#okay i tried to give a realistic skin colour

[loganofthenorth]

6, 15

I'll start with 15, cause six is several stories

15: What's your favourite thing about the lgbt+ community: My favourite thing is that because LGBTQIA relationships don't fit the problematic rules that straight relationships tend to follow, the community has taken those rules, tossed them away, and made completely new ones.

Back when I thought I was straight, I didn't want to be in a relationship because everything that seemed 'good' about a straight relationship I was told wasn't realistic and therefore relationships seemed to be more stress than they are worth. Now, thanks to the LGBTQ+ community, I know that relationships are about communication and mutual trust and respect, not just sex and worrying about being cheated on. I know that they're about two or more people working together to help each other get through life, to help each other feel comforted and safe and loved in whatever way feels right to them. Now I see the beauty in love instead of all the drama and stress, and it gives me hope that if I ever get the opportunity, I can give love a chance again.

Now for 6: 'What made you realize the current labels that fit you'

Okay, so, my parents have always been allies to the community. My mother is unlabelled but has been with guys and girls alike, and my father has bi wife energy. I should show him that song some time he'd probably love it. Anywho, my parents always raised me to believe in my own beliefs rather than teaching me theirs. Though somehow all the times they tried to explain LGBTQ+ things to me, it went right over my head. I don't know how or why, but I didn't know that it was a possibility for guys to like guys and girls to like girls until I heard 'she keeps me warm' on the radio and I asked Mom who the 'she' was, and Mom explained that it was the singer's girlfriend. The singer was a girl, so I had many questions.

I always assumed a guy sang 'I kiss the girl and I liked it'

Tbh sometimes I look back at my childhood and how obvious it was that girls liking girls and guys liking guys was a thing, it makes me wonder if I was being oblivious on purpose. Then again, I mainly learned how the world worked from tv, so since it didn't fit what tv was telling me, I guess I tuned it out or explained it with those rules.

Cause I'm Autistic, so I make rules that I think the world follows and then I perceive everything within those rules. Then when I learn the rules are wrong, I have to tear them down and rebuild them.

What's funny is that I became an active member of the LGBTQ+ community by accident. By then I knew it existed but I only knew what Gay and Lesbian meant until my Mom had a friend that was trans then I knew what trans was. I didn't know that there was a whole thing about LGBTQ+ rights, the only civil rights battles I knew about were the POC ones (which I thought at the time that those were settled a long time ago and racism was declared to be wrong. Sadly, that was my own light skinned ignorance. But that's another thing.) and the Autistic one that I thought I invented because I was in a segregated program.

That's another thing, due to being Autistic, I spent most of my childhood being isolated from the world. I was in six person classrooms, didn't get a full education, and at home my family was extremely introverted while I was extroverted so I initiated a good majority of interactions with my family. So I was very much living under a rock, looking at the world through a very limited lense.

So anyways, I followed a page on Facebook that I thought was for Autism. Because Mom told me that rainbow was a better colour for Autism than blue and the page was just called 'Equality House.' So I followed it, and after that, I started learning all about LGBTQ+. Then it became a special interest. And that, my friends, is how I began identifying as a 'Straight Ally'

So this is all after my childhood best friend went to High School, and I was a grade younger so I had to spend that year alone. Then I proceeded to change schools because I realized I was never going to be able to get out of the program I was in because they were getting more funding for me to be in there.

So I changed schools, continued learning about the LGBTQ community, learnt more about it from people in the Drama Club I was in (which, I made them feel really uncomfortable because of my ignorance on it 😅 I wish that someone could have identified me as a baby gay that thought she was straight but I understand why I was just a bad straight ally to them.) and eventually I start to think more about it.

See, the reason I thought I was straight, was because I never had a crush on a girl, I only had crushes on guys. However, my crushes on guys were always weird. It was very hard for me to understand why guys were attractive, especially when my really amazing and pretty friends were attracted to absolute trash bags of boys. Though when a guy followed the rules of what tv said was attractive, and when I saw the potential for a live story, I was able to convince myself to have a crush.

(Writing this is making me question if I'm a lesbian again *sighs* but anyways)

So obviously, if girls liking girls didn't appear often on tv, that algorithm I made in my brain for trying to find opportunities for true love at twelve-fifteen years old wouldn't fit it.

And there were a couple of times that I managed to get a boyfriend, but the 'feelings' I had for them would be gone in two days and suddenly I'd feel really uncomfortable.

...

Y'all might be reading me realizing I'm a lesbian but anyways

So I was questioning if I was Bi because guess what? Tv started including girls liking girls! And I was really really hyped about that, like, I saw myself in those relationships way more than the straight people ones.

So I started questioning if I was bi

But I couldn't be Bi cause I never had a crush on a girl, and I didn't want to invade a community that didn't belong to me if I was wrong

Then one day, when I was feeling particularly lonely due to a lack of friends at my new school and a lot of defence mechanisms from ✨trauma✨ I got a homesick kind of feeling and started looking at the face book accounts of my old friends

I got to my best friend's account, and I just couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful she was

Then I started to reflect on my friendship with her, how I always wanted more from our friendship but thought I was just being clingy, how I let her go because I knew I was never going to get whatever it was I wanted from her, how I thought she was the kindest most amazing person in the world. I thought about the time I literally told her that if I were a guy I'd date her, and thought about how confused I was that she found it so hard to get a boyfriend.

I thought I wanted to be her, but I didn't.

I had feelings for her

So I started identifying as Bi

But after that, I still continued to question my sexuality. Because I still had that mindset of: "Oh well I had crushes on guys" and sometimes I do genuinely think guys are attractive. Sometimes sexual attraction just doesn't come to me for either gender, sometimes it does. Same with romantic attraction, it just seems to turn on and off. So I said on Tumblr that I'm probably sexuality fluid if there's a term for that, and then I was informed that abrosexual is a thing. Now I identify as that.

Though again this post is definitely starting to sound like a Lesbian origin story

I guess I've always had this mindset that lesbians always just knew they were gay. Like if you weren't identifying as Lesbian you were closeted, which meant you knew but weren't telling anyone. So since I thought all lesbians just knew for absolute certainty that they were lesbian, I was afraid I'd be intruding if I identified as one.

I did try the lesbian label for a bit but switched back to bi, I'm really not sure which label I feel more comfortable with. I'm not sure what causes me now to hesitate with the lesbian label.

It also doesn't help that I have yet to be in a relationship with a girl. Like I've had several crushes on girls since I realized I was Bi, crushes that felt way more genuine and far less forced and anxiety inducing than my crushes on guys. Problem there is finding out if the girl is lgbtq+ before you even begin the process of does she like me back. I've also been attracted to non binary people as well, since I've been interacting with them a lot more. But until I actually date a girl, I guess I won't really know if I'm lesbian or if I just feel that anxiety with dating in general, in which case I guess I'd be aromantic? Though I love romance, and get flustered by it, but I've only been able to really experience it through role playing or fiction. So it's hard to tell.

Anywho, that's my story with sexuality, now time for gender.

I'm a lot more satisfied with my current gender identity, though sometimes I wonder if I'm non binary, but I don't feel gender dysphoria so I don't know. I identify as a Demi girl because of a Tik Tok that described being a Demi girl as 'being a girl in the same way a dandelion is a weed.' She explained it and the whole thing really resonated with me, and I'm the most comfortable with She/They pronouns.

Like I feel really comfortable being feminine but I also feel comfortable being masculine or both or neither. I never really felt much attachment to being female, but I've never felt repulsed by it or anything like that either. I like being female, even though I don't fit the image I think of when I say 'woman'.

Another thing I heard on Tik Tok is: My gender is what you get when you order 'girl' from wish. Because, yeah, it's girl, but there's something off about it.

So yeah, that's my story with gender and sexuality, a story that's probably still going and will probably only end if I find a relationship I feel happy in or if I die so we'll see what happens first I guess 😅

#questioning #thanks for the ask! #lgbtqia+ #autistic experiences #demigirl #abrosexual #bisexaul #lesbian

[wonwooridul]

SEUNGKWAN for 1st LOOK vol.232 [ RECOLOURED ]

#seventeen #svtsource #svtgifs #studiocarat #kpopccc #ultkpop #kpopco #dailykwan #seungkwan #lee.recolour #*edits #lee.gif.gfx #kpop #svtcreations #boo seungkwan #seungkwan edit #seungkwan recolour #1st look #okay i tried to give a realistic skin colour #ne wayyyy #i like it #marahae #anniehae #heavensyun #cheytermelon #dreamytag #annacreations #planetboo #usersoonshuas

[minaturefics]

Silent Promises

Request: Okay, thank you! ^^ The request was that the reader is part of the Company and when captured by Mirkwood elves, reader tries to keep the peace between the company and the elves which catches Legolas’ attention. Legolas starts seeing Reader secretly, a bond forming. When the company escapes, Legolas questions his feelings towards Reader and decides to leave with Tauriel to find her. After the destruction of Laketown, Legolas finds reader at the beach, relief to see her alive and realizes there are feelings there. Sorry if it’s too much and it’s okay if you don’t want to do it.

A/N: Hello! Sorry this took me so long, lots of things going on in life right now. This is probably the longest fic I've written here, I don't think I can call it a "minature fic" anymore lol. Also I think that Legolas's CGI-ed blue eyes in The Hobbit look hella creepy so I've gone with having them brown (here and the rest of my fics)

I tried to give it a bit more of a realistic take on what would happen, so it may not be overly fluffy or sweet, but I hope you like it all the same!

Legolas x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

6.2k words

---

The air was cool and damp, but fresh, as though currents of air passed through unseen ventilations in the rock. The cavernous hall was lit by hanging lanterns of a sort, glowing warm orange and yellow. The faint sound of a waterfall and a bubbling stream could be heard and you craned your neck as the elves led the company deeper into the magical caves towards the dungeons. The metal bindings were cold against your skin, and the chains between you and the next dwarf rattled with each step.

“Move faster,” one of the elves hissed, shoving Kili in his shoulder when he paused to stare at one of the towering carved pillars. “Or are your short legs incapable of such a feat?”

“He’s just looking,” snapped Fili, glancing behind at his brother.

The elf lifted an eyebrow. “So even an uncultured dwarf is able to appreciate the magnificence of the elves.”

“Hah! As if any of this carven stone could rival what a dwarf could do. You do the rock a disservice,” Gloin said.

The elves drew closer to the company, hemming you in as much as they could. Anger flared in their eyes and another spoke, “We could cut you where you stand, dwarf.”

Your hands curled into fists and you thought of Gandalf’s parting words to you.

‘You are crossing now into the realm of the elves, and they have much quarrel with the dwarves. They are not unreasonable folk, but they can be unforgiving if provoked. If things should go ill, I hope my gift to you would be of some aid. But remember, none can guess at your errand for me: Smaug must be defeated, lest the dragon chooses to ally with Sauron.’

You fought the urge to raise your hand and thumb the small pendant around your neck. The elves had not sensed anything amiss with it so far, but it would be best to keep their attention away from it. The less the dwarves antagonised the elves, the less chance there would be that they would search the company more thoroughly than they already did.

“There’s no need for that,” you said, meeting the elf with a level gaze. “Can we not be civil?”

“Civil?” The elves chuckled. “You have trespassed on our land and provided no reason. We have spared your life, that is civil enough I should think.”

“I alway thought that the elves were known for their grace and fair-mindedness.” You glanced at the elves and found some of their hard stares softening. You glanced at Kili next to you and said louder for the company, “And I know that the dwarves are capable of being reasonable and noble. There is no need to hurl insults at one another while we coexist for this time.”

“And who are you to pass such a judgement?” An elf slowed to walk beside you, the one who appeared to be one of the captains. His hair was the colour of pale straw touched by the morning light, and it shimmered like golden silk threads. His keen brown eyes were fixed on yours, almost curious in their gaze.

“Just human. A lady.” You met his eyes. “All races have their follies and triumphs. If we bring old hurts into new ages they will never heal.”

He inclined his head at you, but said nothing else. The rest of the walk to the dungeons was uneventful and quiet, neither dwarf or elf willing to break the fragile truce.

When the company reached the dungeons, the elves began to undo the bindings and escort each of the dwarves to their cells. The elf from before, with the blonde hair, gripped your elbow, firm but not ungentle, and led you to your cell. You paused at the threshold, taking in the rough stone walls and floor. Was this to be where you would spend the rest of your life? Dying without even one more glance at the rising sun? He nudged you forward, his hand insistent on your arm, and you stepped into the dim.

You turned around to face him; a dignity to face your jailor even as he reached for the metal door. His eyes dropped to the small pendant around your neck, lingering on the deep blue luminous stone nestled in a tangle of withered branches, and he took a step forward.

“That is a strange necklace,” he murmured, raising his fingers towards it.

You shuffled back as your pulse lept to your throat. The lie sprang to your lips unbidden. “It is simply a birthday gift from my… grandfather.”

“Must be someone of high standing, to acquire such a thing.” His eyes narrowed at you.

You made a noise at the back of your throat and shrugged. Lies were easiest to sustain if there were fewer stories to entangle yourself in. The grate creaked, his hand around the bars, and you took a final look at him. Haloed by the soft light of the lanterns, he appeared the ethereal being that the elves were thought to be. The sharp line of the jaw was accentuated by the shadows of the dungeon, and the brown of his eyes seemed deeper in the gloom.

“Legolas!” One of the elves called, and he glanced behind. “Your father requests your presence.”

The door slammed shut and you held his gaze, unwilling to flinch or retreat, until he vanished beyond your sight. You sat down on the ground and listened to the dwarves throw themselves at their bars until Balin called for them to stop. You crawled towards the back of the small cell and took your pendant in your hand.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you whispered the words Gandalf had taught you, “Abraza batan, nakkha ne.”

The stone grew warm and the corners of your vision darkened. The bars and the lanterns beyond them faded into another image. Warm light and large barrels. There was water, a strong river or stream perhaps, all around you. A horn call echoed in your ears. Your hands were grasping some sort of wooden plank or edge. Thorin yelled something to the reply of the other dwarves.

As soon as it came, it vanished, and left you with nausea rising in your stomach. You groaned and scrubbed your face with your hands. There would be a path out, an escape. There was the possibility of that at least. You leaned back against the rough wall and hoped that Bilbo would bring help.

--

Legolas kept to the shadows as traced the winding path down to the dungeons. He had paced, restless, through the halls, and lingered, unsettled, in his rooms. More than once in the last few days he had caught his feet turning towards the dungeons, his mind fixed on you. Your diplomatic words cooling the anger of both the dwarves and the elves, your defiant eyes blazing in the darkness, the odd pendant around your neck.

He glanced over his shoulder before descending the stairs to where the cells were. He had snuck away after dinner, with an excuse of wanting some time alone to think, and crept down towards the dungeons.

The dwarves were silent except for a few quiet muttering that passed between cell neighbours. The air held the faint scent of oak and beech, and lingering scent of roast meat and herbed vegetables from the dinner they had been served. He walked up to your cell and paused by the door. You looked up from where you were staring at a rock.

Even after a few days in an unforgiving cell, you were still as beautiful as you were when they found you in the forest. Light danced in your eyes and a smile played about your lips.

“I would like to speak to you,” he said, drawing closer to the bars. “If you can spare the time.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “Unfortunately, I am quite occupied. I am quite taken in by the angle this rock is cut.”

His feet hesitated. Did you mean that in jest or was that a subtle way to tell him you did not wish to speak to him?

“What is it?” You stood up and approached him. “Certainly must be important if they have sent you down to us, Captain.”

“No one sent me, and I am not a captain.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “Then why have you come?”

He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Why did he wish to seek you out? It was almost as if something was drawing him towards you, tugging at his hands and pulling at his feet.

“I am curious as to why a human would follow a company of dwarves on their quest.”

“Adventure called for me, and I answered.” You shrugged. “It is no great mystery.”

“Adventure,” he murmured. When was the last time he ventured out of Mirkwood, if at all? Laketown perhaps, some couple hundred years ago. Dale maybe, before it was ruined. “How far have you come?”

“Rivendell. That is where I joined them.”

“Rivendell? Are you a friend of the elves there?” You nodded slowly. “Why have you not said? You would not be herer.”

You shrugged, eyes drifting away from him. “Elf friend or no, I have thrown my lot in with these dwarves, and so with them I shall stay. I will not abandon my friends to lounge in beautiful rooms while they suffer here.”

His chest tightened. Loyal, noble. Even when imprisoned. Your eyes grew sad and distant, the mirth he saw dancing in them vanishing at your own words. It would not do for you to sit forlorn in your cell.

“Tell me about your adventures.” Your eyes flicked back to him and your brows furrowed. Did you think it was some ploy to get information out of you? “I have not strayed from the borders of my land. I am eager to hear of what is out there.”

Your eyes brightened and you stepped closer, your fingers curling around the bars. “You have hardly left Mirkwood? But there is much of the world that is full of beauty and light and wonder. So much wonder.”

“What wonders have you seen?”

“The Eagles. Oh.” You sighed and rested your head against the bars. “The Great Eagles. They rescued us from the orcs and took us to Carrock. To fly is like nothing else, to sweep across the land and glide through the mountains. It was nothing like I had seen before: the clouds in between the mountain peaks, like soft white rivers, the rising sun spilling its rays across the jagged land.”

“Eagles? You have witnessed the Great Eagles?” He drew closer. What other surprises did you hold? “And they bore you and the dwarves on their backs? This is no small thing.”

You laughed again, bright and merry. “I suppose not, but I had not realised until now.”

He was about to ask you another question when a sound jolted him backwards. He glanced behind him at the stairs. Was that footsteps? Who else would be down here at this time?

“I must go,” he said, and tentatively wrapped his hand around the bars, just above yours. He could feel the soft brush of your skin, the warmth from your hand. “I will come back when I can.”

He hurried off towards the second set of stairs. He glanced behind, slowing on the final step, and found you still peering up at him through the bars. Perhaps tomorrow night he would have more time with you.

--

You curled an arm around your stomach, willing the nausea to stop. It had been a bad idea to use the stone again. Foolish to use the ancient magic for something as simple as finding out more about Legolas. You groaned and twisted to rest your sweaty forehead against the cool stone, your eyes fluttering shut. Legolas was a prince it seemed; the son of the king that held you and your friends captive. There was some fondness between him and the red-headed elf. Tauriel was her name, if you overheard correctly.

You thought of his eyes, curious as you mentioned Rivendell, and his voice, low and melodical. You brushed your thumb over the side of your hand where his had rested. Warm, soft. So much larger than your own. When was the last time someone had touched you tenderly? The Rivendell elves hardly initiated contact, and the dwarves were all hearty pats and rough nudges. Would he come visit you again? Fix those deep brown eyes on you and ask you more questions?

“Are you ill?” Your head snapped towards the door where Legolas peered at you through the bars. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to alarm you. It slips my mind how silent we elves are.”

“It is no matter.” You shifted where you sat, angling towards him. “You have come again.”

He glanced behind him, as though ensuring there was no one else to bear witness to the interaction. “May I sit?” You nodded and he sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him and resting his bow on his thighs. You traced the line of his limber legs up to his slender torso up to his graceful face.

You tugged at your muddied tunic and frayed trousers, and tried to run your fingers through your tangled hair.

“There is no need for that,” Legolas smiled at you. “Your state does little to mar your beauty.”

You blinked at him, flush rising to your cheeks. He thought you beautiful even in a palace full of elves? You pushed down the slight flutter in your chest and cleared your throat. “What do you wish to know?”

His lips curled up into a soft smile. “Anything you wish to tell, I would like to hear it all.”

You felt your flush deepen at his admission and you forced yourself to hold his gaze. Your thoughts drifted towards Rivendell. “Lord Elrond was the one who gifted me my bow.”

“Yes I…” His eyes darted away for a moment. “I have been admiring it. The craftsmanship is very different to ours, though no less elegant.”

You reached out towards his bow. “May I have a look?”

He nudged the bow closer to you. You ran your fingers over the carved wood, brushing over the dense leaves and twining vines. You felt a pang in your chest and you withdrew your hand. It had been so very long since you held your bow or gripped the hilt of your dagger.

“In Rivendell, the forge is upon one of the mountain’s rocks. Waterfalls rush beside it, flowing down through to the green oaks and silver beeches in the valley.” You sighed and your eyes drifted away from him.

“Great waterfalls rush through Rivendell, springing from rock and flowing through the small city. The air is fresh and cool, and filled with the scent of pine. The stone is white and weathered, and it looks as though it was carved out from the mountain itself.

“The nights are filled with the rustle of trees and soft singing, the days filled with poetry in sunlight, or walks through the forest. The whole place is nestled in the mountains, swathed by trees and mist, so cocooned from the outside world. It is as if it exists in a dream. A distant dream shrouded in cloud.

“My room faces east. It would catch the rising sun, and my waking was bathed in gold.” You looked down at your hands, tracing the lines of dirt in your palm, and murmured, “I dearly miss the sunrise.”

Legolas reached out and placed his hand in yours. Unmarked, unmuddied. His fingers curled around yours, tightening in a squeeze, and your heart lurched in your chest. What did he mean by holding your hand?

“I will speak to my father and find a way to have you removed from this place. If you were such a friend to Lord Elrond that you had a room in his dwelling, my father will be compelled to extend our friendship to you.”

You ripped your hand from his. How could you leave your companions?

“Legolas, I —”

“Go, child,” Balin croaked from the cell next to you. “The elf speaks reason.”

Perhaps Balin was right; being free to walk the halls might give you a chance to send a message out to Gandalf or someone else. But what of the vision the stone gave you? Of barrels and water, of everyone’s freedom?

“Please give me some time to think it over.” You looked into his eyes and he nodded.

“I will go now if you wish to think it over, though I am not needed for an hour yet.” He shifted where he sat, as though preparing to leave.

“Stay,” you said. “I have given you some stories, I would like to hear one of yours.”

He chuckled and the sound lifted your heart. “I am not sure I have anything that can rival that of Great Eagles. But I can tell you more of Mirkwood if you wish. It was not always so dark and twisted.” You nodded and he continued. “It used to be lush and green. The trees grew tall and thick, leaves dancing with the wind, and the moss was soft and damp, like a never ending carpet across the wood.

“The forest was full of wondrous things: birds that flew from tree to tree, colourful butterflies that weaved through the flowers, deer danced over the roots and badgers burrowed under them.”

You asked him more questions and watched as light filled his eyes as he spoke. So different to the cold and stern Legolas that you first witnessed in the forest. He seemed almost childlike, speaking so openly about his home, eager to answer your questions about it. Warmth settled in your stomach when he smiled at you, and you found yourself grinning back.

Before long he was called away and he swept soundlessly from the dungeon, taking one last lingering look at you before he ascended into the shadows. You sat back and sighed.

“Balin, do you truly think it is wise for me to leave?”

“Thorin has thrown out any chance we have. I do not think Kili’s strange and fragile connection with that other elf will do us good, and Bilbo… ”

“There might still be a chance.”

“This is our chance, child.”

“Balin, my stone, I saw —”

“Hush! Do not speak of what that stone has revealed to you. Whatever you witnessed, we may not know when it will come to pass. Wait a few days if you must, but do not tarry so long you lose the favour of the king’s son.”

What would be the best course of action? To wait or to follow where Legolas led? You wrapped your hands around the bars, and stared up at the stairs, thinking of his soft brown eyes.

What would happen if you went with him? A chance of rescue for the dwarves yes, but also something else. You could reach out to him and cross the small distance separating the both of you. You could speak to him for longer, have the freedom to meet him as an equal instead of being separated by metal bars.

A chance at friendship, and perhaps, the smallest of hopes for something more.

--

Legolas felt laughter welling in his chest and he pursed his lips. Your eyes were bright and playful, and your cheeks were flushed. He was listening to your story about how you bested a naive archer in a competition.

“It’s true!” You chuckled. “His expression when I shot my arrow through his was worth all the belittling he gave me. Foolish man, I certainly put him in his place that day.”

He leaned against the cool stone wall, angling his head so he had a clear view of you through the bars. Two weeks in a cell, and your spirit was still unbroken; he hoped it would remain that way. Despite Thranduil’s reluctant acceptance to extend his friendship to you, you had decided to remain with the dwarves. He had gone to visit you nearly every night since and he would listen as you told him stories of your adventures.

“No one else tried to challenge me after that.” You grinned at him. “I wager that I could best you in a shooting competition.”

His stomach fluttered, picturing what you said. He would take you deep into the Mirkwood forest to one of the sunny clearings he had found on his patrols. In the dappled light you would walk next to him, your shoulders brushing his, your words just for his ears. He could challenge you to shoot an apple from a tree, or spear a pinecone placed on a rock. He could watch you as you moved, trace his eyes over your form, admiring.

“Perhaps one day,” he said lightly. “If you ever change your mind.”

You hummed and reached up to clasp your necklace. It was a curious thing, ancient and unnerving. You seemed reluctant to speak about it, and whenever he brought it up you would turn sad and wistful.

“What about you?” You smiled at him. “Do you have anything amusing to share with me?”

Amusing? Elves were not known for being overly playful, though he and Tauriel had got up to some mischief in their younger days. Things had been brighter then, when Mirkwood was Greenwood, and life was full and light. Before the loss of his mother, before Thranduil grew cold and distant.

“Tauriel and I once built a small talan in the trees, a hideout of sorts. We had scavenged fallen branches and twigs, and hid it with leaves. We would sneak out there, avoiding our duties and gossiping about the elders.”

Your eyes widened, jaw growing slack. “Did your father ever find out?”

“I think he suspected, though I am uncertain if he ever deemed it important enough for him to search for it.” He chuckled. “I wonder if it is still there now. Would you like to see it? If it still exists.”

Your lips quirked up in a teasing smile. “Perhaps one day, if I ever change my mind.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest and he felt blood rush to the tips of his ears. What were these strange reactions? It was only a conversation, a playful promise of something that would not come to pass. He simply found you interesting, your stories were riveting and you were a spot of levity in the heavy atmosphere of the palace. Nothing more, nothing more.

“Where would you go if you could leave?” You asked.

“Lorien. It is another elven kingdom I have heard much of, and it is not too far of a journey from our borders. It is shrouded in mystery and many who enter the forest to seek to find it do not return.” He sighed. “I doubt I shall ever look upon it.” You threw your head back and laughed. What did you find so amusing?

“You elves and your hidden kingdoms. It is no wonder so many have misconceptions about your people. You hardly allow anyone in to even attempt to understand you.”

The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. “You do.” You blinked at him. “It seems to me that you have always tried to understand others. It is a characteristic not present in many.”

“I…Thank you,” you muttered, and he felt his ears redden again.

“My apologies, but I must take my leave. My father is expecting me soon.” He leaned in close to the door and whispered, “Tomorrow is Mereth Nuin Giliath. I will not be able to leave the celebration to come down here.”

“Go.” You smiled. “Celebrate your stars, I will not be going anywhere soon.”

He took in your face, the swell of your cheek, the curve of your lips. It would just be one night without seeing you. He took a breath and nodded. It was only one night.

--

You gripped onto the edge of the barrel, the wood cutting into your palm. Water surged around you, tossing the barrel and filling your mouth. You spluttered and twisted, watching as Legolas ran alongside the river and picked off the orcs.

Time had run out. For you, for him. The stolen moments in the dungeon, the passing touches, the shared laughter. It was washed away with everything else, swept up and carried off with the current.

Whatever tentative thread that tied you to him had snapped. There was nothing more to do but to look forward, to finish the task that Gandalf had entrusted you with. Sauron’s power was growing; there were more important things to be done.

Time had run out.

--

“What about Tauriel?”

Legolas froze and his heart lurched in his chest. “What about her?”

“She went into the forest armed with her bow and her blade.” Legolas turned and strode towards the doors. “She has not returned.”

He stared out at the path leading out into the tangled wood. What was she thinking? To defy orders and her king? Was it for the dwarf she had a fondness for, or was there something more she had in mind? The pack of orcs were tracking the dwarves, which meant they would most likely end up attacking Laketown. The people there were not well armed, well defended.

They would be overrun by orcs.

“My lord? We must close the gates.” The guards shuffled beside him.

He thought of the last time he saw you, you were bobbing in your barrel, shouting for Kili. His chest tightened. Were you gone from him forever? Lost to the neverending call of adventure that seemed to beckon you? He looked down at his hand, running his thumb along the pads of his fingers. Fingers that had curled around yours, that had felt the brush of your skin.

And what of the way he felt with you? The ease, the warmth. Tender feelings of friendship, or something more?

“Wait,” He said, and turned back. “I will go find her, but let me first arm myself.”

“But your father —”

“He cannot stop me. You may close the gate behind me when I leave.”

He would go after the orcs, go after Tauriel.

Go after you.

--

“The lake,” you said and looked at Tauriel. She was bundling the children in scarves. “I will go ahead and find a boat.” She nodded at you and ushered the dwarves towards the door.

You rushed down the steps and your eyes darted between the boats moored to the side of the canal. They were all barely more than flimsy dinghies. You cursed and hurried down the path, searching for something that would hold everyone.

“Here,” you called, beckoning at the dwarves at the foot of the stairs. “Hurry!”

You stepped in after Tauriel, gazing up at the dark shadow that swept above you. Would there be any hope against such a beast?

“Legolas,” Tauriel murmured as the boat pushed off the side of the canal and your head snapped to hers.

Your heart lurched in your chest. “Where did he go?”

“He went after the orcs.” Her eyes were hard. “I do not know if he is still in the town.”

Smaug roared overhead and flames blew from its mouth. The fire raged around you, searing wood and blackening brick. Screams and cries echoed in the chaos, parents searching for children, lovers calling for each other. The bell tolled, loud and hollow, ominous amidst the smoke and ash.

Legolas had gone off to hunt the orcs by himself with a dragon on the loose? He was a good warrior, you knew that, but even the greatest of warriors had their limits. Was he somewhere, trapped by fire or cornered by multiple swords and arrows?

You shifted to get out of the boat but a firm hand on your shoulder stopped you. Tauriel’s eyes were soft but her lips were set in a grim line. “No. Legolas will be fine.”

“But —”

“I do not know what you are to him exactly. But I do know he will not forgive me if you do not make it out of this alive.”

You opened your mouth to protest but a great roar cut you off and Smaug let out another stream of fire. You gripped the edges of the boat, your knuckles blanching white and your teeth clenched. Even if you wanted to help him there would be no way of knowing where he was.

You thought of his voice, soft and gentle. The feeling of your hands in his larger ones, safe and warm. Would you ever see his eyes light up again? Hear his stories about the forest he loved so dearly?

Would you ever get a chance to press your lips to his, to inhale his scent of wood and moss that was always just out of reach?

Your lungs burned with smoke and your eyes watered in the heat. Kili was coughing beside you and Fili thumped on his brother’s back. A beam cracked above and embers rained down on you.

You gripped your pendant in your hand and forced the words from your dry lips. “Abraza batan, nakkha ne.”

The world spun and darkened. Fire and smoke. The ringing of a bell. An arrow, black as night and as large as a spear. The twang of a bow. The roar of the dragon, its body twisting in the air, falling towards the lake. A cold dawn on even colder shores.

“Bain!”

You turned to see the young boy hanging on to the low crane hook. He jumped off it and scrambled down the dock.

“Let him go,” you said, clutching your churning stomach and looking between his wide-eyed sisters and the dwarves. “There is hope yet. Let him go.”

Tauriel’s eyes darted down to your necklace where it still glowed hot on your chest. “That is no mere piece of jewellery.”

“No.” Your eyes drifted up to the sky, searching for Smaug. “But now is not the time for such things.”

She turned back to the front of the boat. “No. But should we make it out of this alive, we shall have words.”

--

Legolas scanned the scene in front of him. Debris washed up on the shore, bodies bloodied and bent among the wreckage, mothers screaming, children crying. Laketown was a blackened,smouldering mess in the distance. Where were you? Tauriel? Did you make it out alive, or did you lie cold and still in the charred ruins? His chest tightened at the thought and he turned away from the sight.

He thought of your amused smirks and melodic laugh, of your hands, delicate but strong in his. There would be no bars separating the two of you anymore. Would you come back with him if he asked? To walk the hidden paths of Mirkwood, to sit with him under the stars.

His eyes drifted towards Erebor. With Smaug dead and the Lonely Mountain reclaimed, there were things to be done. The events of the previous night were but the beginnings of something larger, more deadly. He could feel it in the air, the tension nearly as thick as the smog.

He swallowed. It was not the time for tentative friendships. Not the time to spare a thought for anything more tender than friendship.

His eyes darted between the mass of people and caught sight of Tauriel, the back of her auburn hair and green robes bright amongst the grey. She was talking to Kili, and you were standing a few paces behind her.

His heart stuttered at the sight of you. Even with your hair tinged grey with ash and your tunic ripped and water stained, you looked radiant in the cold morning light. You stood with your back straight and shoulders squared, steady and unfaltering even after such a calamity. He traced the line of your nose down to your lips and lingered on them.

As though sensing his eyes, you turned. His breath caught in his throat.

No, there really was not another more beautiful than you.

--

“Legolas,” you whispered, jaw growing slack at the sight of him.

He stood on a low ridge, his deep brown eyes fixed on yours. His face was unmarked and unmuddied, his hair smooth and shiny. Laughter burst from your lips. Even after single handedly tracking orcs he was as unruffled as he was walking around in the palace. His bow was slung over his shoulder and in his hand was another. You frowned. Why would he be carrying two bows?

You walked towards him, gravel crunching underfoot, your eyes never leaving his. The sun emerged from the clouds, and for a moment, he was cast in gold. Gold, like the early morning sunrises in Rivendell.

“This is for you,” he said, holding out the bow.

You looked down at it, tracing the intertwined carvings, your eyes resting on a familiar chip on the one side. “My bow.”

“I thought you might need it.” His voice was soft and tender.

“There is something coming, is there not? I can feel it in the air.” You took your bow, caressing the wood. “Erebor has been reclaimed. I fear there may be others who will wish to take it for themselves for the treasure that it holds.”

“I fear the same,” he muttered. “My father…” He shook his head. “Will you return with me and Tauriel? Your errand with the dwarves is finished, the dragon is slain and their home returned. You do not have to go with them anymore.”

“Legolas…” You glanced behind you at the dwarves piling into the boat. Kili was holding Tauriel’s hand. It was true that your promise to Gandalf to see the dragon killed was fulfilled. But what of the dwarves? How could you leave them to their halls of bones and dust? If what you feared was true, they would need your aid.

You looked up at him, fingers curling around the wood of your bow. “I cannot go with you.”

You turned to leave, but his hand closed around your wrist. “We could go back to Mirkwood, watch the sun rise from the tops of the trees.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I would not be parted from you, not while there is still so much left unsaid between us.”

You glanced down at his hand on yours then turned back to face him. His grip loosened and you took his hand between both of yours. “Then do not leave it unsaid.”

He swallowed and his jaw worked. “I… Care for you a great deal. It would pain me to lose you. There is war on the horizon. We can protect you from what is coming.”

You reached up and cupped his cheek. He was warm, so very warm. “I can protect myself.” He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “Legolas, I promise this will not be the last time we see each other.”

“Then let us have this moment a little longer.”

He tugged you closer, his arms circling your waist. Your hand rested on his chest, the other caressed the line of his cheekbone. He brought his forehead to yours, and for a few precious seconds, he was the only thing that filled your world. He smelled like the forest, of wood and water, fresh and clean. His body was hot against yours, his arms fighting the chill of the morning. You could feel his breath on your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest under your hand. He was here, close, real. Your fingers curled into his tunic and his hand came to rest at the base of your neck. You focused on the soft pressure of his arms, the smoothness of his skin.

Legolas. Yours, for a moment.

“Oi, we have to go!”

Your eyes snapped open into Legolas’s. His voice was no more than a whisper. “Go then, meleth nin. We will have our time soon.”

“I will come find you,” you promised, drawing back. “Stay alive for me Legolas.”

“Do not risk yourself unnecessarily.” He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “Mirkwood awaits your return.”

You shuffled backwards, glancing at the dwarves in the boat. Kili’s gaze was still fixed on Tauriel as he took up an oar. “And the rest of Middle-Earth awaits you. When this is over, let us leave together. There is much of the world I wish to show you.”

His lips quirked up in a smile and you grinned back. You took one last look at him, burning the image of him standing in the morning light into your mind. You paused by Tauriel, squeezing her hand in comfort, before wading out into the shallows after the dwarves. They hauled you onto the boat and thrust an oar into your hand. When you looked back, Legolas and Tauriel were already halfway up the beach, running towards the forest.

Kili sniffed beside you, his eyes red-rimmed, and you laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do not fret, my friend. There will be time.”

You looked out at Erebor, gilded by the morning sun, and smiled. Yes, there would be time.

#legolas #lotr #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #legolas x reader #lotr fic #lotr fanfic #request

[caxsthetic]

GAGGED

↪Miya Osamu smut drabble

↪cw; fem!dom, strapon, degradation, dacryphilia, butt plug, deepthroating

"What? Too much? I suck your cock for hours and I never once complained and you couldn't even keep this shit down your throat?" You didn't shout, but the way you said it eliciting a mewl from his lips. "Pathetic."

The scent of sex filled the master bedroom, sweats glistening on your skin as your eyes focused on the man who was sitting right in front of you. So obedient, so good, so submissive to you.

You eyed the fox tail that swatted slightly on the floor every time he moved his body to reposition himself. Grey fox ears sitting on top of his head, complimenting his black strands (it was a good choice for him to get back to his original hair colour).

Buying the fox set was the best decision for you (and you were sure he liked it too anyway). When he received the package, you could see how his stoned-grey orbs glimmered with excitement. He could imagine himself plunging the fox tail butt plug inside you, so pretty batting your eyelashes for him with the fox tail headband.

Heh, how naive he was, thinking that it was all for you to use.

The sound of gagging and whimper rang through the entire room. No, of course it wasn't yours, you were sitting on the edge of the bed with your legs spread to the side, allowing your cute subby to sit on the floor, wrapping his big mouth on the black dildo strapped around your hips.

"Come on, baby. You can take more, I am sure you can take more."

Your fingers carding his black roots, patting him gently as he let out a purr. It was a gift — that was how you say it — you allowed him to touch you within seconds, even playing with your hardened nipple and sucking on it before he went down to take the strapon.

"Put your mouth to good use. You could swallow all of those food, you can swallow this."

He couldn't really take all of the dildo though, making you rolled your eyes since you knew he could if he tried harder. You started to get tired, you were kind enough not to push him, but fifteen minutes passed and there was no progress at all — that was enough.

You pushed his head down, making his hand gripped on your thigh harder from the sudden force. Silver orbs finding yours, glistening with tears as he gagged, coughing momentarily. He was begging for you to loosen your grasp, thinking that if he showed any weakness, you would pull away and coo him, saying some apologies and babied him.

But to see him like this, so hopeless, tears prickle at the corner of his eyes, completely at your mercy, it aroused you more than you have ever thought.

"Huh, what? You wanted to stop?"

He nodded, though he immediately choked when he remembered that the tip of your strap was deep in his throat. When he gulped down, you could feel the vibration, every movement could be felt with how the other end of the dildo wrapped in your cunt.

With it, like hell you would let him get away so easily.

"What? Too much? I suck your cock for hours and I never once complained and you couldn't even keep this shit down your throat?" You didn't shout, but the way you said it eliciting a mewl from his lips. "Pathetic."

His body tensed from your insult. He didn't mean it, to make you so angry, he thought that he could be a good boy for you. You always fed his ego, always taking care of him, and to know he couldn't even do what you told him to— no, no, he was sure that he could.

You were flabbergasted when he pulled his mouth away from you. A second late and you would yank his hair from him disobeying your command. But he beat you to it,

"I am sorry, ma'am." He whispered out, kissing the strap from the bottom near your pelvis to the bulbous realistic tip. "I promise I can be a good boy, I will try harder for you, please give me a chance to prove it, please..."

He was so desperate, trying not to move his body too much, afraid that you would notice how needy he was to feel more friction in his tight hole.

You were still dumbstruck. He always did whatever you told him to do, but this was the first time he actually submits himself with words, willingly.

A smirk replaced the surprised o that was shaped on your face. Dainty fingers trailing his cheek before it hovered on his lips. You didn't even need to tell him what he needed to do, he immediately opened up his plump lips, letting you pressed your thumb on his tongue.

The wet muscles swirling around your digit, moaning softly as his half-lidded eyes staring right back at you. He was fishing for a compliment, but you wouldn't give in so easily. After all, the game was just started. You pressed it deeper, gagging him in the process,

And God, he looked so lovely when he pouted, making you let out a low chuckle before retracting your finger.

You smiled softly before wrapping your hand around the strap dildo, black latex and slightly bigger than his cock, the realistic texture and shape surely made everything looks better. You did not hesitate to slap his cheek with it, before telling him to open up his mouth.

He complies, lips parted slightly as you pushed the tip back inside his mouth — he was ready to take it all. But you pulled it again, making him let out an annoyed grumble before pouting once again. The sound he made; a whimper as he begged for you to put it back inside, how could you resist that if he was sitting there, entirely made for you.

"You better take it well. Just one more chance, okay, baby?" You cooed at him, scratching his neck like a good pet. He nodded coquettishly, nibbling on the tip as he waited for your sign. "That's what I need to know. Now, eat up."

He didn't waste any second to pass before pushing his head to your strapon, moaning as the tip keep hitting down his throat. You hissed every now and then as he deepthroating the strapon like he wanted to prove you he was a good boy.

Well, he was indeed, a good boy. Your good boy.

"Keep going like that, baby." You whispered, biting your lips to prevent any moan from slipping out. "Maybe if you behaved like this for a while, I would fuck your slutty tight hole, that's what you want, hm?"

He nodded vigorously, speeding up his movement so he could bring you to your climax, in hope that after that, you would hold on to your words, ignoring how tired his jaw was right now, keep pushing himself to make sure you were all satisfied with his effort.

He just didn't know that it was your plan from the start.

Shoutout to my baby @kenmasbb who encourages me to do this hehehe I love you so much👉👈thank you for being a good friend who listen to me ramble about how much i want to fuck samu and shin— and my goodness @bjbex who force me to write my own smut because she believe I actually could write one but just too afraid so hhh it's not much but I hope you like it👉👈

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu #miya osamu imagine #osamu miya #haikyuu osamu miya #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #miya osamu smut

[confused-as-all-hell]

Rowan Whitethorn

“You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you've committed. And I know this because I've been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years. Tell me, do you think you will go to some blessed Afterworld, or do you expect a burning hell? You're hoping for hell--because how could you face them in the Afterworld? Better to suffer, to be damned for eternity.”

Rowan Whitethorn, arrogant and powerful and fierce. The Fae Warrior, Prince of Doranelle, King of Terrasen. A male who had held death in his arms, who loved a queen without her crown, who had a laugh like midsummer thunder.

He was by no account perfect. His love was scarce, his warmth thinner still. His tongue was edged in steel. His temper is rivaled by none.

Rowan has his faults, but the primary source of his hatred is his appearance. People pick on him for being white and for being muscular, as if being either of the two is awful. I understand how several white characters might spark frustration, but (I say this as a woman of colour, myself) that is a fucking bullshit reason to hate him. He did not rummage through a box and draw out the label reading “white.” This is how Sarah J Maas chose to write him. 

Rowan might have a more muscular build than average, but that’s literally the entire point. We are shown he trains and works out strenuously, as well as eats certain food to keep himself fit. He is careful with himself, and genuinely puts in the necessary work to retain his muscle. He is a trained warrior that has lived for hundreds of years, of course he’s going to have accumulated strength. Do not attempt to dissuade me on this topic, as I know from personal experience the effects of working out.

Yes, he is out of the ordinary in terms of his looks. Silver hair, green eyes, skin made tan by the sun. But he is always described as handsome from Aelin’s point of view, and have none of you ever been in love? Your boyfriend or girlfriend or significant other is always staggeringly attractive through your lenses. His face is never written as angelic or perfect, however, and Rowan is thought of as extraordinary but not impossible. 

Allow male characters to be stunning without detesting them for it, as you would females. I have too often seen people (the same people who praise Nesta or Gwyn for being beautiful) write long-ass posts on why Rowan just isn’t realistic. Maybe it isn’t. But if you opened a fantasy novel expecting realism, I will find myself amused. Rowan is fae, for fuck’s sake. Sarah J Maas wrote them to be attractive.

Another point of speculation is Rowan’s initial dislike of Aelin. He is thought of as abusive, which I will blatantly disagree with.

When Aelin first arrived in Mistward, she and Rowan were not friends. They were not associates. They were two grief-stricken, trauma-ridden characters with awful coping methods and no hope to be seen. Over time, they began to work together, and that begrudging respect blossomed into friendship.

Did they detest one another? Yeah, they did.

And then they realized the full extent of their comments, how wrong they were to be so awful, and they made their peace with it. The point of that dislike was to give them both character arcs, to show they grew from the furious, miserable, bleeding shells of themselves.

They grew from that pain. 

Hatred became acceptance, acceptance became respect, respect became friendship, friendship became love. They did not love each other instantly, nor should they have. It was slow, and they learned from the mistakes they made, they apologized for them.

Their romantic relationship (nor platonic) was never toxic. It was always mutual communication and understanding and “I will be here for you, but I will not dive in to fix all your problems.” It was concern and support and admiration. It was “I will sit with you, and I will light my lamps to banish the dark.”

Does Rowan worry after Aelin often? Yes, of course.

But have none of you ever been in love? During times of strife, of terror, you’re always calling in to make sure they’re okay, they’ve dealt the day’s cards. Rowan worried after Aelin, but he never, ever suppressed her. He allowed her to go about on her daily business, he just wished he could accompany for the more dangerous activities. It was not coddling or stifling her, it was wishing for her safety. 

Let Rowan worry over his best friend (now wife) without being detested for it.

Had my own best friend put herself in danger, I would have her head for it. I don’t know who told you only friends can worry over your safety, but they lied. Rowan is entitled to being angry at Aelin when she leaves in the dead of night and comes back drenched in blood. 

If it was Aedion who was furious, would you have such a problem with this?

For fuck’s sake, a significant other is just your bestest friend who loves you romantically rather than platonically. 

Rowan proves time and time again he will always stand beside Aelin; when he pleaded for his cousins’ aid in the war, when he was prepared to give his life for her during QoS, when he was always, always, always there to lend a hand.

He extended a hand... but she was always the one to take it.

He was respectful and courteous of her every boundary, and she his. They never waded too deep into each other’s pasts, never pried or tried to lift that barricade. They gave each other space, understanding.

Yes, I heard you, they didn’t have the best start. But the point of character arcs is to start in a bad place and haul oneself out. It wouldn’t have worked if Rowan was this sweet, gentle, warm character from the very beginning who kissed Aelin’s ass.

Rowan’s wife and unborn child had died, and he was forced to shoulder that burden alone. He was forced to deal with his war trauma alone. He was made into a monster, and he felt he deserved nothing less.

Rowan acted harshly towards Aelin because a few of her comments were triggering and insensitive towards his trauma, and if we can find it in ourselves to forgive Nesta Archeron (who I love very much, don’t attack me) we can forgive him for dealing badly with his issues. 

Just because he is a male, and he doesn’t cry or scream or outwardly show his hurt, we have seen from his part of view that he loved Lyria, and Aelin is so different from her, but he loves them both and his guilt is awful.

 His being protective over Aelin is a product of his trauma. He left his wife alone, and she was promptly murdered, alongside his unborn son or daughter. Don’t you think it still frightens him to leave Aelin be, especially in their current war state? Even still, I can think of around two occasions where he was protective, and not one more.

What I’m trying to say is, Rowan is allowed to be flawed and PTSD-ridden and hurting.

What I’m trying to say is, he can make mistakes and fuck up from time to time.

What I’m trying to say is, he is worthy of love all the same.

#rowan whitethorn #pro rowan whitethorn #pro rowan #aelin galathynius #pro rowaelin #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #hof #qos #eos #tod #koa #please #let him be happy #he deserves so much more than your blind hatred #let male characters fuck up #theyre allowed to make mistakes #theyre human #let them learn

[scarletarosa]

Mephistopheles

One of the demonic gods who serves in High King Lucifer’s kingdom. This information was shared to me by Mephisto and learned through my experiences in working with this fascinating infernal deity.

Other names: Mephisto, Father of All Sophists

Rulerships: persuasion, contracts, and all branches of Law

History: Mephisto began as an Angel serving under the Archangel of justice, Tzadkiel. In the beginning, Mephisto took his work too seriously with regards to bringing justice and became obsessed with delivering it as a prosecutor. When he eventually saw many angels of mercy going against this, he did not understand. If a person had done a crime that required retribution, why would this person be granted another chance? Every person, no matter how low or high they are, must pay for their mistakes. This of course included Mephisto himself, as he did not wish to be exempt from justice. The angels of mercy interfered seldomly at first, but as time went on, they began forgiving larger and larger numbers of people. So while Mephisto was prosecuting some humans, the angels of mercy would set them free. 

Irritated, Mephisto complained to Tzadkiel about this, but the Archangel smiled and said everything was okay. Even more agitated by this response from his commander, these frequent actions of forgiveness towards injustice began to eat away at Mephisto. He also began wondering what his purpose even was anymore since many of those he tried to punish were set free. Because of this, he gradually learned how to make his arguments against people much more convincing so the angels of mercy could not show forgiveness. At some point, Mephisto even began to falsify evidence in order to have some corrupt humans convicted. This went on for a while until Tzadkiel discovered what was happening. Mephisto was then called to give an apology before his commander who then said that “According to the Law, you should be condemned for what you have done. But I forgive you.” However, this action only made Mephisto even more cynical towards justice. He then realized that it’s not your actions that convict you, but whoever happens to be judging you. 

This deeply shook Mephisto’s faith in what he did, so out of spite, he trained a group of humans in ancient Greece to become the Sophists, the first lawyers of history. These people were experts in logic, speech, and entrapment. They gave their services to anyone who paid them a large sum of money, regardless of who their client was. Mephisto had created this particular justice system as a way to have anyone stand a chance in court, even criminals. He had decided that If the angels of mercy were freeing criminals as they pleased, he will have it done in a dishonourable way as an act of spite against celestial justice.

When this was found out, Mephisto was commanded to put an end to the Sophists. But Mephisto replied, “If you all cannot agree with what justice is, neither can I”. Eventually, Mephisto used one of his Sophists to prosecute Socrates over the accusation that he was “corrupting the youth” for being a voice of wisdom. The philosopher was then sentenced to prison and died there after committing suicide. Mephisto was then called forward before Tzadkiel and other Angels to explain himself once again for his actions, but he refused to yield to them, saying “Well where were you? What did you do to protect him? You allowed this noble man to die for no reason. If I was in the wrong, you would have done something; but if I were in the right, it would still cause you to act due to how much you cared for him.” 

Even though he was correct in his statement, this argument targeted his entire chain of command, which did not go over well. They told him to recant (take back what he said) and then they would demote him. But due to his pride, Mephisto refused to allow either, especially since he proclaimed to be doing his job exactly as he needed to be. Mephisto then left heaven and was later recruited into Hell by one of the three High Kings- Lucifer, who gave him the task of a demonic lawyer for the humans of Earth. Mephisto still remains cynical and doesn’t believe in justice anymore. He now only believes in the “justice” a person can buy and also favours making contracts.

Rank: President and Earl

Elements: Strife and Junction

Colours: black with a “v” shape of white (similar to a judge’s outfit)

Appearance: a tall man in his 30’s with pale skin, neck-length black hair, completely black eyes, and black horns (he sometimes does not manifest these). He often wears a judge’s outfit, despite being a lawyer.

Personality: Mephisto is serious, confident, meticulous, determined, astute, shrewd, relentless, patient, intelligent, studious, and is a smooth-talker and master of persuasion. He is a realist with regards to many things and views how plenty of things people view as “moral” are ridiculous (especially Christian values). Mephisto especially hates people who are naïve or tell the truth all the time, even moreso if they feel they are “pure” because of these actions. He claims that lying often has many necessary uses, and being honest all the time only causes problems. Some things that Mephisto likes are innovation, robotics, defending peoples’ rights (as a lawyer), ravens, magpies, the Tower of London (due to all the atrocities that took place here), the backgammon game, classical music, and collecting books.

To understand Mephisto better, one can read the three Faust plays that have been written. All three versions of the Faust story are true accounts of Mephistopheles to a degree, but are a bit dramatized of course. All three versions manage to be true because they are each different perspectives on the account which occurred. For example, Faust did indeed try to repent for making a deal with Mephisto, but he still went to Hell for an appointed period before being set free.

Things he can help with: anything law-related, contract deals, helps in making someone a good lawyer, helps in making someone persuasive

His Enn (for devotion or meditation): Mephisto Viaga Tasa On Ca Sedi

Offerings: sarsaparilla, dry red wine, smoked trout, veal, duck, foie gras, pork tenderloin, eggs, spaghetti, neapolitan pizza, strawberries, figs, apricots, pears, melons, grapes, honeycombs, eggplants, brussel sprouts, oyster mushrooms, ground coffee, dark chocolate, licorice bars, tobacco, law books, canes, votive candles, classical music, candlesticks, rosewood, mahogany, leopardskin jasper, smoky quartz, brown obsidian, and incense of musk + lemon + cinnamon

#mephistopheles #mephisto #demonic gods #infernal gods #demonology #demonolatry #deity work #luciferianism #theistic satanism #satanism

[jamaisjoons]

intro: her mini #6 ⤑ knj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞singe dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff 

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: none really, reader n joon r incredibly sappy and i both hate n love them, there's some kissing but rly this is just soft fluffiness uwu

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: i lowkey hate half of this but yolo it is what it is

⏤ beta read by my girlfriend @peekaboongi​ // commissioned in exchange for blm donations

⇥ Main Series Masterlist

On Hoseok’s birthday, you find yourself on a private yacht in order to celebrate. As usual, you’re surrounded by Namjoon, his sons, as well as Yoongi, Seokjin and, of course, Hoseok himself - who wanted a quiet dinner in order to celebrate. Though, realistically, a quiet dinner with three children isn’t exactly possible. Ship coasting on the gentle waters of the Han River, you enjoy the mellow, lightly chilled, breeze wafting through your hair. Despite being at the end of winter, thanks to the space heaters littered around the deck, you barely feel the cold wind.

“Noona can you help me with this?” Jungkook asks from his seat beside you - his sweet voice pulling you out of your reverie. Shifting your gaze to him, you note the way he’s pointing at the large prawn sitting on his plate - the crustacean marinated in garlic butter as it glistens under the waning sunlight.

With a kind smile, “Sure, Gukkie,” you reply before reaching over. Easily, you break off the head of the prawn before squeezing the meat out the shell and placing it onto his plate.

“You did that awfully easily, ____” Hoseok comments as he swallows down the morsels of lobster he’s chewing on. Gaze shifting to him momentarily, you casually shrug your shoulders before turning to help Jungkook deshell the rest of his prawns.

“Me too, Noona! I can’t eat my clams,” Taehyung pipes in from beside Namjoon. And shortly after him, “And my crab!” Jimin calls out from next to his twin.

Angling your head to both of them, you frown slightly - a little confused by their requests. “Have you never eaten seafood before?” you question, a small, puzzled frown marring your lips. Taking pity on the twins, you watch as Yoongi and Seokjin pull their plates besides them - helping them clean their seafood. Simultaneously, Seokjin lets out a little snort before turning his attention to you.

“Are you kidding? With Namjoon as their father?” Seokjin playfully teases, sending a pointed glance towards your boyfriend. For a moment you frown, not really understanding his words, and then, it dawns on you; your lips forming a perfect ‘o’. Namjoon doesn’t like eating seafood. Nonetheless, from your right side, you hear your boyfriend huff.

“It’s not my fault I don’t like eating seafood,” he mumbles under his breath, his lips pursing into a small pout.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t feed your sons seafood - there’s no reason they should miss out on it,” Yoongi butts in, and though your concentration is firmly on Jungkook’s food, you can clearly hear the playfulness in Yoongi’s voice.

“Yeah, Namjoonie, you may not like seafood, but your sons do,” Hoseok chimes in with a snicker. Done with deshelling Jungkook’s food, you turn your attention back to the adults, only to notice the slight tinge on Namjoon’s cheeks and the amused smiles on Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin’s faces.

“You don’t know if they like seafood or not, they’ve barely eaten it,” Namjoon tries to argue, and you shake your head slightly, already knowing he’s fallen into their trap. As soon as those words escape your boyfriend’s lips, you watch as identical, wry grins creep onto their faces.

“Oh really?” Hoseok questions, an impish twinkle in his eyes. Brown eyes alighting with mirth, he directs his attention to the boys, “Jiminie, Taehyungie, Jungkookie, do you like seafood?” Hoseok questions. Finally catching on to where this is going, a look of exasperation colours Namjoon’s face as he sullenly takes another bite of his steak.

Hearing Hoseok’s question, the boys immediately beam with bright smiles before nodding ecstatically. “It’s Hobi-hyung’s favourite so I like it lots!” Jimin replies, his cheeks puffing up as his eyelids form little crescent shapes.

Instantly, Hoseok begins cooing at the oldest twin, “That’s a good boy. Here you go, you can have a piece of my lobster,” he says while picking up some of the meat and passing it onto Jimin’s plate. Seeing the large chunk of meat, Taehyung and Jungkook immediately perk up.

“Hobi-hyung! I like seafood too!” Taehyung and Jungkook call out at once, causing Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin all to guffaw at once. From beside you, however, Namjoon lets out a defeated sigh with another shake of his head.

“I can’t believe my own sons have betrayed my like this,” he dramatically mutters under his breath. An inkling of pity runs through you, and reaching your hand out, you comfortingly pat Namjoon’s thigh.

“Not only your sons, but your girlfriend too,” Seokjin says while pointing his knife towards your plate, where small, empty oyster shells sit on the edge of it.

Pout deepening, “I can’t believe you too, babe,” Namjoon laments, causing you to quirk an eyebrow.

“And why is that?” you question, the corners of your lips twitching in amusement.

“Because! You’re a marine veterinarian! How can you work with them and then also eat them… especially when they’re so cute,” Namjoon replies, and though you want to laugh, the soft look on his face - from his adorable pout to the way his cheeks are tinged in embarrassment - prevents you from doing so.

“You know I mainly work with marine mammals right, Joon?” you gently point out, then after a brief pause, “Besides, I just like seafood,” you continue while patting his strong thigh.

“Maybe you should try some, Namjoon. Here, I’ll even give you my prawn,” Seokjin says while holding out the large crustacean towards your boyfriend. Immediately, a look of horror crosses Namjoon’s face as he baulks. Rolling your eyes, you chuck your cloth napkin at Seokjin in playful ire.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, let Namjoon eat his steak in peace,” you say. Turning his attention to you, Seokjin levels his best puppy dog eyes at you; but you simply roll your eyes and send him a pointed glare, causing him to give in with a chuckle.

“Thanks, ____. You’re the only one who supports me here,” Namjoon sighs dramatically before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your temple. Angling your head, you smile brightly at him, and instinctively, you move to press a kiss onto his lips. However, immediately, Namjoon jerks back before his nose crinkles in mock distaste. “Absolutely not, you’ve been eating seafood,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The moment the words fall from his lips, your jaw drops open as you gape at his - surprise written all over your face at his rejection. When you hear Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin begin snickering from opposite you, you quickly shut your mouth before lightly smacking Namjoon’s thigh. Bottom lip jutting out, you huff, “That’s the last time I defend you,” you mumble under your breath. With a light chuckle, Namjoon leans in before pressing a kiss to the corner of your lip.

“I was only joking, Angel. You know I love kissing you no matter what,” he says, his voice low as his breath fans your lips.

Face softening at his words, you roll your eyes before acquiescing to him. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat your stupid steak,” you reply, causing Namjoon to grin and smack a wet kiss onto your cheek.

The rest of the dinner passes smoothly - the boys taking over the conversation as they ask a hundred and one questions about everything and anything under the sun. Eventually, however, the conversation pauses, in order to sing Hoseok a happy birthday while he cuts the cake before the eight of you share your dessert. As you continue enjoying the evening, the sun slowly fades behind the horizon, the sky darkening as night falls over, which brings you to now.

You’re currently standing at the edge of the deck - leaning on the railing while you look out at the landscape. Indolently, the yacht moves over the water, the large skyscraper buildings that make up the metropolitan of Seoul gently flitting by. The sun has completely set now, and the dark of the night only draws attention to the bright neon lights that pass you. A fresh breeze blows through the air, causing goosebumps to prickle at your skin. It’s cooler now, the crisp night air wafting over your skin as a shiver runs down your spine. Instinctively, you nestle further into Namjoon’s coat, relishing in both the scent and warmth of the large woollen jacket.

Idle chatter murmurs through the air as the conversation continues between the adults, though, you barely participate - more than happy to simply watch the landscape pass and soak it all in. Somewhere along the deck, you can hear the twins and Jungkook running around; playing a game of tag as they try to entertain themselves. Closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath - smelling the fresh air around you - before exhaling deeply. Suddenly, however, you’re broken out of your thoughts, when you feel someone tug at the hem of your dress.

“Are you okay, Noona?” Jimin asks as he looks up at you in worry. Heart clenching at the concern etched onto his delicate features, you grace him with a smile before nodding.

“I’m alright, Puppy,” you reply. Jimin frowns for a moment, his head tilting to the side - almost as if he doesn’t believe you. However, after a couple of moments, he relents with a nod. Instead, he raises his arm for you to pick him up. Bending over, you easily lift him into your arms, the small boy tucking his head under your chin as he directs his gaze out to the river.

“Noona? Are there dolphins in the Han River?” he questions, as he points out at the large body of water, and you can’t help but chuckle at the curiosity in his tone.

“No, Puppy. Han River is made up of freshwater, and while there are a few freshwater dolphins, most of the species live in saltwater,” you reply easily.

Jimin nods under your chin, but before he can open his mouth again, “Noona!” twin cries echo across the night, and the two of you are joined by his siblings. Taehyung and Jungkook come up to either side of you, Jungkook looking up with a small pout as he notices his older brother in your arms. However, rather than saying anything, he simply shrugs it off after a few moments, and turns his attention to the river.

“What about sharks? Do you think sharks live in the Han River?” Taehyung asks.

“Or maybe stingrays?” Jungkook pipes in with his own, and you laugh lowly at their questions. Clearly, they must have overheard your conversation with Jimin. Nonetheless, before you can reply, you’re joined by the rest of the party.

“How about orcas?” Seokjin questions with a squeaky laugh as he joins you.

“Hmmm, no, but maybe seals?” comes Hoseok’s playful addition.

“I’d like to think giant tortoises live in the Han River myself,” Yoongi says with a sage nod. You know all their additions are completely whimsical, yet you can’t shake your head at their teasing antics.

“Hmmm, what about whales, ____?” Namjoons asks as he comes up behind you, and with his question, you let out a deep sigh of fond exasperation, causing all of them to chuckle. Within your arms, Jimin begins fidgeting, making you bend over and put him back on the desk.

With Jimin out of your arms, Namjoon uses the opportunity to wrap his own arms around your waist before pulling you into his chest. Warmth encasing your back, you exhale deeply and nestle further into his frame. Silence falls over the atmosphere, with only the gentle whirring of the yacht’s engine and the soft sound of water rippling breaking the calmness. The eight of you stare out at the open river as the ship begins making its way back to the marina.

“It’s really pretty out here, isn’t it?” you ask quietly, your words barely audible. In fact, your voice is so low, that only your boyfriend hears you. Bending his head, he nuzzles his nose into your hair before taking a deep breath.

“Not as pretty as you,” comes his reply. Despite the cheesiness of his words, you can’t stop the grin that creeps onto your lips. Twisting in his hold, you wind your arms around his thin waist while looking up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.

“I could say the same about you, you know,” you teasingly backfire. The corners of his lips twitching, Namjoon bends his head and drags the tip of his nose against yours, causing your eyes to flutter at the ministration.

“Are you saying I’m pretty?” he asks, the deep timbre of his voice tremoring through the air as his warm breath washes over your face.

“I am, indeed. In fact, I think you’re the prettiest,” you respond, making Namjoon snort in amusement. Puckering his lips, his peppers your mouth in soft kisses, making you sigh in contentment.

“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree then, because I think you’re the prettiest,” he replies, each of his words broken up by even more of his gentle pecks. Once he’s done speaking, Namjoon places his lips fully onto yours, the thick petals of his mouth slotting perfectly against yours. Tongue flicking out, he licks the seam of your lips in a bid for entrance, but rather than giving it, you pull away. Namjoon frowns at your actions, his eyebrow quirking in question as you grace him with a lop-sided, mischievous grin.

“I thought you didn’t want to kiss me because I taste like seafood,” you remind him. The moment the words fall out your lips, Namjoon’s frown morphs into a playful smirk.

“Hmmm, but you taste like wine now,” he says, before once again dropping his lips onto yours. This time, you’re unable to resist him, and immediately, your mouth parts open in access. Using the opportunity, Namjoon’s tongue slips between your teeth; the silken appendage sliding along yours tantalisingly.

Your kiss only lasts a couple of moments, before suddenly, “Ew, Daddy! Noona! Gross,” and, “Honestly, can you both go two minutes without eating each other’s faces?” echoes through the dark night. Face flushing with heat, the two of you instantly break apart. Reflexively, you bury your face into Namjoon’s chest: in an attempt to hide your mortification, while your boyfriend simply holds you tighter in comfort.

“Hey, ____?” Hoseok calls, and hearing the faux innocence in his voice, your eyes narrow. Turning your head from Namjoon’s chest, you look over at him with a quirked eyebrow. “It’s my birthday you know… So I think if anyone deserves a kiss, it should be me,” he continues with waggling eyebrows. With a blank stare, you gaze at him, your brain slowly processing his words. It only takes you a few short moments, but once you do, you can’t help but snort.

“Sure Hoseok, why not,” you sarcastically remark - already knowing he’s only teasing you. Waggling his eyebrows harder, Hoseok puckers his lips dramatically before making kissy faces at you. However, this time, before you can say anything, you find your boyfriend huffing.

Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he levels a small glare at Hoseok before tilting your body away from his best friend. “Yeah, birthday or not, I don’t think so.”

a/n: ᵘʷᵘ thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! please lemme know what you thought if you did 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

#ficswithluv #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #thekimlinenet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #moonchildnetwork #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon x reader #bts namjoon x reader #bts fluff #bts namjoon fic #bts fic

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Colours of Rain Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

This date is dedicated to anyone who’s had a tough and tiring week in school or at work 🥰

The date begins with MC heading to the office at the ungodly hour of 6am, right after landing at the airport.

She’s tired but has to sit through a sudden and lengthy meeting with Yuelai Entertainment (“Yuelai”).

Yuelai is a reputable company which suddenly changed its mind regarding establishing a long-term partnership with MC’s company.

The representative from Yuelai bears bad news, saying that a partnership is unlikely due to budget constraints. MC asks for another chance to redo the proposal, but Yuelai gives her a vague response and leaves.

MC feels downcast because her staff members have been working very hard on the proposal, and all their efforts seem to have gone to waste. Anna tells her to rest, but MC wants to create a new proposal to change Yuelai’s mind.

She heads to Victor’s office later in the morning to present her weekly report. She starts dozing off.

A fountain pen taps my forehead. My eyes snap open in shock, and I am faced with an expressionless Victor.

Victor: Don’t get distracted during the meeting.

MC: Only the two of us are here…

I mutter under my breath, letting out a yawn.

Victor: Stayed up late again?

MC: I had a late flight, so I spent most of the night in the airport. And there was a sudden meeting at the office this morning…

I rub my tired eyes, feeling dejected as I recall the bad news from this morning.

Victor stops flipping through the material in his hands, raising his head to look at me.

Victor: Have you been feeling tired recently?

MC: Not really.

I deny instantly. Victor pauses, frowning slightly.

Victor: Just look at your eyebags. Even the pandas in the zoo recognize you as their relative.

MC: It’s just that everything is packed together so I’m busier than usual. I’ll be fine after getting through this period!

Victor: You’re really doing fine?

I nod without hesitation.

MC: Mm, I can handle it!

Goldman showed me Victor’s schedule for these two weeks, and the extent that it is filled to the brim is shocking. Compared to him, my workload is not worth mentioning.

Victor: Do you have any work this afternoon?

MC: Why do you ask?

Victor: I’ve read through your proposal and there aren’t any big issues. Go back and get a good rest. You’re not allowed to stay up late over the next few days.

I pause for a moment, look at the pile of work on Victor’s desk, and take out my laptop.

MC: I’ll stay here with you. Being able to stay with you is my best form of relaxation.

Victor: …up to you.

Victor lets out a sigh, a smile slipping onto his face.

Victor: How’s the deal with Yuelai Entertainment?

MC: This… I’m still not sure about their final decision.

I avert my eyes, even more determined to create a perfect proposal for Yuelai Entertainment.

MC is just about to ask Victor for advice when she receives a call. She has to return to the office to deal with a difficult guest on their talk show.

After that, MC finds one of her staff crying from stress

Thinking of how to comfort her, MC recalls the many trials she faced since Ch 1 of the main storyline, and how she plowed through them all

After that:

I finally have a short break and I rub my sore temples, the fatigue built up over the past few days overwhelming me.

The weather is fine and the leaves are swaying in the breeze. I stare at the clouds and find myself suddenly missing Victor. The time spent with him this morning was probably the only time I felt relaxed in days.

Someone from Yuelai calls MC. While MC’s company crafted a very unique proposal, Yuelai sees no future in having a long-term partnership with a small company like MC’s. Yuelai hangs up on her before she can even negotiate.

Depressed, she decides to walk home because the next bus would only arrive in an hour. To make things worse, it suddenly starts pouring.

The rain is so heavy that the bag she uses to cover her head slips out of her hands, her items falling all over the ground. Her neatly arranged documents get drenched too.

I want to escape from the spotlight. I don’t want to face tomorrow. I want to find an empty corner and just burst into tears. 

The phone lying in the water vibrates, signaling an incoming call. I rub my swollen eyes and reach for my drenched phone.

MC: Hello?

Victor: Where are you?

My voice is lodged in my throat. It never crossed my mind that Victor would call me at this very moment. I take a deep breath and pretend to answer in a relaxed manner. I didn’t want him to hear that I was about to cry.

MC: Why are you calling me at this time? I’ll be home soon, what about you?

Victor: …I see you.

MC: What did you say?

Victor: Turn around.

I follow what he says and am met with blinding headlights.

The car stops. Someone steps out of the car, opens an umbrella, and walks towards me.

Under the amber streetlights, his silhouette becomes clearer in the rain.

I stare dazedly at Victor, thinking that I’m hallucinating. The tears I had been suppressing threaten to overflow.

Victor frowns and looks at me, letting out a sigh.

Victor: How long do you want to stay in the rain? Come here.

I rub my eyes. Not caring how embarrassing I look, I rush into his arms.

The feeling of acid that has been accumulating in my heart finally escape. I bury my head in his chest and burst into tears.

The umbrella is tossed aside. He places his outercoat over me, and the residual warmth disperses the cold.

Victor: You’re crying so badly. Seems like you’ve suffered a lot.

MC: I’ve already worked so hard… I’ve tried everything… I don’t know what to do… so that I can be even better…

I speak and pause through my tears. Victor pats my back gently, his actions slow and tender.

Victor: I know. You’ve already done very well. I can see that.

His voice is impossibly gentle in the gradually lightening rain.

After some time, the rain finally stops.

I look up at him with my reddened eyes. The Victor standing in front of me still doesn’t seem real.

Water droplets from the trees above pelt onto his shoulder. Even the front of his shirt has a large patch from absorbing my tears.

MC: This isn’t a dream right… you… why are you here?

Victor doesn’t answer. He gently wipes a tearstain off my face.

Victor: To fetch a dummy home.

In the car, MC realizes that she has lost her house keys in the rain so she’s unable to return home.

Victor: We’re heading to my home anyway.

MC: Y-your home?

I suddenly think about the sight of me sobbing my heart out earlier.

MC: Victor…

Victor: What is it?

MC: Can you forget about my whole bawling incident just now?

Victor: Don’t worry, I’ll get my outercoat sent to the dry cleaners tomorrow.

MC: …

Victor: What happened today?

Faced with this sudden question, I don’t know where to begin. Maybe it was the sudden meeting with Yuelai Entertainment this morning, maybe it was dealing with the difficult guest, maybe it was the heavy rain…

Maybe the culmination of all these things left me helpless and made it clear that I am not as strong as I thought.

MC: I realized that I’m not as capable as I thought… the more ambitious I am, the more helpless and small I feel when met with failure… I feel like a good-for-nothing…

Victor: You really are stupid.

MC: Why are we on the topic of my stupidity again.

I mutter softly, but turn to look at him curiously.

MC: You look like you’ve never lost control of your emotions before.

Victor: I have.

In the tranquil evening, his voice becomes quieter.

Victor: I’m no different from you. There are many things I cannot do or force to make happen. It’s okay to not be strong, it’s okay to not do well. You don’t have to bottle up your emotions.

I stare at his side profile, recalling what he had once said to me—

Victor is also an ordinary person.

[Note] She’s making reference to Victor’s Understanding the Human World date

Victor: I won’t tell you to keep holding on no matter what difficulties you face. That isn’t realistic. There will come a time when you will become an even better version of yourself who will have enough courage and experience to deal with all of this.

I suddenly have a realisation.

MC: You are an ordinary Victor, I am a mediocre MC. Everyone will definitely experience joys and sorrows in life. It’s just that people have different thresholds of endurance.

He laughs lightly, not denying my words.

Under the gentle streetlights, he pauses. It is as though an inordinate amount of time passes before his voice reaches my ears, but every word is crystal clear.

Victor: But before that, I hope you can learn to rely on me. At least with me, you always have the right to be vulnerable.

After they reach Victor’s house, he towels her hair dry and covers her with a quilt. Victor prepares to take a shower and asks MC to get him a change of clothes. 

When MC enters the bathroom, Victor is in a state of undress – his shirt is half-open and his tie hangs loosely off his neck.

MC places the clean clothes down, but slips on her way out because - I kid you not - she keeps thinking about how she can see Victor’s abs through his shirt lol

Victor: Be careful!

Victor’s warning comes too late. I lose control of my body, falling against Victor. I hear a pain-filled groan from behind me.

Feeling something warm, I have a bad feeling as I lift up my head.

Under the bright lights, Victor pushes himself off the ground with his palm, leaning his back against the white tiles. His fringe is messy, beads of water on the tips of his hair.

His wet, half-translucent shirt sticks to his skin, revealing a sculpted abdomen that is usually covered and hidden.

The shower hose is at the side, and the sound of water continues to resound.

My line of sight trails from his leg upwards and finally settle on his handsome face. I feel slightly dazed.

Victor: Seen enough?

MC: No…

I bite my tongue before the words leave my mouth, trembling as I remove the hand that is still on his chest.

MC: One misfortune after another, haha…

Victor: Stand up. How long do you intend to sit on the floor?

Victor stands first before pulling me up. He then retrieves a towel to wipe off the water droplets on me.

Victor: There really isn’t a single moment when I don’t have to worry.

After this, MC chills on the sofa in the living room and looks around.

She sees her proposal on the table. Wondering what criticisms Victor has in store for her, she decides to flip through it:

Unexpectedly, every page is filled with more comments than usual.

“Not bad”

“There’s some improvement”

“Worthy of commendation”

Not only are there praises that I don’t normally see, but there are also extremely detailed examples and analysis.

A CEO who has a thousand things to do each day is so detailed and meticulous?

I can’t help but let out silly laughter, my fingers trembling lightly. I gently touch the handwriting that belongs to him.

In my most fatigued and embarrassing moment, Victor was the one who came to me with a hug.

He is the only island that I, a little boat which has drifted off course, can rely on.

Victor: Why haven’t you gone to sleep?

MC: …I can’t sleep. I was waiting for you.

Victor has stepped out of the bathroom and is now standing behind me.

He wipes his damp hair with a towel, water vapour faintly surrounding him. He looks at me, his line of sight following my actions to the proposal on the table. He looks surprised.

MC: I promise I’m not working. I was just looking around… and saw this.

I nod towards the red-coloured comments and cast him a smile that says: “I understand everything”.

Victor: I was just curious to see whether a silly technique of encouragement would be beneficial to you.

I’m not surprised that he isn’t speaking from the heart…

MC: It’s not silly at all, and it’s extremely effective! I recommend that you use it very often!

He ignores my teasing, walks around the sofa, and sits beside me.

I look at Victor, whose profile has been caged in a halo. Only the sounds of our breathing echo in the quiet air.

Victor: Your eyes are still swollen.

I subconsciously touch my eyelids.

MC: D-does it look ugly?

Victor: Mm, very ugly.

There is a smile in his voice.

MC: …then stop looking!

I lower my head dispiritedly, pulling the quilt over my head.

Victor: You dummy.

He looks even more deeply into my eyes. The breathing that falls on my ear is very gentle, very steady, and very long.

Victor: From now onwards, I’m the only one who can see your crying face.

💧

Phone Calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #this is my favourite Victor date #(not just because of those FINE abs) #I revisit this date quite often because it heals the s o u l

[jaskierek]

Temporary

Summary:

Everyone's always left Jaskier, he's come to expect it. After all, he was temporary, forgettable. Until Geralt comes back. Until Geralt seems bent on proving him wrong.

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

Julian and his parents were never that close.

They weren’t really invested in him if he was being honest.

Well, maybe they were. They were invested in his academic grades and his ‘upbringing’, which for them consisted of learning how to hunt pheasants and which fork to use.

Other than that, Julian was pretty much left alone with no one but his nanny to keep him company. He liked her. She’d sing for him and tuck him in at night with a kiss.

When he was 7 he figured out that she was being paid to care for him so he closed himself off even to her, hiding behind his blinding smiles.

His father wasn’t gentle with him and Julian tended to get in trouble. How else would an ignored child get any sort of attention? Turns out that the Earl of Lettenhove was more invested in the dignity of the Lettenhove name than he was in ignoring his son. So Julian got what he wanted…in a way. It’s sickeningly clichéd, isn’t it?

Eventually his parents didn’t know what to do with him so they sent him off to boarding school.

Julian learned how to be charismatic, how to become popular among his peers and earn ‘friends’. All fleeting relationships, never lasting long, never slipping past his mask of smiles. Unfortunately, that did not stop him from getting into trouble, nor did it keep him interested in his studies.

He remembered one particular professor. He was a wizard with a cane. He knew exactly where to strike to make it the most painful. “No tears.” He used to say and Julian was forced to swallow them down. After a while he learned how to be an academic.

His love for poetry came as a surprise. He’d only started liking it when he was 19. It was also when he’d met the Countess de Stael. Once she’d stepped into his life, poetry had poured out of him. He’d forgo sleep in favour of letting the words slip onto the pages before him. She loved it at the time.

And then she left.

And so Julian had carried on with his studies, allowing his broken heart to write the most beautiful sonnets and ballads.

And then Julian had left. And he’d changed his name. He changed it to Jaskier. Buttercup. Beautiful, bright and yellow. Small, delicate and smooth to the touch.

Buttercup. A weed.

Loosen the soil, yank at its base and pull it out. More room for better things now.

He’d fallen into many beds during his travels. Men, women, neither. Sometimes it was the Countess de Stael herself. He remembered most of their names. And when he didn’t, it was because he’d been blackout drunk. And even then, he’d remember things like the touch of their skin or the colour of their hair.

None lasted long. Many didn’t care to learn his name. He wasn’t hurt. He hadn’t expected anything more.

He wrote beautiful songs. People didn’t care to listen. So he wrote what was popular. He wrote of monsters and heroes and kings. He knew nothing of monsters and heroes and kings. His songs were bad. He wasn’t paid much.

Then he’d met Geralt of Rivia. Witcher. Monster Hunter. Emotionally constipated. Self loathing. Kind. Generous. Asshole. Utter and absolute asshole.

The love of Jaskier’s life.

Geralt had never shown Jaskier much outward affection. Jaskier had hoped that he cared though. He’d hoped that he wasn’t dispensable, forgettable. The Witcher, for all of his grumpiness, had provided food, had let the bard sleep in occasionally, had let him talk for hours on end, had made sure he was always safe and healthy. He had once even nursed Jaskier back to health after a particularly malicious cold that had left him numb and with a raging fever. Jaskier could even make out the faint whisper of worry in the Witcher’s golden eyes.

Geralt had also inspired him to write in a way he hadn’t known possible. Suddenly, the lyrics and notes were pouring out of him again. His pockets filled with coin. His stomach filled with food. His fame spread. His music was respected. People’s desire for him had grown. He was wanted. But never in the way that he needed.

People ignored him when he was with Geralt, their gaze slipping over him like water. He understood. It was hard to focus on a simple bard when a Witcher stood right beside him. And not just any Witcher. Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf. A mass of muscles and sharp swords and white hair and amber eyes and gods, did Jaskier understand. He often found himself struggling to look away. And besides, he was used to not being seen, at least not being seen truly and wholly.

Then came the golden dragon and the witch and the mountain and -

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

It seemed to be a common wish for anyone who’d met him.

Some of his relationships lasted a night, maybe a week, a month, maybe a little more.

With Geralt it had been 20 years. He’d cleaned his wounds, he’d bathed him, he’d learned to understand his grunts and the minute twists of his lips, he’d loved him with all that he had. 20 years. He still wasn’t enough. Jaskier wished he could blame the Witcher. But he’d seen him be kind, he’d seen him be gentle, he’d seen him be careful with his words. Perhaps Jaskier simply wasn’t enough. Maybe he wasn’t enough to warrant care.

Dispensable, forgettable, temporary. Fun while it lasted but not enough to love.

While Jaskier was an idealist, he’d always considered himself to be realistic about his own assets. He was attractive, he had great eyes and a great smile, he was a good dancer, he could write a hell of a song.

There was not much else.

He was annoying, too excitable, too greedy, he was interesting up to a point. He talked too much. He was too cocky. He was useless in a fight. He had a tendency to fool around with married people. He was unlovable.

Ah, yes, and he was dramatic. Overly dramatic.

Jaskier looked at himself in the mirror and smiled, big and bright.

Buttercup.

Weed.

Temporary.

“If life could give me one blessing -”

The smile didn’t waver.

Geralt had found him half a year later performing at a rather respectable inn. He had been singing one of his new songs. It wasn’t about Geralt. None of his new songs were. Not for lack of material though, he found he could write about the Witcher endlessly. Jaskier had believed himself adept at swallowing down pain. He was proven wrong.

“What can I do for you, Witcher?” He’d asked with a grin, hoping Geralt wouldn’t see through it.

“Nothing, Jaskier.  I want nothing from you.” He’d responded and the bard felt his chest clench at that. Perhaps this meeting had simply been an accident. Geralt didn’t want anything to do with him. He should have been used to it.

“Ah, well then,” Jaskier said, turning around, finding he couldn’t stand to look into those amber eyes any longer, “see you around, Geralt.”

“No - Jaskier, please, wait,” the bard had ground to a halt at that, looking over his shoulder to see a pained expression on that beautiful face, “I - I’ve been looking for you.”

So, yes, Geralt had found him and not accidentally. He had been looking for him.

Jaskier didn’t know what to do with that information.

“I want to apologise.”

The smile finally slipped.

“You…you want to apologise?”

“Yes.” Came the response. Short. Fast. Without any room for doubt.

“Why?”

Geralt looked almost incredulous, almost confused. “Because I said terrible things to you.”

Jaskier furrowed his brows.

“So?” He couldn’t help but ask, not maliciously but entirely curiously.

“‘So?’ What do you mean ‘so’? Jaskier, I said things to you that I didn’t mean, things that I couldn’t stand you believing. I - Jaskier, you - you were there and I was angry and I lashed out.”

A beat of silence.

“After the mountain, I - I tried to be alone and I couldn’t stand it. Even…even before - we’d spend weeks apart but I still never felt as alone as I did after I said…what I said and I - I didn’t mean it and then I went to find Yennefer,”

Ah, Jaskier was an idiot. Add that to the list of flaws. Of course he wasn’t the first one to be sought out by the Witcher. Why would he be?

“Must have been a fun reunion.” Jaskier said, trying to inject some genuine sounding mirth into his voice and the smile that had reappeared. Geralt looked away.

“It wasn’t like that. Although we care for each other, we realised that that wasn’t what we wanted.”

Despite himself, Jaskier’s chest still tightened painfully. Hearing - hell, even seeing - how truly and deeply they cared for each other… His smile didn’t waver.

“Sorry about that.” Was all he could think to say.

“Stop it.”

Jaskier blinked.

“Stop what?”

“That smile. That smile you do when you don’t really want to be smiling. I’ve known you for 20 years, bard, I know which smiles are genuine.”  Geralt sounded frustrated. Almost pained.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier. I know I fucked up. I know I did and you deserve to be angry at me but don’t give me that smile. I hate it. I hate that smile.” The Witcher took a step closer and the bard finally let his smile slip. It wasn’t his only mask. Geralt seemed to realise this too, still looking displeased.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, the amusement gone from his voice, but he managed to keep it levelled, not betraying the tiredness behind it.

“I don’t want anything from you, Jaskier,” he paused for a moment. “What I wanted to say was that I talked to Yennefer and she helped me realise that I don’t want a life without you.”

It would’ve sounded romantic if Jaskier wasn’t certain that Geralt would never think of him like that.

“So you do want something from me. You want me to travel with you again.”

Geralt winced and after a moment said, “yes”.

“You hurt me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m - I’m trying to make up for it.”

Jaskier was weak. Add that to the list. He was so fucking weak.

“Okay.”

After that, Geralt would eye the bard warily for a while, as if expecting him to reveal himself as some sort of shapeshifter, a doppler maybe. But Jaskier knew that the Witcher would smell anything like that a mile away so he didn’t really know why he kept glancing at him over the campfire.

Other than that, it seemed like things were back to normal.

Everything forgiven, nothing forgotten. Unfortunately.

Jaskier pushed that out of his mind and returned to his rambles and Witcher-themed ballads. After all, Geralt had said he’d missed him. Surely that had meant the whole ‘Jaskier experience’, prattling and all.

The bard still didn’t know how to comprehend that information. No one had ever missed him in his life. At least, not that he knew of. Maybe they missed how he made them feel, like when the Countess would moan “gods, I missed this,” as he’d trail kisses up her thighs. So no, he didn’t know what Geralt wanted but it was strange. The Witcher smiled at him more, talked to him more. Every time they separated for a time, Geralt would greet him with a small smile. It made the bard’s heart do things and it wasn’t fair.

Perhaps this was a punishment from some god or another, maybe destiny herself or karma. Maybe it was Jaskier’s punishment to have to endure a love for a man who would never reciprocate it, all the while being subjected to that same man openly stating that, yes, he wanted Jaskier around.

A few months later, Geralt had kissed him.

It was after a battle with a Leshy, half wildcat, half bear, with fangs and claws like knives, sharp and long enough to sever a man in half. Jaskier had gotten very close to being that man before Geralt had yanked it back by its tail, swinging his sword as it whirled around in fury. After the fight, the Witcher had surged over to Jaskier, arm bleeding and eyes searching.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice gruff. His hands were running over the bard’s body, checking for injuries.

“No.” Jaskier managed to choke out, trying to ignore the feeling of Geralt’s hands skimming over his hips. “But you are. Let me check that arm.” He said, reaching for the Witcher’s bleeding bicep. A hand snapped up and grabbed his wrist, bringing it back down to his side.

“You got too close.” He rumbled, taking a step closer so that he was practically pressing the bard up against the tree behind him. Jaskier swallowed.

“I know. Sorry.” He let out a shaky breath as he noticed those golden eyes sliding down to his lips. Geralt growled and pressed their lips together, one hand behind Jaskier’s head, the other still gripping his wrist. Jaskier was quick to reciprocate, tangling his fingers in the Witcher’s snowy hair and opening his mouth willingly.

Their kiss was all tongues and teeth and sucking and biting. Their sex was much the same. Jaskier knew it was adrenaline and he knew it was just physical, but he couldn’t stop from smiling the next morning, for once waking before the other man. Geralt’s injured arm was wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, the wound already mostly healed. The bard found himself tracing the outline of Geralt’s cheekbone, his jawline, his thumb running over his lips. He had never known the Witcher to sleep so deeply that a touch would not wake him.

He didn’t know whether this was a one time thing but he was grateful it had happened. Even if he only got to taste the man once, he would find a way to make it be enough.

After a while, Jaskier got up and wet a small rag, cleaning himself before rinsing it and beginning to clean the Witcher, it was nothing he hadn’t already seen, some of it he’d even helped wash before. They were still sticky from the night before and they were nowhere near any lakes or rivers. Geralt woke to Jaskier running the cloth across his thigh.

“Sorry, I thought it would be nice to wake up not so icky.” The bard said, pulling his hand away.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hand, “I like it.”

Jaskier smiled and looked away, missing the way his favourite pair of golden eyes lit up at the sight.

“Well, I’m not about to miss my chance at touching that body again.” He said with a whistle. Geralt laughed at that and pulled the bard down, pressing a kiss to his lips that threatened to burst Jaskier’s chest with affection.

The Witcher’s gaze was soft for the rest of the morning.

They’d fall into bed multiple times again. Sometimes it was rough and fast and adrenaline-hazed. Sometimes it was soft and gentle and it left Jaskier feeling heady, his head filling with sweet honey as Geralt’s fingers worked wonders.

It was hard for him not to get attached even more. He knew he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe that Geralt cared for him romantically. He wouldn’t put his heart through that. Still, it was hard.

So one evening, when a particularly brave woman had chosen to flirt with the Witcher, all but offering herself up on a platter, Geralt had looked to Jaskier with a look in his eye.

“It’s okay, Geralt.” He’d reassured him from the seat across the table, he smiled and Geralt frowned before rejecting the woman bluntly. Jaskier felt a sigh of relief building in his throat as the woman sauntered away.

“What did you mean ‘it’s okay’?” Geralt asked, turning to him with stiff shoulders. Jaskier froze. Was he really going to make him say it aloud?

“I - I mean, it’s okay if you want to sleep with other people, you don’t have to worry about me.” You don’t have to worry about me trying to stop you, about me being hurt.

“What - Jaskier -,” The Witcher struggled for a moment before taking a breath, “is this just about sex for you?”

Jaskier definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“I…is it for you?” He asked. It was a coward’s response. Had he already put that on the list? Add cowardly to the list. Geralt was quiet and Jaskier could feel his heart beating in his throat as those amber eyes searched his.

“No.”

He thinks he might have misheard.

“What?”

“It’s not just about sex for me and if it is for you then we should stop.”

Jaskier’s mouth was open, trying to find a response. He knew what he wanted to say but a declaration of love was probably not what the Witcher wanted.

“I love you, Jaskier.” Geralt said, his face pinched.

Huh.

“I know you don’t want me like that,” Geralt continued, his gaze still on Jaskier’s, “you of all people have seen the worst of me and I wouldn’t blame you for not being able to stomach romance with a Witcher,” the way he said that word made his chest clench, “but I can’t keep doing this, Jaskier.”

Since when had Geralt ever been more eloquent than his bard?

“You think I don’t love you?” Jaskier’s voice came out quiet, hesitant, incredulous. Geralt’s eyes looked wary.

“You -“

“Geralt, how can I not fucking love you? I’ve spent 20 years loving you. Fuck - it - it hurts how much I love you.”

Because it did. Every time Geralt smiled at him or teased him or tied his hair back in the morning, it was like a blow to Jaskier’s chest, but he’d gotten good at swallowing pain, swallowing tears.

He could tell Geralt was still disbelieving and fuck - he knew that the man’s self-loathing ran deep and he couldn’t help himself from saying; “Geralt, you are the best man I’ve ever known and it frustrates me to no end that you don’t see it.”

Geralt was watching him, scanning his face, his eyes, looking for something.

“Then why - why do you hide yourself from me?” He asked, frustrated, “You - you do this smile that - it’s not you, it’s not your smile. There’s this look in your eyes sometimes. It’s like a wall and I hate that you need to hide from me.”

Jaskier’s hand shot out to grab Geralt’s, trying to comfort him. The Witcher had never been big on affection in public but he let his hand be taken by the bard.

“It’s not you, Geralt, I don’t blame you. It’s - it’s not love…what you feel for me.” Jaskier smiled sadly, his years of practice swallowing down tears being put to use. “It’s not love. You’ll get bored of me soon. I’m not permanent. I’m - I’m a fleeting fancy. And that’s okay.”

“You - I - what?” Geralt asked, looking so completely confused that it was almost comical. “Fuck. We’re not talking about this here.” He said, standing up and dragging Jaskier up through the inn and into their shared room. “Now,” the Witcher growled, whirling on the bard and grabbing him by his shirt, “what the fuck did you just say.”

Geralt didn’t scare Jaskier. He could never scare him, but the bard’s eyes were wide as he looked at Geralt’s furious expression.

“I - I don’t know how to say it, Geralt, I - no one’s ever wanted me before, not in a way that matters.” He managed to choke out, his vision turning blurry. Fuck, he thought he’d gotten good at swallowing down tears but Geralt had yet again proven him wrong.

“Who told you that?” He asked furiously.

“No one,” Jaskier responded, pushing Geralt away and scrubbing at his cheeks fiercely, “no one had to. I know, okay? I know.” The Witcher snarled.

“You know nothing, bard, if you don’t know that I love you.”

“Stop it, Geralt.”

“No.”

“I can’t do this if you’re just going to leave me.”

Jaskier froze and a silence passed. His breath was shaking from barely restrained tears.

“I can’t do this, Geralt,” he continued in a quiet voice, “not if you find someone better and leave me. I - I don’t know what I’d do. Everyone I’ve ever known has either left me or grown tired of me. It’s not a pattern that’s going to end with you. I - I don’t think I could take it if you left me again.”

Geralt’s gaze was soft, pitying. Jaskier was pitiful, add that to the list.

“I’ve known you for over 20 years and I have not grown tired.”

“What is 20 years to a Witcher? And even so, you did, you did grow tired of me.”

‘If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.’

“I didn’t grow tired of you. I grew tired of myself and my ability to fuck everything up.” Geralt said softly, “And I did, I fucked it up.”

“Geralt, it’s not love.”

“Stop saying that.”

“It’s not.”

Geralt snarled and pushed Jaskier up against the wall, leaning in close so that Jaskier had nowhere to look except for those golden eyes. Those disarmingly honest, golden eyes.

“Listen to me, Jaskier, I love you.”

Jaskier wouldn’t cry. He swallowed down a shaky breath.

“I’m irritating.”

“You are.”

“I talk too much.”

“You do. I like it.”

“I’m greedy.”

“You enjoy finery. It’s not the same.”

“I’m arrogant.”

“Clearly you’re not.”

“I can’t fight. I’m a coward.”

“You’re one of the bravest men I know. To the point of recklessness, it worries me.”

“It does?”

“It does.”

Geralt’s lips were grazing over his now, teasingly. Jaskier smiled, genuinely. Geralt smiled right back.

“You love me?” He asked, voice breaking.

“I do.”

And Jaskier cried, finally.

Jaskier cried and laughed and kissed Geralt. It was bad. It was wet and sloppy and he loved it. And Geralt loved it too. Because he loved him. Jaskier. He loved him.

Then Geralt had dragged him to bed, whispering praise into his skin as if hoping it would soak through him and settle in his bones. Jaskier had done the same because fuck, he was in love and it was dizzying.

“You know,” Jaskier began the next morning, earning a grunt from the Witcher laying under him, “I think last night was the longest I’ve ever heard you speak.” The chest beneath the bard’s head rumbled with a laugh.

“Fuck off.”

“I guess I just bring it out of you, Witcher.” Jaskier continued, grinning devilishly.

“I will kick you out of this bed, bard.”

“Please, I dare you to try and rip me off of you. I have melded my body onto yours.”

Geralt simply grumbled in response. It was a grumble of acceptance, Jaskier could tell. He could always tell.

-

They ran into Yennefer two months later and Jaskier found that he wasn’t concerned. He wasn’t worried Geralt would return to her. Partly because when she spotted them the first thing out of her mouth was;

“Finally. For Melitele’s sake, that took much too long.”

Geralt had looked at her with a pointedly unamused gaze which she’d returned with a wink.

Later, after they had helped her with a monster-slaying job so she could collect some sort of venom, the three had shared drinks.

“I take full credit for this, by the way.” She’d said, gesturing to the two of them and the arm wrapped around Jaskier’s waist.

“In what way is this your doing?” Jaskier had asked.

“I’m the one who told him to tell you how he felt.”

“Which he did months after he’d found me.”

“Is his lack of communication skills my fault?”

“If he didn’t do it when you told him to then it doesn’t count.”

“Fuck off, it counts.”

“It most certainly does not.”

Geralt took a sip of his ale as the two continued to bicker.

Not long after, Yennefer had decided to join them - “graced” them with her presence as she’d put it. Jaskier could tell that Geralt and the sorceress still cared for each other deeply. He couldn’t really talk though, he’d found himself caring for her as well. When she’d called him her “friend” he had practically glowed. Then Ciri had barrelled into their lives and their little circle had grown and gods, did he love that little girl.

“Where are your parents, Jaskier?” She had once asked as he was soothing her back to sleep after a nightmare. It was always Cintra burning, Jaskier ached for her. She was too young for all of this.

“I don’t know, honey, I haven’t spoken to them for years.”

“Why not?”

“We were never really a family.”

Ciri paused before smiling widely.

“But you have a family now.”

Jaskier smiled back, brushing the hair out of her face and listening to the sounds of Yennefer sleeping soundly and Geralt mumbling something to Roach.

“I do.”

#not sure im happy with this #my rambles #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfiction #angst #the witcher #the witcher fic #fanfic #fic written

[ghost-of-winters-past]

lost in outer space

summary: When Odins‘ death opened up the gates to hell, Thor, Loki and you ended up stranded on a strange planet with no way home. With Hela claiming the throne of Asgard and the prophesied Ragnarok, you and your brothers were left to fight for your survival on Sakaar while trying to come up with a plan to save everything you’ve ever known. But when Thor suddenly went missing, you couldn’t take the impending doom anymore and turn to Loki for comfort.

characters: Loki, fem!reader (siblings)

warnings/synopsis: during Thor Ragnarok (spoilers), slight mentions of death/loss and trauma, slight angst, one or two swear words, it gets fluffy though. This is you being comforted by your favourite brother. Requested by the wonderful @superwhoflarrow123 Thank you again for being so understanding why this took a little longer! I really hope you like it! (roughly 1.7k words)

The walls of your room were an ugly bright booger green. A futuristic bed with sort of retro patterned orange sheets was placed next to a floor to ceiling window overlooking the landscape of Sakaar. In the distance, trash was stacked up high enough to touch the clouds, and to your feet container like looking buildings were littering the planets‘ surface like thrown out cardboard boxes. The sky was a hazy storm grey, only a handful of brightly coloured air crafts and weirdly shaped skyscrapers breaking up the murky and metallic smelling air. This definitely was one of the less pretty planets you had ever been on. Granted you weren’t here because Sakaar had been your dream destination – up until your stranding here you had never even heard o fit – but because your secret evil sister took over your home planet. Your father having a secret fourth child probably was the most normal thing that had happened to your family so far though, that he locked her up in hell less so. Now that both of your parents were gone, you didn’t intend to make amends and play happy little family with Hela. She did try to kill you and your brothers after all and you felt like that didn’t really qualify for a second chance.

You didn’t know how long you had been tumbling through space like a plastic bag, only that when you landed face down in a pile of space waste, you were alone. You didn’t know where your brothers were or frankly where you happened to be, but after wandering through the sea of garbage for a while, you learned fast that you weren’t as welcome as you had hoped. You were electro-shocked, thrown into a funky looking aircraft and shipped off into imprisonment. At least that was what you were expecting. Instead, you were met with a weird guy in gold sparkly tunics and piercing eyes and only because he decided to keep you around as leverage, you were given a room and the chance to wash up.

It could have been between a couple of days and a week, you really had no clue, time felt weird here when you were attending one of the Grandmasters‘ lavish parties and news arrived that someone else had arrived. You were equally relieved and frustrated as you watched Loki walking into the room, head held high and about a dozen armed guards trailing behind him. At least he didn’t end up on the other side of the galaxy or even worse, dead and even though you were relieved that you wouldn’t be alone in this freak show anymore you could see it on his face, that he didn’t exactly come to your rescue. You had quickly realized what the Grandmaster did with most prisoners and then had to watch him circle your brother like a hunter its prey, already expecting to have to either fight or plea for Lokis life. But only for him to smirk at Loki and then turn around to the woman next to him saying, “He’s pretty, let’s keep him.”

Thor arrived two weeks later but didn’t seem to have the same luck as Loki and you did. He was put into a cell under the gladiator arena while you two needed to keep up appearances. It was almost impossible to get a chance to speak with him. Not only because you were physically not allowed to even go near his cell, but also because when Loki used his magic to visit him he didn’t seem very cooperative.  And so the two of you had no choice but to leave him to fight his way out – as usual – while you started to forge a plan.

Everything seemed to go well all things considered. Loki weaselled his way into the Grandmasters‘ trusted circle, trying to find out more about how to leave the planet, while you mentally connected with Heimdall back home. Hela was wracking havoc raising an undead army and threatening to kill everyone who got in her way and you knew you were running out of time. Knowing that at least you weren’t alone, that at least for once in many years you and your brother all were in one place was your only solace.

“What do you mean with: he’s gone?” “Lost. Vanished. Vaporized into thin air. Nowhere to be seen.” Mouth slightly agape with shock you couldn’t believe what Loki had just told you. “But we had a plan!” Your brother only shrugged and you could already feel a headache forming. Cursing under your breath you massaged your temples with your pointer fingers, trying to make sense of the situation. “So our dear brother got lost on a planet where all the lost things end up?” you had your eyes closed, fingers still rubbing circles into your skin and trying not to freak out. “It seems as if someone would be able to do that, it’s Thor,” Loki said. Your eyes shot upon and you let your hands fall to your sides. “Are you joking?” you snapped, stunned at how little concerned he seemed. “I worked out a deal with the Grandmaster to find him, but he also put that little Valkyrie on it. We have to find him first or I’m afraid he will end up somewhere far worse than the cells,” he explained. “I can’t believe this.” Shaking your head you let yourself plop down onto the edge of your bed. “It’s not like he’s dead,” Loki tried to console you but it did little to calm your nerves. In fact, it only added to the anger that had been building up ever since you landed on this damn planet. “No, Loki. I’m sure he’s not.” You stood up again and raiseed your head to meet him at eye-level. “But you know what? Him going missing is just the cherry on top of what I needed.” Loki was eyeing you warily, his almost bored gaze suddenly beginning to warm up a little. “Are you okay?” he suddenly asked with a gentle voice that almost brought you to tears. “No! I’m not fucking okay! Our father just died, granted he wasn’t my favourite parent and he could be an asshole at times, but he was our father! And as if that wasn’t enough we find out we have a secret diabolic demon sister who is head bend on getting her revenge on someone who's already dead!” you were screaming out the last part, the absurdity of the whole situation just kicking in. Loki looked like he wanted to say something, but you weren’t finished. “But wait, there’s more! We’re stranded on a planet we’ve never even heard of in over a thousand years of being alive and we neither have a space ship to escape nor our brother apparently, who, if I have to remind you, is the fucking heir to the fucking throne!”

You knew you were being unfair, Thor may have put the blame on Loki, but you knew, that all of you and especially your father were equally to blame. But in the end that wouldn’t help the situation so you didn’t try to start a discussion about whose fault this really was. Your chest was heaving and you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders just getting all of this out, but you started to regret your harsh tone as soon you saw Lokis‘ face fall. “I know,” he said and suddenly wrapped his arms around you. Loki wasn’t a big hugger so this was very new but not unwelcome. “All of this is pure shit and I’m sorry you have to go through all of this. I’ll make it right, I promise, darling,” he said as he carefully rested his chin on top of your head. Great, now you really felt bad. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you mumbled and hid your face in the cold leather spanned over the expanse of his chest. Your voice was slightly muffled as you continued, enclosing your arms behind his back. “It’s not your fault. It’s just too much. Thor has gone off without us, we have no real way out of here and whether it’s Hela or Ragnarok, we’re gonna lose our home. I mean, why even try at this point?” “Don’t say that,” Loki argued, loosened the hug and held you at arm's length to look at your face, fingers slightly digging into the flesh of your upper arms. He could see the tears threatening to spill and put on a firm, but gentle face. “We can’t give up. That’s your home Hela is invading. We can fight her. We can win.” “How can you be so sure?” you croaked out, a salty tear finally rolling down your heated cheek. Loki smiled faintly, thumb brushing away another tear and his blue eyes full of determination. “We always win.” You tried to believe him, you really did but realistically, what were your chances against a whole army? “What would you do, if you were to give up? Stay here?” Loki tried a different approach and looked around the room in disgust. Just the thought alone of staying on this garbage dump made you shiver with revulsion. A small smile tugged at his lips. “We’re gonna find Thor, I promise. And then we’ll make right what has gone wrong and you never have to think about this place or Hela ever again, okay?” You took a deep breath, running the back of your hand over your cheeks to dry the wet skin. “Okay,” you then said, voice a little shaky but you were finally calming down again. Loki always had this effect on you. Even when you were kids, he would always comfort you when you were feeling angry or upset and you were glad that after everything that had happened in the last years, at least that hadn’t changed. “Okay,” he repeated and tugged you against his chest again. Your fingers curled into the leather, just to make sure, he wouldn’t disappear too. “Thank you, Loki,” you mumbled and closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. Lokis hands were splayed out over your back when he leaned back a little and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.   “I love you, my darling sister.” And you knew, everything would be okay again. You would find Thor and then your little family would finally return home. Together.

#loki laufeyson #mcu #thor ragnarok #tom hiddleston #marvel #marvel fandom #avengers #one shot #reader insert #request #siblings #family #odinson #hela #sakaar #angst #fluff

[puddygeeks]

𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝑶𝒇 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 - 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝒙 𝑶𝑪 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 8: 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑶𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: 𝐴𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡.

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Status: Ongoing

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 & 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘. 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ: Pʀᴇ Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 1

Chapter Eight

“You know, it’s remarkably similar to Brighton Pier here.” I commented, fanning myself in desperation under the scolding sun and Ricky pushed his large sunglasses down to allow me to feel the full force of his judgement. “Well, except that it’s unmistakably hotter, obviously.”

“How dare you compare this beautiful sandy bliss to your pebble filled nightmare?” He remarked with a sweeping hand gesture at the beach, before sipping out of his straw with offence and I rolled my eyes at him.

Ricky has always been a force to be reckoned with, but as he got older, he only grew more confident and I was constantly inspired by how comfortable he was in himself. His thick brunette hair reached his collarbones now, but he currently had it pushed back out of his face with a colourful bandana so that he could tan. In order for him to worship the sun to his full capacity, he was wearing a worryingly small pair of shorts and had stretched himself across a lounger like the diva that he absolutely was.

“Hmm. Your actual beach is better, I’ll give you that one. But you’re seriously lacking on drag queens, quirky cafes and fancy boutiques to shop in.” I pointed out, fondly recalling the whirlwind weekend that we’d spent in the British city the last time that he’d visited me and he shrugged in defeat.

“Touché. You win this round.” He admitted, laying back to bask himself again, whilst I shuffled my sensitive skin further under the sun umbrella that he’d reluctantly agreed to allow me to bring over on the condition that it didn’t cause a single shred of shade over him.

It was a beautiful day, only improved by the quality of my company and I had to admit that I was endlessly pleased to have decided to extend my stay for another few days. Despite the years that had passed since we had last been in each other's physical company, Ricky was still able to put me at ease in a way that no one else had ever been able to emulate and I cherished the opportunity to simply relax with him at the Virginia Boardwalk.

“So, what’s it like being an FBI agent?” Ricky asked, turning his attention back to me with a smug expression. “Is it wonderful knowing that you have the power to stop anyone in their tracks? I would absolutely abuse my power for evil, but I know you’re too pure for that.” He muttered with delight and I chuckled at him knowingly. The things that he would use an FBI badge to accomplish didn’t even bear thinking about.

“Darling. I already told you. I’m not an FBI agent. I’m still a technical analyst for Interpol. I’m just on loan.” I repeated, already losing count of how many times I had made this distinction, but he still seemed as unconvinced by this as he was the first time that I told him.

“Oh, semantics! Sounds to me like you’re working for them and considering that you saved a girl from a burning building like a freaking hero, I’m just going to treat you like one.” He argued, seeming amused as if I were simply downplaying things, when realistically, it was a case of him dramatising the arrangement, as he did with most things. “We have an FBI agent in the family. That’s pretty cool.”

“There is absolutely no reasoning with you.” I groaned, shaking my head in embarrassment and he shrugged dismissively, as if this were an obvious fact that I should have accepted already. “How’s university going? Have you sorted your accommodation for your second year yet?”

“College is going fine. I’ve done a fantastic job being the life of the party, so I have plenty of offers for people to live with. My only struggle is choosing people who aren’t completely filthy as housemates. I can’t live in a grubbly little student hovel.” He explained, seeming repulsed by the very idea and I raised a brow at his diva attitude. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not being dramatic. My first year in dorms, I shared a bathroom with straight men. You don’t understand the trauma that I’ve lived through.”

“Does your mother know that you haven’t arranged housing yet?” I interrogated, already sensing a hint of dishonesty in him and his features quickly contorted into a guilty look. “Rituparan! I understand being picky, but you’ll end up with no choice other than to live with the grimy jocks if you don’t hurry up. You need to get organised.” I scolded, earning an eye roll so severe that I worried his face might never recover from the strain.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Alley Cat. I’ll get it sorted. Now, drink your mocktail before it gets too diluted.” He ordered, sipping down the last of his drink and placing the little umbrella from the top in his hair with a flourish. The moment that he faced me, I knew that he had mischief in mind.

“Okay. Are you ready? Who am I?” He pouted so dramatically that his cheeks all but disappeared and I almost choked on my drink.

“Oh, too easy! That is the unforgettable Lola, the only woman on the planet who considers a cocktail umbrella the perfect hair accessory for any occasion.” I answered, earning a cheer and wicked laugh of satisfaction from him. “You know, I love having someone else to mock dad’s exes with. You’d think the fact that he only dates women my age would mean we’d have something in common, but alas, apparently a sense of humour isn’t shared by age group.”

“Of course they’re not funny! The only thing those girls come with is a price tag.” He sassed, flipping his hair back out of his face in a ridiculously bitchy gesture and I was immediately reminded of just how much I loved him. “At least you don’t have to pretend to like Tanya anymore. Honestly, if she had a second brain cell, she’d be dangerous.”

“Oh, no! They broke up?” I gasped, almost sounding convincing with my upset and he whipped his head around with drastic confusion. “I guess she had to bleed my dad dry of pocket money eventually.” I drawled, prompting a small yelp of surprise and a quick high five from Ricky.

Tanya had been dating my dad for just over six months now, so I knew that she was likely to be approaching her expiration date soon. His routine was well known amongst the entire family now and in an effort to counter the embarrassment that it caused for my mother and I, it had become a running joke for us all to share.

“Didn’t you hear the details?” Ricky crooned, turning to face me fully on his lounger with a devious expression and I shrugged nonchalantly. “According to Maji, she tried to charge her lip fillers to his business credit card. Caused all sorts of uproar at the office. I guess she’ll be making that duck face at someone else’s wallet now.” He divulged, pouting into an exaggerated model face for effect and I struggled not to splutter my drink everywhere in response.

Ricky’s mother always seemed to know everything that was happening in our family and I’d long believed that this was where he’d learned to dig information out of people. She was abnormally gifted in guilt tripping the truth out of even the most hardened family members and yet, she doted on Ricky as if he was the very thing that made her world turn. If I ever wanted to know what was going on in my dad’s life, I knew that I could rely on her to be up to date with events.

Before I could manage to recover enough to speak, my mobile rang with it’s sharp tone and I had to clamber around in my bag to find it. As soon as I saw the private number, my eyes grew wide in dread.

“Oh, no! The bat phone?” Ricky asked, seeming genuinely horrified that I might be called into work and I quickly nodded, before holding a finger to my lips to shush him.

“Agent Hawthorne.” I answered, feeling utterly ridiculous referring to myself this way in my current company. This insecurity was only made worse by Ricky sliding his shades back on in a judgemental manner and I gestured to him to stop distracting me.

“Alice. This is Hotch. Are you still in Virginia?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was as serious as ever and though I was enormously relieved to find that it wasn’t anyone from Interpol trying to order me home, I felt nerves building in my chest already.

“Yes, Sir. I am.” I reported, noticing Ricky raising his brows at me in interest and I knew that he was dying to know what was being said.

“I realise that you’re spending time with family, but would you be able to come into the office for a meeting? I have a matter that I would like to discuss with you in person, if possible.” Hotch requested, allowing me absolutely no hint of the cause for this meeting and I felt my face change into one of alarm.

My mind had already begun racing with all of the possible complications that I could be facing for my actions at the base now that all of the documentation for the case had been submitted and I was terrified that if any further charges were brought against me, they could contradict the deal that I made with Interpol to avoid imprisonment.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll come in right away.” I stuttered, attempting to fight down my terror. My hands shook with nerves as I hung up on the call and Ricky looked positively thrilled to have been given the opportunity to witness this conversation, as if he’d just been personally included in a matter of national security.

“It’s a good thing that you went for virgin cocktails, my dear. I have to get back to Quantico.” I confessed, quickly burying my nerves so that he wouldn’t sense trouble.

“Oh my god! This is so exciting!” He announced, hopping straight to his feet and flustering to grab his belongings that were spread across every surface around him. “One cab for Agent Hawthorne, coming right up!”

--⥈--

Outfit: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/460070918191621506/

Standing in the lift of the Quantico building, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I had been in such a rush to get here that it hadn’t even crossed my mind to change clothes, or to do anything to prepare my appearance at all. Though I knew that I didn’t have any more office clothes with me anyway, I acknowledged that I could at least have found something that provided a little more coverage and didn’t leave me feeling so exposed.

The idea of walking through an office where everyone was dressed smartly, wearing a white floral mini dress was an absolute nightmare and I realised that I only had a few minutes to make any changes. All I could think to do was to untie my waist length hair, shaking it out to at least cover some of my arms and attempting to make it look styled.

The doors opened to reveal a full office, with most of the team present at their desks and I gulped nervously. My dress felt as if it had actually shrunk in size since the beach now that I would be seen in it by people that I had worked with and I had to remind myself that I had bigger things to worry about with being called to come here than my attire.

JJ’s heels clicked on the polished floor as she entered the reception, her professional appearance clashing horribly with the casual style of my low top converses and I tried not to feel intimidated.

“Alice! I know that I said we wanted to see you again soon, but this is a little crazy.” She breezed as she approached me with a warm smile and I tried to force myself to relax. “Hotch is just finishing a call and he’ll be out to meet you.” She explained, before her gaze fell onto my outfit and I felt myself physically become stiff under her scrutiny. “You look pretty!”

“Oh, thanks. I was just on the beach. I’ve already worn all of my work clothes so, um, this is all I have?” I offered, shifting awkwardly and she smiled sympathetically at me.

“We’ve all been called in at unexpected times. I was literally collected from home in my pajamas once. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She soothed, leaning closer to me as she spoke so that no one would overhear my concern and I let out a long breath in relief.

“Besides, I know that Hotch is just going to appreciate you being able to come in at such short notice. I hope you got to enjoy at least a little bit of your time off before we intruded?” She asked with an honest concern in her eyes and just as I opened my mouth to see if she could give me even the slightest hint of what to expect, Hotch stepped into the room.

“Alice. Thank you for coming so quickly.” He stated in his usual serious manner, reaching straight to shake my hand and I complied immediately, forcing a smile through my nerves. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your time. Let’s talk in my office.” He offered, opening the glass doors to the main office for me and I stepped through hesitantly.

Within approximately two steps of entering the space, I could already feel eyes on me and tried not to allow myself to be unnerved by the attention. The anxious voice in the back of my mind screamed that I was the most inappropriate looking member of staff to ever enter this office, but I forced myself to keep my head held high as Ricky had always preached.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Spencer was watching me from his desk as if he’d been stopped in his tracks and I waved subtly at him, prompting him to hurriedly do the same back in a fluster. Morgan passed Hotch distractedly, before he noticed that I was following him with obvious surprise.

“Looking good, Poppins. Welcome back.” He muttered as he squeezed beside me, sneaking a charming smile and thanks to the combined warmth of the two men, once again I felt my nerves beginning to settle slightly.

Hotch encouraged me to take a seat in his office, before closing the door behind us and I felt as if I couldn’t think straight in the silence that followed. He settled into the seat opposite me, knitting his hands together on the desk between us and despite feeling before that I had reached the point where I could understand his expressions, his face at this moment was completely unreadable.

“For a start, I want to discuss what happened at the Twenty Nine Palms base.” He opened, his stern eyes studying my face for every minute reaction and though my heart sank at the suggested topic, I nodded back calmly.

“Whilst it can’t be denied that your actions resulted in saving a young girl's life, they were also unacceptably reckless. You demonstrated absolutely no regard for your own safety and jeopardised the reputation of the whole team. You are aware that we appreciate your support, but I’m not convinced that you realise we are legally and morally responsible for your wellbeing whilst you are under our service and that I would be personally held accountable for your death as a result of your irresponsible actions.” He lectured, his voice sounding even more severe than it had when I was in the ambulance and I felt my confidence crumbling with every word that he spoke.

It became clear that he had paused his speech to allow me the chance to explain myself and I cleared my throat to speak with a feeling of terror.

“I’m truly sorry for my actions, Sir. You are entirely right. I was reckless and selfish, and I didn’t consider how my behaviour would reflect on your team, and especially on you. I’m not going to make excuses. I just want you to know that I accept any and all consequences that you feel are appropriate.” I answered calmly, ensuring that I kept my tone calm and respectful, and he sighed as he studied me.

“I didn’t call you in here to punish you, Alice. This is a conversation, not a lecture. What I aim to understand is why an agent with no field experience, or any personal stake in the case, felt that they had no choice other than to risk their own life to save a child who they’d never met?” He clarified, his entire demeanour remaining unchanged even as he moved to a gentler tactic of questioning and I chewed on my lip.

It took a few moments for me to consider how best to answer this, but eventually I decided that I respected this team as a whole too much to lie. I prepared myself for a conversation that I knew would likely change his opinion of me permanently, but assured myself that honesty was a necessity at this point.

“When I was fifteen years old, my mother was abducted.” I began, glancing down at my hands as I spoke to avoid the intensity of his gaze. “It took four months for her to be found and when she came home, she was a different person. I never saw the mother that went missing again.” I paused, clearing my throat to keep the emotion from my voice before continuing.

“Three years later, a girl at my university went missing. She wasn’t the first, but the stakes were high as all of the others had been found murdered. I obsessed over everything that my mother had survived to come home and I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to endure that at just eighteen years old. So, I began looking into the case and after a while of digging, I compiled enough information to anonymously assist law enforcement in safely recovering the missing girl. I realised then that I had the skills to make a difference to the world and I kept going, one missing person at a time, until Interpol found me.”

“You were given a choice between conviction, or working for them?” Hotch asked knowingly, as if he’d seen this very situation many times before and I recalled the recent conversation that I’d had with Penelope about hackers frequently being recruited through their questionable activities. I nodded slowly in response, deciding that this wasn’t the time to divulge any further information about the circumstances of my hiring.

“I didn’t join this field by choice. It was never the plan for my life. Don’t get me wrong, I always wanted to help people. I actually trained to become a psychiatrist, like my dad, but a job like this had never even been on my radar. Yet, here I am.” I explained, shrugging awkwardly as I realised that this sounded like I was ungrateful for the mercy that I was shown and I tried to be more careful with my wording when I spoke again.

“When I was standing in front of that building, watching the smoke pour out of it, all I could think about was how my mother told me that she spent every minute of every day that she was in captivity praying to come home. I could just imagine Amanda doing the same thing, hoping with everything she had that someone would save her and I was right there.” I stopped as frustration seeped into my voice, allowing myself to regain control so that I could resume my explanation.

“I knew that there was a chance that she was still alive and I felt like everything that had happened, all of the crazy unplanned situations that had led me to being there at that exact time were so that I could save her. It sounds insane, but it was like my legs moved before I had even decided what I was going to do. For the first time in my career, I trusted my team, this team to have my back and with all due respect, Sir, it was the right thing to do.” I finally finished my rant, forcing myself to meet his eyes to allow him to see my sincerity and I was shocked to find that his face was filled with understanding, causing me to realise that he was already filling in the blanks between my words.

“You said that this was the first time that you felt this way about your team. You shouldn’t be working with people that you can’t rely on. In our line of work, we are forced to face horrors that most people can’t even begin to imagine. The people around you should be your anchor in the storm.” Hotch advised, causing my eyes to become watery and I sniffed back my emotions, desperate not to cry in front of him. “You have options, Alice.”

“What options? Prison?” I scoffed, recalling my conversation with Shepard with a flinch.

Though I had thought in detail about leaving Interpol many times since my recruitment, I knew in a serious light that it was merely a fantasy and nothing more. Without my employment to them, I was considered as nothing more than a threat to security and returning to normal civilian life was no longer something that I could consider.

“Join our team.” Hotch offered, causing my mouth to drop open in shock and I noticed the corners of his lips twitch slightly upward at my reaction.

“It’s clear that you are neither happy, nor valued at Interpol. You have already proven the difference that you could make across multiple cases and the entire team have agreed that you make an excellent addition.” He elaborated, listing reasons that I struggled to even associate with myself and I couldn’t seem to form a response, as I stuttered in the silence.

“But, I-Sir, we just discussed how I jeopardised this team. I don’t mean to seem rude, or ungrateful because I absolutely am not, but I fail to see how I’ve given you the impression that I would make a suitable field agent. You already have Penelope for technical support, so I’m not sure what else you could need me for here.” I pointed out, hardly able to wrap my head around the sudden detour that this conversation had taken and found myself baffled at the very concept of him offering to employ me.

“When your team brought you for the Valeno case, you showed potential that they were purposefully dismissive of. After you left, Gideon suggested that I speak to you about a position within the BAU. Unfortunately, at the time we didn’t have the available resources to do this. Due to the recent successes of this team, we’ve been granted the budget to expand and I would be foolish to ignore a candidate who has already contributed to that success. You are a good fit and the first choice of every member in this unit.” He presented, completely disregarding my concerns and when I looked at him with confusion, he sighed.

“I have discussed the recent incident with Gideon and we share the opinion that with the correct mentoring and the support of a team that believes in your worth, you could be an exceptional field agent.” He divulged, causing me to raise my brows impossibly higher in surprise.

It was bizarre enough that Hotch wanted me to join the team, but finding out that Gideon had been the instigator for this offer blew what remained of my psyche to pieces and Hotch cleared his throat to regain my attention from my inner turmoil.

“The offer would, of course, be conditional. It would be based on your own commitment to overcoming your experiences. None of us are immune to personal biases and each of us have elements of our pasts that make certain cases more challenging for us than the others. However, we rely on each other to hold us accountable, and have all learned to be objective and to know our limits. If you think this is something that you can also undertake, then there is a place here for you. As long as you want it.” Hotch clarified, causing me to stare back at him in blatant disbelief.

“I-I honestly don’t know what to say.” I stuttered, fiddling with my hair anxiously and Hotch cracked a rare smile at me. “It isn’t as simple for me as just changing state. My life is in France now. I’ve already left my mum behind once in England. I’d also have to renounce my dual nationality and become an American citizen.” I thought aloud, considering the enormity of the decision before me and Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked nervously, unsure of what else to say and Hotch seemed completely unsurprised by my reaction, as if he’d actually been expecting it.

“Of course. It’s a serious decision that you aren’t expected to make right away. Take all of the time that you need.”

--⥈--

“Girl. Your life is crazy!” Ricky gasped, studying me with a fascinated expression and I had to laugh at his dramatic reaction, despite mostly agreeing with the sentiment. “You’re gonna say yes, right?”

I sighed deeply as I considered this question and the way that he considered me now revealed exactly how insane he thought I was for even needing to think about it. In order to avoid his prying eyes, I stood to start clearing away the takeaway boxes that littered my hotel room bed, but Ricky refused to be silenced.

“Alice. Honey. What are you doing?! Life at Interpol has been miserable for you since day one. You said it yourself. I can’t imagine anything there that could be worth turning this offer down for!” He scolded, staring at me in complete disbelief and I shook my head at his youthful attitude to things.

“It’s more complicated than that. I never planned to work in this sector at all, much less as an FBI agent!” I explained, still struggling to process the fact that this was even an option that was open to me. It felt as if it had come from nowhere and I was already overwhelmed with the mere concept of making such a serious life decision.

“This isn’t just a job that we’re talking about here. It’s a completely different life. I need to be sure that I can handle it, before I move away from everything that I know. I’d hardly ever get to see mum and Roger.” I clarified, struggling to make him understand the severity of the situation.

“You never visit your mama anyway! I should know. I overhear Maji talking to her about it enough.” He groaned, only causing me to feel even worse about the idea of moving even further away from her.

“Besides, if you took it then you’d be living right near me and there isn’t any better benefit than that!” He added, posing across the bed as if he were the most important factor in the proposal and I chuckled at him with fondness. He sighed at my lack of enthusiasm, before dropping to a more serious tone.

“The most important thing for all of us is your happiness. You’d be crazy to stay somewhere that is making your whole existence taste like bad Aloo Gobi. And you deserve better than that! You deserve for your life to always be like Maji’s cooking, full of love and happiness.” He described, seeming as if he’d distracted himself along the way and he glanced back down at his plastic container of curry with disdain.

“You realise that you have a gift for being able to relate literally anything to food, right?” I remarked playfully, observing him with amazement and he shrugged carelessly.

“Food is one of the most enjoyable things that sustains us. It’s important.” He argued passionately and I couldn’t think of a single point to dispute his statement with, having to allow him the pleasure of being correct. “Fortunately, Mumbai Gardens is able to provide an almost authentic experience, right here in the heart of Virginia. A good meal can heal many things, you know. Even the stress of your biggest ever life decision.”

“That’s high praise coming from you. Could it pass the home test though, do you think?” I queried with curiosity as I disposed of the remaining trash with the Mumbai Gardens logo on it and he scoffed as if I’d asked something utterly ridiculous.

“Not a chance! Even Mama would be able to tell you that it wasn’t completely correct. You know, she’s actually been with Maji long enough now to have better cooking taste than some of my other actual Indian friends.” He revealed, showing his love for his step mom, who happened to be my paternal aunt Heather, clear in his voice.

I couldn’t withhold a wide grin as I thought of my aunts, both filled with a warmth that radiated even in my memories. Heather and Ricky’s mum, Nabhitha, had been married for almost ten years now and were the main reason that I still had any faith in true love. They had done an admirable job of raising Ricky together, with Heather always treating him as if he was her biological son and I was endlessly proud of them. Thanks to them, Ricky had grown into the confident, funny teenager that I loved. Their blissful blended family gave me hope for my own future.

“I just had an idea.” Ricky breezed, sitting up particularly straight as if he could barely contain his enthusiasm and I turned back to face him with interest. “If you take this job, we could totally rent a place together! I could be your stylist extraordinaire, in-house councillor and professional Indian chef.” He suggested, his eyes gleaming with excitement and I scoffed loudly at the idea.

“Absolutely not. I’ve already got enough on my plate, without considering parenting you, Ricky.” I laughed, wincing at even the thought of dealing with his dramatics on a daily basis and he gasped at my refusal, seeming as if he could never have expected me to refuse his generous offer. “You can be as offended as you like, but I still don’t have the energy to deal with a college kid in my space. I’m not gonna be your easy way out of student housing. Pick some other teenagers to live with already.”

“Fine. I was offering you a lifestyle of sheer luxury, but I guess I’ll just have to take my fabulous self somewhere that I’ll be better appreciated.” He announced, acting as if he were hurt by my denial, before quickly softening back into a smile barely a few seconds later. “You should definitely think some more about taking the job though, queen. You deserve a fresh start.”

“We’ll see.” I conceded with a chuckle, desperate to simply end the conversation. “Now, which film do you want to rent?”

#War Of Hearts #criminal minds #oc #fanfic #fanfiction #Alice #Alice Hawthorne #Spencer Reid #Penelope Garcia #Jennifer Jereau #Derek Morgan #Aaron Hotchner #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid series #criminal minds oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds insert #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

[shhhlikeme]

Hi love, just wanted to say that you’re so gorgeous and have a lovely smile. I’m a dark skin black girl and have often been told/read hurtful posts about us, but now I’m more confident than ever about being a dark skin girl 🥰.If it’s not too much to ask could you do any character you want with that has a date with his s/o and when he arrives she just glowing in her yellow dress. Like idk if you get the vibe I’m tryna put down but the melanin is hitting different 🤤

Thank you so much for the compliments omg ❤️❤️❤️

BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE beautiful! I know black women don’t hear that a lot and that’s why I will tell y’all everyday if I need to. Also, today is national economic blackout day for the culture, therefore I waited to post this today.

& as per your message I absolutely get the vibe!!!!! And you know I had to choose the GOAT Akaashi for this since you left it up to me👀

Here goes:

————————————-

Akaashi Keiji x Black Crush In a Beautiful Yellow Dress (Fluff)

————————————-

Akaashi was NOT ready.

You and Akaashi had been besties for 10 or so years, because your moms have been in the same book club since elementary school

Even though you recently graduated from to different high schools, you both had a good and healthy friendship

You knew that he wasn’t big on talking a lot but you spoke even less than him so it honestly worked well

He was into volleyball and you were really serious about dance

Your moms would always say you just “get” eachother

To Keiji, he was content with having the best of both worlds as best friends: Bokuto: the loud boisterous one, and You: the quiet, beautiful one

Wait did he say beautiful? He meant um... the quiet, wallflower one. sure

Nah he definitely meant beautiful too.

Tbh, Akaashi was very attracted to you via your personality because you were thoughtful, intelligent and relaxing to be around

He thinks of you as the human embodiment of a warm bath at the end of a moving day

And as for your looks.....

Bokuto put his best friends physical attraction to you into words best when he said:

“You want to have Y/N’s babies, don’t you Akaashi? Hmmmmm?”

Akaashi, deadpanning asf, would always answer

“No I do not.”

But when Bokuto would continuously catch him on your instagram page he would keep asking like the pushy friend he is.

At Bokuaka sleepovers, or when they were completely alone is the only time Akaashi would reluctantly but honestly respond to Bokuto’s question with a:

“I wouldn’t mind.”

which is basically undying admission of love by Akaashi standards

Basically, he was crushing on you hard

He admired your dark hair that you always changed into different styles because he never understood how you made them all look attractive

He admired your full lips that he always seemed to have to internally yell at himself to stop staring at when you spoke

He admired your kind and gentle spirit that always seemed to gravitate toward earth tones in attire-expression and he never seemed to understand why

He guessed that being the wallflower that you are; dark colours like black, brown, beige, grey, moss, etc. Acted as a shield as to not bring too much attention to you

He didn’t really care that you stuck to wearing earth tones because you looked beautiful no matter what you wore

But in his dreams he’d always pictured you in bright pink, blue, orange lingerie shirts

He was curious so he asked one day

totally not because he wanted to know how realistic his dreams could be

“Y/N, why do you only wear dark colours?” Asked the most beautiful guy in the world Akaashi as he turned the steering wheel making a left onto the parkway.

The two of you were going to his brother’s wedding rehearsal dinner. You had decided to wear a simple dark button down blouse tucked into a grey pencil skirt. Your curly hair was up in a messy bun and you had your glasses on. You thought you looked whatever.

Akaashi, on the other hand, thought you looked stunning. And like a hot librarian. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the road and not your exposed legs as you sat beside him in the passenger seat.

“Do I?” You looked down at yourself and sighed. You’d never really noticed before, but he was right. You just felt more comfortable in tones that didn’t make you stand out.

“Yeah. Why don’t you try wearing a bright colour sometime? I think......I think you’d look really nice.” Keiji’s eyes looked unaffected as ever but inside he was kicking himself for flirting with you, knowing how shy you are.

“Oh, okay.” Your heart fluttered at your friend’s compliment and you distracted yourself by taking your eyeglasses off and using your blouse collar to clean it where it opened on your chest.

Akaashi almost crashed because when you did that your blouse opened more exposing your glowing chocolate skin. In his mind, his imagination took over and he pulled over to ravish your beautiful skin by ripping open the blouse and kissing your gorgeous dark skin. His eyes glazed over as he imagined you telling him that you want him closer than this car allowed and so he dropped your seat down and got on top of you, kissing your delicious lips and then going back to taste your delicious skin. You were moaning in his ear which was the best sound he’s ever heard and then it was his turn to moan when you reached down to stroke his hard........

“KEIJI-SAN WATCH OUT!”

Keiji was thrust back into reality when he rapidly swerved back into his own car lane. The first thing he did was check to see if you were okay and he was able to breathe again when he saw you looking back at him laughing that angelic laugh. You placed your glasses back on your beautiful face and Akaashi apologized. He asked if you were scared and wanted him to stop driving because he was obviously a new driver. You only placed a hand on his arm and shook your head, assuring him in your quiet voice.

“It’s okay Kashi’, I know you’re a great driver. I trust you.”

“Y-you do?”

“Of course. I trust you more than anyone.” You gave him that smile that he thinks about before he goes to sleep every night and just like that he relaxed and all was well in the world again. He thought back to Bokuto’s daily question, admitting to himself that he not only wanted to have your babies, he wanted to have the pleasure of calling you his girlfriend or anything higher. He’d definitely accept wife.

“Maybe I’ll go shopping with my mom and find a colour to wear to the wedding, you know, take your advice.”

“That would be great.” He pulled into the beach wedding venue parking lot. “I’m ready to see the new Y/N.”

But Akaashi was NOT ready

He was absolutely the furthest thing from ready, 3 weeks later, when he picked you up on his brothers wedding day.

He knew you were still getting ready inside and so he decided to enjoy the weather and lean on his car hood to wait

You never took long because you were a natural beauty, but you put on a little bit of makeup today

You grabbed your clutch and touched up your edge control before spritzing yourself with some of Akaashi’s favourite perfume

You went outside and locked your door.

Turning around, you literally wanted to freeze this moment in time, because THE Keiji Akaashi—literally the most stunning boy 90% of girls have ever seen—was standing outside of his car, much to your surprise

He had his navy blue tuxedo jacket folded over his left arm and he wore a light grey dress shirt underneath held together by a black bow tie. His disheveled hair looked like he had sat in the barber chair of Jesus himself and he hadn’t noticed your arrival yet since you were still on the steps of your deck.

You took a second to compose yourself before stepping toward him as if everything was normal—as if you weren’t lawlessly crushing on this man.

Hearing your heels clack on the smoothed pavement, Akaashi lifted his head up to see you

Remember when I said he was not ready?

Allow me to show you exactly what he wasn’t ready for:

Akaashi felt as though all the air left his lungs when he saw you.

He told you to wear a bright colour but he didn’t know the yellow dress and your dark skin-combo would make him feel like crying

After seeing you in greys and blacks and dull nudes his whole life and still looking pretty, he couldn’t handle himself when you wore a colour that accurately communicated how he sees you: like his literal light

“Good God,” Akaashi gulped.

Keiji is a well-known quiet guy, but even his loudest friend Bokuto wouldn’t be able to beat how loud his emotions screamed at him from inside when he looked at you. You literally had him by the heartstrings, looking like that.

He realized that he is embarassed to admit all that he would give to see you in a yellow bra and panty set.

You smiled up and him and did a spin, so he could see the full picture of the dress. His eyes missed the dress because he couldn’t stop looking at your face.

“I saw it on a mannequin at the mall the other day and never thought my skin would go with it... but after what you said I went back to get it and—“

“Y/N. You— you look—-that colour—-your skin—-You—I—Good....God,” he repeated himself. Akaashi was only slightly disappointed that he couldn’t express to you how much your skin tone WAS MADE for this colour. You were magical.... a queen.

He didn’t want to go to his brothers wedding anymore. He wanted to stand there and stare at the way the sunlight hit your complexion and glistened. He wanted to stand there and have you spin around for him again. He wanted to have your mf-ing babies.

“You’re doing that thing again, Kashi. The thing you did in the car? Don’t we have to go pick up Bokuto, now? Let’s go!”

You gave him a ‘chop chop’ snap and climbed in the car.

When you got in you were so thankful for your dark skin because your blush wasn’t showing. The way your best friend has been looking at you was too passionate, too deep, too full of emotional and physical desire. It made you want to tell him your feelings.

outside, Keiji had still been in a trance, letting out one more “Good.....God,” before he had to literally slapped himself and hopped in the car.

Think of Bokuto Think of Bokuto Think of Bokuto, he chanted internally before pulling out of your driveway.

Speaking of the devil......

“AKAAAASHI!” Yelled his grey-headed best friend as he pulled open the back door of his car. “And, who’s that—wait—Y/N?!”

You gave your best friend’s best friend a weak smile. You were so embarassed by the way he was looking at you.

Bokuto slammed the door behind him and applauded loudly. “Now, I’ve always been jealous whenever you take my Akaashi away from me because he wants to spend time with you, but now I understand why. You’re a 10 when you aren’t hiding behind those freaking vampire colours!!!”

“Bokuto.” Akaashi reprimanded his annoying friend and Bokuto pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key.

Meanwhile, you were regretting wearing this colour. It drew the attention that you always tried hard to avoid.

Akaashi noticed your internal regret, even while driving....so he reached over to place a hand on your thigh.

“Y/N, you said you trust me right?”

You looked at him for a second before nodding.

Keiji elevated at the admission. “Then, trust me when I say you look beautiful. I’m so happy you wore that dress today.”

You smiled, that smile only reserved for him again, and he just about proposed on the spot.

“AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!! Hey, hey, hey! Maybe you two love birds should be the ones getting marr—“

Akaashi deadpanned in the rear view mirror, catching Bokuto’s eye immediately. “Bokuto.”

Frightened, Bokuto muttered a quick “Shutting up.” Before actually doing so.

Don’t get him wrong. Akaashi was happy to have his best guy friend at the wedding.

Very happy.

Because Boku was like an alarm...warning him whenever he was acting like a freak around the the girl he has a crush on

Bokuto would just nudge him and smirk whenever Akaashi was drawing attention to himself because he was looking at you in the crowd when his attention should be on his brother and his fiancé saying their vows.

When Akaashi saw you and your mom run over to dip your feet in the water on the beach, then run away because a cold wave hit up to your shins, your smile radiant and your yellow dress flying in the wind, Bokuto nudged him again because he was staring when he had to take pictures with the groom

At night, when Keiji was throwing back shots way more than Bokuto knew his best friend to even like, simply because one of his brothers groomsmen had been talking to you for the better part of the hour and he didn’t fucking like it, Bokuto not only nudged Keiji but he told the bartender to cut him off.

“Go talk to Y/N.” Bokuto grabbed the drink out of Keiji’s hand and drank it.

Akaashi shook his head. “No. S-she’s out of my league.”

Bokuto scoffed. “You do know that you’re literally the best looking person I’ve ever seen in my life right? Like seriously. You look like your face was made in a fucking lab. By chicks. By hot chicks, like Y/N, working together to come up with concoctions to Science their way to make the best looking dude—“

Keiji rolled his eyes. “Is there a point coming at the end of this?”

“Yeah. There is, impatient pants. I was going to say that I wonder if the hot chicks who made you wore bikinis the whole time while they leaned over eachother fighting over the pencil for the blueprint sketches—“

“A point about Y/N, Bokuto! Y/N. The only girl I care about. The only girl I want to talk about. Come back down to this earth. Where. Is. The. Point?”

“Oh. Yeah. Geez, take a chill pill will ya?”

“Bokuto......” He warned. Already on edge because you were now slow dancing with that guy at the wedding instead of being the wallflower you usually were. He liked it better when he was the only one who noticed you. In a way.... But then he remembered how colourful you looked when you got complimented all day and he immediately retracted the thought. Akaashi wanted nothing more than for you to reach your fullest potential, and wearing colours that expressed your beauty would be step one. He yearned to be the one who could bring you up the rest of the steps, because he’d tell you everyday how damn amazing you are. He just wished you weren’t so damn alluring to the majority of men.

Bokuto held his hands up in surrender. “Damn! Okay. Look, my point is...that it doesn’t matter how good looking you are or Y/N is, because everyone knows that even if you two were fugly you’d still have the love story of the generation because your connection is on a whole other level.”’

“What?” Keiji jeered. He didn’t like the idea of your name and ‘anything but beautiful’ being in the same sentence.

“Man, chill. Look, I won’t say anything else. I’m just going to grab Y/N from Mr. I-Didn’t-Make-It-To-The-NFL-But-I-Can-Still-Pull-A-Trophy-Wife over there. When she gets here, try not to ‘Good God’ her to death, hm? She’s gorgeous, yes, but like I said—so are you. Inside and out.”

Without listening to his denial like always, Bokuto somehow slipped in to the dance you were currently having and began dancing with Y/N

As a dancer, you loved moments when you could do it, and Akaashi was falling harder for you every time you spun around elegantly

Bokuto made some bs excuse about not being able to dance for long and waved his best friend over

Akaashi’s legs moved automatically because he has been wanting to be near you the entire night.

Like a fairytale ball sequence, Bokuto handed you off and you were now met with the waiting and hesitant arms of your best friend

Keiji asked if it was alright to touch your waist and you smiled and said yes

As you two danced, you going at the pace you knew Akaashi would be best at.....you took a second to really feel the energy

Your bodies were like magnets and you two were feeling the pull like never before

you leaned forward to rest your head against your best friends chest as you settled into a simple back and forth sway

As he held your waist closer and rubbed his thumbs soothingly in the crevice of your back dimples......

You understood that what you were now feeling was love

What you’ve been feeling for months, what you felt when you spoke to him of trust, when you watched him drive, when he put an extra blanket on you when you two watched movies, when he looked at you in your yellow dress, when you rested your head on his chest.....your mind, body and soul were all telling you one thing. They were louder than ever now. Shouting at you to tell Akaashi those 3 magic words so you two could see where the next level of your relationship would take you. It wouldn’t take much to say—

“I love you.”

Flabbergasted with yourself, you jumped back from his chest so you were looking at him. You couldn’t believe you had the audacity to say it!!!!!

Your mind now jumbled, you thought of an excuse to blame it on the 0% alcohol you had had before you realized..........that you don’t have a deep voice............nor have you opened your mouth since you rested your head on your best friend’s chest.......

“Wh-what?” You asked breathlessly.

Akaashi was looking down at you, confident that he had made you wear a dress that brought out your beauty so fiercely that it ultimately forced him to confess.

“I love you, Y/N. And if we’re always talking about trust......Then trust me when I tell you that I think I always have.”

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

I find I enjoy writing both nsfw and fluff equally and you guys request it basically half and half, so the next post will be much more smutty cause you know--balance. 

#black reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #fluff #sfw #haikyuu requests #haikyuu!! #haikyuu boys #haikyuu romance #black lives matter

[cherryrogers]

when dusk falls {1}

WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | royal au

warnings: mentions of war, death, rape + forced marriage. pure angst tbh.

summary: One fateful afternoon, your blissful life as the beloved princess of Taria comes to a sudden halt.

a/n: ok so i am very excited for this fic. more excited than i’ve ever been to write a fic ever, i really hope you guys like it !! it’ll likely be a slow burn, and i’m gonna try so hard to do weekly updates (unheard of from me i know !!) anyway please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!

series masterlist

The Kingdom of Taria was said to be the most beautiful place on the planet. A verdant location, rich with greenery from north to south. Known as the planet’s garden, visitors would travel for days overseas simply to inhale the fresh scent of the crisp air upon arriving within Taria’s borders. The civilians were lovely, always smiling and willing to offer tours of the gardens and markets. And the monarchs — the most loved the world had ever seen. They lived in a fabulous palace in the centre of the green land, one of the oldest buildings to exist in Taria. The palace front garden was free for anyone to roam, a place where the King and Queen could be seen waving from their balcony, broad smiles covering their lips.

And the Princess; she was the kingdom’s gem.

Adored by the people of Taria and those of allied kingdoms, you made it your mission to be less of a princess to your people, and more of a friend. You played with the children in the palace garden on sunny afternoons, went to tea with the women who sold baked goods at the markets, helped their sons with schoolwork when you had time to spare — there wasn’t a single name you could put to a face. You felt so free, so lucky to be engaged with the people that made Taria as wonderful as it was. You didn’t even need personal guards, not when there wasn’t a soul in the kingdom that wanted to hurt a hair on your head.

The life you were so grateful to live, that you cherished so close to your heart — it was terrifying how easily it was stripped from you. How easily Hydra ripped you away from the golden dream that it was.

You’d been hiding in your library, laid out on a plush beige couch, the skirt of your royal blue dress spilling over the edge, flipping through the pages of a thick, hardback mystery novel. It’d been gifted to you by Sharon, your lady-in-waiting and best friend before that. She’d left you alone in the library momentarily while running to bring you both a steaming cup of chamomile tea; an essential when reading, she’d insisted. If you weren’t so caught up in your book, perhaps you would’ve noticed Sharon had been gone for nearly ten minutes. It was only when the sound of commotion erupted from behind the large doors of the library that your eyes finally flickered up, and when they did, your friend was suddenly bursting through the doors, a frightened expression on her face.

“Sharon, what’s wrong?” You’d slipped your bookmark between the pages of your novel before placing it at your feet.

The blonde rushed towards you, taking your hand and tugging you up from the couch. “We must go.”

Your face contorted in confusion, but Sharon didn’t care to explain as she snatched you away from the centre of the grand room, making a beeline to the back door of the room that led into your personal garden. Her hand was tight like a vice around your wrist, pressing your bracelets uncomfortably into your skin.

“What was with the yelling outside?” You questioned breathlessly, struggling to keep up with her pace as she pushed open the glass garden doors. “And why— my gosh, why are we running?”

Winding through the plethora of brilliantly coloured roses and tulips, you shrieked as you closely avoided tripping over your own feet, bare and aching from the gravel of the pavement between the square plots of flowers sticking to your soles. Everything was happening so fast, even the colours of the garden were blending together as you tried to figure out what could’ve been going on.

Sharon’s hand fleetingly let go of your wrist as you steadied yourself, and before she could clasp it back in her grip, you ripped it out of her reach.

She narrowed her eyes. “_____, we don’t have time—”

“Tell me what’s going on.” You folded your arms over your chest, the waver in your voice telling Sharon that you needed to know then and there, your nerves beginning to build more with each passing second.

The woman was about to object, but since you weren’t aware of the gravity of the situation, she decided telling you may have been a better option — whatever got you away from the palace the as soon as possible. Sighing quickly, she held your upper arms in urgency. “It’s Hydra, they’re here. Here for you.”

In that moment, you swore your heart had never dropped so low in your stomach. “For me? What— What do they want with me?”

“I don’t know; as soon as I heard your name, I ran to find you. They’re searching the palace for you right now, _____, we need to get to the stables and leave before they find you.”

She took your hand in hers, ready to make a run for it, but you didn’t budge. Mouth hung open in shock, you were paralysed on the spot.

The Kingdom of Hydra was a dark place. Plagued with freezing temperatures and harsh blizzards, the majority kept far away from it. The effects of a long dictatorship had set in over the decades, making it the complete opposite of Taria. King Alexander called all the shots, passed laws that benefited him, denied laws that benefited the public. Crime was at an all time high; women raped every day, markets trashed and robbed, murders around every corner — the King didn’t bat an eye. Nobody did. The only reason people stayed was because they had to. It was against the law to migrate unless the circumstances were exceptional, but realistically they’d never be severe enough for the King to lose tax money over.

Attempts at rebellions had spiked over the years, usually only consisting of not even one hundred civilians wanting to fight the system. The King’s father, who occupied the throne before him, was killed by a rebel when the castle was attacked by hundreds of men wielding pitchforks. Once Alexander became king, he threatened that any civilian who dared to rebel against the monarchy would be sentenced to death without question. While there were still quieter rebel forces waiting for their moment to strike, most were ultimately too fearful to take physical action, and they were right in feeling so.

Hydra was a brutal place; living there was a life sentence that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. But it seemed like soon, you’d be serving that miserable time yourself.

Only when you felt a warm hand press to your cheek did you snap out of your fear, glossy eyes meeting the deep brown ones of your friend. “You’ll be okay. I’m going to get you to safety, but I can only do that if we leave now.”

Forcing your fear down with a painful gulp, you nodded hurriedly. The blonde’s lips curled slightly in reassurance, before she took your hand eagerly and headed straight for the tall, cream garden gate leading out to the stables.

She quickly explained the route you’d take; travel west through the Goldwater village, borrow a rowboat from the docks, and sail over the Emerald Sea to the Swari Island; a small but resourceful community not ruled over by a monarchy, but had offered hospitality to the royals of Taria if they ever needed it. They’d know who you were when you arrived there, and because it was such an independent island, Hydra likely didn’t even know it existed. If they did, they probably would’ve attacked and taken over the place a long time ago.

The plan sounded hopeful, and your nerves had actually began to simmer once you were close enough to the gate for Sharon to shift the heavy metal lock. But when a worried voice called out from behind you, her movement was paused, the lock only being half pulled.

Steven — your father’s valet — stood tall in the doorway to the library, golden locks and beard seeming even lighter with the sun beaming down onto him. But the look on his face was anything but light; thick brows pinched and lips curled into a frown, he waved for the two of you to return.

“There are soldiers behind that gate,” He called. “You can’t reach the stables.”

You turned to Sharon with a fearful expression; she kept a tight hold on your hand, letting go of the gate to respond to Steve. She remained calm, but at the foiling of her plan, her demeanour had visibly changed. “Then what are we to do? I won’t let Hydra take her, Steve.”

His face fell even further, a hand coming to clutch at the sword on his hip as he jogged towards the two of you. Blue eyes set on you, he spoke with sorrow. “I’m afraid that they’re not going to leave without you, Princess.”

Your friend scoffed, shooting the valet a glare. “And why is that?”

Steve didn’t reply, an apologetic glint in his eyes as they stayed on you. You held his eye contact, shaking your head in disbelief. What did he mean they weren’t leaving without you? It wasn’t like Steve to give up so easily, especially when it came to your safety. He had a duty to your father, to ensure your protection before his at all costs. But Hydra didn’t care for duties and loyalty — they didn’t care for compromise. What they wanted, they got. And they wanted you.

“Steven, what do they want with _____?” Sharon asked again, this time more aggressive with her tone, but her hard exterior was beginning to crumble.

Like you, she knew Steve to be confident, determined. He’d been like that even at the age of thirteen when she’d befriended him — the scrawny blond boy that didn’t have the patience to read books or plant seeds in the back garden like the other kids she neighboured with, instead always running around on the dirt roads using long, pointy sticks as swords to battle with an imaginary opponent.

Originally from the war-torn Kingdom of Lidor, she migrated with her aunt after her parents were caught in the centre of a Hydra attack on their village. Sharon was staying at her Aunt Peggy’s for the weekend when it happened, and as soon as it did, Peggy wasn’t risking her young niece being killed along with her brother and sister-in-law if they dared attack again, which was likely inevitable.

That was the scary thing about Hydra; they had the absolute power to ruin everything in their wake.

Sharon met you when she was sixteen; she was wandering the beautiful palace garden with her aunt when you’d approached the two of them, introducing yourself with a kind smile. It was the first time they’d been near the palace, their new village being in a more remote area of Taria, and preferring to keep to themselves while recovering from the tragedy back home. You ended up clicking with her straight away, easily being drawn to her fiery attitude and quick wit. As you got closer, you became her shoulder to cry on when she’d opened up about her parents and her life during the war at home, learning that Lidor was fighting on their own against the powerful forces of Hydra, and had been three years — Hydra had a certain way of keeping their harmful affairs quiet.

Later that week, you informed your father of her kingdom’s situation, and after a discussion with Taria’s knights and the leaders of your allies, cavalries upon cavalries shipped out to Lidor to rid the place of Hydra’s men. The war came to an end months later, and you’ll never forget the relief and joy on Sharon’s face once you’d let her know that her home could soon begin to recover.

She’d also spoken of needing a job, and after a short conversation with your parents, they approved of her being able to fill the spot of your lady-in-waiting. Sharon was hesitant to take the role, as it meant leaving her old aunt to live alone in their home miles away from the palace, but you assured her she could visit Peggy whenever she wanted, and that the role wasn’t so much a servant job — more like a professional best friend.

Steve, then eighteen, was introduced to you when you ventured out to meet Sharon’s aunt at her home. Unlike him in his childhood, he’d grown incredibly tall and broad, large biceps and muscular thighs easily filling out his clothing. Purely kindness and charisma, Steve seemed like a man your father would’ve adored. One day, you brought the two of them down to the palace for dinner in the evening. Steve was obviously out of his comfort zone; he’d never once imagined he’d ever come to be around so many royals. Like you’d guessed, he had your father clutching his stomach with laughter, and he’d deeply admired the blond’s courageous spirit when he’d expressed his desire for a job where he could protect people who needed it.

At the end of the night, the King pulled him aside and told him that if he was interested in being his valet, the job was unmistakably his. Of course, Steve accepted it without question. You’d always remember the first time he held a real sword; it was like witnessing a child during a sugar rush.

Since that day, both Sharon and Steven had never been too far away, always around to keep you company. It was a good change to have good friends living in such close proximity. Your life had never been better, safer.

And now, in their presence, you’d never felt more afraid.

Before Sharon could force an answer out of the valet, a raspy, smug voice sounding from where Steve had been stood only moments ago in the library doorway caught the attention of the three of you.

Tilting your head to look past Steve, your jaw tightened at the sight of a dark-haired man, dressed in dark clothes and scruffy boots — a clear juxtaposition among the vibrant garden. Upon his lips, a too-satisfied smirk, and on the left metal shoulder piece shielding his thin tunic, the image of a skull with tentacles coming from the mouth clear as day — the symbol of Hydra.

“I must say, Princess, you have a wonderful palace here.” He patronised, stepping into the garden gesturing to the enormous building behind him.

It was then you noticed the four soldiers that’d followed him out, expressions completely vacant, staring straight ahead as if they hadn’t just infiltrated the royal palace. Their uniform was similar to brocks, except the skull symbol was replaced by a large red star.

Steve pushed you behind him protectively; your grip remained tight on your friend’s hand. “You have no business coming to Taria without speaking the King first. This wasn’t part of the agreement.”

Agreement? Hydra had no business in Taria at all; none that you knew of, anyway.

The man shrugged carelessly. “The King wants the Princess in Hydra now; circumstances have changed.”

“Circumstances have changed how?” Steve challenged, glowering at him.

Frustration bubbled in your chest. You didn’t understand what Hydra wanted with you, and you definitely weren’t aware that there was an agreement between Taria and Hydra. Your kingdom vowed a long time ago never to make deals with the devil, the devil being a kingdom ruined by dictatorship and power-hungry men.

Sharon uttered your name cautiously as you removed your hand from hers, stepping forward to lower Steve’s raised arm, no longer shielded from the man who’d seemingly been sent to collect you.

“Tell me what’s going on,” You spoke up confidently, shoving down the anxiety threatening to appear in your voice. “What agreement do you speak of?”

The man’s sick smile widened upon hearing your voice. Looking over his shoulder, he gave a nod to one of the docile soldiers who left his side on his signal, before turning back to you. “I could tell you, Princess — but I think it’s better that you hear it from the King and Queen.”

Your eyes widened; behind the man, you watched as four soldiers escorted your parents into the garden. They appeared tired, as if they’d put up a fight. Wouldn’t any loving parent to keep their child safe? Of course, Hydra had likely brought enough infantry to keep control of the situation. Your knights were strong, but scarce compared to the large army Hydra had built over the years.

“Go on,” The man coaxed, stepping off to the side so that you were eyeing your parents directly. “Ask them.”

Biting your lower lip, you pushed back the confused and angry tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Father, Mother — what’s going on?”

A stray tear trickled down your mother’s face, her eyes never leaving the ground. She was petrified. Exhaling deeply, your father took her hand gently, before shooting you an apologetic look. “This was never meant to happen, _____. I was going to renegotiate the agreement…”

His pleads to show himself in a better light fell flat, futile — everyone knew that you were leaving with Hydra one way or another. You brought your brows together, silently asking him to just tell you the truth. Another heavy sigh, and he came clean.

“One day, when your mother was pregnant with you, her and I rented a sailboat from the east docks. We used to sail along the Heartlen Ocean all the time when we were young; she was due to give birth in two weeks, and since she’d be palace-bound upon your birth, I decided that one more sail before the big day wouldn’t hurt.”

Typically, most who chose to go sailing took boats from the west docks to travel the Emerald Sea. They were easier to access, less remote than the east docks hidden by the thick woodland separating them from Taria’s centre. But if you recalled correctly, that’s why your parents were so fond of the Heartlen Ocean — it was quiet, the whole ocean was theirs to sail freely.

“We’d been out for an hour or two, ignoring our compass and the sky growing dark. We had no idea how far out from Taria we were. Your mother suggested that we head back, but… but before we could, she went into—”

“Can we speed this up, Your Highness?” The insufferable man snarked, earning himself a piercing glare from your father, but he obeyed nonetheless.

His eyes landed back on yours, filling with regret once more. “She went into labour on the boat. We were so far out that going back to Taria wasn’t an option. So, we sailed to the nearest land we could find, which turned out to be Hydra. We had no choice but to ask for their help, and— and they gave it to us, but with a cost. The King, he refused to help your mother unless we made a deal, that deal being that if she gave birth to a baby girl… she was to marry his newborn son once he‘d turned twenty-one.”

You could have fainted on the spot. Steve offered his arm to you, which you took quickly, holding on as if the ground was turning to quicksand. If that meant the ground would’ve swallowed you up and been your escape from the nightmare-come-true that was happening before you, you wished the ground were quicksand.

Tears yet again glazing your eyes, you shook your head. “I— I don’t know what to say.”

Meekly, your mother lifted her head, broken eyes meeting yours almost painfully. “We had no choice, my dear.”

I know. You wanted to say it, but the words refused to leave the tip of your tongue. A sob stuck uncomfortably in your throat, but you couldn’t cry. You couldn’t let your guard down; not in front of Hydra.

Not in front of the people who held your mother’s life in their greedy hands, only agreeing to save it if they could benefit from doing so. You refused to show them an ounce of your vulnerability.

Still wearing that ugly grin, the man who seemed to be leading the Hydra soldiers brought himself back between you and your parents, and you couldn’t help but glower at him. “Well, I believe congratulations are in order. Princess, you’re getting married.”

“You’re sick.” Steve spat, but the man just snickered.

“Soldiers, prepare the carriage for our departure,” He called over his shoulder, and the expressionless soldiers obeyed, marching past you to unlock the garden gate, revealing another dozen soldiers right outside. “Oh, how rude of me, I haven’t even introduced myself.”

He reached for your hand, but Steve was quick to bat it away, drawing his sword from his hip with a stern stare. But by doing so, the soldiers stood at the gate followed suit, ready to lunge at the valet if his sword moved any closer to their leader. With great reluctance, your friend put his weapon away, and the man reached for your hand yet again.

His hands were rough, and you couldn’t hide your grimace at the dirt he’d failed to wash from them. Moving agonisingly slow, he brought your silk-soft hand to his lips. “I’m Brock; we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other once you settle in Hydra.”

You could’ve thrown up, right then and there. He was enjoying it, seeing you and your family miserable. Once the public heard of the sudden news, they’d be terrified. If the King of Hydra could so easily take their Princess away from Taria, what was stopping them from trying to take Taria for themselves completely?

Brock chuckled as you tugged your hand from his grasp. “I hope you’re a little friendlier to your husband-to-be; I know that Prince Isaac is very eager to meet you.”

Husband. It was still almost impossible to process. A deal to save your mother’s life — and your own — made twenty years prior meant that your freedom was to be completely stripped from you. It didn’t matter how they’d treat you in Hydra; they’d be taking you against your will, forcing you to marry a man you’d never met, and if he was anything like his father, you would’ve rather been as far away from him as possible.

Of course, you could’ve refused to leave. But when you were surrounded by soldiers, ready to comply to any instruction Brock gave them, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of doing so.

You’d like to have thought Taria had moved on from such traditional norms of a kingdom ruled over by a monarchy. Money was provided to civilians that needed it — not only to survive — but to live a stable life, the richer inhabitants of the Kingdom were taxed more and didn’t complain; everyone had a chance of a good life in Taria. Your family certainly made sure of that, and not many other kingdoms had come to follow in your footsteps of upholding a fairer society.

However, the rules concerning the marriage of the King and Queen’s children had been the same since a monarch first took to the throne in Taria, and everywhere else too. And you didn’t mind that; you trusted that your parents wouldn’t force you into marriage with a man you were certain about. They’d definitely never have you marry Prince Isaac of Hydra if they had a say in the matter. But the deal was made a long time ago, and Hydra had a knack for never forgetting what they’re owed. It’d be illegal for you parents to go back on the agreement, and again, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of that happening.

“The carriage is ready, Commander.” A soldier announced from behind you, voice as monotonous as you’d imagined it to sound. His words still sent a shiver down your spine.

“I— I need to collect my things.” You stated to Brock, who waved you off.

“There’s no need; everything you could possibly need will be given to you at the castle, Princess.”

So you weren’t even allowed to bring your own clothes, or books, or anything to remind you that you’d never truly belong to Hydra. Of course they’d want to strip you of your identity; they wanted you on strings, dancing around for them as if you were a puppet. In their clothes, reading their books between the walls of their castle, perhaps it’d be enough to transform you into one.

You sighed, clenching at the skirt of your dress in annoyance. “May I at least say goodbye to my family?”

Brock seemed sceptical, but figured that perhaps you’d let down your front a little if he granted you what you’d asked. “You have two minutes, then we must leave immediately.”

As soon as he stepped out of your way to begin gathering his soldiers, you made a beeline to your parents, ignoring the gravelly pavement against your sore feet. Pulling the two of them into a loving hug, you didn’t care to suppress your tears that time.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Your father mumbled in your ear, his tone dripping with regret. “The palace guards tried to stop them from entering, but there were just too many soldiers. And the knights weren’t aware—”

You pulled away, offering him a forgiving smile. “It’s not your fault, Father. Neither of you are to blame.”

Tearful eyes landed on your mother next, who could barely lift her gaze from the ground. “Mother, please listen to me.”

She glanced up as you addressed her directly, her frown deepening. “If you hadn’t accepted the deal, neither of us would’ve lived to see how beautiful Taria has become over the past twenty years. Living this life and having it taken away from me… it’s better than never having lived it at all, I swear.”

“The arrival of this day has plagued my nightmares ever since you were born,” The woman choked out a sob, immediately taking your hands in her trembling ones. “Don’t let Hydra take away the good in your heart, my dearest. And— And don’t lose hope.”

You gave her a nod of assurance, before stepping back from the two of them, afraid that you’d turn into a sobbing mess if you spoke to them any longer. “Thank you, for everything.”

As the two leaned into each other, your parents plastered on smiles of appreciation, of love, and you made sure to keep that image fresh in your mind forever. If that were the last you were to see of them, then you refused to let the memory get away.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but chuckle sadly at your friends, watching you with such fallen expressions; they’d never appeared so down. Around each other, the three of you never shared a dull moment. If you were to leave Taria to marry in the future, it was meant to be far less melancholic. Unfortunately, not everything can work out in everyone’s favour; destiny seemed to really not want to work out in yours.

Approaching Steve first, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, a sense of temporary relief filling you as his big arms enveloped your waist. He was a brother to you; it felt like you’d known him your whole life rather than a mere few years. He held you tight, almost afraid that you’d disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip in the slightest.

“I wanted to tell you...” He muttered softly in your ear. As the King’s valet and his most trusted confidant, Steve was told of the matter only a year prior. The King knew that Hydra would come knocking soon enough, and he believed that Steve deserved to know the truth, him being so close to his daughter and all.

“You couldn’t,” You responded, voice muffled by his shoulder. “I understand that.”

“Taria wouldn’t be the place it is without you; I guess I just thought that… nobody could ever take you away from here, no matter how hard they tried.”

Stepping back, you moved your hands to his shoulders, giving them an assuring squeeze. “Hydra will never be a home to me, Steven. Nobody could ever truly take me from here.”

His lips curled at that, though it didn’t seem to raise his spirits; it’d be impossible to. The worst case scenario had become a reality — Taria’s Princess in the clutches of Hydra.

Leaning forwards, you pressed a short kiss to his cheek, a token of your gratitude for the valet and one of your best friends. “Take care of yourself, Steve.”

“And you, _____.”

You grinned; it wasn’t often that he addressed you by your first name. He’d become so accustomed to calling you by your title around the palace that it slipped his tongue naturally, despite your pleas to address you as his friend, not his princess.

The moment your eyes fell to Sharon, she pulled you straight into her arms, almost knocking the wind out of you. She’d never been much of a hugger; even on her birthday each year she’d cringe when you and Steve would attack her with hugs and affection. But with the possibility playing on her mind that she may never get to be in her best friend’s presence again, she was happy to keep you as close as possible during the little time you had left there.

“Sharon—”

“There has to be a way to stop this,” The blonde shook her head against your shoulder. “It’s not— this can't be legal.”

A sigh left your lips as you pulled back, trailing your hands to her upper arms. “Somehow, it’s perfectly legal. Even if there was a way to prevent me from leaving, I doubt that the outcome would be any better than this.”

If marrying the heir to Hydra’s throne meant that the rest of Taria was left untouched, you’d leave your Kingdom without a second thought. Their King was not a man of reason; broken deals were always followed with brutal consequences.

Sharon knew that; Lidor happened to be on the receiving end of those consequences when the war broke out on her homeland. The Kingdom was meant to surrender themselves to Hydra’s rule when the previous king was in charge. But when he died and his son took to the throne in turn, he refused to let Lidor fall under such an appallingly cruel government. And following that refusal, Lidor was practically demolished.

If it weren’t for the help they received from Taria and their allies, the place would no longer have been inhabitable. It’d been rebuilding itself slowly over the past few years, and Sharon would’ve hated to see the same tragic thing happen to Taria.

But then again, look at what the cost was. You, trapped in the walls of Hydra’s Castle that’d seen more affliction and agony than your parents had ever even heard of — she couldn’t just let it happen. She was going to fight for you, as your lady-in-waiting and best friend.

Wiping at her eyes furiously, Sharon shook her head again, simply refusing to let you go so easily. “This isn’t goodbye, _____.”

“Sharon—”

“You’re always the one telling me to look on the bright side, to never stop looking for light at the end of the tunnel,” She spoke sincerely. “The war on Lidor had torn me up for years; without you, I have no idea where I’d be, but I certainly wouldn’t be happy. Now it’s my turn to get you through this.”

You furrowed your brows, uncertain of what she’d meant, but then she uttered something lowly, not wanting anyone else to listen in.

“I know someone in Hydra — they work for King Alexander personally. If I write to you, they’ll get the letters to you.”

Scoffing breathlessly, you narrowed your eyes at her. “Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into? And who do you know in—”

“Hydra is awaiting your arrival, Princess.” Brock’s teasing tone sounded next to the garden gate, and you assumed that meant your two minutes was up.

It was really happening. You were really being stolen away to Hydra, like a mere object.

Sharon took your face in her hands for just a moment, savouring her last few seconds with you before the smug idiot behind her snatched you away. “I love you, okay? We all do.”

“I love you all too.” You shot her half a smile, glancing up at Steve, who was already looking back at you, and taking a look over your shoulder to eye your parents once more.

Sure, Taria was aesthetically gorgeous, but it was the wonderful people who occupied it that made it a profoundly beautiful place.

The longing expression on your face soon faded when your eyes diverted to Brock, and announced that you were ready to leave. He offered you his arm; you ignored the gesture.

His cavalry were set to depart, already mounted on their dark-haired horses, shining manes blowing gently in the slight breeze. The carriage was rather small, only made to escort two people at a time, and the thought alone of being stuck so close to Brock for as long as it took to simply arrive at east docks made your stomach turn.

Sharon and Steve followed you out next to the stables, watching as the carriage pulled away with their beloved friend inside of it.

Steve naively waited for the nightmare to end, to wake up in his chambers and know that you were sleeping safely in yours. Sharon’s jaw was tight, already contemplating ways to guide you back to where you rightfully belonged.

The taller of the two finally tore his eyes from the carriage, now long gone down the dirt road heading east. He pressed his lips into a thin line, already sensing the frustration boiling in his friend’s blood. “Sharon—”

“You knew,” She intervened bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest as her narrowed eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “You knew that Hydra would come for her and you didn’t even tell me — didn’t even tell her.”

The blond’s lips parted to respond, yet we knew that there were no words he could possibly come up with to make the situation any lighter. “I know you’re hurting, so am I—”

“We’re not the ones being forced to start a new life in Hydra, Steve. _____’s the one that’s hurting. I just... I just think that she deserved to know.”

With that, the woman turned back abruptly, making a swift exit back through the garden gate. The valet remained in his place, a hand absentmindedly going to rest on the hilt of his sword as he observed the carriage morphing into a black dot on the horizon.

And for the first time in his life, overlooking the green land and breathing in the fresh air of the Kingdom he’d come to call home, he felt that Taria didn’t seem so beautiful.

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