#shame about being a wolf? in the same breath that he is/was proud to be a wolf?

[blind-alchemists]

the thing with Solas is that he's proud, and wise, and clever, and cunning, and regretful, and guilty, and honest when it'd be so much easier to lie, but while canon tells (and shows) us all of that, it doesn't tell us that the other deep-seated emotion that drives him is shame.

shame about what he did, shame about what he's going to do; shame about what he was, shame about what he is; shame about killing his friend; shame about viewing the people of the current Age as shadows; shame about not knowing better; shame about not wanting to know better; shame about a befriended/romanced Inquisitor, shame about the friends he made; shame about hiding in plain sight, shame about not telling the truth; shame about making the same mistake twice, knowing how it'll turn out; shame about his outbursts, shame about not being good enough; shame about feeling attached to the current Thedas, shame about not feeling attached enough to stop; shame about not having anything to be proud of anymore.

I was recently struggling with a scene that didn't go the way I thought it would, until I realized that neither pride nor guilt nor regret nor wariness was the the real motivation; they were just the result, the display, the cover: the real motivation was the shame.

and then everything kind of clicked into place, precisely because pride is such a focal point of Solas' character - if shame is a deep-seated emotion, it contradicts his pride, his wisdom, his intellect; if shame is a deep-seated emotion, it fuels his regret, his guilt, his determination; if shame is a deep-seated emotion, it's the one thing he's actually managed to conceal. (then again, I wonder if he's even aware that what he's feeling is shame.)

and, as I kept thinking about it, it kept making sense: to be ashamed is a grave sentence for someone like Solas, who's entire character revolves around his pride and his wisdom and his regret. he regrets enough of his mistakes to be disappointed, unsatisfied with himself, to be uncomfortable with what he's done; he's wise enough to know that he has no logical reason to feel ashamed for half of these things and yet even more reasons to feel ashamed for the other half; he's proud enough to loathe admitting to this shame. he gets wary if you poke at him, defensive if you manage to get to close to this sore spot, upset if you keep at it. his pride won't allow him to admit to his shame, and his wisdom won't allow him to not admit to it, and his shame won't allow him to speak about it, and that keeps him stuck in this vicious cycle.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age meta #solas #low-effort character analysis pt. 2 #lovingly titled the 'pride and shame meta' in my drafts #shame about being a wolf? in the same breath that he is/was proud to be a wolf? #shame about the Veil? in the same breath that he's proud of saving the world? shame about destroying it? #shame about KILLING HIS FRIEND? #shame about being the monster? proud to have threatened the Evanuris? #shame about all his plans going awry? proud to be still trying? #too ashamed to hope; too proud to give up; too wise to try without #no i don't know where i wanted to go with this. i just had this in my head for weeks now. #and now so do you :)

[riddle-me-ri]

I was reading through a lot of your riddler works (astronomical, I adore them, especially zero year riddler 😩😊), and I came up to your "tiktok" dress one and?? I love it??

Could you perhaps do one of that with the mad hatters please?

A/N: OOOOOO YES I COULD! Indeed I could and I shall! I'm honestly pretty proud that one of my original ideas for the green beans is one of my top posts lmao. I'm glad you enjoy my writing and thanks so much for requesting the Jervi! Still wanna get more practice with them! I love him so 💙

Same drill as before. And I'm sticking to the same dress because it works well, why fix it? Here's the TikTok and here's where you can find the actual dress for research purposes. Anyways, here goes:

Trigger Warning: HIGHLY suggestive...I mean..look at the dress...c’mon...

Mad Hatters Reacting to Reader Wearing a Tik Tok Dress:

Arkhamverse Mad Hatter:

- He's absolutely transfixed. 

- How, how did you manage to be even more alluring than you already are?

- It takes a minute to assure him you’re not some kind of mirage.

- You're worried at first because you're not used to Jervis being speechless for so long.

- You feel reassured once a wide grin starts to grow on his face. 

- Jervis is quick to wrap himself around you.

- To feel what little is actually coveted.

- He giggles at what a tease you are. 

- No one is allowed to see you in this.

- No one is allowed to take this gorgeous view of this gorgeous person away from him.

- There would be hell to pay. 

BTAS Mad Hatter: 

- Aaannnddd he's comatose…here poke him a few times..

- Oh, okay no he's still breathing.

- Gosh…his face is super red.

- He's trying to form words but he sounds like a broken record. 

- "T-t-the time has come the W-Walrus said, to talk of m-many things.." 

- Oh..ahh well that's close…thats better than what he was saying before. 

- Once the poor gentleman comes to, he's still flustered but manages to croak out praises and compliments. 

- You will not be sharing this view with anyone but him.

- By chance does the dress come in blue or white?

TNBA Mad Hatter: 

- Comatose 2.0

- He's a stammering sweating mess. 

- Where his BTAS counterpart goes quiet and slowly starts fumbling for words.

- Ratter is constantly flapping his mouth, stuttering but at least it makes sense? 

- "Umm..uhh…dear…where…how, you-you look…e-e-exquisite." 

- Face is firetruck red instantly. Steam coming out of his ears. 

- Once he gets used to the view however. He's all here for it. 

- Won’t leave your side

- Constantly keeping his hands on you all the time whilst you wear the dress.

Gotham Mad Hatter: 

- I don't know why. But I can see this Jervis being the one to surprise you with this dress.

- You'd look at him suspiciously be he'd just look back at you with a wide cheeky grin. 

- Needless to say, he's enamored with the results.

- He tries to stay calm and collected on the outside. 

- Walking around you, taking you in, up and down…

- But the man is sweating bullets and getting warmer and warmer by the minute. 

- Don't be surprised if he literally pounces on you without realizing. 

- It's a gift for you and him. Anyone else that happens to find you in this is subject to take a long walk off a short pier. (there’s pretty popular pier in Gotham I hear)

Harley Quinn The Animated Series Mad Hatter:

- Immediately turned on. 

- Like instant boner. No shame whatsoever

- I consider this Jervis the most shameless (Society 6 is close)

- I have no doubt he'll pull the whole Tex Avery wolf bit if you know what I mean. 

- Wolf whistle, feet stomping, howling, heart jumping out of chest – the works. 

-- I'm on the fence with how he'd feel about you wearing it in public. 

- A part of me thinks he'd be proud to rub it in but also that like other Jervi he's selfish and he wants to keep this view of you to himself.

- Watch out for that long pinky nail, it can cut right through whatever sheer material is keeping you from being totally exposed. 

Joker's Asylum Mad Hatter:  

- Aaaannddd coming in at comatose #3 

- He knows it's you, but like…how did you get prettier?

- That's something he thought was literally impossible. 

- You'll have to slowly approach him and shake him back to reality that it is still you.

- You're just in a dress…this dress.

- When he first reaches out to touch you, he's worried you may vanish. 

- You're still there, and you look absolutely ethereal. 

- He's almost more pleased that it's not a vision than the fact that you're here scantily dressed for him.

- Once that hits him however, be prepared for him to cling to you and not let go. 

Society Six (2009) Mad Hatter: 

- Hate to break it to you, but unless you're wearing a hat…you'll basically go unnoticed. 

- Good thing, the best thing about dating someone with a slight obsession with hats is that there's plenty to choose from

- That may even work with an outfit as…provocative as this?

- Once you find one, Jervis will be all over it. 

- Be prepared to catch him into your arms.

- He wants to be as close to you as physically possible.

- Running his fingers and hands along the hills and valleys of skin exposed. 

- Him kicking his feet and giggling, like the giddy little mad man he is. 

- Much like other Hatters, if someone was to catch you in this, they're dead on the spot.

#ri writes #dc mad hatter x reader #jervis tetch x reader #arkhamverse mad hatter x reader #btas mad hatter x reader #tnba mad hatter x reader #gotham mad hatter x reader #hqtas mad hatter x reader #harley quinn the animated series x reader #joker's asylum mad hatter x reader #society six mad hatter x reader

[northsalpha]

oooo how did ansel pick the name úlfhéðnar tell us more!!!!!

oh,  i  love  questions  like  these!  please  always  send  me  questions  like  these.  i’ve  been  thinking  about  this  all  night    …    or  at  least,  since  i  woke  up,  and  i’ve  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  name  was,  in  a  sense,  bestowed  upon  him.  prior  to  his  death  at  mikael’s  hands,  ansel  wasn’t  just  a  leader  or  a  wolf.  he  was  also  known  to  be  a  warrior.  it  came  with  the  times  they  were  in.  battles  were  swift  and  bloody,  leaving  little  survivors,  though  the  travel  to  them  could  take  weeks.  sometimes  months.  the  build  up  was  long,  tedious.  nerve-wracking  for  most,  except  him.  though  ansel  COULD  still  die  by  sword  or  axe,  he  stood  with  a  bravery  few  other  men  could  muster,  having  lived  long  enough  to  feel  almost  at  peace  with  the  possibility  of  death,  as  well  as  an  arrogance  of  knowing  he  still  possessed  an  advantage  the  human  man  did  not.  others  would  turn  to  him  for  guidance  and  he  would  provide  it.  however,  during  this  particular  ride,  it  was  he  who  found  wisdom  from  another. 

father  caedmon  was  a  priest.  he  didn’t  travel  to  fight,  but  to  offer  spiritual  aid  to  the  soldiers.  he  was  a  sagacious  man.  the  kind  even  a  wolf  could  trust.  they  would  often  sit  together,  ansel  peeling  them  apples  with  a  dagger  while  caedmon  regaled  tales  of  a  life  lived  with  faith.  ansel  himself  had  never  truly  been  a  religious  man.  it  stemmed  from  his  father  declaring  him  the  devil,  but  even  he  could  see  the  COMFORT  the  belief  in  a  higher  power  brought  his  friend  and  who  was  he  to  question?  the  thought,  he  realised  through  their  talks,  was  no  stranger  than  the  existence  of  wolf-humans  and  pagan  witches.  in  turn,  caedmon  enquired  after  his  fellow  traveller’s  upbringing.  until  now,  he  had  only  ever  known  ansel  as  ansel,  wolf  shedding  his  father’s  name  the  same  day  he  decided  to  shed  the  shame  the  man  once  tried  to  enforce  upon  him.  though  ansel  could  not  divulge  his  true  nature,  he  felt  safe  enough  to  share  his  refusal  to  use  the  name  of  a  bastard  who  inflicted  nothing  but  harm;  that  it  brought  just  as  much  weight  as  the  chains  once  locked  tight  around  wrists.  father  caedmon  raised  no  further  questions.  he  simply  listened.  when  full  moons  came,  priest  would  often  notice  ansel’s  absence  and  while  there  were  times  when  he  suspected  the  other’s  affliction,  he  never  judged  nor  did  ansel  once  smell  fear.  if  anything,  there  was  ACCEPTANCE  to  be  found,  a  feeling  that  at  the  time  remained  unfamiliar. 

war  came,  and  though  that  was  inevitable,  they  found  themselves  unprepared  when  troops  invaded  from  a  direction  they  had  not  been  keeping  guard.  father  caedmon  is  fatally  injured  in  the  chaos.  ansel  was  at  his  side  in  an  instant,  ensuring  the  priest  died  with  beloved  cross  in  hand,  securing  his  peace.  in  his  last  few  breaths,  he  praised  ansel  for  his  courage,  and  fair  leading.  he  insisted    ＂  he  must  not  blame  himself  for  this  loss,  as  it  was  god’s  will,  just  as  it  was  god’s  will  for  ansel  to  be  the  warrior  he  is  today.  to  be  their  úlfheðnar.  though  he  never  had  children,  he  would’ve  been  proud  to  call  ansel  his  own.  ＂

to  be  úlfheðnar,  is  to  be  a  warrior  clothed  in  wolfskin.  the  úlfheðnar  are  ultimate  norse  warriors  by  blood.  they  are  believed  born,  rather  than  made,  and  are  associated  with  the  wolf  as  they  are  thought  to  be  inhabited  by  their  spirits.  úlfheðnar  see  wolves  as  SACRED  and  do  not  hunt  them,  being  gifted  their  presence.  it  was,  or  so  ansel  always  believed,  a  silent  acknowledgement  that  father  caedmon  saw  him    &    it  changed  nothing.  the  relationship  remains,  to  this  day,  one  of  the  more  meaningful  ones  ansel  found  in  his  life.  so  much  so  that  he  honoured  his  good  friend’s  memory  by  later  naming  his  son  cadmann,  though  he  did  not  use  the  name  úlfheðnar  until  much  later.  in  the  present  day,  when  advised  a  last  name  is  the  more  'modern  -  day  etiquette',  he  would  remember  this  moment  and  thus,  he  bestowed  upon  himself  the  title  father  caedmon  once  did,  becoming  ansel  úlfheðnar.

#in character. ⸻ headcanon. #i do love dipping into history to help build ansel's background #but DO forgive me if i ever get some wrong or twist it a lil to my lore #i am not an expert hehe #anyway father caedmon was a real one <3 #tw long post #tw religion mention #tw war mention

[l-r-christian]

Can I request where Elijah is with Succubus reader and it during the time he took his memories away? And the family is trying to bring him home when the Hallow some how was removed. Thank you for the idea of Elijah with a succubus 🥰

Your welcome 😉 and yes because I hated how season 5 was written.

Title: 'Forgotten family and forgotten memories'

Warnings: Fluff, A bit smutty, A bit angsty, Protective Elijah

Summary: Elijah had ran off after having Marcel compelled him with the help of Vincent and now the family is looking for him surprised to find him engaged.

The Latin: Mi cervus pulcher, ego te semper amabo - My handsome stag, I will always love you

French: Et je t'aimerai toujours, ma douce - And I will always love you, my sweet

Manosque, France was where Klaus and Hayley found Elijah as to find out just how did the piece of the Hallow was suddenly gone as Vincent and Freya told them it was removed not just from Elijah but from all of them. They stepped into a bar seeing Elijah sitting at a piano smiling with a woman sitting next to him and just as the witches said Klaus didn't sense the dark magic from Elijah.

Klaus and Hayley sat at the bar listening to Elijah seeing him so carefree and without a suit was weird to them. Elijah looked like he had no problems as he and the woman played the piano.

"Maybe we should get a cat, my love." The woman said as there was something captivating about the woman while both Klaus and Hayley noticed that there was nothing happening. It was as if the Hallow was never placed in Elijah or Klaus and both snapped out of their thoughts hearing Elijah speak.

"A cat? Maybe we should, a trial run before our marriage and children." Elijah says as Klaus looked to Hayley seeing the hurt on her face before deciding to head back to the hotel and call everyone.

Elijah walked with Y/N both laughing as they headed home feeling the cool night air since Elijah refused to use his daylight ring unless he needed to and when Y/N asked him why. Elijah just told her he enjoyed the pure things about being a vampire some times.

Elijah met Y/N after his falling out with Antoinette in New York when he was trying to track down Marcel and instead found the succubus feeding off of a vampire and since then the two had been together.

"Elijah!" They both heard someone shout his name and quickly Elijah pushed Y/N behind him seeing two people not far from them as to Elijah they seemed familiar but nothing came to mind. Klaus stopped Hayley from walking up to Elijah as he stared at the woman behind Elijah as he caught her scent.

"It seems my brother as fell prey to a succubus." Klaus said smirking as Elijah frown keeping Y/N close to protect her whoever these people are. Hayley looked at Y/N catching her scent as it smelt sweet, alluring and caught Elijah's scent over lapping the succubus's.

"How do you know what she is? What do you want? Who are you?" Elijah questioned as Klaus noticed how Elijah kept Y/N hidden from the view of hybrids and Elijah felt her small delicate hand gripping the back his Henley. Klaus noticed that Y/N was much more smaller than other succubus and seemly shyer than other succubui so it made Klaus wonder just how she he came across Elijah.

"We know many things brother. And we are here to take you home seeing how the Hallow is no longer in each of us."

"I have told you, I am not your brother! I have no idea who you are." Elijah said as Hayley stepped forward hand over her heart as an ache filled her seeing that his eyes had no warmth for her like before.

"Elijah, it's me Hayley. Remember? We were....."

"Stop. I don't know who are nor am I going with you! Me and fiancee will be leaving." Elijah said as this made both hybrids freeze. Klaus glared at Y/N believing she put some spell on Elijah and the hybrid moved to kill her only for Elijah to act quickly snapping both their necks. Elijah turned grabbing Y/N whisking her off to safety.

"Y/N be honest with me. You knew what that dark magic was in me....didn't you?" Elijah asked looking at the box that now held the Hallow. Y/N looked at Elijah stepping between his legs cupping his face, she was a smaller weaker succubus and Elijah could easily kill her but she trusted the Original.

"Yes.....which was why I removed it from you."

"And those people? What about them?"

"Niklaus Mikaelson, the Original hybrid the most feared of the Original family and Hayley Marshall Alpha of the Crescent wolf pack mother of Klaus's child. Then you, Elijah Mikaelson Klaus's loving brother by his side and to whom I fell in love with."

"I hope you know I will never leave you." Elijah whispered pulling her into a kiss pulling a mewl from her then moved picking her up by her thighs. Y/N moaned arching under her fiancee's touch when he moved her to the bed making her shift to her demon form, her skin a light red tone with small horns appearing on top of her head and her devil tail. Elijah placing a kiss on her lower abdomen where her tattoo was of a swirling heart and leaving marks on her abdomen pulling squeaky moans from her.

"So beautiful. Still shy little one?" Elijah asked kissing under her breast listening to her suck in breath. Elijah growled lowly feeling her tug on his hair pulling him into a kiss and he moved to her neck.

"Elijah....you know you are my second lover." Y/N said flushing as Elijah chuckled before tearing off the lace that was in his way burying his face between her thighs making her cry out. Elijah made Y/N come four times by his tongue alone that night as they forgot their troubles for the night.

"Humm goodmorning Eli."

"Goodmorning beautiful. So today we a cake tasting and you have a dress fitting."

"One step closer to being married." Y/N said giggling when Elijah nuzzled her neck as his hand trailed down between her legs. Y/N moaned against Elijah's mouth when he slipped two fingers in her as he drowned in her scent. Y/N whimpered and writhed under him wrapping her arms around his neck as Elijah's fingers moved in her.

"For a demon without a high sexual need. You are sure ready for me always."

"Only for you." Y/N said kissing him as she cummed with a soft moan and Elijah smiled gently pressed kisses on her skin then got ready for the day. Once again they were cornered by Klaus as Hayley went back to New Orleans as when Kol and Rebekah had returned learning the Hallow was gone.

"So you are just going to forget your family for some woman?"

"I don't know who you all are! Give up, Elijah Mikaelson is dead." Elijah said staring Klaus down breaking the hybrid's heart as he left leaving Elijah and Y/N alone. For a month they tried to understand where Elijah was when the family learned the noble vampire was in New Orleans. So with Hayley hurting and missing his brother, Klaus took matters into his own hands.

"Baby?" Elijah croaked out sitting up seeing Y/N holding her arm and he moved next to her the bite on her forearm.

"What is this?"

"A hybrid bite......I won't survive if I don't get a cure." Y/N tells Elijah making him frowned as the idea of losing her left an ache in his chest before standing up seeing Marcel and Vincent.

"Please help her." Elijah said looking at them then glared seeing Klaus walked in seemly proud of what he done. Y/N coughed moving to lay down feeling light headed getting Elijah's attention and he rushed to her side.

"I must say, it is a shame I bit her."

"Why are you doing this?! I told you, Elijah Mikaelson is dead."

"Only because you took him away. Now bring back your memories and I might cure her." Klaus said walking out and Elijah swallowed looking at Y/N cupping her cheek frowning feeling a fever.

"Alright.....I'll do it."

Both Elijah and Y/N was moved to the Abattoir since he agreed to bring back his memories. Elijah sat on the bed having placed a cool clothe on Y/N's forehead as Hayley stood by the doorway seeing the adoration and devotion Elijah has for the succubus.

"No matter what happens. I love you Elijah.....mi cervus pulcher, ego te semper amabo."

"Et je t'aimerai toujours, ma douce."

Klaus was angry that it didn't work to bring back Elijah's memories and was about to blame the vampire until they all felt over the woke up in what looked like the Abattoir.

"Great a Chambre De Chasse."

"What is that?" Elijah asked as they all looked at him noticing nothing was happening and that they could be near one another again. Freya explained to Elijah and everyone why they were there as Freya helped Hope because the girl wanted her family back together and to work it all out.

"That doesn't explain how we don't have the Hallow." Rebekah said crossing her arms as Elijah stepped forward looking unsure as they all looked at him. The siblings were surprised to see Elijah showing more emotion than he did before.

"Uhm....Y/N had took this dark magic from me. She called it the Hallow and sealed it in a box only she could open."

"Your so call fiancee removed the Hallow from us, trapping it away?"

"Yeah? Now can we get out of here, the woman I love is dying."

"She is a succubus. She'll be fine." Klaus said rather coldly as Elijah frowned stepping as Hayley saw how hurt Elijah look, the same hurt she felt when Jackson died.

"No she won't. Y/N isn't that strong of a succubus. If she dies I will never forgive you memories or not." Elijah said walking away angry as the siblings looked at one another. After working out many....many problems and Elijah got his memories back. Klaus gave Elijah the cure and Hayley followed Elijah wondering what he'll do as Hayley wanted nothing more than for Elijah to be happy.

"Here, love." Elijah said softly giving Y/N the cure and she got better as Elijah sat on the bed gently grabbing her hand looking at the ring on her hand. Y/N sat up looking at him knowing he had his memories back.

"It is okay, I understand Elijah....I was always going to be sec....." Elijah cut her off by kissing her and moved her under him caging her there. Elijah pulled away placing small kisses on her face feeling her grip his shirt looking at him with unshed tears."

"I love you, you will never be second choice. I may have my memories but how I feel for you is real." Elijah tells her watching her let a small sob hugging him as Hayley smiled walking off. Klaus was looking for Elijah swearing if he ran off with succubus the hybrid was going to dagger his brother then kill the demon. Klaus headed for Elijah's bedroom only to be stopped by Hayley.

"Shhh Elijah is asleep so is Y/N." Hayley whispering frowning when Klaus grhowled hearing that the demon was still around.

"I thought you wanted Elijah back?'

"Of course, but I wanted my best back and now he is happy. Elijah deserves this aren't you always saying Elijah is the best of you? Let he be happy." Hayley tells Klaus walking away to check up on Hope as Klaus looked to Elijah's bedroom.

Elijah smiled softly watching Y/N sleep next to him holding his hand to her chest as he enjoyed the quiet before having his siblings meet Y/N. Y/N woke smiling seeing Elijah watching her and leaned in kissing him.

"I love you Always and Forever."

"I love you too Always and Forever." Elijah said kissing her again relaxing as they enjoyed the quiet before the questions and Rebekah wanting to plan a wedding.

#L.R writes #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fluff #elijah mikaelson angst

[neon-junkie]

It really irks me when people call Crosshair rude, mean, snappy, etc. Are we watching the same show? I don't see any of that in him at all.

Personally, I view Crosshair as a lone wolf who's found himself a pack. He's cynical, introverted, and needs his time and space alone to recharge. He's a soldier, who no doubt suffers from PTSD, and continues suffering as he's having to carry on working. The guy can't get a break! Can you blame him for isolating himself every so often? Desperate to catch his breath, have a rest, and so forth?

During TCW episodes, and the aftermath episode, it's easy to spot that he enjoys his own company. However, this doesn't mean that he dislikes others. He's openly smug and proud of his brothers! He gets along with them perfectly, cracks jokes, has competitions, and so forth. Crosshair is one of those people who needs time alone to recharge, and he does that by heading straight to his bunk after a mission, or isolating himself when he can. He is, after all, a sniper, which is an extremely lonely job!

If you just don't like Crosshair, then that's fair enough, but attempting to state that he's rude, when he's quite clearly not, is just... ugh. It's possible to dislike a character without being a dick about it! A strange concent, I know, but it is possible!

And please remember that Crosshair in TBB is under the chip’s control, which is forcing him to act that way. He’s currently a dick, but that’s because it’s not him. At the moment, he’s Commander CT-9904, not Crosshair!

Crosshair is a cynical and introverted soldier, who fits in perfectly with his pack. When he can, he enjoys his time alone, but he's clearly happy with his team, his brothers, the Batch. He's not much of a talker, and there's no shame in that, some of us are just like that!

TLDR: stop shitting on Crosshair's character. Just say that you don't like him and move on.

#crosshair slander on my dashboard? we do not like to see it #the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #crosshair #ct 9904 #commander crosshair

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sheer | Kai Parker

Warnings; SMUT, ANGST, and FLUFF, mentions of death, mourning, loss, mentions of murder, trauma, swearing, unprotected sex,

A/N; sorta made up a whole storyline for this imagine, may be a teeny bit different and may have gotten a little carried away, please enjoy loves

It would not uphold, the weather held a grudge against you as you trudged through the pouring rain, cursing you for thinking that you would be safe on your lonesome.

Instead of a monster, the world wished for you to drown in its falling rivers, making you shiver down to the bone. It was too cold, but you had to go there, it was a ritual.

Since the death of your boyfriend, Aaron, who was killed by Damon, someone you thought to be a friend, you felt broken.

You had tried everything to bring him back, but without the power of a witch, it was deemed impossible, and Bonnie refused to help you, claiming that it was necromancy, and far from her beliefs.

It angered you, how everybody would dismiss the lost lives that Damon took. He got a free pass, he didn’t even regret his own invalid actions.

He was a monster, and you hated him. If you couldn’t bring Aaron back, then you would instead kill his murderer. That would not only give you a sense of revenge, but also make the world a safer place. There would be one less vampire making people’s lives a misery.

“Hi there.” You stopped in your tracks, the voice sending shivers down your spine. Whilst it sounded like a man, in reality it could be anything.

The skin of a human was a disguise the majority of the time, a bloodsucker or a wolf coping inside the exterior, thirsting to break free from the walls of bones and flesh.

“Kai.” He was not exactly human, he was a witch, the one thing that you needed. You had met him through Elena, who was luckily also angered by Damon’s actions, Aaron had been her friend.

And just like that, he had died. But she hid her feelings well, pretending all was fine because she was in love with the gruelling monster that you wished to execute.

However, even though you wanted to bring back your lost beloved, the time that had passed made your mind being up the idea of moving on.

The first person that sprung into your imagination was Kai Parker, the new sociopath in town. He was new, unaware of the traumatising past experience that lingered in your heart, and not to mention, his specimen was one of beauty.

Those grey eyes, ever so curious could bore straight into your soul, and you’d gladly let him mangle it, you no longer had a use for it anyway.

“Why are you out here y/n/n?” He asked with a tilt of his head that had your heart beating profusely.

Everyone knew of his effect on you, but they told you to dismiss it. It was cruel, that they’d rather have you mourning the loss of your partner than to move on with another.

To you, it didn’t matter if he were supposed to be the enemy, you no longer wanted to fight their battles. All you desired was to be in love, with somebody that felt the same.

And whilst you doubted that Kai knew how to feel such a strong emotion, some attention wasn’t the worst thing in the world. As a matter of fact, it worked well as a distraction, it made you almost forget the grudge that you held against the eldest Salvatore.

Almost.

“It’s nothing.” You whisked the direction of the conversation away from your deceased boyfriend, not wanting to talk about him to anyone, let alone Malachai Parker.

Even thinking of Aaron caused a void to open in the middle of your chest, it was unbelievably painful. You thought some people, such as Bonnie would understand, rather than think the loss as a regular occurrence.

To put it simply, the entire ordeal was completely fucked up, and you felt much more guilty for biting your lip at the expression that Kai pulled; his eyebrows raised, and his fingers carefully running down the side of his own jaw.

Oh god, his fingers. There were so many things that you could imagine him doing with those, and from the way he waved them on a greeting, he knew that he teased the thought too.

“Basically...” he began, rolling his grey eyes with what he liked to call modesty, and you classified as boredom, “you’re stuck out in the rain, and if I’m not mistaken, you live halfway across town.”

“Stalker much?” You sneered, crossing your arms across your chest, which only made his gaze wander down, and hold their movements for a dragged out moment. “What are you looking at?” You exasperatedly sighed, only understanding when you followed his peering.

He was focused on your chest, that through your white shirt, appeared almost bare. The lace of your bra was giving him a clear frontal, and so you adjusted your arms, so that they covered more and whatever they had pushed up to peak his intrigue.

“Why am I not surprised?” Shaking your wet hair, which was pointless considering that it was still raining, you realised that you felt the creeping of the cold.

You had been oblivious to it, thinking that it was a side guest to your tears, almost a consequence. But you were no longer tearful, mostly angry at the killer that ruined your future and acted as though it were no big deal.

“I thought you were supposed to be at college.” Kai quirked his brow, proud of the fact that he knew that. However you shook your head, and watched as he removed his jacket, clasping it around your shoulders, shielding you somewhat from the weather.

It appeared as no big deal to him, but it was to you, sociopaths weren’t famous for being kind and charitable. They always had agendas, their agendas, well they were obviously sociopathic.

But from the glazing of the witch’s eyes, you only saw a lost man. He was misinterpreted by all that he knew, they treated him like an outsider, alienated him as though he were a monster, and validly that was why he was seen as one.

“No.” You whispered, confused as to why you were so complied to correct the man. “My boyfriend was killed, I don’t want to go back there, it’s clear why.”

You attempted to give him a small smile, but it came out as a pained grimace. Just the thought had your mood drained, even more so since there was no route to resurrect him.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that.” He didn’t shiver in the rain, instead he seemed comfortable simply standing there, conversing with you in the rainfall. “Damon did it, right?”

Licking your lips, you hesitantly nodded, ashamed of the fact that you had once called the vampire a friend. From the start, you were always wary of him, but eventually you managed to become close to him. And then he ruined your chance of happiness, literally sucking the life out of it.

“What a dick.” Kai was blunt with his annotation, but you couldn’t deny that he was right about them. “Sorry for your loss and all that blah blah. We should get somewhere warm though, you can tell me more.”

It was a strange feeling, you felt pulled to the male, it was as though he was one side of a magnet, and you were another. And so you accepted his invitation, and followed him, breathing in the scent of his black coat. It was much sweeter than you had expected.

🏹

His so called home was an apartment, that you no doubt expected he had convinced someone with his magic to give him rent free. Or he killed them, either or you guessed.

But the thought of death itself was one that you weren’t too keen on thinking about, not now. Instead, you’d rather enjoy the company of someone that didn’t shame you for hating and desiring to kill the one and only Damon Salvatore.

Most of your friends didn’t take you seriously, they just barked laughter, not believing, nor willing to think that you could ever commit such a sentence. But they didn’t share your pain, if they did, you were sure that they’d understand.

Matt got it, he resented the vampire and a lot of the other blood suckers too. And your certainly couldn’t blame him, he had lost his sister, and there was no reason behind her change. It had all just been a game, a gruesome one at that.

Kai lightly removed his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it on a hook to dry. He almost appeared embarrassed, having you in such a private space.

But you didn’t want him to endure such a mindset as that. Instead you smiled, brushing your damp hair out of your face, grasping his hands. They were cold, and that made you frown. No one ever cared what he had gone through, instead they just wanted to rid the world of him.

Even his family had dismissed him, all because he had been different, and treating him as such had definitely had a mind mingling affect on him. It repented an unstoppable rage inside of him, one that ended in dead children and imprisonment.

“Thankyou.” The small example of affection had Kai tilt his head awkwardly and pull his hands away from your own. He wasn’t used to people even being polite towards him, let alone openly sharing contact with him.

You should have been scared of him. Or at least somewhat repulsed, but you weren’t, and it was a first for him. Most around him taunted him with blame, or pointed out his obvious flaws.

And so he ducked his chin downwards into his chest, taking a couple of steps back, mumbling something about retrieving you a dry shirt.

As you waited for him, you peeled off the sheer layer, dropping the ball of wet material upon the ground. Your bra had soaked into your skin, but you left that on out of modesty.

When Kai returned, his mouth gaped open, eyes widening at the half undressed sight of you. But he tried to avert your gaze, blushing at your lack of attire.

“It’s okay.” You jested to him , reaching out for the clean shirt that he had brought for you. “You can look, it’s not like I’m naked.”

“Yet.” He smirked as he allowed his stare to freely roam. His voice had been small, but you had heard it as clear as day. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be thinking like that, you’re in mourning and I get that you wouldn’t want to, yknow.”

His hand gestured between the pair of you , prompting what he was talking about. But maybe he was wrong, after all, it had been a while since you had any physical intimacy, and you’d be a fool to deny that there was chemistry between you and a particular witch.

“Don’t be sorry.” You put the dry shirt aside, walking closer to the brunette. “I am in mourning, but I’m going to get my revenge, and a distraction sure wouldn’t hurt.”

“And here I thought that you were just a pretty face.” Kai’s hand drifted to the side of your face, pulling you closer so that your lips were almost brushing. His breath ghosted over your own intermingling the fumes of lust and intrigue. “But it seems that there is a darkness in that mind of yours, I’m impressed with your plans to say the least.”

“I haven’t even told you any of them yet.” Your hand drifted under the band of his jeans, plucking teasingly at the denim, licking your teeth as you made strong eye contact with him.

“Tell me after.” He ordered, grasping your hips, and clashing your bodies together. Your lips worked hungrily against each other, both pairs of your hands grabbing all that they could, you and him both desperate to hold onto anything.

Kai shoved you backward into a table, trapping you against it as his lips fell downwards, and began to suck at your neck.

But at that contact, you pushed Kai away, freezing for a moment. Damon’s teeth had been on Aaron’s neck, sinking in and draining all that be worth.

“See Elena thinks I’m a monster, and she’s right.” You were unable to move as Aaron stood against the vampire, you had been compelled, and you wanted nothing more than to scream out for Damon to stop, but there was no audio in your throat.

There was no scream as Damon bared his fangs , nor when he sunk them into your boyfriend’s neck, instead you were holding back your tears, as you had been commanded to.

He held him to his mouth for a moment before dropping his body lifeless upon the ground. And you couldn’t help but stare at the sight.

Enzo wore a content smirk, and it sickened you to your stomach. Damon turned, his thirsty eyes boring into your form, that wanted nothing more than to crumble into a million people.

“You may now speak.” His pupils found yours, engaging with your soul, that felt broken and completely shattered.

“Are you going to kill me too?” A part of you was hopeful that he would, but as he came closer, you recognised the mischief in his stance.

He had plans for you, none of which you suspected to like. “Do it, show Elena how much of a monster you really are!”

If he killed you, you’d have liked to think that Elena would be furious , but it was expected that eventually she would forgive him when he put his humanity back on.

“Or instead...” you feared his humoured expression, eyes flickering between his feet that were walking closer to you and your dead partner that lay lifelessly a couple of meters away. “I could show her how much of a monster you are.”

He bit into his wrist, bringing it towards your mouth, and as much as you felt the urge to squirm, you could do nothing more but stand there and abide his compulsion.

“Are you okay?” Kai asked, brushing his nose against your own, wanting to know if you wanted to continue. He knew that you were a victim of trauma, and he understood it’s affects.

In regards to his past, his coping method had been inflicting it in return. But you had done no foul against him, and so he would not torture you or force you into something that you had no intention of continuing.

“Yeah.” You breathed, blinking to push the memory away, temporarily at least. “Bedroom.” You ushered, squealing distractedly as he hoisted you into his arms, wrapping your legs perfectly around his waist.

He dropped you upon the mattress, hovering over you, removing his shirt after you began to tug on the dark and rain pelted material.

Leaning your elbows, you unclipped the back of your bra, discarding it somewhere far from your memory, and Kai sunk down, his lips latching onto your nipple, playing with the other in his rough hands.

“Your fucking gorgeous.” He hummed around your breast, his fingers drifting down your stomach to the band of your leggings.

His compliment made you smile, and as he ripped off your pants, he slipped a hand inside of your panties, rubbing your sensitive flesh. But you groaned, frowning at his tantalising actions.

“Just need you inside of me.” You told him, and he was more than happy to comply, so he worked on his belt, as you slipped off your own underwear, and removed the torn fabric from around your legs.

When you looked up, you noticed that he was completely bare, and already had himself in hand. There was precum balancing on his tip and at the sight you licked your lips.

“You ready?” He asked bringing his head down to your chin, placing a delicate kiss upon the bump, and teasing his other tip against your opening, swiping through your wetness and using it to lube himself up.

“God yes.” You sighed, your hands finding refuge upon the back of his shoulders, your nails sinking into his firm skin.

And so, with consent, he pushed in, groaning at the initial tightness. “And I thought that it was wet outside.” He laughed, causing you to snort, he was funnier than you had expected him to be.

It almost made you swoon, but no, you couldn’t be interested in Kai, could you? Everyone thought you had been, even Bonnie had stated that you often undressed him with your eyes in the worst of situations, but it had never been a big deal to you.

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks, with a snap of Kai’s hips. All along you had denied any interest of another man, all because of the one that you had lost. And everyone already knew that there were sparks between you and the witch, before either of you had caught on.

“Shit.” He huffed, reaching down and biting your lips, causing your eyes to flutter sensuously, and dark veins to appear underneath.

At the feeling, you tried to bury your face sidewards into the pillow so that he couldn’t see, but he held you still as he gave shallow thrusts inside of you.

“Don’t look away, I think you’re beautiful.” Him saying that alone had you almost in tears. Despite trying to bring Aaron back you feared what he would think of you when he returned, or well, if he could.

Would he think you a monster, that stood idly by when he was killed? Because if so, you’re heart would literally break, and you wouldn’t be able to bare living any longer.

Living, funny. You hardly described what you were doing as such anyways. But currently, you did truly feel alive again, perhaps that was just the affect of having a dick inside of you.

But as Kai reached down and fiddled with your clit, you knew that you were done for. Your head fell back, eyes closed and mouth open, showcasing your fangs, your orgasm hitting you like a train.

He continued his movements until he felt he was nearing his point, and then he finished too, having no worry in impregnating you as you were well, to put it lightly , dead.

Both of you panted as he pulled out and fell beside you. Your eyes stared at the ceiling, your concentration eventually broken when Kai spoke.

“Damon did it, didn’t he? He turned you.” Your face had returned to its previous disguise, you looked human once more. But it was no secret that you were now a savage, a monster like Damon.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, trying not to cry at the thought. It was the last thing in the world that you ever wanted, but Damon knew that too. And so he had cursed you, for all of eternity.

“Then he deserves to die.” Kai stated, he was already against the Salvatores, but his hatred for them had just increased.

#kai parker smut #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #kai parker x you #kai parker #kai x y/n #kai imagine #kai x you #kai parker one shot #kai smut #tvdreader #tvd imagines #tvd smut #tvd x reader #tvd x y/n #imagines #imagine #xreader

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

How about steve x reader where they met by a mission . Y/n is a assasin and spy a freind of nat during the red room but y/n has powers based frm fire manipulation and use as a weapon both met when they are taking down hydra didnt mean to confuse you

Thank you for your request. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: unconscious reader, talks of brainwashing, talks of the Winter Soldier, talks of the Red Room, self doubt

Steve didn't know what to expect when the Avengers were called to take down a vigilante that had taken it upon herself to take down Hydra bases, one by one. He really didn't know what to expect when Natasha had told him she knew who the vigilant was. But when his eyes fell on your figure as you burned the Hydra base to the grind, he hadn't expected to find himself falling for you almost instantly.

"Please," Steve stepped forwards as you went to leave. He caught your hand in his, lightly tugging you to look at him. "Natasha's right. We can help you and give you a place to call home." He didn't want you to leave. "Just, tell your story."

You looked into Steve's blue eyes, something twisting in your stomach as you did. "It's not a very pretty one." You whispered.

Steve shook his head, "None of ours are."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat at the large conference table with the Avengers listening as you told them everything you could remember.

"I don't remember my parents, only they chose to sell me, and I ended up in the Red Room, when I was child. My abilities meant I was everything they looked for in a weapon. I was brainwashed into destroying, everything. Killing innocent people... Until I became too much, and I'd no longer listen to their orders or allow them to brainwash me, so I was moved to the Wolf Spider program.

"They wanted to create the ultimate Super Soldiers, so they tried to breed me like some animal..." You turned your head until you could see Bucky, "Я шрам тебя, солдат?" Did I scar you, Soldier?

Bucky’s head hung low in shame as he listened to you speak. The moment he saw your face he remembered. He knew who you were and he felt sick. "I deserved to burn alive after what I did to you. M'sorry." He looked up with teary eyes.

You shook your head, "I've learnt to not blame those who had no control." You offered him a small smile. "When the actual, physical mating proved ineffective, they began to experiment on me." You quickly wiped your tears away. "That didn't last long however, cause their Winter Soldier was lost and so, all hands were on deck to find him. I was practically left alone in the base, so I burned it to the ground and ran. And I've been running ever since."

Silence settled over everyone as they took in your words.

"What now?" You asked looking over to Steve.

He took a deep breath and looked at everyone around him before looking back at you. "Welcome home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A year later...

Steve ran as fast as he could, smashing into the wall as he turned the corner instead of slowing down. He had to get to you before it was too late.

"Y/N!" He called out, grabbing hold of the banister and jumping over it, landing on the floor with a thud. "Y/N," He knelt beside your unconscious body that laid at the bottom of the stairs. "Please," He gently cupped your face in his hands.

"Steve?" Nat called out over the coms. "We've cleared the base. Find where Y/N went down?"

Steve nodded, "... Yeah," He croaked before clearing his throat. "On our way back to the quinjet."

Steve felt guilty as he carried your unconscious body back towards the quinjet. It was all his fault. The two of you had had an argument before the mission. Steve had found out about a date you were going on, and being jealous of the fact he'd never had the courage to ask you out, he made sure you were going on the next long mission so you'd miss your date. The two of you argued right up until you got off the quinjet, even whilst you were in the middle of fighting Hydra agents, you were bickering. Your lack of concentration caused you to get hit and knocked over a railing from a great height, resulting in you laying unconscious on the ground.

Once Steve had you safely back on the quinjet to be taken care of, Bucky slapped the back of his head.

"Dumb ass! This is all your fault." Bucky scowled at him.

"My fault? Buck, that's not fair." Steve defended himself.

"No, Bucky's right, it is." Sam nodded, "If you'd just asked her out when we said to, none of this would have happened."

Steve frowned at the pair of them. "I don't understand. How would that have stopped-"

"THERE'S NO DAMN DATE!" Bucky yelled. "Sam convinced her to pretend there was to make you jealous, thinking you'd finally make a move."

"But why would she-"

"Cause she feels the same way!" Sam slapped Steve at the back of the head this time.

Steve glared at him, "Why wouldn't she just, tell me?"

"Why haven't you told her?" Sam asked.

Steve shrugged, glancing at Bucky before looking down to his feet. "I guess... I thought she'd never be interested in me, like that."

"Just... Talk to her," Bucky placed his hand on Steve's shoulder reassuringly, "She likes you too, punk." He smiled at Steve before turning to take a seat, letting Steve think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you were finally given the all clear to leave the medical bay to return to your room, you walked in to find Steve placing a large bouquet (or five) on your dressing table as well as other surfaces around your room.

"Steve?" You raised your eyebrow at him.

"Y/N," Steve let out a relieved sigh and almost ran towards you, "I thought I'd lost you." He wrapped his arms around you, almost crushing you as he hugged you.

You smiled into Steve's chest as you hugged him back. "Nah, I'm good."

Steve pulled back and looked at you. "Can we talk? Please. I think there's something we should talk about."

You nodded, "Sure."

Steve smiled softly and took your hand in his, leading you over to the end of your bed. You sat down beside Steve and waited for him to begin. "I wanted to apologize, Y/N."

"For what?"

"For what happened to you. If I had behaved in a better manner, none of this would have happened." Steve frowned at himself, guilt written all over his face.

"Steve," You smiled warmly up at him, "We were both arguing, so you don't need to apologize."

"No, I do. If I hadn't been so petty, we wouldn't have been arguing."

"Petty? What do you-"

"I know about the date... being pretend." Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

Your eyes widened as your face began to blush. "Oh... That was Sam's idea. Don't know why I agreed to go along with it." You lowered your face.

"Me neither." Steve teased.

You looked up at him with a grin. "Why were you being petty?"

Steve's face began to blush, "... I was jealous that some other guy was taking you out on a date that I had been so desperate to ask you on since the moment I met you." He sighed and shook his head. "I should have just told you, how I felt, and then none of this would have happened."

You frowned softly at him, "You're not the only one who's said nothing, Steve." You placed your hand on top of his. "I could have easily said something to you, but I was too scared."

He looked up to meet your gaze. "Scared of what?"

"Rejection. Humiliation... My past, isn't exactly something to be proud of. I'm broken." You whispered and took your hand away from Steve's.

"Your past was controlled by others. That doesn't make you the person you are today. You, making amends every way you can for it, now, that's what makes you the person you are..." Steve took your hand in his and lifted his other to pinch your chin between his thumb and index finger. "And have you forgotten I'm like a billion years old?" He grinned making you laugh. "That's better."

You looked up and smiled at him before looking up at the different bunches of flowers that littered your room. "Why did you get me so many flowers?" You asked curiously.

"Oh, hmm," Steve ran his hand up the back of his neck, his face reddening as you looked at him. "Well, I wasn't sure, what sort of flowers you liked so, I thought I'd get a selection..." Steve blushed, "What is, your favorite flower?"

You looked over at a bunch with yellow and purple flowers in then to a bunch with red and pink before shrugging. "I've... Never had flowers before so," You shrugged again and looked up at Steve.

"Never?" His eyebrows shot up. You shook your head. "Well, I'll buy you all the flowers you like, every chance I get, doll." He smiled at you making you look down as your face began to blush. "Would you like to get dinner? Maybe not tonight, you should rest, you've been through a lot today. But tomorrow, maybe? Or the day-"

Steve's rambling stopped when you leaned forwards and pressed your lips to his in a firm but short kiss.

You blushed even more as you pulled back from him chewing on the inside if your cheek as Steve's face reddened. "Sorry, but you were rambling."

Steve shook his head with a smile, "I guess you'd like to go to dinner then?" You nodded biting your bottom lip, "Good." Steve reached up and held the back of your head as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel #Steve Rogers x enhanced!reader #Steve Rogers fluff #Marvel #steve rogers request #Marvel request

[loudstan]

Epiphany

A collection of  NCT werewolf AU stories.

Doyoung (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4) (pt. 5) (pt. 6) (pt. 7)

Summary: The wolf population kept decreasing and those who were left had a hard time trying to fit  into society. Sure, people didn’t consider them as dangerous as vampires, but wolves could still sense some hostility every time they did as much as go for a walk in a public place. Thanks to wolves’ natural magical abilities, NCT (one of the remaining packs) found a safe place among witches in a town where no one knew their secret, allowing some members to finally get a job, study and interact with others without fear of being rejected.

Life seems to finally be peaceful for them… except that wolves have needs, and one of those needs is finding their mate.

Pairing: Werewolf! Doyoung x Witch! female reader

Warnings: future smut

“...How do I break the bond?” you asked him after a few seconds.

“What?”

You sat up and repeated louder, “How do I get rid of this?” 

Taeyong’s heart clutched at your words. This was not how it was supposed to go. For the first time, someone from his pack had imprinted, destined to love someone the universe had chosen for him for the rest of his life, but now Doyoung’s mate was right in front of him, mark fresh on her neck, declaring she didn’t want to fulfill her destiny. She was rejecting the bond.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sure this is not how you planned your freshman year to go, so I understand if you need some time to accept it…”

“I don’t need time, Taeyong. I need Doyoung out of my life,” you heard him whimper at your words, “Him being a werewolf is not the problem, not at all! It 's him. He 's an asshole.”

“His behaviour hasn’t been ideal, I agree,” he almost stumbled over his own words. “But the truth is, no one around us has ever  been through this before. He is the first and he’s terrified of himself. It’s no excuse, I know, but please…”

He kneeled next to the sofa, looking at the floor in pliability, “Please, give him a chance.”

 “Taeyong,” you sigh and he looks up at you hopefully, “He doesn’t deserve it.”

He thought so too, but he was still hoping you would consider it. 

Before all this happened, his biggest concern was if he would ever meet his mate. Now, he was more worried his mate would reject him like you were rejecting Doyoung. 

Looks like the bond does not necessarily lead towards a happy ending.

“There are two ways to break the bond,” he finally revealed.

Doyoung didn’t sleep that night. He had first waited patiently for his leader to come, but as the sky became darker, his anxiety grew. He exhaled relieved and hurried towards the front door when he heard Taeyong arriving.

 “How is she?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“What do you think?” Taeyong spat and walked past him. 

 If Doyoung could feel the tension, it still didn’t stop him from following Taeyong around the house.

 “Is she mad? Oh god, of course she is… What did she say?” he bumped into Taeyong’s back, who had suddenly stopped walking.

The leader turned around, narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. “If you really care, fix this before it’s too late,” he said bitterly, before entering his room and slamming the door.

And there was Doyoung now, sitting on his bed, trying to come up with a way to see you now that the semester was over...except that it wasn’t for those whose grades were insufficient. He still hadn’t graded your last paper, so if your grade didn’t let you pass but was just enough for a supplementary exam, you would have to show up on campus again.

He mulled it over. It was a dick move, but he could just change your grade after meeting you and say it was a mistake. 

He turned his laptop on and took a look at your grades, calculating the exact number he needed and without a second thought he wrote it down in the last empty space next to your name. Now he just needed to prepare what to say and how to say it.

 The next day he went to campus early, as usual, helped the professor finish with some paperwork and took care of the students that had unfinished homework. He checked his email multiple times, reading the neverending pleas from desperate students who  needed to pass the class. None of those was yours.

 The very same routine was repeated the next day, and the day after, for more than a week. You never showed up and he never got to say what he had rehearsed.

 “Mr. Choi?” Doyoung asked casually, like he hadn’t spent a week sleepless thinking about the topic, “Has Y/L/N contacted you? She’s the only one left for the supplementary exam.”

Mr. Choi paused chewing the chocolate donut he was holding and hummed like he was trying to remember who Y/L/N was. “Oh, she did! She said she’ll be taking the course again next year when she feels more prepared. It’s a shame though, I think she is pretty good, but she doesn’t seem to do well in written assignments.”

Doyoung dropped his phone on the table, the loud sound startling poor Mr.Choi who choked on his donut and started coughing dramatically. 

“Next year? I won’t even be here next year…” Doyoung said absentmindedly, ignoring his professor’s cough. 

“Uh...yeah, you’ll be a great lawyer and  I’ll lose the best TA ever,” he said when he was able to breath again.

 Doyoung tried to smile at the compliment. He really did, but his chest felt heavy. He knew this wasn’t about you not being ready for the class, this was all on him.

What if he sent you an email encouraging you to take the exam?

Or even better, what if he sent you an email letting you know your last grade was a mistake and your paper had made him so proud he felt like he wanted to marry you right there?

He considered all those options on his way home, but by the time he locked himself in his room, he knew he would do none of them. 

He was too prideful.

He was a coward.

 Just when he was thinking he wouldn’t see you again, he smelled your scent. It was faint, but it was there for sure, he couldn’t be mistaken. But, why in his house? Could it be…?

Nervously he walked to the door, opened it and looked down the corridor. There was no one there, but now your scent was more intense.

 Slowly, he went to the kitchen, where Taeyong was getting something to drink. He acknowledged Doyoung’s presence with a nod and proceeded to finish his glass of juice. Ever since Doyong had marked you and run away from the scene, Taeyong had barely talked to him.

 Doyoung looked around, but there was no one else. 

Just Taeyong, standing in the kitchen.

With your scent all over him.

“Where were you?” Doyoung asked. 

Taeyong stopped drinking, he put his now empty glass on the counter and stared at it for a second too long.

“Busy,” he finally replied, attempting to leave the kitchen, but halting when Doyoung punched the wall right next to his face.

Doyoung leaned closer to Taeyong and inhaled deeply. The leader glared back at him but didn’t move. He knew very well who he smelled like.

“Why do you smell like my mate?” Doyoung hissed.

“She needed my help with something.”

“With what?”

Taeyong looked at his feet and swallowed. His mouth felt way too dry for someone who had just drank that much juice. “...You should have fixed things with her, Doyoung.”

“I tried.”

“How?”

“I…” Doyoung suddenly realised how dumb it sounded to admit that he had made you fail the class to have you come to him, so he adapted it to a less childish version, “I have been waiting for her at campus everyday for the past week.”

“...That 's all? You just waited for her to go to you?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“She wants to break the bond,” Taeyong deadpanned instead of answering that question. “She asked me how to do it.”

Doyoung took a step back. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe I did.”

“Would you betray your own pack? What a great leader we have,” Doyoung scoffed in disbelief.

“Well, last time I checked you didn’t seem to want her,” Taeyong huffed.

 No. It couldn’t be. He could still feel the bond, so it wasn’t broken, Taeyong was bluffing.

 Beep!

Taeyong’s phone rang from the counter and its dim light caught Doyoung’s attention. 

Doyoung reached for it out of instinct and read the notification before Taeyong could even move. It was a message from you.

Thanks for everything. I’m ready :)

Taeyong snatched the phone from him and read the message too and then glanced at Doyoung who was in pure shock. However, he snapped out of it when he saw Taeyong moving towards the door.

“Don’t do it” Doyoung pleaded , grabbing the other’s arm desperately.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong sounded exhausted, “What else is there to do? You didn’t want her, now she doesn’t want you.”

“Let me talk to her just once, please. That’s all I ask.”

“You won’t convince her to meet you. She doesn’t even go out nowadays.”

“I’ll go to her place.”

“You don’t even know whe-” Taeyong stopped mid-sentence when Doyoung hid his face on his neck and inhaled your scent.

“Now I do, thanks to you,” And without another word, Doyoung left the house running.

Taeyong stood there dumbfounded.What  did Doyoung mean? How would he find your apartm-

“Oh shit, her scent!” he yelled and dialed your number hurriedly. 

#doyoung #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct imagines #nct drabbles

[wolf-and-bard]

The Edge Of The Edge Of The World

Prompt: Human Shield

Relationships: Jaskier/Filavandrel

Rating: M

Content Warnings: some violence, not graphic; implied minor character death

Summary: When Jaskier starts to have the same apocalyptic dream from Filavandrel's point of view over and over again, he decides to go a-looking for the elven-king. He finds Filavandrel in the valley of flowers, finds also that his old crush has not dampened. Just when they are reuniting, they are disturbed by a hired assassin... In which: Filavandrel bears the weight of the world upon his shoulders and Jaskier is drawn to him, helpless to fix it, but willing to try anyway.

Word Count: 4.6k

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​ I AO3-Link

It's the dreams that ultimately bring Jaskier back to Dol Blathanna. After everything was said and done - the clutches of the elves escaped, his song written, Geralt pestered - he swore himself not to meddle with Filavandrel and his sundered court ever again. Out of respect, yes, and out of fear, and out of a strange mixture of both. The latter concerns a part of Jaskier that is all lust and greed, and would have been strip-dancing for Filavandrel if it hadn't been for the imminent threat to his and Geralt's lives. Jaskier finds no shame in that, he was eighteen then, but he also isn't quite so certain that upon meeting the elf again, he wouldn't fall prey to those same desires. His heart has a strange way of becoming stuck in time like that. And Jaskier wasn't going to give in and go. He wasn’t going to return to the Valley of Flowers, no matter how often he thought back to his time among the elves, no matter how many sonnets he dedicated to the stern eyes, proud figure, golden locks, and tragic history of one Filavandrel aén Fidháil. He wasn’t. But then the dreams start around the same time that Geralt starts being tossed more prophecies than coin and Jaskier has to attribute some significance to that, right? Destiny tends to meddle in heaps like that and while Jaskier is no firm believer in higher powers, he can see clear as day the strain it puts on Geralt, avoiding it day and night.

On top of that, the dreams repeat. Jaskier never has the same dream twice. He just doesn’t. Only this one, he goes through every night for a fortnight straight and it comes to the point that even Geralt - who's still treating Destiny like his lavatory - calls him out on it. "You've been crying through the night again," he grunts one morning by way of greeting and when Jaskier gently brushes his own cheeks with sweat-sticky fingers, they come away wet. Salty air clings to his nostrils and he sniffles, still caught in the undertow of the great melancholy that suffuses every moment in that other world. The inn room around him feels thin, see-through, and Geralt wavers around the edges, fuzzy like smoke so much so that Jaskier doesn't dare reach out to his friend for fear of him dissolving.

“It seems I have,” he mumbles to himself and glances at his lute. The instrument sits idly in its case, having caught dust as they’ve been away on a three-day hunt for a rabid, enchanted bear, and the ornamental swirls glitter in the first sunlight of the day. Jaskier can feel her like a presence, the same way Geralt can feel his medallion, he suspects. She hums with a similar sort of magic.

A treasure from Filavandrel himself. More than a kingly gift, the instrument serves as a constant reminder. To remember and shut the fuck up about it. Jaskier gets up and ignores Geralt’s confused grunts. He’s in nothing but his smalls still, but this cannot wait.

“Jaskier, are you awake?”

“Yes, yes,” Jaskier says, waving Geralt’s inquiry away. Careful not to upset her – something Geralt would roll his eyes at him for, no doubt – Jaskier picks his lute up by the neck and props his foot up on the chair the case sits on. He balances her on his knee and puts his fingers down on the neck to play the first chord he ever strummed on her. Jaskier does and it sends a jolt through his body.

The notes go straight to his chest and he sobs out loud. More tears stream down his face and he knows he has to heed those dreams. Filavandrel needs him. Jaskier is sure of that.

“There is something I have to do,” Jaskier says and puts the lute back into her case, then turns, scrambling about for his clothes. “A journey I have to take.”

“Jask, you’re crying. Is there… are you… do you need my help?” Geralt’s head is cocked, his eyes wide. Jaskier shakes his head. This is something he has to do on his own. Jaskier gets dressed and wolfs down the breakfast Geralt orders for the both of them, then disappears. He only notices when he’s two days out of town that he forgot to tell Geralt where he’s going. Destiny holds his life in her hands then and Jaskier find he doesn’t mind.

---

Jaskier doesn’t know the way to Filavandrel’s halls exactly. It takes him a week or so to travel to Posada where he stops for a rest. The people there remember him, well they remember the white-haired witcher that took care of the devil, but they also remember the bratty bard they threw bread at once prompted, and Jaskier gets a chance to update his reputation with beautiful renditions of his top three songs. They earn him a hearty dinner and a feather-stuffed bed for the night. He sleeps like a rock for the first time in forever, and once more wakes with mournful tears staining his cheeks, his skin thin. The dreams have been more intense, more vivid and real. Jaskier can barely remember what it felt like to wake up without this great grief weighing him down and still, he pastes on a smile. Whistles a tune as he gets ready to search for the elven-king.

Jaskier leaves his horse with the lovely innkeeper in Posada, as well as the rest of his belongings – spare clothes, spare lute strings, his journal – all save for the instrument herself. The woman will keep them save in exchange for his promise to play at her establishment some more to draw customers once he returns. Before he knows it, Jaskier’s out in the valley again, by himself this time. Without Geralt there, the pervading aroma of onion doesn’t subtract from the rich smell of the flowers that are in full bloom all over. It seems Jaskier just about managed to capture the right season for his visit. Colour explosions burst to every side as far as his human eye can see. He is not here for those though, he is here for a very particular flower, and he finds Filavandrel not among his peers, not in the caves that are hidden, interspersed in the jutting hills.

He finds Filavandrel on the edge of the Edge of the World, keeping watch over the valley atop a steep peak. The wind gently ripples through his hair and the beige cloak he wears over his clothes to blend in with his surroundings. His feet are bare, his stare solemn and distant, and Jaskier watches him from behind a boulder for half an eternity.

“Come out, bard. You need not hide nor cower before me ,” Filavandrel says eventually. His voice is soft, low, but the gale carries it to Jaskier’s ears as though the elf was standing right beside him. Jaskier’s heart picks up and he swallows before yielding his spot. He approaches Filavandrel from the side and sinks to one knee when they are mere feet apart, chin pressed to his sternum. To show his enduring respect and to get his facial muscles under control because his eyes prickle as though he’s going to cry again, but his lips want to slip into a grin and his nose itches. Filavandrel is a marvel, even forlorn and lost as he currently stands. Jaskier decides to strike the word beautiful from his vocabulary the moment that Filavandrel places a crooked index finger under his chin and bids him to look up.

The word ought to be reserved for the sight that greets Jaskier, and that sight alone. Filavandrel peers down at Jaskier from under hooded lids, his eyes dark and mysterious. His hair glows molten yellows and golds, tinged orange from the descending sun, and specks of that light dance on his pale cheeks. His long lashes cast shadows, his lips are parted ever so slightly, pink and wet. His throat is sinewy and strong, shifts with the long inhale he draws. Jaskier blushes, thinking that this is not a king, this is a god, and he should be captured in paint and music, and yet, each medium trying to depict his splendour would undoubtedly be a shallow caricature of the true beauty that is before Jaskier. He is about ready to swear an oath of servitude, but his voice fails him.  

“Why do you kneel?” Filavandrel asks, breaking the spell with the bitter undertone of suspicion his words carry. “I am not your king.”

“Common courtesy,” Jaskier says and rises to his feet, dusting off his breeches. Filavandrel merely raises a brow, then goes back to staring out at the crashing waves of flowers below. Jaskier takes it as an unspoken invitation to remain, to join him in gazing out at the world. It feels so small, so far away from up here. With bated breath he waits for Filavandrel to say something, anything. Where usually, Jaskier would burst from having too many words, he finds himself coming up short. How does one breech this topic?

‘Yes, hello, I’ve been having terribly crushing dreams from your perspective for the past month. Do tell why, if you please.’

That’s no good.

So, Jaskier waits. And Filavandrel gathers his words and speaks, still so softly, as though he doesn’t want to disturb the peace of Dol Blathanna with crude human words. Falling from his lips, they sound like small caresses, but they still break the clandestine atmosphere.

“What did you do with the life I spared?”

Jaskier glances sideways, gazes at Filavandrel’s set profile for a breath before he answers the question. This is something he has endless words for. How he travelled with Geralt and gained renown for both witcher and bard, how he returned to Oxenfurt to teach and research, start writing papers, and comments, and reviews, and essays, how he’s been trying to appreciate perspectives other than his own and has not been brilliant at it.

“… but first and foremost,” Jaskier concludes on a small smile. “I’ve been pouring my heart into song.” This time, Filavandrel doesn’t hesitate with his answer and his hands clench into fists at his sides, something which Jaskier did not anticipate.

“Tell me then, little scholar,” the elf says. His voice is lightning that crackles under Jaskier’s skin. “Are all of them as deceitful as the one you wrote about our army? Or do you only lie when it caters to the ideology of the masses?”

“Nothing quite so political, I assure you. I sing what I want,” Jaskier replies. If Filavandrel would just look at him, he might be able to read what Jaskier feels. No hostility, no inclination to cause harm. Yes, Toss A Coin was a selfish piece of writing, meant to entice and enthral, embellishing the events in order for it to spread more quickly, but Filavandrel has to realize that it was never meant at the expense of the elves. It was drama, poetry, a story.

“I see.” Jaskier jerks around, half his body turning at Filavandrel’s tingling laugh. What in Melitele’s name?

“Beg pardon?” he asks and finally, Filavandrel meets his eyes. His are pure mirth, lip curled in mischief. He is so fucking divine that Jaskier’s mouth dries up.

“You are a creature of selfish lust, then?”

“Quite,” Jaskier says, grinning and bows his head. He was right about one thing at least, right in his hunch that in the presence of Filavandrel, he would be reduced to a bashful eighteen-year-old boy who is unable to tear his eyes off anything even remotely pretty. With Filavandrel, he thinks he’ll find anyone else lacking.

Filavandrel opens his mouth to say something else, but right then, a hiss cuts through their amusement and they both whirl around to find that they are no longer alone. Someone has joined them, a massive man with a silver medallion gleaming atop his breast. In each hand he holds a knife and his teeth are bared in a growl, his head bald. Two swords, strapped to his back, gleam in the sun.

Oh fuck.

A witcher.

And he doesn’t seem in the mood for talking.

Jaskier’s body takes over for him and he builds himself up between the approaching figure and Filavandrel.

“Stop right there,” he says and mentally pats himself on the back for how steady his voice comes out. The witcher halts, staring at Jaskier with his head cocked and his form blots out the low-hanging sun. Jaskier stands his ground, arms and legs wide, but his only weapon is his glare, the set of his mouth. Don't, he thinks. Don't. They don't stand a chance. Geralt already has the capability to crush Jaskier's neck in a strong grip if he so wishes, this man looks like he could lift a leg and flatten Jaskier to the earth with one precise step. Filavandrel wouldn't fare much better even if he had steel on him. They are doomed.

“I’m here to kill a king,” the witcher says and his voice rattles like a cart full of armour being pulled across a cobbled street. “Step aside, human, and your life will be spared.”

“I will not.”

The witcher musters him for another long minute, then shrugs. Tucking one of his knives under his beefy bicep, he shoots out his hand. A blast of air hits Jaskier and he’s thrown backward into Filavandrel. They’re not close enough to the edge that they fall off, but the blow forces them to the ground. Jaskier is quick to get into a crouching position before the fallen king, arms open wide once more. The witcher approaches, his glare punctuating Jaskier’s resolve. But no, he will die if he must, die if it means preserving that which he cherishes so.

“Bard,” Filavandrel says under his breath. “You’re being foolish.”

“No such thing,” Jaskier replies. The witcher stomps ever nearer, blades raised, but before he can attack, a whirring noise fills the air and a dagger buries itself in the witcher’s left eye socket, buries itself to the hilt.

“HNNN FUCK,” the witcher yowls and pulls the knife out, casting it aside. He stumbles about blindly, his hands pressed to his face and Jaskier jumps to his feet. This is about the only opportunity they will have if they want to come out of this alive. He hurries over to the witcher and shoves. There is no way a bard like him has enough power to topple over a giant like this, but the witcher is already off-kilter and he doesn’t expect the push. He barely catches himself, still howling through his pain and Jaskier follows the few steps he takes backward and in doing so, gets caught by the flailing arm of the witcher. He winces as pain breaks out across the side of his face, but he pushes again.

The witcher teeters where the hill falls away sharply, and Jaskier has no time to think about how he’d rather not be hurting this man. He gives one last determined shove and with a yelp, the witcher tumbles over the edge and rolls down the mountainside in a cacophony of crashes and dust, branches breaking and rocks rolling after him. His cries fill the valley until, with a suddenness that is jarring, they stop.

Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, panting hard. Fuck. Fuck, he might have just killed a man and he doesn’t feel guilty one bit. He is here to protect Filavandrel, he understands that now. Understands that that’s what the dream was about. To protect Filavandrel and to be his advocate. It’s an unsettling certainty, one that only Destiny can have created. Jaskier sighs, thinks up a silent prayer for the fallen man and mentally apologizes to Geralt for hurting one of his kin.

“That was an impressive showing of determination,” Filavandrel says. Jaskier opens his eyes again and squares his shoulder. The elf has picked up his dagger and is cleaning it on his cloak which he has pulled off to reveal a simple set of faded blue linen clothes. He looks at Jaskier, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth and Jaskier bows low.

“My king,” he says.

“Come with me.” A hand on his arm that tugs lightly. Jaskier’s blinks, but lets himself be guided by Filavandrel. “I know somewhere were we will not be interrupted again.”

---

Filavandrel’s rooms – which section off from the ones Geralt and Jaskier were held in last time – are barely more than a hollow in the mountains, furnished with a narrow cod and few planks of wood that have been nailed to the stone opposite it. The elf has Jaskier sit down on the hard straw mattress, then disappears for a short time to retrieve a wet cloth. “Who was he?” Jaskier asks when Filavandrel returns and crouches before him so that they are on eye-level. His face aches properly now and he suspects that a plethora of bruises is already blooming on the side the witcher caught with his fist.

“You are the one who congregates with witchers,” Filavandrel replies. Jaskier huffs indignantly. “I only really know one of them and we don't congregate so much as keep company.” “Really?” Filavandrel raises a brow as he dabs Jaskier's jaw with the cool cloth. It soothes some of the sting and he sighs. “Does that shock you? Geralt wouldn't let me touch him with a fishing rod,” Jaskier laughs. It’s not true exactly, they have touched of course. It is inevitable when travelling together, but the kind of touch they’re referring to has been strictly off the table. “How very unreasonable,” Filavandrel laughs and brushes back Jaskier's hair to access his forehead. His hands are gentle, his smile shy and Jaskier finds himself blushing. This is another Filavandrel altogether. Not the rageful king that almost had him and Geralt executed, nor yet the solemn figure atop the hill. He’s sweet and teasing. Oh, dear. “Tell me, little scholar, do you want to touch him?” “Are you asking me if I want to fuck him or if I have feelings for him?”

“Both. Either. No matter.”

“Ah… well, I find myself tempted ever so often, but the feeling does not endure and any sexual draw I feel to him is not worth risking the friendship we share. Of course, his attractiveness stands in no comparison to your beauty.” “It is a non-human fetish then?” Filavandrel asks. He wipes Jaskier’s forehead one more time, then puts aside the cloth. “Brought that upon myself, didn't I?” They both laugh, Jaskier shaking his head, Filavandrel privately, behind his hands. Jaskier wants to pry it away, wants every bit of that laugh for his eyes and ears to feast on, a remnant of the bells of the elven towers of old, wants this beauty, but for once in his life, Jaskier practices restraint. He basks in another few seconds of shared delight, then catches Filavandrel's gaze again. “Who hired that witcher?” “Doesn't matter who hired him, there's always a price on my head,” Filavandrel grumbles and Jaskier could kick himself for killing the light chirping laughter, for turning this conversation back to a serious avenue. But he had to, didn’t he? Because a witcher almost killed them both and the dreams are still in the forefront of his mind. “Always a price.” With that, the elf gets up and starts to pace the small perimeter of his room. Jaskier watches every step. "You can share your pain with me,” he offers. "So you can fashion pretty rhymes from it? No thank you. I will pay you in gold,” Filavandrel snaps, eyes distant now. So very changeable, strange for one so old. But Jaskier supposes that Filavandrel lives in extraordinary circumstances. "Pay me?" he asks weakly.

“That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? More… of us. More of our artefacts, our names, our stories, our emotions. More for you to accessorize and capitalize on, more to feed your disgustingly human greed with. I gave you your life and your lute and you stayed away for how long? Nigh on two decades. What will it take for the next two?”

Both elf and human glance at the lute that is propped up in the corner upon Filavandrel mentioning it. The instrument has survived the scrap without harm, not even a speck of dust on it. Jaskier’s fingers itch for it, but he folds them in his lap. Two decades, yes, twenty years in which he’s had time aplenty to think. Churn over the events of those days when Geralt was but a stranger and Filavandrel an enemy, an outlandish creature sprung straight from Jaskier’s lecture notes. Now, Geralt is Jaskier’s oldest friend and Filavandrel is… a god descended. A god that has been battered and beaten, treated like a dog. Fuck, but Jaskier is not here to uphold the tradition of exploitation and near-to-kin-slaying. He is here because after traversing the maze of his thoughts and closing the covers on his books, Jaskier cares. He cares, he treasures, he worships, he loves. He loves so much. Jaskier looks up at Filavandrel until the elf can’t help but return the gaze. His eyes are wide, wild.

"Have you had dreams of late?"  Jaskier asks simply.

A breath. And then: "What do you know of it?”

"Let me paint a picture for you, golden one, then you can decide what I have come here for.”

Filavandrel considers him, inclines his head a fraction as if to listen for the backstabs Jaskier is trying to veil with his words. The cavernous halls are eerily silent and finally, Filavandrel gestures for Jaskier to speak. Jaskier clears his throat.

“It is like this: You open your eyes and you stand upon the very hill we just got attacked on, all by yourself. Before you, you see a firmament in bleeding reds and yellows into which the grey ink of the end days has been spilled. At your feet, a vast desolation, hundreds turned to dust, obliterated by your hands, and it still does not satisfy your hatred for the humans. You feel as though upon your shoulders, you carry the weight of all those who have come before you, all those who are yet to perish. Each step you may take, in whatever direction, feels like the last. There is thunder in the distance, but it is not of this world. It rumbles off-key, distorted and cacophonous, and you try to catch that sound in your own throat to guess at its origin. You can’t. There are cries of woe also, just beyond the next peak, and you are determined to absolve those souls of their agony. You begin to walk, are weighed down, your limbs burn and your knees tremble. No matter how badly you try to reach that place from whence the pain stems, you make no progress. Your back aches so much, so fucking much. All you want is to lay down your crown and die. The world may well splinter and vaporize around you and still, duty would bind you to remain and see your people safely through the gates of heaven. You feel alone. So very alone,” Jaskier concludes, the last words naught more than a whisper. Tears stream down him his cheeks.

"How?" Filavandrel sobs and claps a hand over his mouth.

"Trade secret."

"Who are you?"

"A friend.”

“And what do you want from me?”

“To share some of your burden as I have been sharing in your dreams. To save your people.”

“There is no salvation for us, little scholar, none at all,” Filavandrel says, voice trembling.

“Filavandrel of the edge of the world,” Jaskier says and stands up. “Filavandrel of the pain of the gods.” He takes a step towards the dumbstruck elf. “Filavandrel the kind-hearted and trustworthy.” Another step. “Filavandrel of the old tragedies.” A foot separates them and Jaskier reaches out to gently cup Filavandrel’s jaw. “Filavandrel of the dawn of a new age.” He brings up his other hand, cradling the elf-king’s face in his lute-worn hands as though it is a precious piece of china. Jaskier smiles softly and wipes at Filavandrel’s tears with his thumbs. “Just take your pick and I will write you into the stream of history,” he finishes. Filavandrel squeezes his eyes shut.

“You don’t have that kind of power,” he says. “You simply cannot change our fate.”

“I can make you beloved. Immortal.” Jaskier leans closer, ever closer, but he doesn’t dare break the barrier between them, not when Filavandrel looks so very pained. More so when he softly utters his next words.

“That is what you don’t get. What would I be but an exception to prove the rule? Even if you turned the tide of human hatred in my favour, they’d still murder my kin and I would stand alone because I had been dubbed friend-of-men. You would make my dream turn reality.” “I don’t-“

“I do not begrudge you the ambition,” Filavandrel cuts in and the sun of a chuckle breaks through the heavy tapestry of clouds over his face. He shakes his head as his eyes flutter open, and one hand comes up to wrap around Jaskier’s wrist where’s he’s still cupping the elf’s cheeks. “I was perhaps wrong to judge you by the standards of your species when the crime you have committed is a rather personal one.”

“And what crime is that?”

“That fetish we spoke of, of course. Though I cannot tell whether your infatuation is genuine or whether you are but a magpie.” Jaskier's mouth feels dry and his gaze drops to the pretty curve of Filavandrel's lips. He lets go of his face, touches one of Filavandrel's silken curls and wraps it around his pinkie as he holds the king's gaze. He can’t think of a retort to that, not even an earnest one. "Is this your wit's end, little scholar? Is this where words fail you?" "Kiss me," Jaskier replies in a surge of confidence. It's insanity, even with the weird carnival of feelings they've gone through today. Insanity. It's also the right thing to say, apparently. Filavandrel leans closer and kisses him softly, holding onto Jaskier's shoulders and Jaskier reaches for the elf's hips to steady himself. He inhales sharply when Filavandrel deepens their kiss. The poet in Jaskier hoped he would taste like flowers or honey or sunshine or anything worth putting in a ballad. The romantic in Jaskier rejoices in how perfectly sweet and slow their kiss is, how they both close their eyes and lose themselves in the simplicity of the connection. The realist in Jaskier – and he is very quiet and small – knows this is fragile. A moment suspended in time and bound to pass. After a while, Filavandrel pulls back, a small smile playing about his features and he traces Jaskier's reddened lips with his thumb. "I could be your consort," Jaskier blurts out. Filavandrel laughs and steals another kiss. "The valley isn't entirely safe at night so you may stay until the morning," he says and lets go. "And after that?" "After that you return to your books and your songs and your witcher." "And you?" "I will try to make sense of these dreams. I will find a way for my people to survive. And I will cherish the sentiments you offered, useless though they may be. Come now, little scholar, come to bed." 

#jo does wrsb #my writing #jaskier #filavandrel #jaskier x filavandrel #prompt: human shield #depictions of violence #letho of gulet #geralt #yes i was channeling thranduil don't judge me #letho is alive btw #alive and thriving #angst #fluff #first kiss #prophetic dreams

[yumeyooa]

under the full moon | k.nj

—in which only the moon is a witness to the forbidden love you and namjoon share

➢ pairing: kim namjoon x gender neutral! reader

➢ genre: fluff | slight angst | supernatural au | enemies to lovers au | forbidden love au | rated pg | vampire! reader | werewolf! namjoon

➢ word count: 2.8k+

➢  warnings: use of they/them pronouns | discrimination | mentions of blood

➢ love letter: i FORGOT i had this in my drafts BHSWBJDHD but anyways enjoy this self indulgent namjoon fic i made weeks ago when i was binging white blood <33 

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The full moon was ablaze tonight, high up in the dark sky, looming over the vast land as if it were waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Its light shone down eerily on the earth, and any sane person would know that being out this late at night would only get themselves killed.

It was the night where the supernatural creatures that hid amongst the dark came out to play, after all.

With the moonlight feeding their magical energy, the night where it shone brightest was always a day they looked forward to. A day, where for once in their lives, they could relive those moments before humanity became a threat to their existence. Where they could roam around like the proud, majestic beings they once were or at least are.

Except in these times, freedom was very much far from reality.

The council of wolves was bustling with energy that same night, gathered in a club owned by the Kim Pack. On the night of the full moon, where their power was incredibly potent, they could only gather together, waiting for the perfect moment to attack or defend themselves from the vampires.

Ah yes, the very reason why the supernatural realm was abuzz and chaotic. After the surprising death of the vampire king, they had appointed a new leader. Frankly, no one aside from the vampires themselves understood their succession process. From what they could gather, though, it was a gruesome and rigorous battle where only the most powerful can claim the throne.

Yet, the new monarch of the vampires was in all ways unpredictable, holding no care for the centuries-old treaties that were in place to maintain the peace within the supernatural order. Instead, they did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, causing copious amounts of stress for the other tribes and species.

And that new monarch was you, (L/N) (Y/N), the tyrant.

"Alpha," A voice calls, snapping Namjoon, who had been thinking to himself this entire time, out of his trance. The said wolf looks up, only to come face to face with his best friend and right-hand man since time eternal, a beta from his pack, Seokjin. "The packs are getting restless. The vampires have gone too far. We need to do something about it."

"Indeed!" A voice exclaims, shooting up from his seat while he viciously snarls. Jungkook, Namjoon thinks to himself. Soon to be the alpha of the Jeon Pack. "Those damned wenches have done enough! They've already stolen our food supply and trespassed our territory on multiple occasions. We cannot let this pass by. We must act now!"

Choruses of agreement echo throughout the hall as Namjoon rubs his temples in frustration, the noise ringing in his ears. But just before he could get his disappointment across, the door opens, and Yoongi, a rogue and Namjoon's most trusted spy from the ancient pack of Min, storms in, bruised and panicked.

"The vampires have attacked the borders," he says, panting as he leans on Hoseok, his best friend. "There were no casualties, but multiple packs have been robbed." Gasps echo throughout the room, and all the more do the council of wolves cause an uproar, demanding their alpha to go to war.

"We shouldn't be accepting this treachery! It is a shame to our kind!"

"We must fight back, show those vampires what we wolves are capable of."

"How long must our kind suffer before we finally take action, alpha? When will enough be en—"

"Enough!" Namjoon exclaims, using his inner voice to silence the room. He stands up, towering over the dozens of wolves inside with him, who back down at his presence, overwhelmed.

"I shall handle this, myself," is all he says as he makes his way to the entrance, much to the surprise and shock of everyone in the room. "What?" Seokjin exclaims, eyes wide in shock. "Namjoon, are you serious right now? It's too reckless to go there all alone. What if something happens to you?" Shortly after, small echoes of protest begin to circulate, each member presenting their concerns for the alpha.

But it only takes one harsh look from him for them to settle back down, looking at anywhere they possibly could but his eyes. He was the alpha of all alphas, after all. He wasn't someone to be easily overpowered.

"Do not make me repeat myself," he says, stern, eyes glaring into the souls of the other wolves in the room. "I will handle it. Do I make myself clear?"

No one goes against him this time, watching with worried eyes as he takes his leave, heading straight to the vampire lair, where you lay, waiting.

When he arrived at vampire territory, however, without a doubt, Namjoon was met with hostility. Dozens, no, maybe even hundreds of vampires bared their fangs at him, ready to attack and rip him to shreds.

The anger and hatred they held for his kind reflected in their blood-red eyes, staring at his every move the more he headed deeper into their territory. It was expected, of course. If any unwanted species were to enter his territory as if they owned the place, he would be angry as well.

But unbeknownst to the vampires that sneered and glared at him and his fellow packmates back at home who trusted him to annihilate said vampires, he had other plans in mind.

A vampire approached him, clad in a suit that resembled those of the olden times as if time had barely passed for the man. He looked at him with disdain yet chose not to say anything about it.

"The monarch wishes to see you," is all he says, turning to let Namjoon follow him. "I suggest you… transform if you wish to keep up." The way he refers to him with such spite and anger makes Namjoon want to tear his limbs apart one by one, but that would be too reckless on his part, especially as the head alpha, no matter how much his inner voice was telling him that his packmates would absolutely love to see him go berserk, especially when his rage was to be directed at those despicable blood-suckers.

It was a good thing Namjoon's rationality was more substantial than his instincts.

The moment Namjoon transformed, the man who had been talking to him immediately led the way, running in inhuman speed to which Namjoon, based on instinct alone, followed suit, surprisingly keeping up with the speedy vampire. The man scoffed at that, appalled at the thought that a mere werewolf could keep up with him.

But Namjoon was no ordinary werewolf. He was the alpha. And there was only one person who could genuinely stand at par with him.

"Your majesty," the vampire says, knocking at the door. "The werewolf has arrived."

Namjoon wants to growl at the hostility in the vampire's voice. The burning desire that flowed through his veins made him want to teach that low life a lesson for insulting him, but he thought better with it. It would only cause complications, after all.

"Let him in," a voice calls, enchanting and majestic, immediately bringing Namjoon out of his trance of rage. "Alone."

"P-pardon?" The vampire exclaims, surprised at his master's command. "Y-your majesty, it is inadvisable to be alone with a lowly werewo—"

"—Seungri." The monarch says voice laced with malice, even to the point of sending shivers down Namjoon's skin. "Do not make me repeat myself."

The silence that follows is deafening as Namjoon takes in the defeated look on the vampire's face, inwardly smirking to himself. Serves him right for treating him as an inferior when he was in all ways superior to him.

He gives the said vampire a smug look, while in turn the other glares at him, before opening the door for him to enter, a warning in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed to Namjoon, who merely brushes it off, stepping into the dark room, and hearing the door close behind him.

Finally, Namjoon thinks to himself, his shoulders relaxing almost immediately as he sighs.

Finally, he can breathe.

"Well, isn't someone getting all cozy over there?" A teasing voice calls out from the darkness, the moonlight illuminating their figure while their bloody red eyes shine in the dark.

They stand up, slowly walking towards him, and Namjoon can feel the anticipation within him rise the more they come closer. "You're finally here," they say, smiling at Namjoon, fingers placed on his chin as they stare admirably at his neck. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you, darling?"

At their words of endearment, Namjoon sighs in bliss, completely relaxing in the monarch's hold, nuzzling into their neck and taking in the comforting scent alluding from them.

"I apologize, my love," Namjoon says, finally showing his true colors, a happy and content smile on his face as his lover, you, leads him to the bed, allowing him to lay his head on your lap running your fingers through his hair. "You know how my kind is. Without me, they're practically a bunch of lost puppies."

Your soft laughter rings throughout the room, and Namjoon sighs once more, blissfully enjoying this moment of serenity with you. "Well, they better get their act together, or else I'll truly go down there and cause a ruckus."

"Haven't you already?" Namjoon pries, opening one eye to look at you. "Your kind's attacks have put mine on edge, you know?"

"Well, how else was I supposed to get you to come here?" You pout as if you were a child. "I can't just stroll into your territory without those clan members of yours attacking me with each step! At least my clan has some self-restraint!"

Namjoon chuckles, admiring the seemingly innocent look on your face, lips in a pout, as your eyes squinted at him childishly. If any of his clan members were to find out that he, the head alpha, had fallen for the ruler of their enemy, they would throw a fit; probably cause a rebellion.

But frankly, at the moment, Namjoon didn't care because with the way you were acting so comfortable around him and the way he felt like being with you was a breath of fresh air, nothing else mattered.

"Well," Namjoon admits, smiling softly, "I suppose you have a point. But still," he says, looking up at you with a faux stern gaze. "Did you really have to rob my people?"

Flustered, you look away, not knowing what to say. "W-well, I couldn't just hurt them, so I figured making them steal was the better… Was I wrong?"

"Well, morally, I suppose you were," Namjoon says, taking your hand into his. "You could have looked for a better reason to get us together…."

There's a distraught expression on your face at the sound of his faux disappointment, and Namjoon smiles at how precious it is, knowing that you wouldn't show it to anyone else but him. Your reputation and image as a tyrant was important after all.

He remembers the day he first met you, long ago, back when you were still fighting for the throne. He had been on patrol that night when usually he wasn't. Clan leaders weren't supposed to go on patrol, but as if he were lured by fate, he had decided to go out that night. Partly to satiate the growing instinct burning within him and get away from the tedious work Seokjin had prepared for him prior.

It was then that he discovered you, dreadfully injured after a fight with the eldest son of another family. As per tradition, all twelve of the eldest children of each vampire family would compete in a battle to the death against each other. The winner would take the throne. It was a bloody, brutal development that had Namjoon appalled when he found out.

Especially after seeing your sorry state, wounded and bruised, hanging on the edge of life and death, Namjoon was terrified, to say the least.

Sure, the growing conflict between the vampires and werewolves had clouded his judgment on certain occasions, but how could he leave someone who was literally about to die in his territory alone? It would go against everything he ever stood for. And Kim Namjoon was anything but a hypocrite.

When you came to, you were, without a doubt, wary of him. Who wouldn't be? You were enemies by nature, and based on your current disposition, you were at a disadvantage should a fight break out. It made sense for you to keep your guard up.

But Namjoon approached you with all the kindness and compassion he could muster, cleaning up your wounds even though your regenerative abilities would take care of them as time passed by, feeding you with the meals his mother used to whip up for him whenever he got into a brawl with another alpha.

As the two of you spent more time together, you gradually got closer. Namjoon was able to find out that you were a late bloomer, a vampire who, despite being of age, hadn't awakened their true powers and abilities. Thus, you were an immediate target for the other candidates for the throne and had fallen victim to a vicious attack led by none other than the man you called your best friend.

A heartbreaking and infuriating betrayal, if Namjoon were to say so himself.

In turn, you had found out that Namjoon, the proclaimed head-alpha once the previous passed away, had been carrying the burden of the pack for as long as he remembered. Unlike vampires, werewolves chose their head alpha based on a ritual, honoring the full moon. The moon had chosen Namjoon that night, and while he knew that it brought great honor to his family, he was pressured to no end, knowing that the expectations for his rule were high.

Frankly, if he had a choice, he would refuse. But as both of you were to realize, you were in no position to refuse the chains that tradition had set to bind you from your freedom.

Cruel, truly.

But fate was a mysterious thing that worked in enigmatic ways. It wove the chains that tied the two of you down together, bringing two enemies meant to battle each other to the death and showing them that sometimes the answers they so desperately longed for could be found in the most unusual of places; cradled deep within the arms of forbidden love.

"However," Namjoon continues, breaking from his train of thought as he caresses your face in the palm of his hand, smiling softly at the sight of you leaning in, stroking his own hand with yours lovingly. "As your lover who so desperately wished to see you as well, I suppose I can let it slide…."

It's funny to Namjoon how much you act like a child behind closed doors, but that was who you were. An innocent child forced to act like a tyrant to stay alive. But if it was for the sake of your survival, then anything goes. Namjoon had taught you how to fight back, had taught you how to rule, even if he himself disagreed with how you did it. And he cared too much about you for you to fall victim to the brutal battle of succession.

"Of course!" You say, giddy with excitement. "You simply cannot refuse me, my love!" There's a cheeky tone in your voice as Namjoon sits up and pins you down to the bed, circling his arms around your waist and laying his head on your chest, sighing in bliss as you ran your fingers through his hair once more.

"I suppose that is the truth," Namjoon says, nuzzling deep into you. "You are simply too irresistible, darling. But don't think I'm going to let the robbery slide. You must return what you stole."

Even with his closed eyes, Namjoon can already see the way the loveable pout overcomes your lips and presses a kiss to your collarbone in response. "As you wish," you sigh, bringing him tighter into your embrace.

The night continues, with the two of you basking in each other's presence, cherishing the little moments you have together. It was frightful to think that your love had to be hidden when all the two of you wanted was to show it freely, but alas, the world was too cruel to be kind to lovers of enemy races.

For now, all the two of you could do was continue the act of hating each other till the day you died, all the while falling in love under the watchful eye of the full moon, who would one day open the doors for your devotion to fly free, shining just as bright as it did once before.

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

#bts x reader #bangtan x reader #rm x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #bts rm x reader

[katsuflossy]

Can I request headcanons for Bakugou, Shinsou and Deku where they like someone who can be very honest and blunt so sometimes their comments might come off as an accidental roast or maybe they didn't read the room and didn't sugarcoat something they said? It was never out of malice, but they don't have a filter if you know what I mean?

Their Blunt S/o

Pairings: Bakugo x reader, Izuku x reader, Shinso x reader

Warnings: a lil’ obscenities, one la ganja joke.

A/n: Sorry for the long wait. I myself is quite blunt but I didn’t want the reader to be completely mean 😭 I hope you like it!!

Taglist: @goatsenpaiultimate @sunset-novice-writer

💥 Really loves how you smoke everyone with your blunt ass (huehuehue marijuana joke)

💥 He’s usually on the same wavelength as you; you two are both crude, poison-laced tongue individuals.

💥 But you don’t mean any harm at times while Katsuki does.

💥 The first time you guys met was when he was talking about how he’ll destroy Midoriya during the first quirk test of the class.

💥 The scene was taking up all the time in the day and you were hungry. So you intervened. “Just get on with it. You’re wasting everyone’s time here Atomic Blonde.”

💥 I made that joke already just leave me alone

💥 He turned around, ready to light your ass on fire however Aizawa wrapped him up like a mummy before he could reach you.

💥 Really despised you for a while. Mans is upset because you don’t care about what comes out your mouth and you’re always pointing out some flaws in his technique or personality.

💥 But the miracle happens that he saw how your comments actually pushed him to perform better in both school work and training.

💥 Thus you are integrated in the Bakusquad! 🥳

💥 He loves your presence, eyeing you while you both help the rest in the frequent study sessions, Laughing when you comment on Denki’s lame pick up lines and Kirishima’s clumsy ass.

💥 When it’s his turn, he goes all dramatic with it to keep your attention on him. Once your eyes land on him, he intends to keep them there by any means necessary. The usual strategy is to tease and start a roast session that becomes a staple in your everyday lives.

💥 He really appreciates how you treat him differently than everyone else.

💥 So when everyone was pitying him after his kidnap and the battle of All Might vs AFO. He was so frustrated.

💥 The day he arrived to school, everyone was willing to do everything for him: hold his bag, get him lunch and other offers that made him seem helpless.

💥 So the day when everyone was in the lounge room and Kirishima offered to take his suitcase upstairs, you decided to say a few words.

💥 “Why are you doing that? He’s not a fucking baby. Stop treating him like a limping wolf.” You then turned to Bakugo. “And you, we get it. Your backbone is strong and you hate being helpless but sometimes you need fucking help both physically and mentally so be an actual man and actually fucking talk instead of blabbering all this unphased bullshit.”

💥 Dead silence dissipated all the nonsensical talk in the room before Bakugo stormed off, a shadow casted over his brow as his fingers creaked under its own force to remain fisted.

💥 As soon as he left, Tsuyu turned to you criticising your approach even though it was true. But the truth hurts and you believe everyone should deal with the pain 🤷🏽‍♀️ cmon bad bitch

💥 Arrived at your door after the whole brawl with Midoriya, jaw puffed and red coordinating with a nasty gash on his arm. You dragged him in, berating his choices on releasing his emotions like a neanderthal. Among the constant scolds, he silenced you with a simple sentence.

💥 “I’m sorry. You were right and I need to talk to someone.”

💥 The night consisted of him talking about his life, insecurities and fears while attempting to compose his emotions. With a little push, all the feelings he kept where released to the wild, for the better.

💥 Now he has a whole new meaning for liking you.

🥦 Little baby boy can hardly withstand your bluntness

🥦 Attempts to be your translator if someone takes your words wrong.

🥦 Your critiques aren’t the nicest so Midoriya fills that gap in.

🥦 He’s always as flabbergasted as the receiver of your comments. His verdant eyes widened grandly and as he inhales a sharp gasp. After the shock he turns to the person with apprehension, letting your intentions be known in a softer version than it was given.

🥦 “Tenya, don’t ever try to make breakfast again. The eggs were shit like how did you even burn the water?” Midoriya quickly jumped in, waving his hands erratically to ensure no harm. “S-she meant that your eggs were—ehm— had a little saltiness to them and also to try keep the fire to—uh m-medium?”

🥦 Scared that someone will beat your ass over something you said but that isn’t no problem because that mouth comes with a good pair of hands.

🥦 But he really admires your sharp tongue and frank mind. Unlike hisself, you plough through all nervous talks and thoughts, making your thoughts as clear as day.

🥦 But he’s not excluded from any harsh comments.

🥦 After figuring out why he almost missed the talent show, you laid it on thick.

🥦”Are you completely nuts? Couldn’t you wait on Rappa or I don’t know call someone from up here to get security? You really just love to throw yourself in trouble, don’t you?”

🥦 Ngl, it did sting a little but whatever Izuku believed he did right, he will forever be proud of it. Aside from that, he is hurt that you thought his actions were irrational.

🥦 Noticing his frown and glossy eyes, you quickly apologised, not intending to ridicule his actions.

🥦 “Izuku, I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I was just really worried and I care for you a lot.”

🥦 If he was close to crying from before he’s in tears now. His blush ignited his face as his mind mulled over your confession.

🥦 He accepted your apology and as his heart couldn’t take anymore blatant affection from a girl, you hugged him, hugged him.

🥦 And that’s how Midoriya fell even more hopelessly in love with you.

🎆 The tired baby boy

🎆 He is also blessed with the ability to be brash, although it is underhanded.

🎆 but he definitely noticed how brash you were when he confronted Class 1A before the sports festival.

🎆 The tension between Bakugo and the students outside palpable, the mixture of agitation and unease stifled the air everyone breathed until you trod to the door.

🎆 “Are you boys done with your little intimidation battle? Because I have an anime to binge watch and I’d rather not have it wait any longer.” You then turned to Shinso.

🎆 “By the way your hair is really cute.”

🎆 You left everyone gobsmacked as you passed through the crowd without fail, as if you didn’t even interrupt a brewing clash a second ago. But no one was as gobsmacked as Shinso who was blushing from the compliment.

🎆 Ever since, your bluntness has not wavered even after becoming friends with him through Kaminari and Sero.

🎆 You obviously showed you liked him. Your frank attitude included being downright honest in your attraction to him and others.

🎆 Exhaustion clouded his eyes heavily as he walked past your lunch table filled with Class 1A’s girls talking about their fears for the future. Mina’s almost drawn to tears about the upcoming math test as Uraraka consoled her worries.

🎆 Everyone was nervous, anxiety wore on their face and through the sounds of nail biting from Hagakure.

🎆 As soon as the mind control quirk wielder caught your eye, you couldn’t stop yourself from talking.

🎆 “Shinsou is so handsome. And he’s getting quite buff judging by how his shirt was constricting from before. Don’t you guys think?”

🎆 Your comment was loud enough to reach the by-passer, who blushed at the sudden compliment. His hand naturally travelled to the nape of his neck, soothing his own embarrassment as the table’s eyes, in particular yours, laid on him, waiting on his response.

🎆 “Why t-thank you, (Y/n)” He nodded in acknowledgment of your compliment and then walked briskly off to his own table.

🎆 Mina turned towards you as he was out of ear range. “Have you no shame?! I was crying about my grades before you suddenly wanted to say Shinso was hot.”

🎆 Everybody started saying how random and sudden you were before you shrugged your shoulders.

🎆 “A girl knows what she likes.”

🎆 Shinso eventually warms up to your sudden compliments and impartial bluntness

🎆 The two of you were eventually called a“pair of blunt knives” by Kaminari.

🎆 Doesn’t matter, it’s a cute couple name ☺️.

#bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #bnha midoriya #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi #bnha shinsou #shinsou hitoshi headcanons #izuku midoryia headcanons #bakugou katsuki headcanons

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Hey, it's that bit of writing I started working on 800 followers ago! I genuinely appreciate everyone being so patient on this and also just being so respectful with talking culture in general. I'm still getting used to it. Hang tight on that glossary, I'll post it asap

Edit: here's the glossary

~-~-~

It was a challenge to live on the Tundra, but never as much as when the Ikunmiut claimed the Southern Water Tribe as their territory and demanded tribute from the locals.

The whaling captain of one village assigned his own son, Aasrivak, to bring food to the soldiers, as a show of good faith. Aasrivak's younger sister, Tulugak, insisted on going along.

"Tulugak, my own daughter," the captain pleaded, "your mother and grandmother need your help at home."

"But Papa," she insisted, "how can I stitch a straight line or shoo birds from the drying rack if I don't know if brother is safe?"

Knowing he could not deter his daughter, the captain instead turned to his son and said, "Keep her behind you."

"Kangiqsirunga," Aasrivak answered, nodding and bringing Tulugak in the back of the sled with him, between his arms so she wouldn't fall. "I will, Papa."

"Now hurry," their father said. "The only thing worse than an Ikunmiu is an angry Ikunmiu."

Aasrivak nodded and cracked his whip, signaling the musk-dogs to run, and they were off.

The air they rushed through bit at her face with stinging cold, but Tulugak did not regret her decision. Her brother was a shining example of what a young Water Tribe man ought to be. Generous and kind, serious when it was required, but good-natured and gentle with his words. When she was old enough to eat solid food, he shared his with her. When he learned to carve, he made her a doll. When she hurt her foot helping him check traps, he carried her home on his back like a mother with a baby. When loose teeth made it hurt to chew anything, he brought her broth and soft berries that she could crush between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, rather than between her jaws. She'd often teased him for his propriety and his need for his tools to be just so, but she loved him dearly and couldn't bear if something happened and she couldn't be there to protect him.

When they arrived at the iglu near the ship with the Ikunmiut banner, Aasrivak began to unload the sled.

"Utaqqinga," he told his sister.

"But--"

"I told Papa I'd keep you behind me," he said, stacking the crates of goods and lifting them up. "Stay here."

"Itsingitchunga," she said, crossing her arms defiantly, as her only argument.

Aasrivak chuckled. "If you don't fear them, little sister," he said, "then you are a fool and shouldn't have come with me to begin with."

Hating to feel so useless, Tulugak went about checking the musk-dogs' teeth for rot, their paws for wound and splinters, and their horns for cracks. She petted them and scratched behind their ears for being so good and patient, and wondered how they did it. The smell was all wrong, even for her human nose, and they must have been able to sense that Aasrivak was in danger among the invaders.

Tulugak jolted at the sound of someone crashing to the floor. The possibility that it wasn't her brother would not occur to her, and she was already close enough to touch the banner by the time she realized she left the sled. The taste of blood poured into her mouth, as she had bitten down hard on her tongue. She was sure if the Ikunmiu who did it could her her call him a "gnashing wolf conceived of two pups of the same litter" as she wanted to, his fingers would be around her throat in the time it took to blink.

It wasn't Aasrivak collapsed on the floor, he stood and shielded her with his arm the moment she entered, but it wasn't an Ikunmii soldier either. The figure there had her hand at her face, where she must have been struck. And in spite of the red smudged on her lips, the lampblack drawn about her eyes, the scant garment she was wrapped in, she had an air of ancient power and dignity. More notable and haunting than that, she seemed to be a Water Tribe girl. A young woman, close in age to Tulugak herself. Her skin was like the browned fossil ivory, her eyes black and shining as baleen beads, and her unbraided hair as thick and dark as the winter's night.

How dare anyone strike her? Tulugak thought.

Her focus was only taken off of the young lady at the sound of an unfamiliar voice cooing, "Oh, this one's almost pretty as ours."

Aasrivak pushed her further behind him.

"She's--" he started, trying to think of something, "she's to be married, sir."

"What a shame!" This voice was a different one still, and refusing to look at them, Tulugak couldn't put a face to it. "Kept in the ice and snow, carving fish and sewing skins and breeding like a dog. Wouldn't you rather come home with me, dear?"

"Enough!" snapped another. "It's bad enough we have one. You, boy," Aasrivak straightened at this address. "See to it your father doesn't forget tobacco next time."

"Kangiq--" the word stopped as if it had barbs in his throat. Aasrivak and his sister both heard what the Ikunmiut did to people who didn't speak properly. "I understand, sir." He bowed his head deeply, and pushed Tulugak out before turning to follow her, but she could still feel those baleen colored eyes on them, begging for help and protection.

Aasrivak nudged Tulugak onto the sled without a word. His gloved hands gripped the handles with almost enough force to break them and then they began to shake. Without warning, he stomped down on the brake and Tulugak hit her belly on the bar.

"You shouldn't have left the sled," he told her, trying to keep his voice from shaking as his hands were.

"I thought they struck you down," she explained. "I thought you were hurt, I--"

"If they struck me down I could have gotten up, but you-- they could have taken you away!" His hands could have bruised her arms with how tightly he held them. "Ilitchuģipich? If I was hurt I could have recovered, but if they took you away from us, Tulugak, there are things they could do to you that we could never undo."

Aasrivak so rarely cried, and seeing the tears well up in his eyes was all the proof Tulugak needed that he truly believed the worst could have happened.

"And niviaķsiaķ? What of their captive?" she asked once she found her voice again, though niviaķsiallautaķ was the word that danced in her mind. "We can't leave her there if she can face such things too."

"She's not one of ours," he answered cautiously.

"It shouldn't matter what village she's from."

"No, that's not what I mean. Those men, they told me that they found a fox pelt the night she appeared. That she wouldn't leave without it and gave a great cry when they held it over flame. They have her cooking and making their tea now, as she had brought meat with her."

"She wouldn't leave her pelt?" she asked. "You mean she's--"

"Kayuķtuķ, it would seem."

Of course she was a fox; one of those foxes that take off their skins to reveal a beautiful woman underneath. The ones that look after babies that couldn't be fed and keep house for hunters. She couldn't have been a person, she was too -- enchanting? -- otherworldly. And of course the Ikunmiut took her. They took everything that didn't belong to them

"So she is among strangers in a world that is not her own," Tulugak stated, carefully feeling the words come out of her mouth. They felt strange, even though they rang true. "Aasrivak, we can't leave her to them! She ought to have her skin and be far away."

"We need to be far away from them too."

"Is her soul not made the same as ours? Is her current form not proof of that?"

Aasrivak thought to himself for a moment before he spoke up again. "If I agree to help her with you, little sister, you must promise me you will not put yourself in harm's way again. Can you promise me that?"

Tulugak stretched her eyebrows up as high ad they would go, nodding solemnly.

He threw his arms around her and inhaled as if to breath her fully into his lungs. She returned the gesture, holding her brother so tight nothing could take him from her.

"We'll figure it out when you help me mend the traps and nets," he said.

She nodded again, knowing he wouldn't see but would still understand. They got back on the sled and made their way home.

Aasrivak told Papa that he kept his sister behind him but didn't mention the soldiers' spirit captive. As agreed upon, the brother and sister came up with a few ideas as she helped him mend his net outside. Mama and Aaka were inside, spinning the greyish brown musk-dog wool with spindles on waterbending-powered wheels, and Papa was away, helping some returning hunters butcher their catch of seal and taking what they didn't need to the widows and elders.

They had for their supper the mikigaq that had simmered with fireweed and sourdock. No rice, Mama and Aaka decided. Mama realized that with the occupation, there was no way to be sure when more would be imported, and Aaka was proud that such a woman married her son. Cartilage had been cut into tiny pieces and added near the end in its place.

As she lay on her ķaatchiaķ that night, Tulugak found herself thinking of her mother's sister. She had three husbands and enjoyed that very much. The three of them jumped to bring her water when she suggested she was thirsty, carved beautiful beads for her to wear, and every night each would kiss the calloused thumb and finger in which she held her needle. What a cruel mockery of that the fox girl's situation seemed to her. She remembered hearing that Ikunmii women weren't allowed more than one husband, and that only some of the men could take more than one wife. No wonder they couldn't share a girl between them without striking her, couldn't play the husbands as they expected her to play the wife. It's all they can do, she thought before drifting off to sleep, steal and mock.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #eskimo on main #water tribe

[whenwordsmakesense]

Day 2: Gay

@pridewrite2021 

Here you can find all my work for this amazing event!

From The Mess Rises a Poetrywolf (On AO3!)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Ship: Derek Hale × Stiles Stilinski

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Stiles smiled, and kissed Derek's cheek that was closest to him. “I will do anything and everything for those I love. I will.” His smiled widened at Derek's blush. “Well. You know how I felt after that. We didn't lose anyone close to us but we did lose people—I hated myself. But you didn't. Because you saw the person I was before, waiting to be brought back to the surface. And you were right. I am not the same as I was, but, I am better then that.” Derek's hand had found his, and their hands were interlaced, now. Even though he was reliving something he hated to, Stiles couldn't stop smiling.

Or you could read here: 

Warning: Swearing.

>> Starts from here onwards.

The place looked completely destroyed.

Derek looked worse.

“What the hell happened here? I leave for one weekend—please tell me no one died!” Stiles seriously hated his life, because that question actually made sense. A terrifying, literal kind of sense, and why was breathing so damn hard now?!

“Oh, shit! No, no, no, it's—everyone's fine. Breathe, Stiles. In and out, in and out...”

Derek's soft voice and his warm, heavy hands on his shoulders grounded him, his breathing resuming it's normal beat alongside his heartbeat. He spared a moment to think of the contrast between the Derek he'd first met six years ago and the one who was in front of him right now.

He kind of hated himself for ever believing that Derek—the biggest marshmallow ever—was a villain. A bad guy.

“The hell happened here?” He asked once he could. Derek signed through his mouth and his jaw tensed, eyebrows knitting together in expression number seven, which meant ‘It was a simple thing, really, but I, being a Sourwolf, didn't use my words and the situation went out of hand and it was really stupid and if I tell you you'll just call me an idiot.’ At least, that's what that look meant to Stiles.

“Well, Scott and Isaac thought—”

This time, Stiles was the one who sighed in resignation. “Derek. How many times have I told you: Scott. Isaac. Thinking Bad. Actually, anyone but me, Lydia, Boyd, Peter and Chris thinking is bad.” At Derek's look, he added, with a roll of his eyes, “Okay, and you too. But only sometimes.”

“Do you want to know or not.” Derek's lack of inflection suggested that he was going to withhold the information from Stiles, and that might actually kill Stiles. Figuratively. Ugh, fuck his life.

“Yes, yes. Do tell, oh wise one,”

Derek just rolled his eyes and tugged him to the middle of the living room, where a mostly okay mattress was the only place to sit. You know, in a once perfectly fine living room.

“It was Scott's idea, originally, or so Isaac says. He wanted to bring back a cat—”

Stiles squealed. “Midnight?!”

Derek glared at him. “You knew.” He accused.

Stiles didn't like that tone. It suggested Stiles was somehow to blame, and he'd been out of town, damnit. “You know, Scott is my friend. And normal people, unlike you, text each other with this device known as a phone. Of course I know! He sent me a picture of the cutesy cat!”

Derek ignored the jab at his hatred to phones. Seriously, Stiles wondered if even the Pack Messages were sent by Erica through his phone. If, you know, Derek didn't like, write in full sentences with whole words like an old man.

“The ‘cutesy cat’ decided that Lydia's hair was the best place to sit on. Then it decided to scratch at her hair. Malia didn't like her packmate in distress, and Scott and Isaac's guilt was suffocating enough without Lydia's death glare at them, and Erica decided filming her would be a good idea. I think you can connect the dots.” Derek told him all of it in a complete monotone, like having an angry Lydia chasing Erica and Malia losing her control didn't affect him at all. Except the evidence of that was all around them, and Stiles was glad that this weekend was his on-field duty.

“I... Don't know what to say. At least we made it four years before this happened. Again.”

The last time the three girls had lost all their control like this was long, long ago, labelled under a box in his brain called ‘Do Not Open. Please.’ He seriously wasn't keen on opening it. Ever.

He kind of felt bad for leaving his Alpha alone to deal with the pack. Sure, said pack were adults, now, most of them in their last year of college and Lydia, being Lydia, was on her path to get her second degree where most people got one but... They really weren't adults. None of them were. Age was just a number, and apparently him and Derek were the ‘Pack Parents’ and the idiots calling themselves Scott, Isaac, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, Boyd, Erica, Kira and Malia were their kids.

Kids who were about to get a whole lot of chores because damnit, Stiles was not going to clean up their mess, and neither was Derek.

Stiles listed all the things he'd made their kids do while Derek listened with his eyebrows knitted together in expression number two, which meant ‘I am listening. I don't want to, but I am, because you're very intense and generally know what you are doing.’

“—and he can clean up the poop!” He finished with a flourish, arms finally coming to rest on his thighs. Phew. That was a lot of flailing, even for him.

Derek gave him a look. “Poop?”

“Poop.” He agreed. When Derek just kept looking at him, he mumbled, “I mean, Scott brought him here. He should be the one to take care of Midnight's excreta and stuff. It's only fair.”

Derek gave him the patented ‘Stiles, I'm going to kill you.’ look. Stiles didn't have to guess. He'd had this look thrown his way everyday since that one fateful night out and about in the preserve that started the werewolfy chapter in his life.

“What?” He asked self-consciously.

Derek didn't use his words, but he made it pretty clear with his gesturing around the once pristine living room what he wanted to say.

“We will train him! Come on, Derek, have a little heart!” He paused. “I mean. Not a little heart. Just more... Feelings. Ugh, well you know what I mean. Please?”

Derek only glared harder, and then for some reason, looked totally nervous. If it were anyone other than Stiles here, they would have thought that Derek just notched up his ‘I'm going to kill you.’ face by, say, a thousand, but Stiles was here. This was totally Derek's nervous face.

Stiles flailed hard, and accidentally hit Derek on his face. “Derek! If I find out either you or your kids killed Midnight, I—I'll divorce the Pack!”

“Why are they my kids when they're potentially cat-killers and your kids when they get good grades? I'm pretty sure you can't divorce Scott and Isaac's puppy eyes.” Derek grumbled, but at least he looked not nervous now. Well, less nervous.

“True,” he agreed, because man, Scott and Isaac were unfair, and added, “I'm the proud parent, dude, and you're obviously the pushover parent. You let them get away with everything.”

“I do not. And don't call me dude.”

“Keep telling yourself that, dude.” He grinned cheekily at Derek's glaring face. Seriously, though, it was true. The massive movie-theater-esque TV in one of the basement rooms was one of the many, many proofs of that.

And Stiles hated himself because he didn't need to say that he thought of him and Derek as parents... where they were like a couple. Sure, there were jokes and all, and they did act like it but... It hurt. It hurt because it wasn't true.

And Stiles wanted it to be.

In a bid to reroute his thinking process, he asked again, “You didn't kill Midnight, did you?”

Derek just rolled his eyes and said “No.” And then suddenly, Derek hauled them both up, and started to pick up the mess that was the living room of the house. “Pick up the cushions,” he said, gruffly, again nervous. Kind of angry—didn't Stiles just spend half-an-hour telling Derek about the chore-table he'd made on the spot—and also kind of disoriented, because what, he did as was told.

And stopped as he picked up the second cushion on the floor. He blinked his eyes, counted his fingers—ten, there were exactly ten fingers on his hands, this was not a dream—because that...

... Couldn't be true. Could it? But he could see Derek giving him small glances as he righted the couch, with ease, the cheating werewolf, and what was Stiles to do but shake as he picked up the card.

The card which addressed Stiles, and asked him, “Will you be my mate?”

Werewolves didn't have a predestined mate. They fall in love like anyone else. But they are part wolves, and instead of calling their significant other boyfriend or girlfriend or partner or whatever, they call them mate.

And it's final. If a werewolf asks you to be their mate, that means they're commited. It's basically a marriage proposal.

The card was blue. Stiles' favourite color, and he should not have teared up at that little gesture. But he did. And he hadn't even opened the thing yet, which, why not?

Tears welled up in his eyes as he read what was written inside, in Derek's clean, neat, cursive handwriting. Stiles might tease the Alpha for not using his words, but when it came to writing down his words... Derek pretty much put the best writers to shame.

“The day I met you I was a mess

And you were full of sass

You annoyed me to death

Made me tempt your fate

I could have killed you

But I am glad I didn't, phew.”

Or maybe it was just his biased heart speaking.  

He started laughing, his arms hitting Derek's chest as he turned around, the Alpha giving him expression number one, which meant ‘I'm hurt but I don't want to show it so I'm going to glare... Harder.’

“Oh, no, no, no, Der, just—phew?” He laughed harder, imagining Derek making that noise, his tough, gruff voice mimicking such a kiddie noise. Huh. Pew pew... Now that made him laugh harder.

When he finally managed to regain his composure, Derek just looked simple ol' annoyed.

“I don't even want to know. Just.” Derek made a ‘go on’ gesture at the card that was still in Stiles' hand, like he wanted him to read it, but also not. Like Stiles was going to reject him. Well, tough luck. He'd been in love with this idiot since he was seventeen, of course he wasn't going to reject Derek. Except maybe he would, because why would someone thrash their own house for a goddamn card?

Or okay, Stiles had to believe that what Derek told him did happen, because he could see Lydia's gorgeous strawberry blonde hair on the floor, but man if Derek didn't use the situation well.

The card told him why. Derek did have a way with words, and with the strings attached to Stiles' heart. He pulled every one of those with his badly written poetry.

Stiles was crying when he was done.

He slowly put down the card on the righted coffee table—Derek had been hard at work, apparently, with his nervous energy and mostly the place looked okay now—and made his way to the other man, and latched onto him like a barnacle. Derek froze for a moment, but with each second that passed, he relaxed, and slowly brought his hands to Stiles' back and rubbed soothing circles, like the human liked.

“I'm sorry,” Derek mumbled after some time, Stiles didn't know how much, and started to pull away. Stiles tightened his hold on the werewolf instead.

“Why? You shouldn't be. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He pulled back just enough to look Derek in the eye. “You don't, Derek.”

Derek didn't look away. Stiles guessed he couldn't. He knew because he was in the same boat.

“I made you wait.”

Stiles chuckled. It was a little watery. “Aw, you aren't being sorry for dragging ‘my human ass in the supernatural mess,’ that's real progress, Alpha.”

“You would have done it anyway. You're too curious for your own good.” Derek replied fondly. But the light atmosphere quickly changed back to the tense one, Derek going back to apologising for making Stiles wait for years, apparently.

“It was Isaac who told me that you've been in love with me for years. I mean I knew you were in love with someone... I thought Lydia at first and then Malia, maybe...”

“So this was Isaac's idea,” Stiles mumbled to himself. But he and Derek were still so close, and Derek heard him.

“Technically.” Derek agreed.

“I am not, you know. Not with them,” Stiles assured. “And... I get it. I'm actually glad you waited. You're... Healed. You were never broken, Der,” he whispered the words. It felt like he should, like they would lose their meaning if he said them louder. And it fit them. With the level of comfort Derek and him shared with each other, Stiles never felt like filling the silences with his chatter. “You were not. You were just in a... Feelings-Coma. You could feel them, but not really feel them, you know? I think. The good ones especially. Not for yourself at least. I hated it but I also get it, you know. After the Nogitsune—”

“You don't have to—”

Stiles smiled, and kissed Derek's cheek that was closest to him. “I will do anything and everything for those I love. I will.” His smiled widened at Derek's blush. “Well. You know how I felt after that. We didn't lose anyone close to us but we did lose people—I hated myself. But you didn't. Because you saw the person I was before, waiting to be brought back to the surface. And you were right. I am not the same as I was, but, I am better then that.” Derek's hand had found his, and their hands were interlaced, now. Even though he was reliving something he hated to, Stiles couldn't stop smiling. “I saw the one you could be, you know. When I took the time to think about you... Voluntarily, that is.”

“I guess I am just that special, then,” Derek said with a small smile on his face.

Stiles rubbed their noses together, cataloguing the way Derek's eyelashes danced around his beautiful eyes. “Yes you are. And you prove it everyday. I still don't know how you could still stay standing after losing everything—everyone. And I respected you for that. I thought I never could have done what you did, and then I got to know you and I... Fell in love with you.”

They stayed like that, in the kind-of cleaned but mostly messy living room of the Hale House, because in Derek's words:

“In all this mess,

You were the unique case.

You made me feel less alone

Like I could walk away from my tomb

Like I was alive and breathing

And feeling like my soul was freeing

From the cage of my broken life

Just because you gave me strife.”

Stiles especially loved the last line. Derek didn't just love him, he loved him despite all the things he's done to make Derek angry—and he's done that a lot. Maybe he could frame that bit, and the next time when he would inevitably get hurt—either from the monster hunting, which was more likely, or his occasional on-field FBI job—he could just show that to his Alpha. Because obviously Derek could never hate him, despite him being a stubborn idiot.

He giggled at the thought, and Derek just sighed.

“No, you're not framing it.”

“Oh, you know me so well, poetrywolf.” Derek sighed again, and Stiles added, “I was thinking I'd kiss you if you'd let me—”

Turns out he'd just kiss Derek for no reason at all. And when did the Sourwolf become such a great kisser?

#pridewrite2021 #happy pride 🌈 #sterek #teen wolf #gay boys #(in an umbrella term) #stiles stilinski #derek hale #day 2 #gay

[outerbankslut]

Empty... JJ Maybank

Summary • Soulmates were everywhere in the world and you just wanted to find your own.

Warnings • Mentions of wanting to commit suicide (essentially an allusion to it once). Underage drinking and insinuation of alcohol addiction. Mentions of abuse (from JJ). Literally wrote this in two hours today so it’s probably badly written. Swearing as well like once.

Word Count • 1.6k (Imagine)

Masterlist

(GIF by @toesure)

    A WHISPY BREEZE settled over the area as you took a swig of the vodka bottle in your hand. The beach was practically empty considering it was the late hours of the night and the sun had fallen from its place in the sky leading to the peak of the moon. Whenever you needed a break from life, school or just people you can’t to the beach. It was your safe space of safe haven if you will.

You could purge your anxieties there just by screaming out into the void of the ocean with the lapping of the waves and roaring of the wind covering any evidence that you were making a sound. You could drink your sorrows away and no one would stop you. You felt like if you wanted to you could just walk into the ocean and never return. Become one with the waves.

Maybe you would feel something, anything other than emptiness. It wasn’t like that for most people. Because most people meet their soulmates before they’re 12. Those were the lucky ones.

You were the unlucky one. 18 and not one sign that anyone was out there. Not one small burst of emotion ever. When you meet your soulmate for the first time all the emotions they feel you feel. Sometimes it could be hard to decipher but you would know. To be empathetically linked to someone was the worst and the best things at the same time. Of course you didn’t know personally though. You just knew you wanted that feeling, of knowing someone was there and feeling something for once. You were the black sheep in the family having an unknown future of who you would be with.

Your parents had found each other when they were 10. The closely tied bond you hold with your soulmate comes with you through childhood into your teen years and evolves into whatever. Could end up a romantic relationship later in life or just stay a simple friendship. It could all get really confusing sometimes. But most ended up dating their soulmate even feeling pressured to do so despite not wanting to which you were glad you didn’t have to go through really.

Of course you can reject your soulmate but that comes with a lot of mental anguish even if they’re not a good person. It’ll still hurt, like the worst pain imaginable on both ends.

And yet here you were still alone in the world, your family didn’t even speak to you these days. You didn’t have any friends really apart from the girls you worked with at a small diner. Most people didn’t want to be associated with you, thinking great shame of people who didn’t have a soulmate yet. Which was stupid but it was how the world was. Especially for someone of high status in figure 8. You were lucky your parents hadn’t kicked you out yet.

But the beach was a place where you could wash away those thoughts with the the stinging of the vodka down your throat and the warm feeling erupting in the pit of your stomach. At least that made you feel something. Just a small something.

You breathed out a long sigh, just that warmth that you felt from the addictive liquid was more than enough for you. But at the same time you craved the feeling of a close connection. You wanted to feel what someone else felt. No matter the feelings you just wanted to stop feeling so empty, so absent from your own life.

    JJ MAYBANK SAT a ways off in his own little area of the beach in front of a small tree that sat embedded right next to the beginning of the sandy beach. His body was scaled in small bruises from jabs and punches. The boy suddenly felt a small feeling of contentment erupt. A second ago he felt like shit. He had no clue where the feeling came from and an idea came into his head suddenly but he shook it off.

He looked around just to check but didn’t see anyone immediately so brushed it off. It was dumb of him to think that. He would probably never get close to finding his soulmate. That’s what his dad had always told him. And being that his dad lost his mum even though they were soulmates made him almost lose hope in all of it.

He rested his arms on his knees which were bought up closely to his chest holding himself tightly together and close. It was almost a defence mechanism holding himself close and making sure no one else got close enough to witness him falling apart slowly after every hit he took and insult he attempted to shake off but he always took it to heart. It was hard not to when you value your parents opinions so much.

He did have his friends to confide in but at the same time they didn’t understand how he was feeling. He felt so alone and isolated. Yet they were free with their soulmates—John B with Sarah Cameron, Kiara with Pope—and then there was him. The lone wolf. They couldn’t relate to feeling like a fuckup all the time for more reasons than one. To be a failure at something that seemed so simple, finding his own soulmate. He was looked upon as abnormal in this world and he was sick of it, sick of what he couldn’t control defining him.

Then JJ felt the feeling he got for a second fizzle out. It was just empty. There was no feeling to fill what was there. JJ frowned, it was like someone was flicking a switch on and off on his emotions. Then it returned the same feeling and then boy swivelled around on the sand again landing his eyes on a figure in the distance as he squinted.

Your figure. You were alone sitting in the sand like he was much further down the long stretch of beach with what looked like a bottle in your hand. Then you got up and walked down to the water so your feet being covered in a cool sensation as you stood there and felt so calm.

And just like a switch JJ felt calm. He felt all his worries fall away for a split second. He felt utterly euphoric sitting and watching on curiously.

JJ felt drawn to you. His body was telling him to move. Screaming in fact. Every muscle wanted to go up to you, to hug you. But there was a part of him that counteracted that. A small reservation rooted so deep he didn’t think he could shake it. He wanted to go over. He wanted to help make you feel whole, so that he could feel whole too. Maybe you’re would help each other, after all aren’t soulmates meant for that. JJ felt a spark of guilt and regret as he thought about his different options. Make someone else’s life either better or worse and same goes for his own life if he went over. Or he walks away and forgets this ever happened. Forget that he may have just found his soulmate.

While the boy debated in his head what to do you felt foreign feelings bubbles up in your stomach. You felt guilty and regretful. But for what? And then you caught sight of the figure on the beach too. He was almost just a small dot to you but you could make out that he was wearing a jumper and a red cap. He looked deep in thought. Was he it?

JJ had weighed up his options. He’d thought about it but he still felt hesitation every time he moved to walk over to you. And he understood it. He didn’t want to be rejected. He didn’t want deal with being abandoned again. He couldn’t take it one more time. It was easier to block everyone out than risk anyone getting close. JJ looked tough but really he was fragile. One more thing could break him. One more person leaving him and all hope he had would be out of the window. And if you weren’t his soulmate, though by now he could almost completely tell, he would be crushed. He couldn’t give himself false hope again. Like every time he thought his dad was proud of him it made JJ happy and then the next minute he’d be telling the boy what a disappointment he was. It was enough for JJs self worth to drop through the floor. JJ wasn’t worth it. And it wasn’t worth him the pain he’d feel at the end of it all. He sent a lingering glance in your direction and he’d made his decision. And then suddenly JJ wasn’t frozen after all.

You watched from afar as he turned your way before he stood up. Maybe this was it. Maybe you’d finally found them. You almost felt a spur of happiness at the thought. An emotion not very often experienced. And JJ felt it too, making it harder for him to walk off the beach in the opposite direction to you as the giddy feeling dissipated into the ocean air. That was the hardest part, leaving. JJ was doing to you just as people in his life had done to him. Maybe he shouldn’t be walking back home right now instead of walking down that beach towards you but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let someone care about him like that.

When the emptiness returned you realised it wasn’t going to happen. None of that meant anything. You would never find them. There was no one out there for you. You just weren’t meant for a soulmate.

Note • I wrote this cause I was in my sad feels and wanted something angsty. I also I just realised I write no dialogue but eh. Honestly I don’t even know what I fuckin wrote lmao <33

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[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chapter 11: A Joust Worth Remembering!

It was late afternoon, around 4 o'clock in the afternoon to our clock. Crowds gather to the center ring, ready for the evening's big event, Dionysus's joust. On opposite sides, Dionysus and Ares stood like two forces of nature. Ares prepared his chariot, now being pulled by Delphi's most capable mules, glared at Dionysus from across the ring. Dionysus, stared back not as a proud and fierce as the bulls he's compared to, but more of a scared fawn looking straight at the wolf eyeing it.

He glances at Hermes, Apollo and Ariadne whom were sitting within the crowd, feeling a little courage, he rides his chariot slowly towards to the ring, Ares following soon after, he clears his throat, "LADIES, GENTLEMEN AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN AND BEYOND! I give you the joust of the millenia! Me, your humble ruler versus Ares!", he reached his arm out to show the crowd a begrudged Ares. "May the best god win!", he finished his speech, he felt a cold sweat run down his tempal. "Okie dokie, just relax-", he looked again to Hermes and Apollo, he could see them both had a glint in their eyes, "-you guys better have done a good job, I can't bare losing her.", he quietly whispered to himself.

Ares however, was revved up like an angry boar, ready to once again gouge his prey. He clenched his teeth as if he was going to go for the jugular. "I'm going to wreck your shit Dio.", he growled through his teeth. He and Dionysus both stopped a little parallel to each other, setting their positions for the joust. The two chariots were ready, the lances pointing to each other....and the chariots darted to each other as if time itself slowed to a crawl. Things were looking like they were going according to plan, but fate is a force even the gods can't predict. It was going to come on four legs, orange fur and long whiskers.

Back at the food tent, the little lycan pup was still rummaging through the cloths and pillows, now all shredded open creating a storm of down feathers. He played and leaped, knawed and ravaged the pillows as if they were rabbits. Until, he heard a mew, just outside the tent. All his attention went from enjoying himself, to finding the thing that made the noise. Sniffing the air, his nose lead to the corner of ravaged tent, again a mew was heard. He poked his head from under the tent, seeing a stray cat. The pup had no idea what a cat was, but he hated it like any self respecting canidae. He gave the most hardy growl his little body could muster and barked. The cat arched, hairs on end and it hissed. The pup matched ferocity with the cat, barking again he gave chase, determined to hunt it. The car let out a yowl and ran off, the cat and pup both have way to a cat and mouse chase throughout the feild. Several Delphians saw this oddly shaped wolf pup chasing the cat, some knowing very well this was no dog, it was definitely something of a beast. The pup chased the cat....into the jousting field.

Within the meaningless seconds, Ares felt victory was a red dye tipped lance away, "oh I can't wait to see the look on that fatass's face when I get take Delphi for myself!", he thought to himself. He could feel the warm wave of confidence run down his back and the cool breeze of the chariot's speed. His face with a manic grin, contrary to Dionysus's look of fear and worry. All Dionysus could do was hope that he wouldn't lose everything he cared for.

Ares it seemed had the joust set, until he saw a flash of orange followed by a little blurr of greyish brown. "Wait wh-", suddenly just time began to start walking instead of crawling, he heard the haunting sound of something breaking. He looked to his right and saw the wheel broke right off it's wheelhub, while at the same time, the sight of the two beasts of burdens frightened the chariot mules. The mules reared back, braying in fear of the fast moving things. The same had happened to Dionysus's mules, but he quickly reacted to the situation. He tugged at the riens as hard as he could, and tugged to his right and the whole chariot took a remarkable slide. Just narrowly avoiding hitting Ares's chariot.

It's an incredible chaos! As Ares's chariot continues to crash down to the dirt, the mules struggling with the yoke and shaft, Dionysus's mules grind to a halt and both gods seem to have lost control. The two gods, now more concerned about not dieing from an unfortunate chariot accident, where orbiting the field in a cloud of dust.

The whole joust had become the world's most heavenly mess. Hermes looked at Apollo, mildly glaring at him, all Apollo could do is gawk like everyone in the crowd. He looked at Hermes to see if he was enjoying the sight as much as he was but it was clear Hermes was more mildly upset. "What did YOU do?", Hermes asked. Even he wanted to know what did Apollo do to help sabotage Ares, because even Hermes himself wouldn't have thought of something as simple as messing with the chariot.

Apollo blushed a little with childish shame, "oh nothing much.....I just loosened a thing...or two.", he explained that he loosened the wheelhub to make sure it was guaranteed the wheel would fly off.", Hermes was dumbfounded yet actually impressed at the simplicity of it all.

Next to Apollo, Ariadne was worried about Dionysus, hoping he didn't hurt himself too much. "Oh no my dearest Dionysus! Please let him be alright.", she worried out loud. Apollo gave her a friendly pay on her shoulder.

"There there, he's been through worse.", Apollo assured her. He noticed a few people shouting and asking about the joust's results. Did Ares win? Or Did Dionysus win? As the dust cleared, both chariots, both pair of mules and both gods, in a pile of a kerfuffle. Ares rubbed his hurting head, all he could remember was something whizzing through the jousting feild and BOOM, now he was laying on the side of his own chariot...belly down. His thoughts started to collect and he than quickly remembered the wheel, now fuming with anger.

Dionysus, still reeling from his epic drift, was seeing stars for a few seconds. His thoughts ran as fast as the stars did and he felt a pit in his stomach and sinking in his heart. He shook his head, as he noticed a bright, green mark on Ares's left thigh. His gaping mouth quickly transformed into a smile, he had won by luck itself. Before Ares could turn around to strangle Dionysus, a satyr shouts "LORD DIONYSUS IS THE WINNER!". The crowd roared with cheer and merriment for their patron god had won as expected. Ariadne leaps up and cheered, she hastily went to Dionysus to hug the big fool. "You could have gotten yourself hurt!", Ariadne gave him a slap on the face, but just as quickly she was furious, she hugged him again. Relieved that he's alright. Dionysus picked her up, embracing her, he was relieved that she wasn't going to be trinketed away to his war mongering brother.

Ares was confused, he looked all over his body and found that bright green paint on his thigh, it stuck out like a sore thumb, evidence of his defeat. He looked at the cheering crowd and saw Apollo and Hermes both giggling, it was clear what had happened. Those two had sabotaged him, all this because his "whiny brother was a sore loser and couldn't stand loosing in front of his adoring followers" his thoughts roared. He stood there, stewing in his own anger. He growl, snarled, and baired his teeth but he took a deep breath, knowing well that if all of this calamity happened, it was obvious it wasn't written in the stars. He huffed and snorted like a bull, he wasn't going to dignify Dionysus with a congratulations. He stormed off, to find his horses and someone to fix his chariot.

About an hour later, after Dionysus's decree of curfew had to be upheld as promised, Ares was still at the stables, waiting for his chariot to be fixed by a supposed reputable repair nymph. He sat down on a stool, brooding his loss of the perfect training ground for an army he would have to wait another century. "Bastard drunk asshole, I swear if that golden twink and thieving gnat Hermes didn't fuck up my chances...hmf. I would have won.....I want a rema-" suddenly, he heard the sniffling and whinnying of a dog. He turned his head to the sound, and slowly followed it to a pile of empty barrels. He looked inside some of the barrels, he moved some aside, he couldn't seem to find the sound. Than, he finally found the source, it was the little pup.

It had seemed that shortly after he and the cat zoomed across the field, their chase ensued. He and the cat had a tussle, they 'battled' it out but towards the end, the pup lost to the cat's claws. A scratch across his little snout, few on his body and arms, tears running down his face, poor thing had its first taste of defeat with a little side of pain. Ares watched on, just wondering who would put this poor misshapen dog in tattered clothes. "To make my day even worse, these drunken fools decided to defile an innocent dog. Well... No use having two souls suffer...", he leaned down and saw the pitiful little, "hey buddy.", he spoke softly.

The lycan pup looked up, perked his ears in shock and let out a little snarl. To the pup, Ares was a towering opponent, he was going to do everything to defend himself. Ares however, was actually curious about the pup, it was definitely a funny looking dog with oddly long arms, legs and paws. He gently picks the pup by the scruff of his tattered chiton, as he does so, the pup grabs on to his forearm and knaws on the bareskin. The pup tried to dig in deep but even his little sharp teeth couldn't break Ares's skin.

Ares gave a hardy chuckle, "You have a lot fire in you, ugh buddy? I'm not going to lie, I have no idea what kinda dog you are....Fuck it, you'll make a fine addition to my pack little one...I think I'll name you.....Ajax.", he scratched the pup behind his ear with his free hand. The pup suddenly relaxed as he felt the pleasant starching of a persistent itch had gone, his tail wagged with glee and even relaxed his grip on Ares's forearm, letting Ares carry him like a small child. Delighted, Ares carried him to his chariot to bring back to Olypmus.

Back at Dionysus's veranda, the boys were enjoying a late afternoon cup of wup. Apollo was playing his lyre while Hermes, Ariadne and Dionysus relaxed after helping the citizens put away the maritals from the games. Dionysus with Ariadne in one arm and a kylix in the other hand, "man, that was great...did you see that sweet drift, I knew Ares was going to do something weird so I ha-?", he drunkenly went on.

"Dionysus love, you know very well you didn't plan anything.", Ariadne included. She was playing with his curly, thick locks. Dionysus blushed a little on top of his rosey glow of wine, laid the side of his head on to her, "yes darling.", he responded, "shame Ares couldn't stay for our little celebration.", he said with an air of irony. Apollo looked at Dionysus and shook his head, he knew he was just mostly relieved about Ares losing.

Hermes was swirling around his kylix, he started to ponder about the event and how did it go so wrong. He knew he and Apollo had sufficiently sabotaged Ares and his chariot yet the beginning of the joust just felt odd, he felt something was going and that a perfectly simple day wasn't going to end on a high note somehow. "Say....did anyone actually see what that THING that ran in between you guys were?", he asked taking a sip of the wine.

The rest of them all started to ponder as well, Dionysus clicked his tounge, ".....maybe it was just a dog chasing a cat or something.....", he bluntly put it. "Wait....do we have dogs in Delphi?", he asked Ariadne.

"Of course we have dogs in Delphi, Dionysus. Many of our farmers have herding dogs to protect the livestock.", she responded.

Apollo chimed in, "hmm.....yes it could....but didn't the dog look off too? It looked a little lanky....and...also....did anyone knoticed the dog.....wearing a tunic?". He hopeed someone around knew what he had seen.

This comment sent shivers down Hermes's spine, he suddenly remembered his encounter with the wolf creature. "Ugh.....you guys don't think it was-", he was interrupted by the sound of Kale.

Kale strutted towards the gods, "My Lord Dionysus, the citizens would like to express their gratitude and appreciation for your entertaining performance this evening....buuuut there was a small complaint.", he eloquently noted.

Dionysus was a little surprised about this news, "what complaint?", he asked. To his knowledge the whole thing was a success regardless of the terrible bet that had taken place behind closed curtains.

Kale, with little to no hesitation, "Well the main food tent was absolutely FuCkInG destroyed, someone ate all the roasted goat, most of the breads and ugh absolutely RUINED the furnishings I worked so hard placing. I am just floored, my Lord.", he let out a depressed sigh.

Dionysus was confused, did someone break in the food tent or was this just evidence of an animal attack? He cleared his throat, "ugh, I am so sorry about that, Kale, I saw it earlier in the morning it looked really nice. Did anyone see anything?", he asked, he just hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

Kale composes himself a little with a deep light breath, "well it looked like animal was in there...but it could have been some kid in a wolf costume or something just making mischief.", he deducted. However, Delphians weren't known for pulling such pranks, even for misbehaving youths, this would be considered to be in poor taste considering the farming population.

Ariadne slowly looked to Dionysus, suspecting he knew about something. "An animal you say?", she asked. The hair on the back of Dionysus's neck stand on end, his MAN senses were tingling, and his wife was in on it. He chuckled nervously, "maaaaybe it was just a stray dog?", his reassuring comment wasn't going to be enough.

However, Kale wasn't helping. "Well....a few people did see what came out of the tent, they saw it chase a cat all over the event field. It looked a tiny baby wolf in a chiton? I mean what kind of depraved jerk would put clothes on a wolf?". This was the final nail in the coffin, at least for Dionysus's chances of sleeping in the same villa as Ariadne.

She let out a huff, crossed her arms and crossed her legs. "What is going on Dionysus,I thought I told you not to go on with this whole thing if you KNEW if there were those beasts out there.", she was stern and her eyes could be comparable to Hera's stare of marital disappointment.

Dionysus, tried to avoid the conversation and sipped his kylix. He looked off to the side like a child who did something wrong. Hermes entered into the conversation, "Ugh to be fair, it was a BABY...and..ugh...there was just one...so...ugh...I guess it didn't do anything.", Inspite of this argument, he knew this meant that there was definitely more if these wolf creatures. "Ugh...you didn't see where it went...did you?", he asked Kale.

Scratching his meticulously groomed goatee, Kale nodded 'yes', 'I believe some of the attendees saw it run off into the field or "something" of that direction.", he replied.

Dionysus leaped up, "than it's gone! Good, let's all just hit the hay and get some sleep!", he spoke in a happy voice of a man who knew he was in deep trouble. He felt Ariadne gently pull his ear, his body flowed to the direction of Ariadne.

She gave that small smile that deceptively masked her frustration, "Dio... sweetie......you're sleeping with the leopards....not for a wekk....but for a month.", she gently whispered in his ear, patted him on his face. Regardless if she was angry with Dionysus, it seemed by the end of the day no one actually got hurt. She turn around to walk back home, "Goodnight, gentlemen.", she left right back.

The four gentlemen were all standing by themselves watching Ariadne leave, Apollo sighed and turned to Dionysus. "So....where do the leopards sleep?", he asked Dionysus.

Dionysus stared at Ariadne with loving relief. "Well, they sleep....that way.", he pointed towards the dimly lit forested yard were many of his leopards roamed freely. He scratched his chin, satisfied with the whole situation, it could have been worse yet it could have been better. Now his only priority, is to find a soft place to sleep. Before he did so, he turned to Kale and his brothers. "Kale, tell NO ONE of this weird dog shit, deny EVERYTHING and ugh....tell anyone who asked it was leopard. Hermes, Apollo, tommorow....we go and talk to dad about this. Now...I'm going to get serious.", as he said this, tripped on a raised rug and fell over on a pile of lounge pillow. "I'm ok... actually this is pretty comfy....", he muffled.

Apollo and Hermes looked down at Dionysus, wondering if they should help, but there's a likely chance he probably has already dosed off.

#greek bros #greek-Bros #greek bros: the return of an old enemy #chapter 11 #short story #greek mythology #greek gods #dionysus #apollo #hermes #ares #blood of zeus #hellenistic #Ariadne

[dirt-cup-draco]

Remus x Reader- Safe and Sound

 I love your work! Its so good. So so good. Could I request a adult remus x reader where he saves her life? Then maybe they have to hide somewhere together while they're being 'hunted' and they're both super scared and tryna calm each other down?

A/N: You’re so so good! <3 Thank you for sending this in, as I am a Remus Slut. Probably got carried away tbh

You had been trying to gather intel and dirt on some death eaters you were hoping to reveal to the public, ultimately sending them to Azkaban for all their days but you had ignored Remus’ advice to be patient, wanting to damn them then and there. 

“We can do it!” You had promised, going in wand at the ready and no plan in your head. Remus had been stunned but the fear of you facing them alone had ultimately pulled him from his hiding spot. Unfortunately, you were more overpowered than you had realized. He was proud to see that you had successfully dropped a few but you were already breaking a sweat, eyes darting over the death eaters that just seemed to keep coming.

You weren’t as quick on your toes as Remus hoped and his eyes grew wide with panic when he realized you weren’t watching your back. That’s my job. He reminded himself as he darted to your said, hands out in front of him as he called out your name, your head whipping around to look at the man you trusted more than anything. You were frightened something had happened to him but he looked worried about you. You were about to ask what but you were cut off by the impact of Remus shoving you as a death eater shot off a spell from behind you, cloaked in the shadows. 

From your stunned place on the ground you gasped in fear as Remus doubled over, not quick enough to save you and himself from the spell. You felt some small relief as he took a few bumbling steps, eyes shut tight for a moment against the pain. He was hurting, that much was clear, but he was alilve and that was something. You finally realized that if you wanted to stay alive you ought to get out of there, no matter if the death eaters were free another day. 

You had reeled in your ego after seeing Remus bend in half, a pained grunt ripping from him as he took the spell meant for you. Finally thinking straight again, you had held onto the man who hadn’t even thought twice about saving your life and disapparated. 

With a snap in the air and a twist of you stomach you were free from the chaos of the fight and deposited in a busy town that was sleeping for the night. Your chest was heaving as you took in your surroundings, Remus’ hand in yours as you helped him into an alley that would (hopefully) hide you so long as you stayed silent. 

The treading of a group could be heard somewhere to your left and when you peered out of the darkness you found four death eaters who had apparated after you, lit momentarily by a street lamp. You could hear them talking in low voices but the wild beat of your heart was drowning it out.

You, and you alone, had already made some foolish mistakes tonight and you couldn’t afford to make anymore- the few death eaters you had been able to hex surely wasn’t worth seeing Remus in pain. He was slumped against the stone, breath coming out in labored gasps and cold sweat trickling from his forehead. 

Once the devout followers of the Dark Lord had vanished from your sight as well as outside your range of hearing, you returned to Remus and spoke in low tones. “What can I do?” 

“Listen to me for once?” He offered through gritted teeth, his suggestion coming out as a snarl as he lowered himself to the filthy cobblestone beneath him. You followed and found your hands were shaking nearly as bad as his. You could tell Remus was frightened. His eyes were wild, searching yours and wondering if he would be okay. 

The werewolf had always been good at hiding fear, for as long as you had known him. Fear of dying when Greyback had attacked him as a young boy. Fear of being found out when he had survived but with a far worse fate at hand. Fear of giving in to the monster that lay doormant until the full moon rose high in the night sky. You had only seen his facade crack on few occasions and you were sick knowing you had caused him fear. 

“I know you’re going to be alright,” You promised instead of answering his question.

Remus quieted after that for a moment but you could see him nodding slowly. He tried to steady his thoughts but he found it was hard with the pain in his abdomen that burned like fire and tore like jagged knives.”St. Mungos” He finally grumbled, hand searching for yours and squeezing for the strength that had abandoned him. “Get me there,” 

It was the last three words he said before he could say no more. He had lost consciousness and was slumped forward. Your stomach churned and you had to look straight ahead for a moment to steel your resolve. You could get Remus to safety. This wasn’t a big deal, he had been through worse. 

You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood and it helped the fearful part of you dissolve away for the determined part of you. You wouldn’t let Remus suffer here, you wouldn’t let your mistakes turn into his death. You knew you could get him to St. Mungos where Healers- far more capable than you in healing spells and medicines- could save him. 

Remus was dead weight as you slung his arm over your shoulder, making sure he was secure against you as you found ways to make his weight more bearable on your sore frame. You hadn’t had an easy night either it seemed as your limbs screamed at you in agitation. 

You dragged him from the alley, his head lolling side to side uncontrollably as he refused to rouse from his deep slumber. “It’ll be alright Rem, you’ll be alright,” You promised him even if he couldn’t hear you. Maybe you were comforting yourself, but you needed it to keep a cool head.

Remus moaned softly in the dark of the night as you hobbled with him attached to your side. His lanky legs dragged against the stone and you were losing your strength. Remus was lithe yet muscular and he had weight to him. It didn’t help that he was unable to support his own weight. You helped him into another alleyway, most likely not even a quarter of a mile between you and the one you had first hidden in. You just needed to lean against the sturdy stone and catch your breath. 

The moon was shining on you from above, reminding you of how Remus would be changing soon. It was going to be a miserable few days for him. He wouldn’t get the chance to recover from tonight before his body would be ripped apart from the wolf inside. You had seen it once. Sirius, James and Peter had always gone with him and watched after him on those full mooned nights and you had become curious. 

You remembered it as if it was yesterday and not years ago. His bones had cracked with every spasm of his body, reshaping and growing to fit a more extreme size. You shivered when you had heard his muscle tear and shred to accommodate his new structure. With shame, you had looked away. Your closed eyes hadn’t stopped you from hearing the pained screams that morphed into a forlorn howl. 

You hadn’t been able to face Remus for a week after that, you’d been plagued by nightmares of him in pain and you unable to do anything. He meant so much to you and you had turned away from him in his worst time. You wouldn’t do that again. 

His breathing was even for the most part as he drifted in and out of semi-consciousness. Every so often he shuddered, letting out a soft and pained groan. You weren’t going to fail him this time, you told yourself. You weren’t going to turn away. You were going to get him to safety. 

That thought propelled you forward once more and finally St. Mungos was standing sturdy and dependable in front of your eyes like a shining beacon. You had no way of knowing how long you had walked with Remus but as the healers took him off your hands you sank down to the ground, legs quivering. Only then were you able to let yourself cry, letting out all the frustration and guilt you had been holding onto. 

--

Remus woke as something heavy fell atop his midsection. Squinting at the sunlight that threatened to blind him, he cracked an eye open and found you with your cheek squashed against the wrinkled bed sheets that covered him. In your sleep it seemed you had tossed your arm over him. It made him smile as he took in your features that were lit by that same sun that had bothered him moments before. 

Dark circles were evident under your eyes and you mumbled nonsense as you slept on. Remus was well aware of why he was in St. Mungos, even still he felt like he had been rammed in the gut with a car, but he was more confused as to how you had managed to get him here. He remembered sitting with you in the alley before he knew no more. 

There were bits and pieces that pulled at the back of his brain, like your soft voice breaking through to promise he was alright. It had soothed him even in his miserable state. 

Suddenly, the peace was broken as you gasped, “Remus!”, body going ramrod straight as your eyes flew around the room, finally going still when they fell on him, reclining in bed and looking at you with a soft, amused smile. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” He teased, his voice coming out surprisingly more rough than he expected. Remus reached for the water on his bedside table and you helped him out, before rolling your eyes.

“You nearly die and then the first thing out of your mouth sounds like it came straight from Sirius’ limited dialogue when it comes to girls,” 

You had meant to sound playful but Remus noticed the way your breath hitched as you’d uttered the words that echoed in his head. He’d nearly died? He took a long pull of his water before he set it down, hand seeking yours as you stared at him oddly. 

“Jokes aside, how are you feeling?” You asked, lip being abused between your teeth as you worried. 

“Probably better than you, you look like you’ve barely slept,” Remus deflected the question and you glared at him. You wouldn’t be lied to today it seemed. 

“I’m... better. Sore.” He slowly explained. “Not any worse than-” the usual. 

You nodded in understanding as he trailed off quietly, shrugging nonchalantly as you gripped his hand a bit tighter, thumb tracing an old scar he’d gotten from trying, and failing, to cut an apple from a tree, cutting himself instead. 

“How are you feeling?” He shot back, brushing his free hand against your cheek as you found yourself leaning into the touch. 

“I’m great!” You lied through your teeth, braving a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. 

“Y/N” Remus warned, wanting to know if anything was wrong despite being in no fit condition himself. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gave a noncommittal shrug. You were fine. You weren’t hurt besides the ache in your back and leg from carrying Remus last night. You were tired too but it seemed inconsequential now. All you could think about after crying it out last night was that it was your fault. If you had only listened, as Remus pointed out, neither of you would be in this position. 

Your fellow Order members had visited earlier, needing you to explain everything in full and you watched as their looks turned disapproving as you explained that you hadn’t looked before you leapt and it had nearly cost you one of the best men you’d even known. It had been exhausting. 

You startled back to the present as Remus’ thumb stroked the apple of your cheek, a soft “darling?” coming from his lips as his finger came away wet with tears. You hadn’t even realized you’d been crying. 

“It’s nothing,” You laughed weakly, shoving his hand away as you stood from your chair beside his bed. “Anyway, I’ve got to... get going” You hesitated with your words, unable to form a believable excuse and Remus wasn’t stupid enough to miss it. 

Remus reached for you, grip tight enough to stop you in your tracks but loose enough that you could easily pull away if you wanted. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Sometimes what we do, sometimes it doesn’t turn out right. I know that as well as you, please don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself,” 

You hated how easily he could tell what was going on inside your mind. You supposed it was because if the roles were reversed, he would be feeling the same guilt. “Of course I’m blaming myself,” You sighed, tugging your wrist from his grip but returning back to your seat as you buried your face in your hands. Even if he had already, you didn’t want him to see you cry. 

“They could find you any time! They could find you and hurt you and I’ll be powerless like I was last night and y-you might not get so lucky and it would be all my fault,” Your lip quivered, sniffling before you continued. “You told me to wait, to listen, and I ignored you. I ignored you and now you’re in a hospital bed,” 

“I’m safe,” Remus cut in, hand going to your hair as he shifted to the edge of his bed so he could be closer to you. “I saved you last night but you saved me too. If you hadn’t kept walking we wouldn’t be here now and it was plausible they could have found us and done much worse than killed us,” 

“We’d have been completely fine if I hadn’t been an idiot,” You kept going, ignoring his reasonable words. Your heart was pounding uncomfortably again and you recognized the fear mixed with the worry. You were still afraid that somehow those death eaters were just around the corner and that they would hurt Remus again. You cried harder into your hands as Remus rubbing gentle circles into your scalp. 

“Come here,” he finally said, knowing he couldn’t say much to comfort you. The quaking in your shoulders stopped momentarily as you processed his words. 

“Rem?” You croaked, looking up in question. His chest constricted at the sight of your puffy red eyes, made more severe by the bags that lay beneath them. You must have been beating yourself up all night long instead of sleeping. 

“Come here,” He repeated, scooting back in his bed and making ample room for you. You watched with wide eyes but you barely paused in climbing beside him, tucking yourself against his side as he wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your head. 

“You’re hurt because of me,” You reminded, ear pressed against his chest as you found some relief in the strong and steady beat of his heart. 

“We’re safe because of you,” He pointed out, hand trailing a warming path up and down your back. “Your safety matters too,” 

“Not at the cost of your own,” You scolded gently. 

Remus sighed heavily. “You would do the same for me,” 

“That’s different,” You grumbled petulantly. 

“It’s not,” Remus smiled a little, fingers grasping your chin lightly as he looked at you. “You know very well how I feel about you,” 

You blushed, pressing your face harder against the sturdy warmth of his chest. Remus’ voice was reassuring and steady. There was no hesitation when it came to his admittance of his feelings when they concerned you. You felt the same. Only problem was, you didn’t feel worthy. 

“Remus-” 

“I know,” He sighed, tugging you closer as you mentally pulled away. “Not the right time, never the right place, always something...” You could tell he was mainly speaking to himself but you knew he was hurt. You’d told him to move on, you couldn’t say you didn’t feel the same but you didn’t want to lead him on either. You were scared you wouldn’t be what he needed. He told you you weren’t leading him on because he’d never feel for anyone else what he felt for you so he’d just wait. The fool. 

“You’re the right person for me,” You offered as a heavy silence fell over you two. You were desperate to break it. “But-” 

“I’m a werewolf?” He winced. Of course that was it, of course that was why you didn’t want him... Why hadn’t he understood that earlier? After all, you’d turned away from the hideousness of him when you were children. 

“God Remus, no!” You were shocked to your core. Had you made him feel like you didn’t love all of him? You suddenly felt very guilty. “That isn’t it at all! I-I...” You were fumbling over your words as you knew the truth had to come out. 

You wished it didn’t have to come out with Healers bustling around you, their eyes trying not to linger too long on you and Remus as you cuddled, trying to keep your voices down but not quite managing it. 

“You are amazing, everything anyone could ever want. You are perfect in my eyes. Even with your furry little problem you have more humanity than half the people I’ve come across in my life.” You admitted, a lump stuck in your throat. “But I’m a coward and I can’t be what you need. It broke my heart when were kids to see you changing and I had to look away because I’d do something rash if I didn’t... And last night I was foolish and got you hurt. I’m not what you need Rem, no matter how I feel.” 

Remus was surprised at you. He was a werewolf for Merlin’s sake and you were caught up on how you might hurt him? How could you possibly think that you weren’t what he needed? You were everything he needed and more. You had turned away when he’d changed not because you’d been disgusted but because it had caused you pain too and if that didn’t made him feel loved, what else would?

You couldn’t avoid his gaze and it made your lungs constrict painfully. His eyes were sad and pleading. “It wasn’t your fault!” He urged, catching a few looks around the room that had started to attract more people as the sun rose higher in the sky. “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide what I need?” 

His grip on your chin was a little tighter now as he forced you to look at him and tell him no, tell him you two wouldn’t be happy together. But you couldn’t. Even now you were feeling better than you had in the past twenty four hours because he was holding you. 

“I want you to be safe-” Your argument was weakening as your voice cracked. 

“I’m safe and sound with you, nothing can take me from you as long as you let me be yours,” he promised, nuzzling his nose against yours and you sighed gently into the affection. 

“Promise me you want me?” You finally gave in. 

“I’ve wanted you for years, nothing has changed, not once.” He grinned, a smug but delighted look on his face. His fingers brushed through your hair as you mulled over it for a moment longer. 

“I suppose we’re safer together than apart,” 

“And happier together,” Remus smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth as you let go of all your tension. 

It had been a hellish day but you were able to let go of your doubt and guilt as Remus kept you safe in his arms. Whatever came next you would have each other. 

#remus #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #fluff #angst #ask #anon #anon ask #request #older!remus