staring unblinkingly at him. You put one foot out of the door and then another and then another and let the door close in front of you covering his face slowly. You stared at the door handle and you were sure that you were outside now. You took a step back and then another and then another and now you could see the walls round the door in your periphery and relaxed. But another step back and your back collided with someone and you turned around to see Gojo smiling down on you. 

“You’re still here?”. 

“Huh?”. You looked around and suddenly you were back in his office. “HOW?!”. You looked around while Gojo laughed.

“Well if you don’t want to leave then have dinner with me”. Gojo replied nonchalantly and walked over to the door leading to his chamber whistling a happy tune.

You watched his back and smiled widely. “If you wanted me to stay you could have just said so, there was no need to make me feel dizzy!”. You jogged up to him as he held the door open for you while still whistling. 

Did you purposely step on his foot as you walked by him? Yes. Did he know that? Yes.

“You can still leave if you want to”. Gojo smiled as he slid his hands in the pocket and began walking beside you. 

“And drive myself crazy? No way!”. You folded your arms over your chest and walked beside him.

Gojo looked sideways at you and smiled. You were here. You came. “How has your leave been so far?”. Gojo asked instead of asking why were you living with Niko.

“It’s been alright”.

“Have you been resting well?”.

“Mmhmm”. You replied with a pressed smile. You wished you were resting well but instead you had to look not only after yourself but also after a grown child who couldn’t cook, couldn’t wash dishes, couldn’t even get his own groceries or even accompany you to get it. You liked Niko, he has been  your friend for as long as you could remember but the past few days made you realize how foolish it was of you to try to fall for him. 

The two of you walked into what looked like a small kitchen with a wooden table with two chairs on one side and stove and shelves on the other. A part of you dreaded having to cook again. You had just felt at ease and you were not the biggest fan of cooking, but to your surprise Gojo didn’t ask you to do it. He walked over to the stove and opened the shelf on the side pulling out a cook pot.

“Are you..are you going to cook?”.

“Yeah”. Gojo replied, humming to himself while taking out vegetables and rice from another shelf. “I can’t cook anything fancy so don’t expect much”. Gojo winked at you. 

You took your bag off and kept it on the floor beside the table and walked over to him, “Let me help you”. You went to pick the mushroom to chop it but Gojo held your wrist just before you could grab it.

“No”.

“Why not?”. You looked at him with a pout.

“You don’t look like you are the best cook”.

“That’s presumptuous!”. You scoffed and backed away.

“It’s an observation”. Gojo shrugged and began chopping.

“Oh really? If anything I should be the one to doubt your cooking because you are a King!”.

“You mean to say a King can’t cook?”. Gojo raised a brow and looked at you through the corner of his eyes.

You pouted and dug your heel on the floor, “I mean..you don’t have to”.

Gojo reached over your head and pulled out a metal container. “I like cooking for myself. They make too much and most of it goes to waste”.

You were taken aback by his response. It was true that the royalty and nobility always had elaborately set tables with the finest food and the most exquisite wine and much of it did go to waste and here was the sorcerer king cooking for himself. 

“I’m a simple man y/n”. Gojo gave you a smile and you reciprocated.

“I thought you weren’t hungry”. You leaned on the counter by your elbow and raised your brows making Gojo chuckle.

“I wasn’t but then I used too much energy playing with you”.

“Ha! So you agree you were playing with me!”. You pointed your index finger at him.

Gojo turned towards you with his hands on his hips and towered over you, “Did you just point your finger at the King?”.

You looked at your finger and rought your hands behind your back immediately.

“Good girl. Now go set the table”. Gojo corked his head towards the table and you immediately picked up the plates.

Gojo brought two bowls of rice and a large bowl of gravy and put it on the table. Your stomach churned with hunger and it smelled heavenly. Gojo poured it over the rice and kept the bowl in front of you and did the same for himself. You took the first bite and Gojo knew by the look on your face that he had hit the mark. 

You wondered how something so simple tastes so good? Was there a secret ingredient? But soon that thought was overshadowed by the image of Gojo cooking all alone in the kitchen and sitting at the very same table and eating in silence, it felt lonely. He had friends, you knew that now, but his stature hardly allowed him company. You wanted to eat every meal with him now, if not as his partner then at least as his friends. You didn’t want him to eat alone. You didn’t want him to drown himself in work to the point of exhaustion. You didn’t want him to be the King or the strongest sorcerer, you wanted him to be just Satoru for you. A friend. You felt guilty for everything you did and wondered if you’d ever be able to make it up to him. 

You ate and listened to him talk about his day and everything he did while you were away and you were sure you could listen to him for hours. You didn’t want to ask him about the other woman, as long as you don’t ask about her you could be his friend. If he ever talks about her then you’d listen. You didn’t know whether you were in love with him or were about to fall in love with him, but you didn’t want to run away anymore. If he ever betrays you then you’d curse yourself for staying, if he ever hurts you then you would find it in your heart to forgive him. But you would not run away anymore.

As the night progressed you found yourself sitting on the carpeted floor with two empty bottles of wine between you and Gojo, laughing as he almost trips the third half empty one. You laughed into your goblet as Gojo tried his best Ijichi impression and laughed some more as he tried to mimic Shoko. You had learnt many things about him this night, he had the power of illusion, he is an amazing cook but a terrible impressionist, he is an annoying patient but good listener, he hates the fanfare that comes with being a king, he likes this very specific brand of wine, he is good at reading people but terrible at card games, he had the most beautiful eyes but they held so much sadness that sometimes you couldn’t look at them,his mom made this very specific stew when he got sick,and above all, he needed a haircut. 

Gojo learned many things about you too, you don’t express your feelings with words but your face says it all, when you try not to blush you press your lips together, you were terrible at card games but he loved losing to you, even with years of seeing bloodshed you still had hope in your eyes,you owned a necklace with a sun pendant but you lost in a battle, you don’t notice it but you pout like a child when things don’t go your way, you pass out after three bottles of wine, you always lean into his touch, and above all, he knew by the way you held the collar of his robe and stopped him from leaving you all alone in his bed, that you were not in love with Niko.

-X-

When you woke up the next day your head felt like it was tied to an iron chain. You looked over and saw Gojo sprawled over the couch with one leg dangling over the handrest and the other halfway on the floor. You didn’t remember walking over to his bed, in fact you didn’t remember much from last night. But you were glad that you did not wake up next to Gojo. You got out of bed and picked up your coat and bag silently, careful to not wake him up and made your way out of his room. 

While you rode out of the castle gates you were filled with a sense of dread. You didn’t want to go home and explain to Niko where you were. You didn’t want to fight with him but given his nature you knew it was inevitable. But today was the last day of your leave and tomorrow you’d be back to work tomorrow. 

“I’m home!”. You announced tiredly as you let the bag drop from your shoulder on the floor. The house was surprisingly clean and smelled of freshly brewed coffee.

“Welcome home!”. Niko said coming out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee and a plate of freshly cut fruits.

You dragged yourself to the couch and plopped down on it,”At least you didn’t burn the house down”. 

Niko smiled and handed you your cup, “I’m sorry, I took you for granted and I should have helped you”.

You chuckled as you took the first sip of coffee. 

“How’s Shoko?”. Niko asked.

“Hmm?”. You raised your brows behind the cup.

“Shoko, you had gone to see her, right?”.

“Yeah. She is recovering. Might be on leave for a few days”.

Niko nodded and studied your face. “Why do you look hungover?”.

“Jeez Niko! It’s 7:00 AM! Spare me with the interrogation!”. You rolled your eyes in annoyance and it pinched Niko. You had just gotten home and he did everything you had asked him to do so why were you still mad at him? He remained silent and let the coffee do its work, perhaps you were just tired…

-X-

You stood by Gojo’s side in the assembly hall as all the council members sat around a multi layered oval balcony. The main council members sat around a large rectangular  table in the center of the court with Gojo sitting in the center. You could see Niko and Amamnte standing by the wall and you wished you could go and stand by their side but Gojo had insisted that you remained by his side. Emergency council meetings were rare and as a first time attendee it overwhelmed you. Every head of the clan, every minister,every knight was present here. But the presence of one man made sweat beads roll down your forehead. Gojo knew that being here wouldn’t be easy for you but he wanted you by his side to show the man that you were above him now.

“Nice to meet you, your-highness' '. Naoya Zenin smiled like a feline as he gave a half bow to Gojo. Gojo did not like the way his golden eyes drifted towards you ever so slightly. The Zenin and Gojo clan had a tough history and were often at war with each other over reins of the kingdom but one battle settled it all. Till this day the Zenin clan believed that they lost the battle because of Gojo and now that they were forced to bow to him they were determined to make his reign as antagonizing as possible.

“Zenin”. Gojo acknowledged his presence with a straight face. Naoya smiled and took his place on the right side of Gojo and looked at you every once in a while.

The head of council stood up to start the meeting, “I welcom-”.

“Hikaru-san!”. Gojo called out to the man who was standing on the podium.

“Yes, your-highness?”. He turned around and bowed down to Gojo.

“Please arrange for all the Knights to sit, this meeting will run long”. Gojo smiled as the court was filled with murmurs and gasps. But no one could deny it and soon chairs were brought for all the knights to sit. Ijichi gestured for you to take your place by other knights but Gojo gestured to Ijichi to bring your chair by his side.

You bent down and whispered in Gojo's ear, “Your-highness, With all due respect I can’t sit by your side…on this table”.

Gojo looked at you like you were insane, “With all due respect, do as I say and sit down”. He whispered. You and Ijichi exchanged nervous looks and eventually caved in to Gojo’s demand. You hesitantly sat by Gojo’s side and felt all the eyes on you. You swallowed nervously and looked at Amante and Niko who were just as shocked as you were. You tried your best to control your nerves as the meeting started. One trade deal after another, One opposition from Naoya after another, you had no business being here and your anxiety was beginning to creep up. Everytime anyone looked at Gojo they also looked at you and you felt like an accessory. 

“-we have been getting reports of a possible marriage between the head of Minamoto clan and the daughter of clan head of Yasuo clan”.

Gojo looked up at Hikaru from behind the paper he was holding, “Send them my regards”.

“Your highness, perhaps you don’t understand the gravity of the situation, Yasuo clan is our major importer and Minamoto clan is a competitor”.

Gojo sighed and kept the papers down, “Hikaru-san, if you are suggesting that I marry into the Yasuo clan then you are mistaken”.

“Your-highness”, Hikaru spoke with diplomatic politeness, “You are of age and the Kingdom needs an heir, council members believe that the lady from Yasua clan would be the most suitable”.

Gojo gritted his teeth, “What is her name?”.

“Yasuo”. Hikaru smiled.

“What is her first name?”. Gojo asked.

A heavy silence fell over the room and everyone exchanged nervous looks. Gojo looked around the room, “Is there anyone, anyone from the esteemed council or otherwise, who could tell me the first name of this woman from the Yasuo clan?”.

Naoya chuckled, “Does her name really matter, your highness?”. 

“Do you think it doesn’t?”. Gojo smirked.

“Not at all. The Yasuo clan has a strong curse technique and this woman carries it. Having an heir with the techniques from the Yasua clan and Gojo clan could be very beneficial for the kingdom”. Naoya smiled.

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the room. 

“If the council’s concern is that of an Heir then I assure you all that the technique of Gojo clan would be passed on”.

“Your-highness”, Naobito Zenin, father of Naoya Zenin spoke up, “Marrying into Yasuo family would not only ensure a strong heir but also seal our trade ties, it would be killing two birds with one stone”.

“Naobito-san, I assure you once again that the Minamoto-Yasuo coalition will not be a threat to either the trade or the future of this kingdom”.

Naoya chuckled and you glared at him. You could not believe just how vile and disgusting the council could be. As for Naoya, he was truly the worst. 

Naoya looked at you and smirked, “Perhaps we must trust his royal highness”. Naoya’s agreement with Gojo surprised you. “..But let it be on record that the King is acting against the council’s advice and the consequence of his action will be on his royal conscience”. Naoya closed with a smile.

You could hear a snickering echo and you wanted to rip out everyone’s tongue. Gojo could sense your anger and placed his hand on yours to calm you down. “Yes, please let it be on the record that I am acting against the council’s advice, especially against the advice of the head of the Zenin clan”. 

You stood with your hands behind your back outside the door waiting for Gojo to be done talking to a few council members when you were interrupted by him.

“Hello, y/n”. He smiled, his eyes holding the same greed.

“Zenin-san”. You curtly bowed.

“Please, we are friends, you can drop the formality”. Naoya smiled.

“We are not friends. You are a council member and I am a royal-”.

“Whore?”. Naoya tilted his head and pouted.

Tears lined your eyes and your lips quivered. “You have no right to talk to me that way”, You spoke in a shaky breath.

“Oh, is that so? You think you have authority now because you warm his bed at night? Guess you didn’t learn your lesson last time”. He snickered, making bile churn in your stomach.

“Excuse me, Zenin-san”. You cowed curtly and began to walk away but Naoya grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

“When will your dumb little brain understand that men like him..men like us, have no use of women like you”. 

Tears rolled down your eyes as you gritted your teeth, “You could never be half the man he is”.

Naoya stared at you and let your hand go. In a flash of a moment he raised his hand to strike you and you flinched but before your cheeks could even feel the impact Naoya was thrown against the wall 5 feet away. You looked to your side and saw Gojo standing a few feet away with his hands behind his back. He made his way towards Naoya like a predator approaching a prey. You looked to the other side and could still see Naoya on the ground withering in pain. Gojo walked past you and stood directly above Naoya. Whatever hold he had on him loosened and you could see Naoya’s body relax.

“If you ever breathe the same air as her again, I would make sure it’s the last time you breathe”. Gojo growled at him.

You were frozen in your place and could not hear what Gojo said but Naoya’s fear stricken eyes and bloody nose was proof enough that it was a threat. Naoya stood up with trembling legs and within seconds it looked like nothing had happened to him. You had never understood how sorcerers did this. He scoffed at Gojo and walked away glaring at you. 

Gojo turned towards you, “We need to talk”.

-X-

You followed Gojo into his office silently. You had been with him long enough to tell his mood just by the way he walked and right now you were sure he was fuming. You didn’t want to cause a scene and you didn’t know how much of your conversation with Naoya did Gojo hear. So you decided to do the best thing possible, apologize.

“I’m sorry your-highness”. You said immediately as Gojo sat down.

“What are you sorry for?”. Gojo quipped. Naoya was lucky that Gojo didn’t kill him today but that does not mean that he wasn’t going to. His hands were still trembling with anger as the scene played in his head. 

“For everything that happened. Him and I..we..”.

“I know”. Gojo interrupted and stared at you. “I know everything y/n. What did he say to you?”.

You swallowed painfully and averted your gaze. 

“Y/n, I want you to sit down and tell me everything he said”.

You pulled the chair and sat down with your hands in your lap, “He..insulted me and when I tried to walk away he grabbed my arm and..I said something in return and then he..”. You were angry, scared and triggered. “He is not a good man your-highness”. 

“I know that. I know that it’s hard to stand up to someone who has hurt you so much in the past”.

You nodded your head and felt grateful that you didn’t have to explain to him why you didn’t stand up for yourself. Everyone who knew about your history with Naoya asked you the same question, why didn’t you defend yourself?, How could you ever gather the strength to tell them how your muscles freeze and brain shuts down whenever you are near him, how could you ever put in words the pain that man has caused you.

Gojo sighed and slid the glass of water towards you. “You don’t have to give me the details if you don’t want to, you don’t even have to answer if you want to, just reply in yes and no, is that okay?”.

You took a sip of water and a deep breath and nodded your head.

“Is he the one who took your grandmother’s bakery from you?”.

“Yes”.

“Do you know why he does that?”.

“Yes. I was..I was supposed to get married to him. His grandfather and my grandmother had arranged for us to be married. I had no idea about the arrangement until two years before the war. His grandfather and my grandmother were sure, I don’t know why, that I had curse technique, but when I showed no signs of it during the war they backed out of the agreement. My grandmother’s death certainly didn’t help..”. You took a deep breath, “But I believed that he..really loved me and I thought that he would fight for me but he didn’t. He was engaged to a friend of mine soon after and she asked for the bakery as her engagement present. So he and his family took it from me saying that since my grandmother didn’t keep her end of the deal it was only fair for them to be compensated and with their influence they took it away”.

Gojo watched you silently. “-and you filed a case against them?”.

“Yes, I did. I couldn’t just let him take away my grandmother’s love and use it as an engagement present”. You smiled sadly.

“Was he an abusive ..partner?”. Gojo asked, watching your face intently.

.

.

“Yes”.

“Has he hurt you physically before this?”. Gojo frowned.

.

.

“Yes”.

.

.

“How many times?”.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“I don’t…I don’t remember”. A tear rolled down your eyes and landed on your knuckle.

Gojo shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His own tears were on the blink of pouring out. If only the timing had been different, if only he hadn’t been caught up in the war started by his best friend. If only he had the guts to make one right decision then he could have saved you from all the pain.

“What did he say to you?”. Gojo asked, calmly.

.

.

“It doesn’t matter”.

“Y/n…it matters to me. What did he say to you?”.

.

.

“He said that I was just a..”. You rolled your eyes and let out a heavy breath, “..that I was at whore”.

Gojo nodded his head. He couldn’t think of any death that could be painful enough for Naoya Zenin. But right now he needed to keep his anger aside and focus on you. He wanted to keep you away from people like Naoya, he wanted to be your shield and he was going to be one. 

“Y/n, whatever he said holds no weight”.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah”.

“I mean it. You outrank him y/n”.

You smiled painfully, “Your-highness, with all due respect, ranks don’t matter as much as you think they do. I might outrank his entire clan but as long as I am not a sorcerer, a strong one at that, I will not get respected. It’s messed up but it’s true. He is not the first one to call me that, and he is not going to be the last one to do so. Even if I take your place, I would still not be respected because I am not a sorcerer”.

Gojo’s heart dropped, there were others who had said this to you, in the palace? And he didn’t know.... “What if you were a sorcerer?”. 

You chuckled, “Now I am not sure if I even want to be one”.

“Why?”.

“Because I ..I would know in my heart that it is not me that these people respect, it’s my power”.

“How is it different? You are your power…you deserve to be treated equally regardless of the form of power”.

You scoffed,“If that’s true then why can’t I be treated the same as sorcerers? I too risk my life on the battlefield, then why don’t I get the same quality of medical services as sorcerers do? Do I not bleed? Do I not hurt? Why are there different living quarters? If sorcerers alone win the battles then why is the front line made entirely out of people like me? Your-highness, these people only see power when it is in the form of a curse technique. I can bet my life that none of the people in the council would last more than 5 minutes against me, and yet I am treated as a…whore? They were born with their power but I had to train day and night under the harshest sun to be where I am”.

You took a deep breath, “Do you know how much compensation a sorcerer’s family gets when he dies on a battlefield?”.

“20,000 gold coins”. Gojo replied.

“-and how much does a commoner’s family receive?”.

.

.

Gojo remained silent and embarrassed that he did not know that.

“A commoner’s family receives 5000 silver coins. It is not even enough to run a family of three for a year”.

Gojo’s eyes widened.

“Yes. It’s true. A sorcerer has the ability to heal himself but a commoner doesn’t, we fight the same enemy and yet a sorcerer receives a higher salary, better living quarters, better medical services. These prejudices are not taught in school, they are learnt by observing people around us”.

“I don’t know what to say..”. Gojo spoke bleakly. He felt like he failed as a King. 

“You don’t have to justify anything to me”…You took a deep breath,“Just…don’t ever tell a commoner that they ‘deserve’ to be treated equally when you don’t do anything to promote that equality”. 

-X-

Days had passed since the council meeting and Gojo had been exceptionally busy. He was often in and out of meetings while you waited outside the door. Sometimes he came out looking pleased and sometimes he came out looking pissed. But he was always moving. Elaborate gifts were exchanged between him and the council members and sometimes the meetings lasted for hours on end. You saw him meet with every council member except Naoya and you were glad that you didn’t have to see him. He didn’t talk much about work to you anymore which surprised you. Maybe all of it was on a need to know basis and Gojo finally realized just how divided this society really is. You didn’t ask him either, if you had to know then you were sure he would tell yoy

The past few days had been so busy that now you were dreading going to work. But regardless you made your way to the common dining area to pick up your daily coffee. But to your surprise the dining area was full and bustling with knights of all ranks. 

“y/n!”. You heard your name called out from a corner and tiptoed to see who called you. Amamnte waved her hand above her head as Niko and Zeke stood by her side discussion animatedly. You pushed past the crowd and got to where she was standing and looked at the scroll in each of their hands. “What’s happening? Are we going to war?”.

Niko looked at you with  s traight face, “You didn’t know about this?”. He titled the scroll towards you and you took it from him. You read through the very extensive and detailed memorandum sent out by the King and signed by majority of the council member and the King himself. As you read through it your heartbeat picked up. Everything that you had mentioned to Gojo was taken care of. Every unit of the force will now have equal representation of sorcerers and non-sorcerers, every foot soldier, every knight, every guard would be receive the same compensation and same level and quality of services, regardless of their manifestation of power. Discrimination based on gender, rank, and manifestation of power would be punishable by harsh labor for up to a year and at the end of the scroll was a note by the king,

We can not say we live in an equal society unless we implement those values. For the longest time, non-sorcerer members of the forces have been treated harshly and unfairly, for that, on the behalf of the government I extend my sincere apology. This amendment is a little too late for a lot of members of the force but I hope that it is implemented with utmost fairness for the sake of the next generation.

“Oh god…..”. You whispered under your breath.

“Did you know about this?”. Niko asked you again.

“No..I did not”. You looked at it with your mouth agape. You chuckled and had the widest smile on your face. You looked at Amante and she was jumping with excitement and pulled you into a hug.

“Fucking finally!”. She screamed in your ear and you jumped along with her. “Yes!!!”. 

You turned towards Niko and he didn’t look too happy, “Oi Niko! Why are you sad?”.

He shrugged, “I just hope that this does not create more hatred”.

“They can hate us all they want! But they have to treat us equally now!”. Amante quipped. 

Niko smiled and put his arm around your shoulder, “you’re right! We should all celebrate tonight!”. 

“Yes!”, you squealed.

“How about my place?”. Amante asked wide eyed.

Everyone agreed that her place would be the best and started discussing the guest list. You wanted to invite everyone you knew and so did Zeke and Niko. 

“I gotta go. I’ll see you guys tonight!”. You gave Amante a parting hug and made your way out of the crowd. Niko watched you leave with a heavy heart. 

You ran through the busy halls with the scroll on your hand and happy tears in your eyes. You pushed people away and barged through the door of his office, “your-highness!”. You yelled with a wide smile on your face.

Gojo, who was standing near the window, smiled at you and walked over to you. In your happy state you jogged and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”. Gojo’s eyes widened as he gingerly brought his arm to your waist. He felt like the world stopped on its axis the moment he held you in his arms. If only he knew that this was his reward then he would have done this long ago. He held you tightly with his one arm wrapped around your waist and the other at the back of your head. 

You realized soon what you had done but you wanted to stay in his arms a little longer. You closed your eyes and smiled in content. You and Gojo let go slowly at the same time, like both of you were testing the waters, wanting to dive in but scared at the same time.

“Ummm thank you your-highness… for this”. You raised the scroll up and Gojo smiled at it.

“You don’t have to thank me”. 

“I do! Do you realize that you just changed centuries old rules! And not just one…all of it!! Everyone is celebrating out there! I..I can’t thank you enough!! Everyone is praising you!!”.

Gojo studied your face, he knew it was long before he could heal your wounds but in the meantime he was going to bring you as much happiness as he could. “Are you happy?”. 

“Happiest I’ve been in a while!!!”. You squealed with the widest smile on your face.

“Good. Because I did it for you”. He whispered softly.

You looked up at him, “huh?”. 

Gojo’s eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips, “I did all of this for you”.

“For..for me? Wh…why?”. You stuttered. 

“Do you really have to ask that?”. Gojo stepped closer to you, both his hands reached for yours and he gently brought them forward. He stared at your hands and his cheeks turned pink. “You don’t have to understand this now…just know that I did this for you”. He let your hands go and wrapped both of his around your neck, you looked down and the same pendant that you had lost years ago now shone brightly between your collarbone. 

@arisucat @bubera974 @ritsatoru @yevene @sofi786 @mokonasenpaiposts @allofffmypeaches @monsieurguchhi @lilith412426 @lanadelreylover4l @n0cturnalism @shxxaiis @winterpein @cinnamontimecrunch @tampon-earrings

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[jgracie]

WHEN YOU’RE CLOSE TO ME

masterlist | rules

‘cause you are my medicine, when you're close to me

pairing travis stoll x demeter!reader

warnings none!

on the radio . . . on melancholy hill (gorillaz)

an i had to put u guys on my vision !!!!!!!!! reader is a daughter of demeter… i wonder why ?! this is short but i just had to write something other than percy for a second LOL also when they're sitting at the cafe tgt i imagine the ‘on melancholy hill’ trend on tt hence the song choice

you’re so pretty. too pretty. ever since your little quest - which consisted of retrieving his father’s caduceus for him - ended, your face was all travis could think about.

whenever he closed his eyes, he saw your sparkling eyes and bright smile, as well as the flowers that couldn’t help but bloom all over you, your excitement causing your powers to go haywire.

being one of the few demigods who’d been living at camp since birth, you were dying to see the outside world for as long as you could remember. so, when you heard travis needed a second for his quest, you begged him to choose you, and despite many of his siblings wanting to go too, he did choose you, unable to say no to your cute face

with you, new york, a city travis knew like the back of his hand, went from being mundane to a city from one of those fantasy books the athena kids were obsessed with. you marveled at everything around you, taking a million different stops and trying a million different food and drink items.

soon enough, you passed by a cafe that you just had to have a drink at, and who was travis to deny you? his father could wait, he was immortal after all. so, the two of you made your way to a table in the corner and ordered drinks. travis got a coffee you insisted was too bitter, while you got matcha, which he thought tasted awfully similar to grass.

during your time at the cafe, you made small talk every once-in-a-while, but mostly just basked in the comforting silence that blanketed the two of you. you rarely ever interacted at camp, but for some reason, it felt right for travis to be alone with you.

eventually, you did find the caduceus and returned it to hermes, who was eternally grateful and offered to fly you to barcelona for a one day getaway, but that didn't matter. all travis can remember about that quest is your presence. the longer travis knew you for, the more y/n-shaped blossoms bloomed in his heart.

which is why he did what he did. he knew very well that the demeter cabin sold bouquets to both demigods at camp and flower shops outside of camp, and after some sneaking around, he was able to find out that you worked with your siblings on tuesdays, thursdays and saturdays.

today happened to be a saturday. travis sent a request for a bouquet today, knowing you'd be the one to put it together. after borrowing a book from michael in the athena cabin, he was able to choose the flowers he wanted for this very special bouquet: pink bluebells, carnations, alyssums and camellias.

"travis! i have your bouquet!" you said, breaking his train of thought, "i knocked three times but no one answered so i let myself in, i hope you don't mind," in your hands was the bouquet, tied at the stems with a pink ribbon.

taking it from you, travis took a good look at it. naturally, it was perfect. he didn't expect any less from you, "thank you, y/n, but i need this delivered. it isn't for me," he said, praying his plan worked.

"oh, okay, who's it for? i'll get katie to deliver it now," you said, a warm smile tugging at your lips.

"it's alright, i'll do it myself. she isn't too far from here," he said, before handing you the bouquet, a blush coating his freckles. maybe he should've confessed in a more traditional way.

you looked down at the bouquet, confused, then up at him, and understood. violets bloomed in your hair as you said, "travis, this is really sweet of you. no one's ever done something this nice for me!" your smile got wider then, and travis was close to swearing on the styx to get you a bouquet of flowers every day if it meant you'd smile at him like that

a sudden wave of boldness washed over travis, and he knew what he had to do. just as you were about to leave, he said, "since i'm so sweet, would you wanna go explore new york with me again? no quests this time."

you looked over your shoulder and back at him, and at that moment, travis knew he wouldn't need the infirmary as long as you were his. you were better than any medicine the apollo cabin could prescribe him

"sure, travis, but only if we can take your dad up on his offer afterwards!"

#travis stoll x reader #travis stoll x you #travis stoll x y/n #travis stoll #travis stoll x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #travis stoll fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #travis stoll drabble #travis stoll x demeter reader #demeter pjo #children of demeter #daughter of demeter #cynwrites

[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Starting

just a little something I wrote for somebody's (@shepscapades) birthday back in November :3 after I asked what etho and bdubs would've been like shortly after etho's deviation. this is the few times before last life where bdubs realizes etho might be a good friend, and how their relationship changes. comes right before A Gear of the Heart, Turning! (4653 words)

Etho remembers quite a bit.

He remembers the ricochet of the explosion through his left side. He remembers a dozen errors across his vision, showing every unit damaged by the blast, the fractals of fracturing snaking up his arm, the shattered remains of his central programming lingering like a livewire. 

Over and over he can remember the pitch of Bdubs’ voice and had to wonder his own diagnosis at that moment. Bdubs watching his android die in his name—he remembers that, too. Bdubs didn’t even ask for that. It was something Etho gave to him. He’s not sure he could even say why, either. 

It remained a bitter flavor he couldn't identify, even as Xisuma assured him he was okay. Something had happened then, sitting on that floor, thirium in hand. Some movement in his chest he couldn’t place. It wasn’t anything physical, but it felt like some gear of his nonexistent heart had started, turned—rotated. And all he could do was ask himself why. What’s he supposed to do with that?

He doesn’t know. Fine. 

Etho goes back to work at someone’s request. Not even his own request, either, so he has to wonder if maybe Doc put him up to it. Him being Bdubs. Him being Bdubs who shifted back and forth on his feet at Etho’s door—a facade of a base in the process of being designed. If one could even call it a base, yet.

And even though he was increasingly certain that Bdubs had been told to ask—and Etho asked him if he’d been asked to help, and he was adamant about asking by himself, that’s what he said. He said: “You think I gotta be told to ask people for help? I can’t just be doin’ things on my own?” and it had felt so much like doublespeak that Etho didn’t even fight to differentiate his tone. 

But Bdubs had asked if he wanted to help with the horse course. Terraforming—it should be right up his alley, if he’s still into that kind of stuff. Figured he was the expert—or so it goes. Etho had nodded. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. He supposes he could have easily said no. 

But every part of him yearned to say yes.

So he did.

The dust sifts through his fingers.

Etho perches in the grass, partially hunched as he leans over his line of redstone, shrouded by the hill half-built around him. He’d spent most of the week prior carving out the lines of the track, setting posts for buildings, laying out blueprints for Bdubs to finalize. Today, he lays his line meticulously, dust shifting in his hands. They still shake a bit—nothing a human would notice, nothing that disrupted the flow of his lines, but the overworked gears still shifted in protest as he worked. He could see the faded overlay of the project in his vision if he focused. It crackled, slightly blue-yellow, orange glowing indicators where action was needed, where there were mistakes to be corrected.

It isn’t his redstone to fix. The lines under his hands were—freshly laid by his near-expert technique—but the deeper lines, noteblock announcements, droppers, doorgates, the flourish of the house course, weren’t. Etho smooths out the line he was standing near with his thumb. 

There was nothing wrong with the laid redstone, really. It’s just. Well. It’s not even. It takes up so much space. It lacks the efficiency and tidiness he practiced to a precision. It radiated Bdubs in an overpowering way, one that might turn a gear of the heart—one he didn’t have, of course. Etho’s lines are neat, rigid, conforming to his perfect mental map. 

He lets down his section of dust, drifting over to the dispenser system. He pushes a line further into place, brushing dust back from the side. Further on, where the line crosses, he readjusts it, he smooths them from start to end of line. His hands work where his mind recalculates, looking for errors along the redstone already laid out by Bdubs. Programs bubble up to assist; he dismisses a message, and another as he works. The line straightens from source to sink. 

As he passes, searching for another correction, he hears someone above him. In the corner of his vision, another message notification pings: from Bdubs.

They’re all from Bdubs, actually, now that he notices in full. He blinks, mouth twisting into a frown. Whoops.

He hears someone—Bdubs, he realizes, as he notes the fall of his feet, and the sigh he hops down from his horse, the shuffle of said horse, hooves on grass—clear their throat. Bdubs shuffles around as Etho moves back over to his finished redstone, dusting his hands on the sides of his pants. He lifts the small bag of dust, twisting the tie shut around his fingers as he travels back up the line to recheck the connections. 

“Etho?” Bdubs calls. Etho straightens, just on instinct alone, glancing up at the stretch of sky he can see. It’s bright blue, barely dotted with clouds, and the grass looks warm with sun. He fixes where the dust starts as he sections off the end, tossing the rest of the redstone over to his sling bag.

“Under the hill!”

Bdubs leans over the edge, tilting his head at Etho as he peers into the dark. It takes him a moment to find Etho’s face, partially obscured by black fabric and the fluff of wool around his collar. Etho tilts his head, raising his eyebrows.

“Did you need something?” he asks, arm hanging loosely by his side. Bdubs frowns, too, watching Etho’s expression. As his eyes seem to adjust to the dark, his gaze falls on the lines of redstone. He pauses there for a long moment. In that moment, Etho feels something in his chest grind, almost to a noticeable ache. If he could pull in a breath to settle it, he might have, but the sensation and minute sound passes as soon as he moves his hand to press flat against his regulator. Bdubs is gone when he looks up, reappearing only as he drops into the cavern, catching himself on the wall. He readjusts his cloak around his shoulders, shuffling into the low-light.

“Etho,” he says, still frowning. Etho looks him over. He watches Bdubs set his hands on his hips, but his heart rate stays even and his temperature level. The only thing that changes is the tone of his voice, fluctuating with a pattern Etho recognizes as forcing something. Bdubs takes a long breath in and lets it out. Etho’s eyes find the twitch of his fingers as he folds his arms, rather than the sharp curve of his mouth.

“Yes?” Etho asks. He feels his pump work a little harder. It kind of hurts still, whatever’s stopped working in his chest. He flicks his eyes, recalling a diagnostic, setting it to run in the background as he closes out of the overlays and the world returns to yellowish-grey. Bdubs is still frowning.

“You mind tellin’ me what’s wrong with this redstone?”

Etho blinks. The diagnostic comes up clear.

“What do you mean?” he says, his expression shifting into something copying amusement. He’s trying. He’s at least trying to mimic the emotions he sees. Soon enough it’ll feel natural, he’s certain. “What’s wrong with it?”

Bdubs snorts, which turns into a laugh, which turns into Etho smiling a bit wider, a bit more confusion lingering in his expression as he leans around Bdubs to check his meticulously placed line. Bdubs turns away from him, facing the system, the clock that linked the start gates to the timer below.

“What’s—” Bdubs scoffs, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with it? Etho—” he holds out his hand, waving Etho over. Etho lingers at his shoulder as he steps forward, peering over the curve of it and the moss and small leaves and flowers draped over his neck. “It’s too perfect.”

Etho makes a sound like a scoff now, a caught sound in his vocal unit, a stuttering start to his sentence that doesn’t form right away. He’s trying for surprise, the pitch of his voice rising unexpectedly.

“It’s too perfect?” he asks. 

Bdubs nods. After a moment, Etho thinks he sees his expression shift, the high of his cheek rising. When Bdubs turns his head to look at him, just for a second, Bdubs is smiling.

“Bdubs,” Etho says, sighing, turning away from him, to his bag on the far side of the room. He shakes his head. That something-nothing in his chest flutters and fades and disappears all at once, instead replaced with the urge to smile back. Bdubs laughs, and Etho can imagine him tipping his head back, mouth curved up as he giggles to himself. Etho shakes his head. As he starts to pull away from Bdubs, he feels him catch his sleeve, holding fast to his elbow.

“Etho, wait—” Bdubs giggles. “It looks really good.”

Etho raises his eyebrows. Caught in Bdubs grasp, all he can do is look at him, head tilted, trying not to let the amusement show on his face. Bdubs giggles, face breaking again as he does.

“Etho…” he tries again, fighting back a smile. Etho tilts his head the other way, as if to prompt him further, looking for anything. He stays silent. Bdubs hand lowers slowly, that smile faltering just a fraction. Maybe he thinks Etho’s upset with him. There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You gonna say anythin’? Or you just gonna stand there?”

Etho smiles, finally. He shrugs a little, glancing over at the fixed lines of redstone.

“I fixed your redstone,” he says cooly, sticking his free hand in his pocket. Bdubs blinks. He jerks away as Etho’s smile grows, shoving him hard in his shoulder. Etho wobbles for a moment, smiling to himself, scrunching up his face as Bdubs’ expression morphs. He does laugh, after a beat, poking Etho in the shoulder as he does. Etho hopes he can see the smile in his eyes. He saves, logs, keeps this moment. He’s sure in the low light that his LED spins yellow for a moment. It feels right. If there’s any feeling to catalog.

Bdubs huffs. Etho thinks he hears him say something under his breath. It sounds a lot like thank you.

It’s out of habit, rather than obligation, that Etho finds himself back at the horse course. Of course he ends up here, his feet moving him about as if his brain-not-brain had no thoughts of its own. Man. Some days, it really felt human.

He wanders across the plain, eyes lingering on fully-built buildings, knowing the schematics and plans, watching as those plans-now-buildings stretched higher above his head, where they nearly threatened to pop the sky wide open. 

Bdubs had sat down with him earlier that week, papers spread out between them. He’d stopped by, actually—worked his way up the mountain to the base Etho had finally finished, papers in hand, looking like he was on the verge of collapse. He’d dropped the blueprints on the largest table Etho had managed to clear, spreading out the designs for huge, complex buildings. Etho watched him explain, listened for the inflection of when to offer suggestions, heard the way Bdubs’ voice grew quieter, almost conspiratorial, as he explained his palette. There was something methodical in the way Bdubs spoke, not only in the approach to his colors, but to his style. As much as it seemed eclectic and strange, he watched the pieces fall together as Bdubs spoke of his gradients. There was something deeper there, a precision that Etho, all of a sudden, in that room, craved to emulate. To write to disk. To save. To do more than just copy. 

He’d built the horse stable first—all to his own specifications. It was Bdubs later who came in to detail, tilling up the dirt around to plant grass and flowers, sectioning off parts of the empty stable. It was almost difficult to compartmentalize that Bdubs was finished with it now. That they’d worked each line of the redstone and Etho had supervised the first steps of building, and now he could look up and see the very top, or almost, if he were to strain, of the spikes above the buildings. 

And in just a few weeks, Bdubs was onto another project. Etho smiles to himself. He can’t help it. There was something rather comforting about that. Something about Bdubs dragging him along to help, pointing him toward the thing he was good at, and asking for help. Bdubs showing up at his door with plans. Bdubs cracking jokes with him, and looking for a laugh Etho couldn’t replicate yet. It’s like something clicked. Or was just on the breach of it. And Etho liked it.

Etho clears his field of view, taking in, instead, the stretch of sky where it met the ocean, along the line of hills and grass and flowers, and further still, to the smudge that looked like Bdubs. He blends in too well—the green of his coat barely noticeable against the field of grass that splayed out from the side of his build. There were still materials strewn about—chests half opened, shulkers stacked waist high. 

Bdubs stands to the side of a dark grey and white horse, one hand placed on its nose, the other digging through his bag. Etho watches for a moment. Bdubs fishes around for that entire second that he lingers, searching for something, until he pulls out an apple. Another falls to the ground, rolling away from him. He holds out the fruit for the horse as Etho clears his throat. 

“Hiya, Bdubs—” he says as Bdubs startles, twisting around to see him. He huffs, an immediate frown coming to his face. Bdubs turns to fetch the dropped apple, holding it high above his head as the grey horse nudges its nose into his empty hand. He pats it instead.

“Etho,” he says, tone thin. He sighs, shaking his head. “Scared the life outta me, you know that? You gotta make some noise when you’re walkin’ around.”

Etho smiles, a nice and easy reaction to the annoyance in Bdubs’ voice. It’s getting easier. At least a bit. The smiling part, that is. The inflection that comes with being happy.

“I’ll try next time,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. His hands find his pockets as he looks around, eyes following the path around the buildings. He’s sure the pollen and moss will be stuck to his clothes for days before he gets them out.

“Mm,” Bdubs hums, unconvinced. “I’m sure you will. Now, what’re you doin’ here? You don’t have anything better to do?”

“That’s a good question,” Etho says.

Bdubs turns back to him for a second, just a glance over his shoulder as he cocks his head to the side. He raises his eyebrows before he turns back to the horse, who’s started to nose at his bag. He drags his hand down its nose.

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t have an objective right now?”

“I never have an objective, Bdubs.”

Bdubs snorts again . Etho steps over, slow, minding the horse. It sniffs as Etho holds out his hand, nosing his gloved palm. He pats the horse's nose, somewhat stilted, smoothing over the soft bridge of his nose.

“Right,” Bdubs hums. When Etho glances over to him, Bdubs glances away, as if he’d lingered as Etho stepped over. He’s not moved from Etho’s side, which. Makes something fit into Etho’s chest in a way he isn’t expecting. He rests his hand on the horse's head, looking over at Bdubs in full.

“I can’t come see how the horse course is looking, now that you’re done?” he asks. Bdubs makes an embarrassed sounding noise, watching the rise of the buildings to their left. The horse sniffs, and Etho lifts his hand away, letting it fall to his side.

“I—I got excited about it,” Bdubs mutters. If Etho leans enough, he can see the beginnings of a flush creep over his cheeks, up the shell of his ear. Something about that, too. Etho looks beyond him, though, studying the rise of the buildings as Bdubs does. He nods to himself.

“I can tell,” he says, amusement slipping into his voice, almost naturally. Immediately, Bdubs whips around again, face twisted in offense.

“Hey!” he snaps. “You makin’ fun of me?”

Etho shakes his head, spreading his hands out in front of him as he does.

“No, no. Not at all,” he says, hoping the smile he’s giving is reaching his eyes. “I’m saying we make a pretty good team.”

Bdubs makes a little huff of a sound, but his posture and expression softens. Etho studies it from the moment it appears, trying to place the emotion behind it. He seems upset—but not from anything Etho said. He almost looks guilty.

“We’ve always made a good team,” Bdubs mumbles. Etho blinks.

“Since when have we been a team?”

“Since—s…” Bdubs blurts, then backtracks, folding his arms over his chest. “Well we’re a team now!”

Etho raises his eyebrows, stepping away from the horse and more around Bdubs’ side. He leans in a bit as he stands by his side, bumping their shoulders together. Bdubs doesn’t recoil. Instead, he pushes back, just for a moment, and they jostle. Bdubs hums, sighing through his nose.

“Are we?” Etho asks. Bdubs nods, short and firm.

“Mhm! ‘Cause I said so.”

Etho nods with him. There’s that thing again, a turning, jostling, in some part of his chest that really shouldn’t turn or jostle. He can feel his temperature tick up just a few degrees, a fan kicking on to settle the temperature, thirium sludging warm to cold through his limbs. A team, huh? He couldn’t beat Bdubs’ conviction, that’s for sure. Maybe it was a bit of guilt, then. Maybe something in Bdubs had realized Etho was much more of a help than a hindrance. Maybe Bdubs wanted a friend. Maybe he just felt bad and the feeling bad got to a point where he had to just do something about it. Etho didn’t know. He didn’t live inside Bdubs’ brain. And picking at Bdubs’ every emotion was a task enough to drive his processor into the ground. He could already feel another spike in temperature, LED glowing yellow-blue. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Etho sticks his hands in his pockets.

“I’d like that,” he says, finally pushing out the words as his programming jumps into gear, “What’s our next project then?”

Bdubs goes back to jostling him before he turns away, moving from Etho’s side to collect his horse. Gathering the horse's reins in his hands, Bdubs pauses.

“Ooh…” he says, frowning a little. Etho watches the little furrow of his eyebrows—thinking. Bdubs is turning the idea over in his head. Bdubs steps back over with the horse in tow, already walking in the direction of the horse stable. Etho jolts forward, taking several big steps to match Bdubs’ pace. “Well why don’t you come back to the clock and we can talk about it, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

Bdubs makes an affirmative sound, leading the horse around and into the stable. Etho watches him unlatch the gate, ushering the horse into the pen.

“I can put the kettle on and everything,” Bdubs says. He lifts the bridle out of the horse’s mouth, running his hand along the length of the horse’s nose. Etho doesn’t mean to watch him as he does, but the action is so purposeful. There’s a moment where Bdubs’ expression is unreadable—unreadable as in Etho simply can’t place anything on it. Unreadable in the amount it changes—something softer than he’s seen, something far away. Bdubs’ whole demeanor seems to shift as he stands still for a moment. Etho isn’t sure what to do with himself. He’s just standing in straw and dirt and stones, all of which he can feel under his shoes. He shuffles a bit, back and forth, to make his presence known, before he says:

“You know I can’t drink anything, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs rolls his eyes, squinting over at him, stepping away from the horse to hop the gate.

“Well you can at least fake it,” he grumbles. He folds his arms again, wrinkling his nose at Bdubs as Bdubs leads him out of the pen and into the open field around the horse course. The shadow of the buildings above them hasn’t changed, yet. The sun is still high and warm in the sky.

Etho laughs. At least, he makes a sound that he thinks passes as a laugh. Bdubs laughs too, though, so it must sound pretty convincing. He nods, the smile on his face feeling much more natural than he ever could have expected. 

“I could fake it,” he laughs. “Sure.”

Bdubs grins at him. It’s nice. It makes the walk back to his base a little more bearable.

By the time Etho gets his invitation to the life game, he’s grown accustomed to being at Bdubs’ side again. He wanders around Bdubs’ base like he knows it, makes it a spot he chooses to map, to memorize. Bdubs checks in on him when he isn’t around as much—asks him how his builds are going, wonders if he needs help. Bdubs lingers in his spaces too, like a plant trying to root, gives himself reasons to stand in doorways just a bit longer, just enough to extend their goodbyes. It feels right—in a way that almost gives reason to Etho’s deviation. Maybe, deep down, from their first introduction, Etho had decided to glue himself to Bdubs’ side and not become unstuck. Maybe he’d simply put that decision, his first ever decision, into motion that day. It didn’t matter much as to why anymore.

When Etho gets his letter, he doesn’t open it. He holds it between two fingers, turning it over and over. He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says. There’s a dark red seal on the back, shaped like a heart. He makes a little sound, some sort of click in the back of his mouth, before he stuffs the letter in his pocket, half-folded.

He finds Bdubs exactly where he expects. Bdubs is sitting cross-legged in his garden, hands in the dirt, when Etho arrives at the crescent moon base. If he looks closely enough, Etho can still tell that Bdubs’ own letter sits on his window sill in the kitchen, unopened. But he’s really squinting to notice, so he writes it off for now as a flaw in his own sight. 

Bdubs turns to him as he walks up. His hair is pushed back away from his face with his bandana, and his hands are covered in dirt, and he’s got a streak of black soil across his forehead that Etho tries not to look at for too long. Bdubs shoots him a toothy grin, going back to his bright orange tulips. If Etho looks long enough, he could probably guess the soil mixture, and tell him if it's good enough to be planting orange tulips in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he comes to stand behind him and Bdubs hums in greeting.

“Etho,” he says, looking up again, wiping the dirt from his forehead. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Etho says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He forgets who he picked the gesture up from, but it’s become part of his natural body language patterns now, so he won’t be stopping it anytime soon. “I just came to see how you were doing.”

“How I was doin’, huh?” Bdubs asks, amusement trickling into his voice. Etho smiles, feeling his face pull.

“Mhm,” he says. “That’s right. I can’t come and check up on a friend?”

Bdubs laughs, sticking his spade in the dirt.

“Oh, we’re friends now?” he says, still giggling as he turns around. “I thought we were just a team.”

Etho watches him lean back on his hands, legs coming out from under him. He tries to read Bdubs’ expression and voice for any note of insincerity, or play, or teasing, but doesn’t find anything he normally associates with Bdubs. This just feels true.

“I mean, I figured with how much we’ve been working together…” Etho starts, to which Bdubs startles, waving his hands.

“No, no!” Bdubs yelps. “Etho, I thought the same thing! I just wasn’t expectin’ it from you.”

Etho blinks. It feels owlish, small, almost a wrong reaction to hearing Bdubs say something like that. But it’s what immediately happens, before he tries to open his mouth, and no sound comes out. He waits for a moment. He assumes his LED spins, maybe even red, as Bdubs watches him, face paling.

“Oh,” Etho says quietly.

“We’re friends,” Bdubs says, voice much smaller than Etho’s ever heard it. “‘S that alright with you?”

Etho feels like the proper response would be to laugh, if he could really feel anything at all besides every gear in his chest halting and restarting themselves. He makes a noise that sounds almost like a cough.

“Mhm,” he says. He watches Bdubs’ shoulders relax and finds that his own posture sinks with it. 

“Good,” Bdubs says, nodding along. “Was there anything else you wanted to scare me with?”

Etho knows this tone—playful. Teasing. He works up a smile and fishes the letter from his pocket, slightly bent. Bdubs’ eyes flick right to it, right to the red seal pressed into the paper. Immediately, he scrambles up, reaching for the note in Etho’s hands. Etho lets him grab it in his dirt-covered fingers, even as Bdubs tries frantically to dust off his hands as he notices. Bdubs turns it over itself, glancing up at Etho.

“It’s for you?”

Etho nods.

“It was on my doorstep this morning,” he says. “I can see you’ve got one in your window?”

Bdubs snorts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I haven’t opened the damn thing. I’m excited up until the point I’m not, ‘cause I know I’m gonna lose again.”

Etho hums. As Bdubs hands him back the letter, Etho rests his hand on his shoulder, giving it a hesitant, light squeeze. Bdubs looks quickly down at it, before he’s back to staring at Etho’s face.

“Don’t worry, Bdubs,” he says, hoping his voice is full of amusement and affection like he feels like it is. “You’ll have me there this time!”

And Bdubs laughs, full and warm in his chest, and Etho jostles him around as he does, until Bdubs is smacking his shoulder and wiggling free. He picks up his fallen hat and his tools, and Etho follows him around the side of the house as he puts things away. As he shuts one of the chest, Bdubs says:

“You mean that, though? You wanna be on a team?”

Etho smiles, feeling his eyes squint, forces every ounce of new feeling into his words when he says:

“I don’t think I wanna team with anyone else, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs’ grin in excitement is more than enough to convince him he’s made the right choice.

It’ll be a long two weeks until the death game starts. When he returns home later that night, Bdubs’ plans for success turning over in his brain, recording for later, Etho reads over the letter enough to commit the page to memory. He keeps it safe internally as the letter finds its way to his bookshelf, half-sealed. Through him, like it’s just under the skin, runs an emotion he’s not yet familiar with. He hopes it's a good one, at the very least. He hopes so, as much as an android, a machine, someone just now familiar with the idea of free will, can hope. 

It feels good, though. And something makes him think that everything will turn out just fine.

#hermitcraft dbh au #dbhc #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #dbhc etho #dbhc bdubs #ethubs #mcyt #mcyt fic #hermitcraft fic #text #hermitshipping #dbhc fanfic #fics #SCREAAAAMS SO LOUDLY AT THE TOP OF MY LUUUUNGS #DBHC I MISSED YOUUUUU #so i wrote this for shepherd for her birthday back in november!! yaaay!! #but i'm just now posting it LMAOOO #it takes place shortly before gear of the heart turning! #we love and stan dbhc in this house < so normal and definitely not insane about it #smiles :) #definitely not being dragged back into dbhc by the scruff of my neck nooo nevarrrr #oooh you wanna ask me about gear of the heart so bad ooooooh aaahhhh

[oh-my-may]

LET'S TALK HSR PENACONY 2.1 (or rather, have my impressions and thoughts on the main quest and some other stuff)

First of all, I went out of it with so many thoughts and emotions. This is not gonna be spoiler free (duh).

ACHERON IS SO FUN TO PLAY. Like, really really fun. Finally Simulated Universe is not an annoying pain anymore, and much quicker too. Thanks to a good friend of mine her relics aren't too bad either. She's already so fun to play with Black Swan, can't wait for a Kafka rerun now 💀

Aa for the story now: I FUCKING KNEW MIKHAIL WAS THE WATCHMAKER. I KNEW IT. Now to wait for them to confirm that Misha is connected to him, either as a ghost of his past self or a child or some sort. It's the only way.

It's also really refreshing to see that HSR is giving 4star characters significant roles in the story. First it was Tingyun, now it's Gallagher (and maybe Misha? I'll die on this hill).

Loved the pacing. Story was quite long and lots of gameplay but didn't feel overwhelming at all, probably because we didn't just stick to the MC the whole time. The characters split up and we didn't just follow the express crew but also Aventurine, I really loved that. It felt so dynamic and immersive.

WELT AND ACHERON INTERACTION. BRO. The way I gasped the whole time. We still don't have a canon confirmation of how Raiden Mei and Acheron or just generally HI3rd and HSR are connected but it's sp clear that Acheron is by far the closest connection yet. So sp excited to find out more about this. Raiden Mei, I'll love you in every universe.

Aventurine and Ratio are also very interesting to me. What does Ratio gain by involving himself in all of this? What does he get out of it? Anyway, their little journey through the mansion was nice. GIGANTIC RATIO. The kinda stuff my dreams are made of tbh.

Generally the whole Aventurine story got me right from the beginning. He's generally one of the most interesting characters to me (although this game has plenty of them). I gotta admit of course I was suspicious of him (as one should be of all Penacony characters) but I liked him nevertheless. This patch supported my feelings, my GOD HE xkdjjdjdjd. The way I cried. Since I played the story so late ofc I saw some spoilers/screenshots of his backstory but I never expected it to hit me this hard. Just wow. His ending, too. It's so bitter. Kinda hope we get to see him again, since he'a mot really dead, right? Just in some limbo.

His boss fight was really something. Not a lot of different patterns, but I still had to try a bunch of different teams, since you're kinda fucked even with just a single single target character in your party. Had to unbench Clara, and I gotta say, she came through for me. I might not have used the most meta team, but it worked soooo...

And just as I was glad I had managed the fight they hit you with that big cut scene, woah. AND THEN WITH THE FIREFLY SCENE? AND SUNDAY????

First of all, apparently it was common knowledge among the community since last patch that Sam was Firefly. Yeah, I gwt it bc of the leaks and stuff. But I'm just so confused as to HOW. Like HOW and WHY and just generally HUH. I can't wait for them to explain this connection (if you're reading this and you wanna spoil me with non-confirmed stuff then leave it, please, I might as well wait another 3 weeks).

And then Gallagher and Sunday... Just as I was admiring Sunday's beauty because he might legit just be one of the most gorgeous male character designs... THEY KILL HIM. When I tell ypu I was SHOOK. Mouth agape and all. Didn't know what to do. What a cliffhanger.

Now I don't have a real theory as to what I think will happen. If I remember correctly they said the main story will stretch until 2.3, right? I really wonder what else will happen, the story already seemed so huge this patch and I really wonder how it'll conclude. There's still so many questions and stories. Might add on to this post later when I have more thoughts.

Also Aventurine's banner just dropped but as of writing this I haven't pulled yet. Might add a little post later about it.

For now, have some screenshots I took during the story:

ALSO I GOT AVENTURINE. SECOND 50/50 WIN IN A ROW IN THIS GAME HAVE I FINALLY BROKEN THE CURSE. Now for the long and treacherous road of farming his trace mats and relics ... Since I never really prefarm 🥲

A pic I took in my excitement. Forgot the screenshot button exists.

#may's gaming #hsr #honkai star rail #star rail #penacony #acheron #hsr acheron #raiden mei #hi3rd #welt #welt yang #hsr welt #aventurine #hsr aventurine #dr ratio #veritas ratio #hsr veritas #gallagher #hsr gallagher #sunday #hsr sunday

[thoundcarriers]

 tis a very old au of mine about sniper who's lived all his 27 years in New Zealand and never got to be a mercenary. read more insanity under the cut lolol

in this universe, his biological father got inside the capsule instead of little Mun-dee. an hour later, he crashed somewhere in Australia and died. on the next day, some old married couple found his body and buried him on the lonely hill. Mundy and his mother never got to know what happened to him, and the latter did not give a single shit about it.

raised with the weird feeling of being lost and bitter taste of hatred of his mother towards the man who left them in an underwater cage, Mick tries his best to recover the schemes of his biological father, hoping for the opportunity of escaping, too. years later, he finds nothing and gives up. nor that he had any skills for engineering, too.

on the day of his 27th birthday, an unknown ship hovers above the glass dome of the city, and a female voice on the communication lines politely demands him to climb into the cabin this instant.

spy and pauling are happy beyond themselves - they finally found him. the sniper, even though he's clearly not remembering his past self. but they hope that he comes back to his original self eventually.

poor lad is confused and nervous, he's expected to know stuff he never did. he's told that as soon as he gets into it, he'll be back in no time. the problem is that he has never held a sniper rifle in his life, not mentioning about killing someone.

ms p comes up with a wonderful idea - his parents that adopted him must be still alive in that universe. there's no better teacher at shooting stuff than the Mick's papa himself. the only thing left to do is to convince them that Mick is actually their son somewhere in another world. and if they don't agree to help, it'd all be lost to hell. pretty easy!

surprisingly, the gang handle the old couple well after finding their village and introducing themselves. the old man doesn't trust them, always squinting and spitting behind their backs. yet there's the only thing he likes about that lanky guy - he doesn't complain much, spending hours under australian sun and soaking wet with sweat in his weird purple shirt, while learning the grounds of weaponry. miss mundy is on the contrary - really happy to have guests in their village and is pretty supportive of the young man she knows only for a moment.

for a moment, Mick catches the sight of someone's grave in the distance in his lense. for some reason, it fills him with rage he never felt, and it fuels him to train even more. i know i know most of it doesnt even make fucking sense. but let me dream aight. tagged as 'left alone au' on my blog is u wanna look up for some old cringe

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #team fortress 2 #tf2 spy #miss pauling #tf2 miss pauling #left alone au

[yaspup9000]

By Popular demand, here’s some of my LPS Hot takes

Some of the later pets weren’t That bad. Like yea I do agree that the tv show based toys from like 2013-2016 weren’t that great and kinda fugly looking, but with some of the 2020 pets, why yes not as iconic as the 2000s lps that we know and love, I still believe some people were really harsh on some of these pets cuz like they did look really cute tho! My only problem with the pets was the fact they had names tbh 2. Not every g2 lps molds were perfect. Some really good examples of older lps molds being kinda ugly were the first Jack Russel and poodle molds. I’ve also mentioned about the skunk/Squrriel molds were pretty lazy since it’s just the same mold . They didn’t even try to make them different from each other. Like say what you will but at least with some of the newer pets between 2013-2020 they were at least trying to make the skunk and squirrel molds different from each other. also the opossum molds was not all that great tbh..

3. The worse thing that ever happened to lps was the Blythe loves lps toy line. No joke idk why they thought this was good. I mean if you guys loved the Blythe dolls that’s fine, to me I always found them off putting since well, they just didn’t fit personally. Like you’re the one who’s caring the pets or this is a world where it’s run by pets. There was never any mention about humans tbh. Again this is prob coming from bitter younger me lol. But in all seriousness though, never really liked Blythe dolls tbh

4. People need to Chill out about the some of the rerelease of lps. Yes I understand, I’m just as nervous and excited as the rest of you guys however I genuinely feel as if people are really making a mountain out of a hill over some prototypes and a blind bag. Like I understand that everyone’s burned out by bad decisions after bad decisions within the lps Franchise. And yes blind bags are overused and annoying however, Guys.. they’re not just gonna make only just blind bags, they’re gonna do other stuff for lps soon just be patient. Not to mention at the end of the day, they’re still just silly little pets for kids. Can you critique the toys? Of course! But just remember that it ain’t that deep. 5. They should bring back that one brown poodle mold

yes this one! its cute as hecc! and i wish they would bring this back 6. This cat isn't a "Wolf-Cat" Its a maine coon. This isn't even an opinion or anything, i just wanna let people know that its suppose to be a maine coon. also the actual "wolf-cat" is called Lykoi and idk how that breed of cat would look as an lps.

7. the main reason back in 2013 Lps was having a reboot was due to MLP having a reboot. that's just my theory tho.

8. I feel like a lot of people keep forgetting that 90s LPS exist. Like whenever people say "g1" they don't think about the kenner Lps toys, they were thinking about the 2000's lps that was popularized by hasbro. and tbh that kinda sucks.. cuz why yes the kenner toys were more into realism, i still geninually, like the kenner lps figures they were rad.

9. The sticker eyes lps were cute, I actually liked them 10. One pet peeve I had with LPS popular, is that technically, Brook should of been arrested or at least suspended since she did attack Savannah first. Not to mention, doesn't this school have like cameras or something!? i know this has been years since I've watched LPS popular but like, bruh, Why don't her parents believe her!

Umm.. I dont really have any other opinions nor thoughts at the moment. idk feel free to ask me anything lps related and I'll give my honest opinions.

#lps #lpsblr #littlest pet shop #idk man #random ramblings

[myfandomprompts]

To Risk It All | Chapter 1

Aemond x Dragonrider!OC

Summary: Daera arrives in King's Landing. Aemond remembers her vividly.

Tags: possessive!Aemond, angst, mature, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn, obsession, blood, canon divergence, king Aemond, smut and fluff, dragons, war, F&B spoilers. | Prologue - Masterlist

Though Daera had never stepped foot in King's Landing before, the Dragonpit was unmistakable as she glided down her dragon towards the sandy ground, the Dragonkeepers welcoming her as they once did with Laenor. The red towers of the castle were visible in the distance, the chaotic sound of the city rising in the air as well as the stench that came along with it. All of this was so new to her. Once in the carriage that would lead her to Aegon’s Hill, she wondered what her mother and cousins had planned upon their delayed arrival. Would they demand justice, revenge?

Leaving the Queen, she was led to her brother’s temporary chambers. Upon seeing him again, Daera did not hesitate to throw herself in his arms, holding him tightly as if she feared he would disappear. His purple eyes were red with exhaustion, his small figure pressing against her chest as she held him close. She asked about him, but Daemion only voiced a weak affirmation before diving back into a worrying silence.

“Mother and father’s cousins are on their way, they will be there soon. Then we will go home,” she assured him, stroking his silver curls fondly.

His silence endured and she could do nothing but respect it, basking in their shared embrace before they were led to the royal sept. She held her brother’s hand while she paid her respects to their father, trying to not care for the gruesome state of his head under the white linen while Daemion stared at the ground, speechless.

Daera could feel him trembling, so she squeezed his hand harder.

Soon nightfall came and Daemion had still not said a word to her and when they came back to their apartments within Maegor’s Holdfast. The ghost of their father floated around them like a cold breeze, icing their blood, making them feel so alone, so powerless.

She asked him if he was tempted by a nightly ride upon Seasmoke, hoping to spark something other than sorrow in his eyes, but he only dismissed her with a curt shake of the head. “Daemion… we must be strong. Carry on what he left behind for us, and for mother. You can cry in front of me, you don’t have to hold your tears.”

He finally looked at her, pain plaguing his expression, and she wanted to wipe it away, make it disappear forever.

“You don’t cry,” he remarked with watery eyes.

“I do. I only reserve my grief for the ones I love, and that is you and mother. Certainly not the court,” she answered with bitterness, thinking about those who had done nothing while Vaemond Velaryon was mercilessly slain before them.

Now all that she hoped was that one day, her brother would be able to overcome the trauma the Rogue Prince had inflicted upon him, upon her family. She would make it so, she promised.

Daemion didn’t say a word, instead wrapped her arms around her, flattening his face against her and her heart ached in affection. “Goodnight, sister.”

As she watched her brother close the door, she realised that she, on the other hand, could not bear to be alone. She was scared to be left with her thoughts in such an unfamiliar place and desired to return to what comforted her.

She glanced at each side of the corridor, trying to remember the location of the stairs that led to the main hall. She moved through the castle silently, her steps leading her through the red faded stoney walls until she reached the outyard, where the night had settled so deep she shivered under her cloak.

“I demand to be taken to the Dragonpit,” she called out to one of the guards standing at the main gate.

“It is the hour of the ghosts, my Lady.”

“And what of it?” Daera said, arching a brow high on her forehead. 

The guard looked at her with a repressed scoff. “So I cannot prepare a carriage only because you wish to see your dragon, I am afraid.”

Daera fumed inside, but was unwilling to give up. “Then find someone to escort me on foot.”

This time, the guard did not hide his snicker. “I do not think that a young Lady such as you should be strolling the streets at this hour.”

“Open the gates.”

Daera turned around to see the newcomer as the guard widened his eyes. She had to narrow hers in order to see properly amidst the shadows of the courtyard but she could recognise the silver hair around his face and the smug demeanour of the man that was now advancing toward them. He wore a long dark green cloak that enveloped his figure, boots scratching the floor.

“Yes, my Prince.”

The guard did as told, gesturing to his counterpart to help him move the heavy doors in order to allow the Prince passage. Once outside of the walls, he suddenly stopped in his tracks to look at her over his shoulders. “Are you coming or not?”

Daera almost jumped, startled to be addressed and scurried to follow him, earning an annoyed look from the guard that closed the gates behind them. The silver-haired man only smirked and resumed his walk, forcing her to catch up with him.

“You are the Velaryon girl. Daera, is it? The Winged Seahorse?” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye while hastening his pace away from the castle’s gates. “You ride Seasmoke?”

“Yes.”

The way he behaved along with his unabashed confidence left little to no doubt about his identity, and Daera’s suspicions were confirmed when they came to a stop at a junction, now facing each other for the first time.

He looked at her, fully, and she could see the lilac eyes, the curly silver hair, the proud jawline and the redness under his eyes. She had not seen them in years, but it was easy to guess which out of the three children of Viserys Targaryen he was.

“Yes, my Prince. And you are Aegon Targaryen," she concluded, hinting that they had never been introduced properly.

“Indeed, we’ve met once before. But we both grew up since that time,” he said with poise before giving her a onceover. “And for the best, it would seem."

Daera stayed emotionless. “I suppose so. We must live up to our House’s name the best we can. Make them proud.” 

He looked at her for a little while, assessing her features and the way she spoke, trying to decide if the girl was not very quick witted or if she was just careful around him.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he finally said after his study, watching as her eyes turned grimmer at the mention of her father.

“Thank you."

She did not know what to say, and gazed at the paved stone. She had successfully managed to exit the castle grounds but from her position, she had no idea in what direction the Dragonpit was, the night sky hindering her vision.

But her curiosity was piqued by the unexpected encounter, making her momentarily forget about her destination. "May I ask where you are going at this hour, Prince Aegon?”

“The only place I can truly entertain myself,” he smirked. "I would have invited you to come along, but as I understood, you have a dragon to ride.” 

She only nodded, deciding that she did not want to drag a more precise answer out of him by the way he mysteriously looked at her.

“The Dragonpit is this way, you’ll have to cross Fleabottom,” he pointed vaguely to the street on the right. "Keep on and you’ll see the light of the dome from the plaza. I hope the Dragonkeepers are in a good mood,” he added. “For your sake.” 

He reached for his hood to put it over his hair, covering the very recognisable silver of it. “Oh… Thank you.”

“Have a nice flight, Daera.”  

As she watched him stride off southward, she felt jealous of his hood, feeling silly for not having brought one of her own to hide her silver head. Instead she was left to squeeze the fabric of her cloak around her and began walking, thoughts swirling around the oddity of the King’s son.

Were all of his children like this? Helaena? Aemond? Daeron?

She thought about Aemond, the boy she had met with two eyes before he lost one out of pure perseverance. She had seen neither him nor Helena since her arrival, and she knew Daeron to be in Oldtown. But now that she had met one of them, she found herself most curious about the others.

It was a shame that she was to leave as soon as her great cousins’ plea would be heard.

Aemond cursed under his breath when he saw that none of the adjacent streets he had taken were empty, his plan to remain unnoticed moot. His evening ride on Vhagar had been pleasant, a necessity after the dinner that had left him fuming, remembering the sufficient snort of Lucerys Velaryon as the roasted pig was served, and how Jacaerys Velaryon had thought he could provoke him. In fact, Aemond felt vengeful still, much of the ire accumulated within him since that fateful day on Driftmark demanding to be released, and he felt it more and more difficult to keep his rancour at bay. 

The noises of the night owls above and the drunks staggering on the main street steered him away from his murderous thoughts, noticing with relief that he was getting closer to the Red Keep as he walked further up Sour Belley Row. When he took a turn to a street he hoped to be empty, the thoughts invaded him once again.

If only he could challenge Lucerys Valeryon, challenge him in a fight, or even sneak into his room, unseen, and make him beg for him to stop when he would try to take his eye as wel-

A loud laugh echoed from one of the back alleys, and he instantly stopped in his tracks, his jaw clenching. "... the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn…"

He looked under his hood to search for the source of the voice, only spotting two shadowy forms as another shrilling laugh echoed against the stone walls of the alley. From afar he recognised an old woman he knew blind, talking to a stranger whose back was turned to him. 

He sighed with annoyance; this woman was known to be some sort of seer, overlooked by some, adored by others, and decided to pay it no mind, rather walking away before earning more of her questionable predictions. It was easy for a charlatans like her to announce the death of his father when he had one foot in the tomb, and her sort only deserved his disdain.

But as he casted one last disapproving look to the old crone, he caught sight of the stranger’s silver hair facing her and stilled again.

It was a woman, a young woman that was wearing noble clothes, both blue and black, wrapped around a thick dark marine cloak. A Targaryen? One of Aegon’s bastards? No, she was far too old. An imitator perhaps? Not from her clothes and the way she stood herself. She then turned her face slightly, and curiosity took the better of him at once.

She was too beautiful not to be of noble blood, and there was only one person that possessed her characteristics and was currently in the capital: Daera Velaryon, the girl he had watched grieve Laena Velaryon all of those years ago on Driftmark, and had sometimes after claimed her brother’s dragon, following his own steps.

The one who had led him to the dune where Vhagar slept.

She had grown much, she was nothing like the girl he had met by the seaside. Before he could realise it, his feet had advanced toward the two women on their own, and as he stepped into the light, the white orbs of the seer snapped at him like she had suddenly recovered the ability to see. The Velaryon followed her gaze and took a hasty step back when she realised that he was right behind her, a jasmine fragrance filling the air as she moved.

He could not blame her for her reaction, knowing that he would look rather imposing to her as he beat her both in height and size and bore a hooded cloak that hid most of his face, keeping it in the shadows.

“Ha! There is the vision, the one you will cower under!” continued the old woman, drawing back both Aemond’s and the girl’s gaze on her. 

Then the young woman spoke, allowing him to finally hear her voice for the first time in years, memories coming back to him at the softness of her tone. “I… I don’t understand.”

The seer cackled again and began searching for Daera’s hands, reaching to her front and bringing them into her own. “The God of Flame and Shadow understands, my dear,” she said as she tapped her hand and grinned widely. "You, on the other hand, don't need to."

Aemond was almost certain that the woman had ‘looked’ straight at him as she said her last piece, but he had no time to react for she let out another cackle before letting go of Daera’s hands and proceeded to slowly limp away in the dark alley, holding on to the wall for direction.

Both him and Daera watched as she disappeared in the shadows before she turned to face him, making Aemond remember where he was and where he was going before he had stupidly lost himself in a dark alley. 

He could feel her gaze on him, scrutinising, the scent of jasmine spreading in the air.

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes searching under the hood that covered his face.

He congratulated himself for letting his sapphire eye bare of leather for that particular occasion. No one could know he was away from the keep, even less recognise him.

“None of your concern, I’m afraid.”

His tone was cold, unforgiving. He wanted to turn away before she could ask any more compromising questions, but his body refused to move, as if it was detached from his brain.

“You smell of dragon.” 

He stopped himself in time from lifting his head completely in reaction, keeping his features safely tucked away in the shadows. Instead, he watched her intensely under his hood as she kept searching for his eye, gears visibly turning behind her violet ones. 

“It’s unwise to insult strangers away at such a late hour. Especially alone,” he answered with all the menacing tone he could muster.

She straightened at that, and if she hadn’t considered him dangerous before, she was now. Or was it prudence? 

“I didn't mean to insult you. I only… I just wanted to head to the Dragonpit by myself, but I got… distracted,” she gestured behind her where the woman had disappeared, staring at the now empty street deep in thought. “I wish to see the dragons for myself.”

“Hm,” he found himself muttering, wondering why in the seven hells he was still standing there instead of being on his way back already. Instead he found the want to goad her, to test her. “Maybe if you had stayed on the main street and avoided being lured by beggars and liars, you would have found it without difficulty.”

He saw her chin lift up at that, like a creature ready to strike, to defend itself. 

Like a dragon.

“Well, if I was lured so easily, like you put it, I wonder what you are doing here,” she said defiantly, “Fancy the words of a liar or do you just have a likeness for dark alleys? Or perhaps more discriminating endeavours?”

He considered her for a moment before letting out a scoff, surprising himself and earning a puzzled look from her. She had the grit of her father, he could give her that. Or was it the fire in her veins, the same that he possessed?

"See the dragons," she had said, instead of explaining that she wanted to ride hers. Just like he had.

Exactly as he had said all of those years ago.

He hummed again, scrutinising her. “Maybe you should ask someone else, there are much more informed people in those streets than old fortune tellers and strangers that smell of dragon. You would be better to take your chance with them.”

He allowed himself a short moment to see her expression shift from defensive to surprised, before turning his back to her swiftly and finally walking away, letting a smile creep at the corner of his mouth.

That was unexpected.

“You think you can protect him? Ha! He will fall, girl, you are powerless against their wits. Grief plagues you all, but so do teeth and claws. Maybe wings will cover his tomb?”

The blind woman's voice kept ringing in her ears as she walked down the main avenue. Protect him? Protect him from what? From who? Was it her brother, she had asked. Was it Daemion? But the woman had not answered her, only mocked her further.

"One candle burns as the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn and see your heart within it, your future."

What had she meant?

Daera raised her head and exhaled in relief when she saw the enormous roof of the Dragonpit over a nearby building. She began walking again, carefully staying in the dark and avoiding every person she would cross paths with.

The seer had called to her, asked her to approach, but when Daera had said that she had nothing to offer, taking the woman for a beggar, she had seen the white of her eyes and felt compelled to go to her. The old woman had then passed her hand over her face before laughing and speaking mysterious words, taunting her. Should she even take her seriously? 

But against all odds, it was not the most peculiar encounter she had made this evening, and wondered if maybe, the night had more in store for her.

The hooded man that had inexplicably materialised behind her, listening in to the incomprehensible words that were spoken to her, had unsettled her and now occupied her thoughts as she climbed the steps to the Dragon Pit. He was tall and lean, from what she had seen. His voice was soft, but firm, and obviously rather cold as he spoke and she wondered if he always sounded so scathing.

She had only seen his jawline in the dark, the rest of his face hidden from her, but she found herself more intrigued by him than by the blind woman's words. And the smell, sandalwood mixed with smoke. But it was the distinctive scent of dragon that had her eagerly curious. It was the exact same smell as when Princess Rhaenys came back from a ride with Meleys, or as Laenor had once, or as Laena did. Was he a Dragonkeeper? Or maybe just a worker there? Maybe she had been wrong completely, and had mistaken the scent for another odour. But he had not denied it, rather had looked unphased when she had pointed it out. She might think of every possibility but her instincts already knew the truth.

She wondered what the odds were of meeting two Targaryen Princes in one night.

Chapter 2

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for beta.

Tag list: @knightprincess@baconturtle @witheredoffherwitch @lexwolfhale @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy (sorry I forgot to tag you in the prologue)

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #smut #slowburn #hotd fanfic #fanfic #dark aemond #dark!aemond x oc #usermyfandomprompts #aemondedit #aemond x velaryon #tria #triafic

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

“Honor Among Thieves & Dreamers” (a Luke Castellan x plus sized Fem! OC fanfic) PART 1

Harpies. Damn leather-winged beast women. Sonya Sanchez could hear their grinding squeals of excitement from overhead. She was doomed. Running with all her might she pushed forward towards the hill with the big pine tree that resembled the sketch in her older brother’s notebook before he disappeared. Her only hope of safety was beyond that tree, assuming her brother’s instructions weren’t misleading. The thought of her brother made her bitter and should’ve spurred her on. But as the airborn monsters were circling closer, she felt every muscle in her body turn to lead. Sonya collapsed about three yards from the tree, face planting in the ground and getting a mouthful of dirt. She knew the feeling: Struggling to breathe, unable to move even a single finger. She had been diagnosed with narcolepsy with cataplexy, and in her case, that meant the dreaded loss of muscle control when she experienced strong emotions. What an embarrassment. This? This is how I’m dying?

A harpy’s whip cracked and slashed her back as the beating of wings became louder and more ominous. Sonya couldn’t even cry out in pain, she was so paralyzed. Claws pinned down her arms and dug into her flesh. She breathed in more dirt. Her last memory before everything went black was the shouting of what she could only assume were humans. Darkness enveloped her senses. At least the pain is gone. At least I can rest.

Minutes seemed to pass before light seeped through Sonya’s closed eyelids. She opened them, startled, and gasping for air (remembering the feeling of suffocation before she blacked out). She was in a well lit room, where bright rays of sunshine poured through long windows. I can breathe. I must be safe!

Sonya looked around, suspiciously eyeing the girl staring at her. The girl had dark skin, dark long hair, braided and pulled back, and her arms were crossed expectantly. Sonya opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted by the girl calling someone named “Chiron”.

Through the tall open doorway to the outside, a man… no, a centaur entered. “Welcome, Sonya Sanchez, to Camp Half-Blood. Your brother Miguel said you’d arrive here… eventually.” The towering half-man half-horse said with a low powerful voice.

“So- he’s here right now? Miguel is here?” Sonya said, her stomach churning with mixed emotions. Or maybe she was just nervous to be the center of the centaur and young girl’s attention.

“Your brother… well, I’ll explain later. First. Are you feeling well? The ambrosia should’ve helped immensely.” Chiron asked, sympathetic.

“I’m… ok.” Sonya replied, getting out of bed and gingerly stretching to see if the pain of her previous wounds would return. Much to her relief, she only felt a slight ache.

“Very well, then. Let me show you to Cabin 11, Hermes’ Cabin. Luke Castellan will get you settled in, and then give you a tour of the camp.”

Sonya followed Chiron out of the house she had been resting in. Lots of teens and tweens in orange shirts eyed her curiously as she walked through the large field of grass past a giant rock climbing wall and a river. Sonya felt a bit embarrassed, suddenly aware of how disheveled she was. Her jeans had grass and dirt stains from when she had fallen outside the camp. Her AC/DC shirt had ragged holes in the back where the Harpy’s claws had dug into her flesh.

Chiron led her to one of many cabins surrounding a large green grassy clearing. This cabin was simple and resembled a typical summer camp cabin in its architecture, but was much bigger, and when she entered she realized why. Cabin 11 was jam-packed with kids, tweens, and teens all in shirts that said Camp Half-Blood. Some looked mischievous and others looked bored. None of them looked very much alike, and their chatter became hushed as she entered. Four teenage boys who looked to be Sonya’s age looked up from a boardgame they were playing on one of the many bunk beds.

Chiron spoke, finally. “Luke, this is Sonya.”

One of the board-gaming boys got up from the floor. He was tall, slim, and had dark curly hair. A long thin scar graced the right side of his face, making a vertical line from his cheekbone to his jaw. Sonya blushed as the boy approached her. She discreetly leaned against the doorframe so that she didn’t fall from cataplexy.

“Welcome, Sonya.” Luke said. His voice was friendly and put her at ease.

“Thanks,” She replied.

“I’m sorry about your brother. I’m sure he’d love to know you made it to Camp Half-Blood safely.” Luke said.

Sonya frowned. “He’s not here? Uh… why are you sorry?”

“I’ll leave you two to talk things through,” Chiron said in a serious tone, retreating from the cabin door and exiting towards the fields.

The gravity of Luke’s words and Chiron’s reaction to the topic of Miguel registered in Sonya’s heart. Was Miguel… dead? It felt like a slap in the face, but the way Luke phrased things…

“Oh… I see.” Luke said, pursing his lips and glancing angrily for a moment in the direction of where Chiron was leaving. “I thought Chiron would’ve told you. Your brother is… dead. I’m so sorry, Sonya.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. It felt like a slap in the face. Sonya couldn’t figure out if it was anger or sadness that brought the tears. She slid to the ground, the cataplexy getting the best of her. Luke crouched down by her, looking very concerned as Sonya slumped with her eyes closed but still streaming with tears.

“What’s wrong with her?” One of the other kids who had been playing the board game asked.

“Give her some space guys. I think she passed out.” Luke said, sternly. “Can you hear me, Sonya?” Luke said, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. Sonya was unresponsive as another minute ticked by. “Go get some ice water from the big house!” Luke instructed. “I’ll keep an eye on her and I’ll make sure she doesn’t stop breathing.”

Sonya heard campers rushing by her. She fought against the cataplexy. Even just trying to open her mouth and speak felt impossible. She wanted so badly to let Luke and the other campers know she was ok. Finally. She felt her emotions calm down a bit, while focusing on Luke’s comforting hand on her shoulder. She blinked open her eyes, regaining control of her muscles and gasping for much needed air. She saw Luke’s stressed and intense expression and she immediately knew she should explain, before those other campers came back and dunked ice water on her.

“I’m ok… I’m ok.” She said. “I’m sorry. I just… I got emotional, and when I feel strong emotions I lose muscle control. It’s a condition that’s called cataplexy. It’s part of my life as a narcoleptic.” Sonya said quickly, worried she’d get another bought of cataplexy and become paralyzed again.

Luke only seemed to relax a little bit. “That sounds like it really sucks. Is there any way I can help you when that happens? Can you breathe during cat… cat….?”

“—cataplexy. Yeah. I can breathe sometimes but if I fall face down or in a position that obstructs my breathing, it can get really bad.” Sonya felt embarrassed. What a way to hit it off with Luke. I just sent him and the other campers into a panic. “There’s not much you can do except make sure I’m able to breathe. Or get help if I hit my head.” Sonya elaborated.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Well, I guess this goes without saying,” Luke said, “but don’t go places alone if you can help it. I can keep an eye on you if you want.” He offered.

“Thanks.” Sonya said, relieved and surprised somebody cared enough to look out for her. A stark contrast to life with my family, back home.

“So, uh…” Luke offered a reassuring smile. “Did you bring anything with you to Camp Half-Blood? Or should I get you a sleeping bag and stuff like that?”

“I had a few things but I lost it when running from the Harpies.” Sonya sighed.

At that moment three demigods came rushing in with a giant bucket of ice water. “Is she still breathing?!” The girl holding the back of the bucket said, straining to keep her grip.

Sonya stood up so the girl could see she was ok. “I’m fine now!”

“Oh…. Luke? What should we do with the ice water?” The trio of campers asked.

Luke got up from the wood floor. “We COULD dump it in the river…. Or…” Luke paused, smirking mischievously. “We can use it to get back at Alex and Finn… for stealing the cabin savings.”

The latter idea was met by a loud chatter of agreement. Sonya giggled. She liked this Luke guy. He seems to have a good sense of humor.

LIKE AND REBLOG IF YOU WANT A PART 2!

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#fanfic #writing #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan #pjo #percy series #camp halfblood #pjo fandom #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #demigods #fanfiction writer #riordanverse #rick riordan

[gumnut-logic]

Cethair (Bit 6)

Óen | Cethair - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6

Wherein we learn some more about Scott in this universe.

I promise to get back to Gordon shortly. Scott just needed some background sorted out.

Also, off screen, poor Virgil is a mess, so we will be getting back to him soon, too.

@onereyofstarlight claimed I was a meanie after her readthrough. She's probably right. Sorry Scotty. ::hugs both of you::

I hope you enjoy this bit.

-o-o-o-

When Scott O’Treasaigh was born, his father lost his dragon.

It was a family tale around the fire, usually related by his father with much laughter. He could see that fond spark in the Flaithri’s eyes, how proud he was of his eldest son.

He would relate how Óen fell for the boy the moment he was born. How the dragon ignored Jeff and wandered around the village following the toddler.

Scott, of course, loved the great night fury. Earnest toddler conversations with a silver and black head paying attention to every word.

As Scott grew and his brothers appeared in the tale, he couldn’t deny that he loved Óen with everything he was.

But Óen was his father’s dragon.

When Virgil brought home an injured young rumblehorn and nursed it back to health, it was obvious his younger brother had found himself a dragon. And Dá was everything Virgil could dream of. Under his care and that of the family, Dá recovered well and grew ever so strong. She eventually became the biggest rumblehorn ever seen, her iridescent green hide glittering with health.

But Scott didn’t find a dragon. He had Óen.

But Óen was his father’s.

When John was honoured with the Matriarch’s child, everything changed. Their uncle proved bitter and wrong, and before long, they were fleeing across the sea.

Scott was young at the time, far from his manhood still, but he remembered the long stretches of ocean, the beat of Óen’s wings, his warm breath beneath him.

His father holding him tight.

It had been a slow journey. Dá had still been young, as had Virgil, and had not the strength of the older dragons.

But they made it, and ventured into a whole new world full of strangers and strange customs.

This new land did not know of dragons and there was fear, but his father was strong, as was their grandfather and grandmother and their new people grew to love the dragons as much as they.

Scott grew up and into his own strength. He flew with Óen as often as he could, but it wasn’t until Scott was taken that the decision was made.

He hadn’t been with Óen at the time, and his father blamed that fact for all that followed.

As a member of the ruling family he had martial duty to the clan. Scott took to the initial training like a bird to the sky. He did his family proud, winning the tustles and tourneys enough to take the lead in prowess and skill.

But this was not without opposition. While out on a distant patrol, he was targeted by the dishonourable and betrayed into capture.

They took him far away and held him for too many days. It was there he was taught the ill in the world and he still bore the scars of that teaching.

It was Óen who retrieved him.

His father often related the chaos the dragon created when Scott did not return that night. The night fury was inconsolable.

Of course, the family took to the air. Dá and a determined Virgil discovered the tracks and traced the culprits to a valley on the far side of the Island.

His father was both proud and a little exasperated at what happened next. He had gathered his men, prepared to attack, their party nestled under a ridge halfway up the other side of the hill.

But Óen had left them all behind, taking flight without command and disappearing into the valley.

Running through the damp foliage after him, their father told of the bright flashes as he reached the crest of the hill. The yelling, screaming and the roar of an infuriated dragon.

Óen returned shortly, a weak and injured Scott in his forearms. The dragon’s whimpers breaking every heart that heard them.

Scott was taken home and Máthair Chriona saw to his long road to wellness again.

But their father always, always, recited what he saw once he reached the place where his son had been held.

There was nothing. Nothing more than burnt bones and rubble. Whatever had stood had been destroyed by fury.

From that point on, Óen was Scott’s dragon. His father made sure of it.

Scott had often protested that the Flaith needed his dragon and that this wasn’t right, but his father would not bend.

Óen was Scott’s dragon.

Óen seemed to agree. But then Óen apparently had decided Scott was his human anyway.

As for Scott, it felt ever so right…and so wrong. Óen had saved his father from the Great Western Sea. If Óen hadn’t then, Scott would not exist.

The dragon thwapped him gently across the head whenever Scott mentioned it.

But it was now, here in the darkness of illness, that the truth fought with him.

If his father had been in the sky with Óen, not on the ground, standing between Gaat and John, then Gaat wouldn’t have had such an easy target.

His father would not be…

And Gordon wouldn’t have had to…

If Scott had been there…

But he hadn’t and neither had Óen.

Because Óen was Scott’s dragon.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #jeff tracy #thunderdragons #nuttyfic #its getting written ever so slowly #this universe is hard work #but I'll get there #thank you for you patience and support

[bumblesimagines]

Ez Reyes

can i buy you a drink? for old times' sake?

you were never there for me.

i don't love you anymore.

can i buy you a drink? for old times' sake?

you were never there for me.

i don't love you anymore.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, Gender Neutral!Reader

"You better not forget about us, Beverly Hills." You felt Bishop clap his hand over your shoulder, a big friendly grin stretched out across his face. You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn't help the giddy smile from spreading across your face, especially with all the supportive Mayans you viewed as uncles and brothers looking just as thrilled as your own father. 

"Well, I have to finish packing, but I'll drop by later." You told them, feeling Bishop playfully shake your shoulder before you stepped toward Riz. Your father pecked the top of your head and pinched your cheek, snickering to himself when you swatted at his wrist with a huff and an eye roll. 

"Don't stay out too late with your friends, 'ight?" Riz called as you headed toward the door, chuckles spreading throughout the bar when you shot him a glare over your shoulder. No matter how old you got, he still took it upon himself to embarrass you in front of others every chance he got. 

Opening the door and throwing one last wave over your shoulder, you stepped out of the clubhouse and headed down the rickety steps. You reached into the pocket of your jacket, feeling around for your keys but your attention turned away from your parked car when the gate slid open and two motorcycles rolled in. Ah, fuck. You bit the inside of your cheek and pulled the keys free from your pocket but just as you pressed down to unlock the car, you heard it:

"Aye, (Y/N)!" 

"Fuck," You sighed and turned around, planting a polite smile on your face while you waited for Angel and Ezekiel to finish taking off their helmets. Angel moved first and the only thing you saw before he tugged you into a tight embrace was his big dorky grin. You could smell the cigarette smoke reeking off him and grunted, hoping the smell wouldn't cling to your clothes. "Hey, Angel."

"Hey yourself, Beverly Hills." Angel laughed as he pulled away.

"I'm not even going to Beverly Hills." You groaned. "The new place isn't anywhere near there!"

"But with that fancy new job, you'll live there someday, right? You better tell the pretty girls about the attractive biker down in Santo Padre." Angel said, pushing his sunglasses up to rest atop his slicked-back hair. "Make sure to tell 'em he's funny and hot and-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell them all about Coco." You grinned when he clicked his tongue and lightly pushed your shoulder with his fist, his eyes rolling dramatically. He glanced over his shoulder at his younger brother and glanced back at you, wiggling his brows and smirking before he spun on his heels and headed into the clubhouse. 

"Hey." Ezekiel greeted gently, tugging his gloves off his hands and offering a sweet smile. You remembered a time when just his smile would make you weak at the knees and giggle like a lovesick idiot. But it only filled you with bitterness looking at it now. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he glanced toward your car. "Leaving so soon?"

"I gotta finish packing." You answered.

"Ah, right, you got a new job away from here, right? I'm happy for you. It's hard leaving this place, take it from me." Ezekiel sighed heavily, stuffing his gloves into the pocket of his jeans and curling his fingers around the front of his kutte. "Listen, (Y/N)... can I buy you a drink? For old times' sake? I always miss you every time you visit. Thought it'd be nice to catch up with you."

You inhaled deeply, eyes flickering toward the clubhouse when the Mayans inside cracked up with laughter at some unheard joke or story. It'd been nearly two years since you'd last seen Ezekiel Reyes face to face and spoken with him. Two long years since you'd stood in his trailer with tears in your eyes while he kept his head bowed, never uttering a single word as you tore into him. You'd broken up with him when he couldn't promise to keep his distance from Emily Galindo, a married woman bound to be his demise. He'd called and called but you ignored him until Riz stepped in and forced him to back off.

"No, thanks, Ezekiel. I have nothing to say to you if I'm honest. Everything I did want to say was said years ago. I hope you're doing well but you were never there for me when we were dating so why would I need you as a friend? You showed me how conditional your loyalty was." You told him and turned away from him, heading toward your car and opening the door. Ezekiel followed because being stubborn ran in the Reyes family, and reached out to cup your elbow.

"I know, I'm sorry. I fucked up. I... I have no excuses, (Y/N). I miss you. I miss us. I miss what we have and what we could've had-"

"I don't love you anymore." You told him bluntly, watching his face crumble in a matter of seconds. He released your elbow and stepped back, his gaze dropping onto the ground and lips pressing tightly together. "That love faded a long time ago, Ezekiel. It's best if you forget about us... 'cause it's never happening again."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc x male reader #mayans mc x you #mayans mc x y/n #mayans mc x female reader #mayans mc x fem reader #mayans mc x gender neutral reader #bishop losa #angel reyes #Michael 'Riz' Ariza #mayans mc riz #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x male reader #ezekiel reyes x fem reader #ez reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x male reader #ez reyes x fem reader #ez reyes x gender neutral reader #ezekiel reyes x gender neutral reader