#*. :｡ soul & body try to mend→(musings)

[gothicjester]

Headcanons for Obey Me! Brothers Finding Out MC Was In A Car Wreck

Was in a car wreck a couple days ago and thought I'd cope with some creative writing. I've always wanted to try posting headcanon stuff so here ya go. Of course, trigger warning for car accidents, albeit non-graphic descriptions of one.

Lucifer

He was in a meeting when he received your message. It wasn’t until after that he deemed to look at his phone, and when he saw that you had sent messages and had been in a wreck, it felt as if his heart dropped out of his chest.

He cancels all of his plans, immediately heading to you. Diavolo help any poor soul who gets in his way.

He flies immediately to the Human Realm, phone in hand trying to reach you and find out where you are.

If you answer his calls immediately, he’s filled with relief. You sound shaken but fine, and when you tell him your location, he arrives in a flurry of feathers and worry.

If you don’t answer his calls, the panic sets in. He scours the area he remembers you mentioning you would be. He finds you on the roadside with your friends, and descends in a worry filled fury. How dare you not answer his calls? The moment he sees your distressed gaze though, all of his fury melts.

He arranges help for your friends, but he takes you back to the Devildom with him. Who knew the Devildom would be safer for you than a mortal road, he muses wryly.

You’re placed in his room to rest under the pretense that you’ll be able to heal without his brothers’ antics there. You’ve known him long enough that you know the real reason.

Over the next week, you’re pampered by the Sin of Pride himself. He spends whatever time he can with you, only leaving if it’s a direct order from Diavolo.

The downside is that he brings you work to catch up on while you’re out of class, and you have to help him with Council paperwork and can’t escape.

Mammon

He thought his luck was finally turning around when he got your phone call. He was at the casino, about to win the prize when the phone rang and he saw your name. Without hesitating, he flips it open to answer. Maybe you’d let him take you on a shopping spree after this to make up for all the times he’s asked you for Grimm?

Your panicked voice dispels that thought immediately. His blood goes cold as he hears the words ‘wreck’ and ‘hurt’ and ‘stranded’ out of your mouth.

He doesn’t think; he only knows that he made it out of the casino and to Diavolo, but he doesn’t remember the in between. Diavolo grants him the request to visit the Human Realm when he hears what happened, sees the genuine worry in Mammon’s face.

Mammon flies to the location he got from your frantic call, and spies you and your friends in the snow. The wreckage is something that has his stomach twisting in knots; how could you be unscathed from that mangled mess?

The answer was, you weren’t; you were battered, ribs bruised and neck sore. But miraculously, there was nothing broken, and all your blood remained in your body.

He sighs in relief the moment you’re in his arms, shivering but undoubtedly alive. You don’t leave his hold as he summons one of his cars and lets your friends pile into the backseat. You stay on his lap as he gets in the driver’s seat, pushed back far enough to accommodate both of you comfortably. Were it anyone else, it would be undoubtedly unsafe; but with Mammon, you had no worry of your safety. He drives everyone out of there, deftly navigating the icy roads with ease. His steady heartbeat lulls you into a doze as the engine hums.

He takes the three of you to the hospital, throwing Goldie down when the doctors talk about insurance. You get the best care money could buy, and only when he’s sure you’re on the mend does he take you down to Devildom to rest.

He tucks you into your bed, and curls up right beside you. He tucks his head on the shoulder of your uninjured side, looking up at you with attentive eyes. He tracks every bruise on you with a gentle touch, lips tightening in worry at each one. 

His mortal– yes you were his just as much as he was yours, dammit– had almost been taken from him, and had that actually happened, he has no idea what he would have done.

The event makes him much more clingy; good luck escaping his grip for the next year.

Leviathan

You catch him asleep, trying to recuperate from a gaming tournament that lasted way too long. He blearily mumbles a greeting into the speaker, only to jolt to full awareness as he hears your shaky voice. 

He can’t fly like his brothers. But when he hears that you were stranded, and injured on top of that, well… nothing would get in his way to save you. His Henry needed him!!!

Leviathan was the General of the Devildom Navy for a reason. His tactical mind was unmatched. While he could not fly, that in no way stopped him. Within minutes he had reached his Human Realm contacts and secured your safety and had you and your friends enroute to a hospital. After that, he had texted Diavolo for an express pass for the Human Realm, which was immediately granted upon Diavolo reading the reason behind the request.

Levi stepped out of Devildom and right into your hospital room. When he saw the bruise on your head, his mouth fell open. He had heard of how fragile humans were, and how head injuries were some of the worst things that could happen to a mortal. So many anime had their heroines lose their memories after taking blows to their heads… what if you were the same?! How could his dear Henry forget Leviachan?!

You consoled him more than he consoled you, after that. No, you remembered him. Yes, Levi, you were sure. Of course you remembered his name, Levi. Weren’t you the one who called him, after all?

It takes time, but he accepts that you haven’t lost your memory. In truth, his overreactions help, somewhat. It takes you out of your own head, reliving the crash over and over and helps calm the shaking in your hands.

Levi is torn between letting you stay in the hospital and immediately spiriting you away to the Devildom. It’s a good thing that the doctors released you, because a Lotan event had been quickly becoming imminent.

You end up staying home from classes and holing up in Leviathan’s room for a week. You don’t escape schoolwork, as Lucifer pushes it under Levi’s door to the both of you, but he doesn’t push you or Leviathan to attend classes in that time like he normally would and you consider that a win.

Satan

He was having a good day. Classes had been interesting for once, and he was looking forward to going home and beginning a new book that you and him were planning to buddy read together.

Then he receives your call.

With Lucifer, most got out of his way to you with minimal injuries. With Satan, the bloodshed reached the Devildom news as most demons couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.

Diavolo hears the screams in Satan’s path before he is reached, and Diavolo goes to him to (hopefully) minimize casualties. When he hears of your call, Diavolo allows him access to the HUman Realm on the stipulation that there can be no casualties on the way to you, and that he must make reparations upon his return. Satan impatiently agrees.

Satan, like Levi, has more knowledge and control over their magic than most of their brothers. As Levi had been able to get the portal directly to your hospital room, Satan was able to get the portal to dump him closer to you than most of his brothers could achieve. Upon stepping into the snow, he saw you; shaken, leaning on one of your friends for support, but alive and relatively unharmed.

It calms him when you reach for him, and he gathers you up with relief. Rather than call for help, he takes you and your friends back to Devildom. Later, Lucifer would try to reprimand him for bringing two other mortals to the Devildom, only for Satan to bring up the fact that they were supposed to be establishing a good rapport with the humans. What better way than saving their lives? The look on Lucifer’s face when Diavolo agrees with Satan had the Sin of Wrath in a good mood for weeks after.

He heals you first. Most demons didn’t bother learning healing magic; most could heal quickly, and found it redundant. But Satan wasn’t most demons. At the very beginning of the exchange program he began reading up on the spells of restoration and the potions that could bring humans back from the brink of death. Luckily, none of your injuries were that serious, and within the hour, all three of you were healthy once more.

That doesn’t stop Satan from tucking you away in his room after your friends are returned home. The two of you stay curled up on the window seat for the rest of the night, Satan’s hand on your wrist and reassuring himself with your pulse. You’re safe. You’re alive.

Asmodeus

You were late. Asmo had booked the two of you for the spa, and he had even gotten special permission to go to the Human Realm for this. You said your friend would be dropping you off.

He knew you tend to lose track of time, but it was going on 15 minutes now. He sighed in frustration as his phone rings. As he sees your name, he hopes you have a good explanation. 

He wasn’t expecting the tight and shaken tone, and horror filled him as he heard what happened. But he wasn’t going to panic you further. Asmo had experience calming partners, and tho he usually used his enchanting eyes, he also knew how to sooth with his voice as well.

He speaks calmly and evenly, coaxing your location and keeping you on the line as he organizes rescue through his phone. Soon enough, emergency services reach you, and Asmo heads to the hospital that you would be taken to. When the talk of insurance and medical bills comes up, he soothes you once more and sets to work.

By the time you reach the hospital, the staff had been fully enchanted by him. You are given the best care, and your bill is ‘conveniently’ waived. What’s more, is that he had procured a new vehicle for your friend, because he was amazing like that, wasn’t he?

He basks in you and your friends praise and thanks, but beneath that smug look he catalogues every bruise and stuttered breath you take.

In the next month, the county you had been traveling through had gone through an overhaul. The mayor had emphasized the importance of safe roads with a manic determination. It was a big change from the carelessness that he previously displayed.

Asmo takes that month to pamper you lavishly. You have unrestricted access to his bath… well, you did before for different reasons. But he all but demands you relax in the hot water, pouring all sorts of scented oils and healing balms into it. The bruises disappear within days, but Asmo guards you jealously until you confront him about it.

Beel

He breaks his phone.

He hears your panic and immediately loses control, cracking his phone in his grip. He manages to hear your location right before the speaker fizzles out, and he’s off like a shot to Lucifer. 

Lucifer talks to Diavolo, and gets him the pass to the Human Realm with the order to retrieve you at all costs.

His wings weren’t meant to fly in the cold, but Beel soldiers through to your location and lands in the snow beside the wreckage.

He’s relieved to see you walking and talking coherently, but worries at how you clutch your ribs and have a bruise blooming on your forehead. With his sports, he sees injuries all the time; he’s had injuries worse than this. But he’s a demon. On top of that, he’s a Sin. He can walk damn near anything off. 

But you were human, and he’s reminded just how fragile you can be. 

He gets your friends to safety at your request, but takes you immediately down to Devildom after. He doesn’t trust the human doctors, preferring to take you to Satan who he knows can heal you faster.

For the next week, he carries you everywhere. If you're not in bed, you're in Beels arms. Only at Lucifer's intervention are you able to touch the ground again. But you'd be foolish to think that was the end of it.

Beel continues to tail you for the next several months. He's not subtle about it. He already lost one person he cares about, and he's not happy with how close it came to losing another. 

Belphie

Belphie sleeps through the first call. And the second. But the third has him picking up with an annoyed growl.

Your tone is akin to someone splashing cold water on him, waking him instantly. He’s only heard that tone once before; when his hand had wrapped around your neck, until it abruptly cut off with the terrible snap of bone as he broke you.

Instantly he’s out of bed, phone pressed against his ear as he demands to know where you are and if you’re hurt. When he hears yes, it’s as if he’s woken to his worst nightmare.

He hates that his first thought is to call Lucifer, but that’s exactly what he does once he knows your general location. The moment Lucifer hears what’s happened, he orders Belphie to prepare your room and find Satan. Bitterness fills the Sin of Sloth, but he does exactly what the eldest requests.

Lucifer helps you in half an hour later, concern on his face as he hands you off to Belphie. Belphie can’t help but notice your labored breathing. You’re shivering, and he can see the beginning of a bruise on your forehead.

He frets over you as Satan checks you over. When he learns you’ll be okay, he’s relieved. But when he also learns you’re confined to bed rest for a week, he can’t help but look forward to it.

Lucifer, in a rare act of allowance, gives Belphie the week off of classes as well to watch over you, provided neither of you fall behind on schoolwork. Belphie complains about the stipulation, but Lucifer notices a surprising lack of pranks for a while after.

Belphie moves you into the attic for that week. The two of you spend most of the time either sleeping or reading manga, with Beel joining you when he can.

When you sleep, Belphie dispels any nightmares that start to creep into your mind, instead weaving fantastical dreams that make you want to stay asleep as long as possible. 

It may not have been the most healthy for a mortal to sleep so long, but like this Belphie knew you were safe and happy.

Eventually, the brothers host an intervention and Belphie reluctantly lets you leave the attic and return to classes.

Whenever you visit the Human Realm from then on, he demands to come with you. He won’t let you be in danger again. And if he could make up for the time he himself put you in the worst danger, well that was two birds with one stone.

Might do one for the Undateables too, not sure yet.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: we're almost through the week.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky 

Bucky can smell her body soap as it wafts off her. Everything about her makes him giddy. Just walking beside her, getting to look at her, getting to talk to her!

And now, he’s taking her out to lunch. Almost like a real date.

He’s antsy to get to the restaurant. He tried to measure his patience as best he could as he fixed the lock. While she showered and dressed in the small bathroom, he paced her apartment, taking the chance to adjust a few of the cameras. Better, he can see the door.

He is mindful not to walk too fast for her. She seems to be moving a little better. If it’s the short nap she took or the shower, he’s not sure, but he’s happy for it.

She’s shy. He knows she’s often alone and keeps to herself but she sends him sheepish glances only to quickly look away each time their eyes meet. Her heart continues to race just as it did when she awoke to the intruder. 

He steps ahead of her and opens the door of the noodle shop. She looks up and her eyes scan the sign then the windows. She lifts her cane in ahead of her as she steps through, “this place is good.”

He smiles. He hasn’t been back since the first time he saw her. Now he’s with her and he can hardly believe it. He follows her in as Mrs. Zhao greets them. She shows her surprise with a clap and a squeal.

“You brought a friend,” she muses.

“Uh, yeah,” he answers as the woman leans on her cane, stuck in limbo between them.

“Let me get you seated,” Zhao speaks to her and ushers her along as Bucky trails behind. They sit in a booth as menus await them and Mrs. Zhao bows before she leaves them. 

She, his companion, his date, nestles her cane against the wall of the booth and her eyes flit around. She peeks at the menu then at him. She folds her hands in her lap, making no move to peruse the options further.

“You come here a lot? She knows you?” She glances towards the kitchen.

“Ah, yeah,” he answers with a nervous chuckle, “I don’t always have the energy to cook so…”

She nods and shifts on the seat. He sees how her cheek ticks and she grips the edge of the table to adjust her posture. He flutters his fingers over the laminated menu.

“Is it okay? Are you uncomfortable?” He leans forward.

“Fine,” she ekes out and brings her fingertips to the edge of the menu.

“Right, um, well, if you want a little padding you could sit on my jacket,” he offers.

Her lips curve softly and her brows raise, “that’s really nice but I’m okay.”

She looks down again at the menu. He sees how she chews her lip and slants her mouth. He knows exactly what she’s looking at. Not the dishes but the prices. It's a habit. He’s been there too. Pinching every penny, darning every sock and sleeve until it’s too frayed to mend, stretching broth with water, and washing with no soap. His bad days are over and he wants to help end hers too.

“How about we do the meal for two special,” he offers as he sees her fixate on the sides section. Three spring rolls isn’t going to stop the growling in her stomach that awoke the minute they stepped inside. “It’s a good deal. You can pick the type of noodle.”

“Oh, uh,” she taps her fingers, “I guess… if it makes sense.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he insists. He knows the portions are generous. They’ll get enough for her to take a box home, especially with the rolls and salad on the side. “Do you like Udon or chow mein?”

“I like both,” she says, “udon, maybe, if you like it.”

“Sounds good to me. Broth? I don’t really like the beef, it hurts my stomach.”

“Pork’s good,” she suggests, “if you want.”

“Sure,” he agrees, heartened that she didn’t push back on his idea. She needs a good meal, not half a cup of oatmeal with six raisins on top. 

“Tea,” Mrs. Zhao interrupts, a tray in her hand. She sets it down, presenting a big slate gray pot and matching cups.

“Thanks,” he says as she echoes him in a small voice. He gives their order and Mrs. Zhao leaves them with a rosy smile, a definitive look sent from one to the other.

He pours tea into the cups and sets one in front of her. She looks at the contents then him. She thanks him and leans in to inhale the scent. Her stomach rumbles viciously and she winces.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” He asks, turning his own cup nervously.

“Um, since high school,” she answers, “so… a while. What about you?”

“Born and raised,” he says proudly. “Always happen to come back.”

She nods and blows across the tea but doesn’t drink as the steam puffs hotly. Her eyes flit over and her stomach grumbles again. She watches another table as they clink cutlery on their dishes. She’s fighting it but she’s starving.

“Uh, wow, didn’t even realise I’m so hungry,” he says, “I don’t even think I had dinner last night.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs and turns her eyes to the table, “and you didn’t get much sleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m a bit of an insomniac. Got a bit restless last night and good thing I did or I wouldn’t have been able to scare that guy off, huh,” he stills the cup and flicks his thumb around the curve of the rim.

“I guess,” she puts her hands to her neck and shivers, “that was really scary.”

“Well it’s a good thing I deal with scary people all the time,” he says, “lot of people say the same about me so I guess that helps.”

“Oh,” she bats her lashes and her eyes meet his, “I didn’t mean–”

“I know, I’m joking,” he assures her. She’s so jumpy, he wonders if that has anything to do with her limp. If maybe she’s afraid of everyone and everything for a reason. Well, she won’t have to be, not with him.

“Ah,” she forces a smile, “right.”

“Hey, you held your own,” he sits up straighter, “you swing that cane like a champ.”

“Yeah, ha,” she laughs, just a small one as he reaches for the tea cup again, “I… I hit that guy.”

He chuckles too, “you did. Honestly, I think after that, there’s no way he’ll be back.”

Her

You try to eat slowly and it doesn’t take much before you’re painfully full. You put the chopsticks down and take a napkin to wipe your mouth. Bucky smiles at you, a noodle hanging from his lips as he slurps it up.

“Sorry,” he covers his mouth, “caught me at a bad moment.”

“It’s good, I… I’m full,” you look at the noodles still left in your bowl.

“Oh, no worries, we’ll just ask for a container,” he says, “be good to have some leftovers in the fridge… just in case.”

“Uh, yeah,” you agree. You wonder if maybe he saw inside your empty fridge or he just means well.

“I’m getting there myself,” he stirs his bowl with his chopsticks.

She nods and he raises his hand as he sees Mrs. Zhao, the namesake for the restaurant, “excuse me, hi, sorry, whenever you have a chance.”

She acquiesces and rushes off. He sits back and smacks his stomach, “mm, did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s very good,” you agree.

Mrs. Zhao returns and offers the bill to Bucky. You look away, embarrassed.

“I forgot to mention, can you add a box of tea,” he hands it back.

She agrees and whisks off again. You sit in silence, awkwardly searching the restaurant. You would offer to pay for your own but you can’t. You’re dirt poor. You can’t help but think he knows it too. No one is that nice. It only takes one look around your place to see it.

Zhao returns once more, sets a box of tea before him and some containers, then the bill. He pays in cash and tells her to keep the change. She chimes thankfully and wishes you both a good day. You pour your noodles into the container and seal the lid. Bucky does the same.

You grab your cane and turn on the bench, dragging yourself across to plant it on the floor. You brace the table and stand as he does so much easier than you. He takes his container and yours, stacking them atop each other, then the tea on the very top.

“Oh, thanks,” you utter as you get your feet set.

“No problem,” he grins.

He waits for you to go first. You make a slow, uneven advance to the door. You keep your eyes straight as you refuse to notice the glances sent in your direction. The lucky cat by the door waves in farewell as you approach.

Bucky reaches past you and opens the door before you can. You limp out into the street. Your hip burns from the thin cushion of the booth bench.

“That was nice,” he says as he walks beside you, again patiently keeping pace with you.

“It was,” you agree, “it’s really kind of you.”

“You act like having lunch with a pretty girl is a chore,” he jokes.

You scoff, “please.”

“Please what,” he tilts his head.

Your chest pinches and your face heats up, “you’re just being nice.”

“No,” he argues, “I don’t lie.”

A sudden flash glares to your left and your toe catches in the sidewalk. You stagger and land on one knee, the pavement dinging the bony cap harshly as you catch yourself with a hand. Your cane clatters beside you as you look around in confusion.

“Hey, what the hell?” Bucky barks, his voice deeper and scarier than before. “Don’t do that.”

You glance over at a man with a large camera. He blanches from behind the lens but takes another photo. Bucky shifts as if he might lunge at the photographer and he runs off.

Bucky sighs and reaches to grab your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks in concern, his other arm hugging the containers.

“Yeah, I didn’t see him. I’m sorry, I must’ve stepped on a crack–”

“That jack– guy should be apologising,” he sneers, “so rude.”

“Yeah, I…” you hiss as you grab your cane. He holds onto you, helping you rise, but not too quickly, “I… why would he…” you peer over your shoulder then back to him, “are you famous?”

He huffs and shrugs, “I guess to some people.”

You furrow your brow and let your shoulders sink, “oh.”

“I don’t really think about it, you know? I got a job and I do it. All the attention, I hate it,” his hand slips down your arm and reluctantly falls away. You swallow and turn back down the sidewalk. He walks with you, quiet for a moment before he speaks again, “does that mean you don’t wanna be friends?”

You think as your cane taps between your footsteps, “I didn’t… No, I just…” you take a breath, “I’ve never known anyone famous.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he sighs.

“Yeah, seems like.”

[songbirdtales]

Keepsakes (AstarionxTav)

Author's note:

The more I'm writing the more this is turning into the slowest of burns. IDKY I'm eating up Astarion and Gale rivalry but its fueling me lol. Enjoy!

Tav sat by the fire with a ragged stuffed bear. The tattered toy had tears in several limbs and had been partially decapitated. Tav has some rags and a needle set aside as they examine the damage, mentally calculating their supplies. 

“You’ll kill your eyes like that.” Gale stood over their shoulder, his arms crossed behind his back as he surveyed the scene.

“Good thing I’ve darkvision, yeah?” They offered him a fanged smile, the levity of conversation welcomed.

“Still, if you’ve need of, you’re welcome to use my tent. I keep it well lit for late night reading.” He was doing it again, this dance they’d been at the last few days. This dance of over generosity met with deflection when Tav would probe at his intentions. Sure, perhaps it was simply friendly companionship, but the dissonance in his words and actions made Tav feel there was something Gale wasn’t telling them.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you awake, we need you fresh tomorrow.”

Gale held his hands up as if he’d been caught in a crime. “No need to worry, I’ll be sleeping by the fire tonight. It’ll be empty regardless of me.” An arm opened to gesture back towards his tent. “You’re welcome to it as you please.”

And again they went. “Thank you, Gale. I’ll keep it in mind.” He couldn’t say much to that. Tav looked to their rags, then back up to the wizard. “Gale, could you help me with something actually?”

“Of course!” He was so eager. “How can I help?” Tav almost found themself pitying him. He wanted them so bad, and although Tav couldn’t deny there was a physical attraction, they didn’t want him like that, and they respected him too much to play with his heart.

“Do you have any scrap cloth?” Tav held up the moth worn rags, some had holes in the center with very little usable fabric, it made for a rather limited stock.”I’m trying to mend this toy I found in the village we passed through.”

“The goblin infested one? I hadn’t even noticed.” That’s what he was growing to like about Tav. They were thoughtful, even if they weren’t exactly a hero. They were a chaotic neutral soul from everything he’d seen. He didn’t mind that, but he found it unfortunate how they seemed to attract the worst kinds of characters, himself included. “I think I have a few pieces I can spare.” He nodded towards his tent. “I didn’t know you liked dolls.”

“I’m not sure I do, but mending things like this is familiar, and I could use something familiar right now.” Their eyes had turned back to the toy in their hands. They grabbed their supplies and stood, ready to follow him back to his tent, which is exactly what they hadn’t wanted to do. Still, they could keep this from escalating in a direction they didn’t want. Everything was still fine.

“I understand. I’ve been grabbing every book we pass. It’s the most I’ve read in ages. It’s comforting.” Gale said as they walked side by side to his tent. His strides were longer and quicker than Tav’s, Gale actively having to alter his pace and path to keep at their side. His body language betrayed his excitement, and Tav felt nothing at the sight but anxiety. Tav paused beside his sitting cushion as Gale stepped forward, kneeling into the tent and gathering some slashed clothes. “There you are,” Gale beamed as he handed the cloth to Tav.

The cloth was good quality, heavy and strong, but it had been brutally cut up in battle to the point it wasn’t much worth repairing. The blood had been mostly washed out but the reminisce of stains lingered. All in all, there was more than enough good fabric for their bear.

“You really took a beating the other day…” Tav mused as they looked over the torn robe. They’d not really thought much about how brutal the Gnoll on the road had been.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He joked back, laughing a little until he noticed Tav wasn’t laughing back. He quickly tamped the laughter down to awkward silence.

Tav offered Gale a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re ok Gale. You’re a valued part of this party, and I don’t know how we’d fare without you. So, do try to be more careful, yeah?”

“Of course.” He said with a nod, his eyes struggling to keep contact with Tav’s demonic glow. His gaze only turned up when Tav spoke again.

“Well, I better get started if I want to get some sleep tonight.” Tav said as they switched spots with Gale, his body naturally following their movement as if they were both being pushed by opposite currents. Tav got down and crawled in, sitting in the pile of cushions Gale had amassed and formed into a reclined seat. They curled their legs up, propping their supplies on their thighs as they began to tear the gifted cloth into smaller segments.

Gale didn’t leave, sitting down on the cushion outside. He grabbed something nearby to seem as though he had a task himself, but it was truly just an excuse to watch Tav work. Tav didn’t mind, even if they saw his act for what it was. Eventually he actually did become fixated on his task, the two working silently, fueled by the other’s presence. It was peaceful, familiar, like working in a library. Gale had no idea how long they had been at this, but as he pulled himself from his work to speak to Tav, he paused.

Inside the tent Tav was passed out in his pillows. The bear had been noticeably mended in parts, but it was not yet done. Gale got up from his seat and kneeled into the tent. His hand reached for the blanket, pulling it across the tent to gently drape it over Tav. A warm smile bloomed on his lips as he let them sleep. Only then would Gale leave, heading back to the fire.

“There you are,” The annoyance in Astarion’s voice was palpable as he approached Gale at the fire. “Where have you been off to?”

Gale knew the smell of jealousy well, and Astarion was worse than he’d like at hiding it. “Just doing a little late night carving.” Gale reached in his pocket and produced a small wooden figurine. It was crudely carved, but even Astarion had to admit it vaguely resembled a cat in a cat’s most basic shape.

Astarion stared at the deformed wooden cat for a moment before looking up at Gale with the least amusement Gale had ever seen from him. “Do you know where Tav is?”

Gale had to actively resist smiling but the faintest glimmer of a triumphant grin couldn’t help but pull at his lips. He’d cross his arms over his chest. “I do.” He said simply and curt as if he had no intention of elaborating. Anger twitch to Astarion’s face, and just as he was just about to speak, Gale spoke again, cutting him off. “They’re already asleep for the night. Poor thing, utterly exhausted. I’d let them be.”

Astarion’s face had more warmth to it than Gale had ever seen, the heat of his anger barely contained. “I asked you a question. Do not make me repeat myself.” That normally beautiful face was twisted and sharp as Astarion glared daggers into the human wizard. 

The grin grew broader across Gales lips at Astarion’s posturing and he’d nod back over his shoulder. “I thought it best to leave them be.” He was so smug about it, as if he’d won some unspoken competition.

Astarion glanced over in the direction Gale had gestured quickly at first before realizing Gale had nodded to his tent. His gaze came back to Gale as a glare. “No need to make things weird, Gale. We’re all adults here.” If his tongue wasn’t so sharp, Gale might have noticed the projection in Astarion’s words, but both men were preoccupied with their egos. The condescension in his voice was cutting, leaving Gale speechless long enough for Astarion to turn sharply away and saunter off.

Gale sighed as the Elf departed, a wave of relief washed over him that his jugular was still intact. “Dramatic.” He finally scoffed.

Astarion was at Gale’s tent in a matter of strides. Still fuming, he knelt beside the opening of the tent and pulled the flap aside with his arm. The sight of Tav, fully clothed, dead asleep, with a partly repaired stuffed toy was not what Astarion had been expecting. Instantly the wind was knocked out of his anger and the fire of it died, leaving Astarion frozen. Any action he’d thought to take was now wildly dramatic if not inappropriate… for a moment he was almost aware of his jealousy, until Tav stirred.

A soft, sleepy sound came from Tav as one eye struggled to pull itself half open. Their arms were just about to start pushing themself up when Astarion reached out a hand. He didn’t touch them, but his hand hovered just overtop their back. They didn’t push up into the hand, they didn’t have the strength. They were exhausted from the near daily feeding.

“Hush, go back to sleep.” He urged in a sweet whisper as his eyes turned about the tent. Gale had this packed with all sorts of magic nonsense, but his eyes fell back to the stuffed bear. He was fascinated instantly, not because of the toy, but because of the magic radiating from it. They had pulled apart Gale’s bloodstained shirt for thread and stitched it in a way he’d seen before from the witches of Baldur's Gate, a way of hiding protections and curses in the stitch and weave of clothing. Though in this instance it was very rudimentary, Astarion couldn’t help but wonder how a tiefling bard knew such magic. 

“Are you hungry?” Even half asleep, Tav’s mind was preoccupied with the camp, making sure everyone was safe. He almost admired that about them, if only for the wrong reasons. He was impressed that someone could have the willpower to keep all of this together.

“Not tonight darling.” His hand reached for their hair, gently shifting some loose strands from their face. He’d lean over to their ear and whisper,  “Sweet dreams,” as Tav’s eye fell shut once more.

He lingered, hesitating, his eyes shifting back to the bear before deciding it was best to leave what questions it gave him till the morning. Astarion would wait until he’d gotten a few steps from the tent before letting his real thoughts catch up to him. He was hungry, but a boar would have to suffice. It would look bad on him to drink Tav’s blood while they’re passed out in another person’s tent, and he needed to keep appearances up if his very simple plan was to succeed.

The next morning Tav woke up early. Gale had aligned some objects in his tent to take the first light of dawn and amplify it and wake him, Gods did it work, Tav almost wished it hadn’t. They were groggy, vision fading in and out of focus as they crawled out into the sunlight. They sat on their knees and stared at the horizon in silent reverence for a time. Their thoughts swam with everything that had happened leading up to the blighted village; the abandoned temple, the grove. It all came back like recalling a vivid dream, surreal and fragmented, yet so clear. 

They let their eyes close as the still cool air washed over them. Tav’s breath fogged in the morning chill as they let out a deep, tired yawn. Their fangs snapped as they closed their mouth and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. As they crawled back in the tent to retrieve their craft, they noticed something shine in the morning light. A single white hair. Tav cocked a brow but gathered it with the rest of the fabric and the bear.

Everyone was still asleep as Tav ted lightly towards and past the fire. Even Astarion was still in his trance from what it seemed so Tav went towards the river. As soon as their back was turned, a sanguine eye popped open. Astarion was silent as he followed Tav towards the water. He watched as Tav washed their hands and face in the running water before settling on a rock and pulling their bear back out.

“Good morning, Darling.” He watched them closely, the breaking of the silence practically made Tav jump but they didn’t hide their work. They’d been threading their needle and paused, tucking the needle into the bear so as to not stab themself with it on accident.

“Good morning,” Tav sighed in relief, a soft smile pulling across their face before their hand twirled in a flourish towards him. “You dropped something in Gale’s tent.” They held out the single silver hair between two fingers, offering it back to him. “You should be more careful with a wizard.”

Astarion scoffed and looked between Tav and the hair. “How do you know that’s mine?” The two stared silently at each other for a long moment, Astarion set in his flimsy denial as Tav’s hair was much longer, much more yellow, and much less curly than the strand in question. He’d groan a little. “Fine, yes, it’s mine.” A hint of irritation simmered in his tone before shifting into that arrogant sarcasm. “I’m surprised you’re giving it back instead of using it in your little curse doll, make me fall in love with you.”

Tav choked on laughter, doubling over as their cheeks puffed before their lips burst open. Their hand clapped over their mouth to muffle the sound so as to not wake the others. “I don’t need magic to steal a heart.” 

They turned their hand down, ready to flick the hair away towards him but Astarion reached out to snatch it before they could. He didn’t keep it, brushing it off his hand on his trousers. Tav looked back down to the bear and held it up a little. 

“Besides, these are for protection. It’s something my mother taught me to do. When I saw this in the rubble, I thought I might give myself something familiar to do. This one’s for Gale, since it’s got his blood and all on the thread.” Those blue eyes turned up to Astarion curiously. “I can make one for you next time I find a stuffed animal.”

“Don’t expect me to give you my bloody drawers.” Astarion huffed.

“No need for that.” Tav was still chortling as they picked up their needle to resume work. “I'll be honest the blood was dramatic of him, but I’m thinking of making one for everyone. Give my hands something to do while we travel.”

“Really?” His tone shifted as he leaned just a little closer, that perfect, sly smile on his lips. Tav knew a performance when they saw one, and this was well rehearsed. “Nothing else to busy your hands with?”

Tav knew this game, bored flirtation. It was one of their favorites, and considering there was nothing else to do besides fixate on the imminent fear of death, why not play along? Their hair swayed as they tilted their head, strands still caught in their horns and loose down their back. Their hair was long, past their shoulders and with a hint of a wave. “Yet.” They hummed in response, a curious look on their face, studying his reaction.

Astarion recoiling as a very confused “What?” come from him before he’d clear his throat. He wasn’t used to someone flirting back, normally they were too intimidated. “I mean, What about your uh, violin? Or is it a Lute?”

Tav backed off, their smile growing wider at his stumbling words. “I’m fine playing classics by the fire, but I’m a bit reluctant to work on my own stuff around the fire with strangers. Besides, most of them want to sleep as soon as we get back to camp. I'm not gonna keep them up.”

“Oh come now,” He’d put the charm back on, gesturing to the camp. “I’m sure Gale would be thrilled.”

Tav’s face soured, their nose scrunching a little as their lips thinned. “Yeah…” They didn’t seem excited by the idea. “You… never heard me play in Baldur’s Gate, did you?”

Astarion laughed and found himself a seat on a nearby stone. “Darling, I have no idea who you are beyond our time together with the rest of our companions.” Tav squinted as they caught sight of a glimmer of honesty. When he didn’t care about something, he had no filter, and in that they could see just a hint of what hid behind the mask.

An easy smile grew across Tav’s lips. “What kind of music do you think I make?” They asked with pure amusement.

Astarion stared blankly at Tav for a moment, blinking a few times as the gears in his head turned. “What other kind of music do bards make besides adventure ballads?”

Tav instinctively covered their mouth as they laughed again, truly amused by his ignorance. It drew Astarion’s eye instantly. “I mostly sing about grief and death, heartbreak and vengeance. It’s not exactly the mood I want to bring to camp.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He said as he crossed his arms. “Come, let me hear some of this emotional music. It can’t be that much of a downer.”

Tav rose a brow, his challenge wordlessly accepted. They reached into their back for a small book where they worked out their lyrics. “Here’s something I’m still working on.” They cleared their throat and began reading the lines like poetry. It was an eloquent verse, and very clearly described having dreams of murdering their own father.

Astarion was thrown off in a completely new way. The longer they read for, the more his expression contorted as Astarion tried to mask his concern. They only got two lines in before Astarion held one hand out and averted his gaze. “Th-that’s enough. I get it.”

“Yeah,” Tav was holding back laughter. “I don’t need to be playing songs like that at a time like this. I’ll get my musical fix by playing their favorites by the fire, but I figure it’s better to save the heavy stuff.” Their eyes turned to the sky, the sun was just about to peek over the trees, the morning star fading as the sky lost its pastel hues. “Never gets old.” They sighed, as the sun came up and the warmth of its light washed over them both. 

Astarion flinched instinctively before letting out a deep sigh of relief. “No, it does not.”

They sat in the silence of the sunrise for a moment before Tav’s voice gently broke it. “I know everythings scary right now, but I truly believe that if we stick together, we can survive this. And if not, at least we’re free, for what it’s worth.”

“I think freedom’s worth everything.” His eyes were fixed on the water, watching the river glisten as it ran. The flashes reflected in his eyes, making them sparkle like rubies.

Tav let themself stare for longer than they should have, taking in the contours of his features, the shapes of his shadows, the lines in his skin. They didn’t care if he caught them, though he seemed too fixated on the water to notice. “So do I.” Tav’s voice melted into the sound of the river, so soft Astarion barely registered they’d said anything at all.

By the time he’d looked back to them, Tav was standing, holding the now fully mended bear in their hands. They tilted their head as they gazed at the bear, checking their work. They bit their lower lip in thought, as if trying to remember a forgotten step. Finally, they went to the river crouched beside the edge. With one finger, Tav reached to wet their nail, holding the drop in the carved point of their nail before bringing it to the forehead of the bear. The toy looked a little cleaner, Astarion could even feel the magic of it was more pure. The protection charm was complete. 

“I’ll try to find you a different animal. Maybe a goose?” They said with a joking smile.

Astarion clicked his tongue, squeezing his still folded arms as he pouted. “Take your time.” He had no desire for a hagcraft charm.

Tav shook their head as they left Astarion at the riverbank. The elf glanced back towards the fire to see Tav giving the now well awake Gale the bear. He seemed more fascinated with the magic than the bear itself and began to info dump about thread based magic.

Astarion’s face felt relatively hot as anger gathered in him. He covered his face with a hand as his mind still raced from that one word. He didn’t like this, whatever feeling this was. He didn’t recognize the feeling as it gathered in his core, this twisting in his guts, as if he’d eaten something rotten, yet still starved. Was it really hunger? He’d fed that night and this felt different. He’d already made them his mark, so why was he starting to panic?

It was then that a new thought came to Astarion, what if Tav can see through his game? How well could he really wrap them around his finger if they knew it was fake? And what did that mean for the security of his simple plan?

[thenexusofsouls]

Headcanons & Musings: Zhaan's Death Episode... Favorite Quotes & Thoughts on Her Loss

{I am the caretaker of souls} So… I just watched Zhaan’s death episode again (it happened to be on), and there are so many great quotes and exchanges in that episode. I feel compelled to write about some of them, so… hence this post, heh. Obviously, major spoilers ahead for the show.

First all, I want to point out that, even though Zhaan becomes a high level Pa’u, and even thought she can be very Zen and tranquil and patient with people, she is not… by any means… a pushover or a doormat. Kindness does not equate to weakness or passivity for her. She speaks her mind frequently and she will not spare the feelings of those she feels are acting outside of what is acceptable or appropriate for the situation.

For example, Juul, a very new addition to the crew and quite the obnoxious little brat of a character, is actually at one point complaining about everything that has happened to her recently and how terrible this is and how badly everybody should feel for her when Moya and the crew are facing literal imminent death if they can’t figure out their current situation. In the middle of one of Juul’s rants of this nature, Zhaan turns to her and very firmly says:

“You are a very ungrateful and selfish woman. Please remain silent from now on.”

Aside from the fact that this makes me laugh every time, it shows that Zhaan is not averse to laying the verbal smackdown on someone who is behaving selfishly, childishly, or callously. And she'd been doing that throughout the show, whether it was yelling at Rygel for pilfering from the rest of the crew or for making obnoxious noises while others were talking, to calling Aeryn, Crichton, or D'argo out on their stubbornness. It’s important, I think, for me as a writer endeavoring to have Zhaan as a muse, that I don’t forget that her peace, patience, and kindness does not mean she puts up with people’s bullshit, heh.

Another quote I love from that episode, and this is the one the ep is titled after, is when John Crichton says to D’argo:

“Life’s a great wheel. Sometimes it grinds you down into the mud, and sometimes it lifts you up into the light. The thing is, most times, you get a second chance. You just gotta wait for the wheel.”

I actually wrote it down as he said it, so I have the right wording now, heh. But yeah, it’s something his grandmother used to say to him. When Zhaan decides to sacrifice herself for Moya, Pilot, and the rest of the crew, Crichton says to her, “Wait for the wheel.” She, in turn, thanks him sincerely. Since he did not say that quote directly to her in this episode, yet she seemed to know exactly what he was talking about, this implies that he and Zhaan had a prior conversation in which he shared that quote with her. Out of context, the phrase “What for the wheel” has little meaning, so they must have discussed it beforehand. I think this implication is sweet because it implies that Crichton was going to Zhaan perhaps for advice or simply to talk, as many if not all of the crew of Moya did. She really was like a mother figure to them all, a counselor, a healer, a steadier of souls.

When Zhaan decides to die for the sake of Moya and the crew, she says to Crichton and Aeryn who are trying to stop her:

“The illness which ravages my body is frightening efficient. So while I am still sound of mind and spirit, I choose this path for myself.”

She says this in an attempt to convince them to let her make this sacrifice for them. D'argo is listening as she says this, and the following conversation results:

D’argo: “You are needed here.” Zhaan: “At one time, I believe I was. But then a family was born.” D’argo: “You birthed it.”

I just… *sigh* No greater conclusion, just this lovely set of words and the sense that Zhaan really was the glue that held them all together, and the facilitator of their found family in so many ways. She often helped to smooth over differences, bridge culture gaps, mend misunderstandings, and settle disagreements between the crew of Moa who were all from different races and cultures, some of which were bitter enemies of each other. And yet she’s so humble about her role and involvement in their found family, as if she were outside it looking in, instead of an active part of it. And I think with what he said, D’argo is trying to tell Zhaan, no, you are a huge reason why this family even exists in the first place.

The way they all immediately began to grieve Zhaan’s loss even before she had died is so poignant. Even Chiana who joined the crew much later and had less time with Zhaan was devastated by her loss. It’s so indicative of the effect and impact Zhaan had on them all.

And it didn’t stop with her death. After the loss of Zhaan, Rygel visits Pilot in his den and is quite affectionate and appreciative. Pilot calls him out, saying that he never cared this much about him before. Rygel says that he may not have noticed, but he likes Pilot a great deal. Then he adds that Zhaan did as well, and what a pity Pilot did not get to say goodbye to her. Pilot responds by saying that while he was out (he was unconscious for a good part of the episode due to… plot, heh), Zhaan came to him in his mind and comforted him. Pilot then says, “I… miss her… already,” and they both sit together, grieving. So her impact remained even after her death, and there was a heavy sadness that stayed with the crew for a long time afterward.

This is true of Chiana as well. In one scene, she is being followed through Moya's corridors by Juul, who is complaining that she can’t keep up because she’s injured or something, I don't remember… honestly Juul was such an annoying character to me it wasn’t even funny, so I tuned her out a lot of the time, heh. She was always thinking of herself, always complaining, and that ear-piercing scream of her species that she had was just, ugh, heh. But anyway, she yells at Chiana to wait up, and Chiana replies that that’s not how it works on Moya, and that Juul needs to keep her own pace herself. The following exchange ensues:

Juul: “You’ve got some nerve speaking to me in such a manner.” Chiana: *turns around and gets nose to nose with her* “One of my very… very best friends has just gone. All I am is nerve. You want someone to like you? Try looking in a mirror.”

This is pretty significant because Chiana is an extremely traumatized, damaged, emotionally guarded person who does not share anything vulnerable about herself easily. Even to those she loves or has known for a while, it's hard for her to open up. So her revealing to Juul how affected she is by Zhaan's death really goes to show how much of an impact the loss had on Chiana. She's not able to hold her grief back, not even from someone like Juul, whom she only recently met and very much does not get along with.

The show definitely changed after Zhaan's exit. Something was lost, both IC and OOC. I totally understand the actress' reasons for wanting to leave (she didn't want to keep shaving her head and eyebrows, which she'd been doing for three years straight, but also most importantly, the makeup she has to wear was making her ill... it was damaging her kidneys), but the loss left a big hole in the dynamic of Moya's crew, for sure. Other characters they brought in to fill the gap, such as Juul and Sikozu just didn't measure up in my opinion. But be that as it may, it was about as beautiful a death as any character could have had, and it just made you appreciate Zhaan more when she is there, because you know in future episodes she's gone.

[marciestokes]

❄ · · · MARISSA “MARCIE” STOKES  has been in Ellingham for 8 years and they look exactly like AISHA DEE. Having turned 26 years old on their last birthday, they are currently a PHOTOGRAPHER  and ARE HAPPY WITH THAT. Known as the CHAMELEON, it’s no secret that they're AFFABLE & CREATIVE, but also SECRETIVE & RESERVED. If you’re to meet them, please remember that they are a CIS WOMAN and use SHE/HER. {  PAIGE + 24 + SHE/HER + CST }

tw: death mention

0-16

Marcie came as a slightly late Christmas present to a mother with dreams for a girl who would reach beyond the stars. A laughing, smiling little girl who wanted for nothing and gave little fuss. She played her part well; sitting through lessons in piano, voice and cello on top of dance for years. There was no complaining allowed, no going outside of what was planned out for her. Hard work was rewarded greatly but always always expected… On the occasion that Marcie was allowed to actually be herself, or even act like a regular kid, she found herself feeling more rambunctious, loud, and overall a sarcastic shit. But after one of her friends mother’s had a conversation with her own, that was quick to die out. She learned how to make people see a certain side of her, how to change like a chameleon changes their skin.

Marcie’s  father was a man with habits that required a good poker face, a lot of white lies and a “grass is always greener…” attitude. Family felt like a trap and it was the one thing she agreed with the man on. Family began to feel like a restriction of self, high expectations and mostly feeling as though there was no real escape. A person can’t help but feel restless when things aren’t ‘right’. The kicker for her, though, was nothing ever felt ‘right’. She was always striving to find her place, her worth, somewhere to actually call hers.

She floated from friend group to friend group, hanging just on the outside of everything to be seen as someone who was kind and caring but never enough for people to find out who she really was.

16.5-21

for a very long while, marcie felt nothing but anger at her situation. after her mothers death her father decided to take the two of them back to his hometown. the one he had sworn he never wanted to see again. she managed to keep the facade going, pretending to be the perfect kid. finished school, went to the college in town, found people to be around enough to call friends.  then at the drop of a dime, she exploded. the world caved in on her, the world was no longer perfect. she’d blown up on her dad; blaming him for her mother’s accident. blaming him for why she wasn’t able to feel settled into the world. marcie dropped out of school, deciding that she really didn’t want to waste money when she didn’t know what she wanted from  life. she had begun to distance herself in fear of taking any emotions she had out on the people around her. she isolated herself, no longer able to keep up the front that she was just this sweet polite girl. at 21 she stopped talking to her father all together.

22-NOW

it had lasted three years, she would see him in town and would walk the other direction. her father was someone she would see all of her faults in, someone who reminded her of the person her mother tried to mold her into. and at times she was still the girl who had  impeccable manners, that was gentle and well spoken. essentially the embodiment of “sit still look pretty”. Basically, you couldn’t tell the difference between her and a nice vase of daisies. This was the version of herself that she wanted to bury but it came out when she met new people, people who had only seen that side of her and especially when she visits her father now.  slowly however she began to settle into the person she wanted to be. inside she felt as though she should be  bigger than life, to be the person to go dancing in the rain, to have awful pop music blasting throughout the house, laugh at everything and then nothing,  to have tears in her eyes from feeling too much, daydreaming about running away or at least going on a country wide road trip. This was the version of herself that she wanted to bring to the light and she worked hard at expressing it. 

photography sort of fell into her lap. after she gave up on college, she became a nanny. she had loved working one on one with kids but didnt want to really keep with schooling so it worked out perfectly. one day the family she worked for gifted her their old digital camera to test out. she found a calling. since the age of 24 she has been building up her business and has been working on getting a studio space.

Connection Ideas:

Romance: FWB? secret affair? unrequited crush/love? slow burn? Who knows! (i typically like seeing how chemistry works for romantic connections– but i don’t mind plotting stuff out either!)  

Volunteer Pals: every two weeks marcie does volunteer activities through an organization, your muse could be a part of that organization and that’s how they met or could just be a friend wanting to keep her company and get some extra volunteer hours in too.  

Brunch dates: these two have found themselves grabbing brunch one or two times a month to catch up. busy lives means they don’t have much time for constant communication, but they refuse to let the other fall to the wayside. could there be more effort put into their relationship? what were they before life got hectic? 

Close friends: Confidants? Reckless Adventures? sipping wine and sharing memes til all hours of the night? sharing every fault and fear and joke? 

Muse: Someone who Marcie always goes to when they need to shoot, someone she can’t get enough photos of. 

Hard feelings: there’s a couple ways to take this. marcie could have done something that rubbed your muse the wrong way; your muse could have done something that left marcie with a bitter taste in their mouth, or it could just have been a huge misunderstanding. there can be a huge mistrust just from association. can be from just meeting, acquaintances, or even good friends.

[aeftrglow]

Woop Woop, here comes the tag dump \o/

[visd3stele]

Masterlist

📖 - unfinished

📚 - finished

👀 - finished, but might continue if requested

🎈 - soon to arrive

be careful at the 💥triger warnings💥 (they're at the beginning of each fic where needed) please, stay safe! 💛

also, further explenations can be given in the longer A/N's, so don't skip on those

let me know if you wanna be tagged

Marauders era:

- young and tangled - Sirius blurb 📚

*One afternoon at Hogwarts, reader braids Sirius' hair for Quidditch - fluff*

- the white ship of the House of Black vs the poisoned snake - Sirius x fem!reader (x Regulus !platonic!) 📚

*Life after Hogwarts is not easy. The war puts everyone's nerves to test. When y/n and Sirius break up and her purebloods parents want her to marry Regulus, the Gryffindor Black must take action*

- flirt and a shirt - Sirius blurb *short*📚 (plus size!reader)

- Remus dating slytherin reader 📚 (link for part 1)

*forced marriage trope but happy ending* (2 parts) link for part 2

- Regulus and muggle born reader: all great couples pull a great con 📚 (link for part 1)

*they're clever and madly in love, what can possibly go wrong with two water snakes in the cobras' nest?* (2 parts) link for part 2

- save me (Reggie x you) 📚

*you heal Regulus, not just his body, but soul and mind as well*

- Operation prison break (Sirius x spouse!reader, Regulus x platonic!reader) 📚

*An unexpected visit to the disowned Black household brings out secrets and a powerful alliance*

- the life of the Black brother's 📖 (act I)

*a tragedy in 5 parts about Reggie and Sirius* act II, act III, act IV, act V

- don't love me like that: Sirius/reader/mean girl📚

*dark magic is not love and y/n plus our favorites from the wizarding world help Sirius deal with it*

- my true north (Sirius x potter!reader) 📚

*James' little sister is a brave wizarding self proclaimed pirate, but there is a good reason for it*

- Peter Pettigrew: a spy with no choice📚

*wormtail's betrayal from his POV*

- Unrequited until proven per contra 📚

*Regulus doesn't know how to cope with his feelings dor y/n. But thankfully, winter serves as a muse as he tries to mend what he broke.*

- wolfstar angst, pre Azkaban and post Azkaban: the beauty and his beast📚

*how does Sirius and Remus reconcile after years apart, with old and new scars painfully visible despite them not being physical*

- self care for Sirius - gn!reader 📚

*y/n helps Sirius relax with face masks, make up and nail art*

- I loved and I loved and I lost you 📚

*when Regulus uncovers his fiancèe secrets he makes decisions he comes to deeply regret. Unable to fix them, he shall join his beloved in both war sides and death.*

- modern au + text au + blurb + jily📚

*just some fluff with James and Lily because we all need more of it*

- Sweet spices (Reggie smut) 📚

*a soft, sweet and intimate marriage scene after a fight*

- the ABC of magic folks for marriage 📚

*arranged marriage trope gone right with Sirius Black*

- the wars of the past are the wars of the future 👀

*blackinnon has a child and they remember the past a bit too well. !!ANGST!!*

- Sirius & Regulus angst with happy ending 📚

Shadow and bone:

- Who? 📚

*a Darkling angst one shot about his identity*

Folk of the air:

- jurdan power couple moment: Her majesty 📚

*Cardan is full of the folk disrespecting Jude and Jude is learning how to love fully*

- Oak and the throne 📚

*Oak is old enough to take over the throne, except he doesn't want it.*

- Magic and kids 📚

*Oak wants a magic friend in the mortal world. Taryn's child would be perfect for it.*

- Bow down, your highness! 📚 (part 2)

*Jurdan smut: Jude shouldn't have go on a date*

- 'Til death do you apart 📚

*Jurdan angst: Jude is about to marry a mortal, Cardan has an issue with that*

- Old love, young love, fae love 📚

*After TWK Jude's grandparents try to set her up with someone – enter a certain fae king, set on stopping it from happening*

- Shockingly familial/r 📚

*How does Jude's fanily react to the new High King and High Queen*

- How the cruel prince and the wicked king came to let go of the queen of nothing 📚

*A long-ish blurb on what would have been if Jude found another after her exile (focused on Cardan's thoughts and, mostly, feelings)*

- Turn back the tides 📚

*When Jude dies in the mortal land, Cardan travels back in time, before the exile to stop if from happening."

- Mine! No, mine! 📚

*a cute endeavour of Oak and Cardan fighting over their favorite girl*

- some blurbs: jurdan smut and jurdan angst (the letters are a paid actor in this one)

- What if...? 📚

*Locke survived...*

Riordanverse

- Tease? (Solangelo fluff) 📚

*our fav boys hanging out together with a spicy (but not too spicy) game of Mythomagic*

- Frank Zhang, The fall on the other side 📚

*From hero to villain real quick*

Billy Russo

- Scarred, scarry, spectacular 📚

*Y/n sees his scars and still loves him*

- Recovery 📚

*reader and Billy help each other accept their scars*

- Go, go, darling agents part 1; part 2; part 3📚

*being the leader of a vigilante team means you know what a hard choice feels like, but never was it as complicated as it is now. ANGST and explicit themes. CHECK THE TW AT THE BEGGINING OF EACH CHAPTER*

Caraval

- Oh, brother mine! 📚

*four episodes in the lives of Julian and Dante Santos*

The invisible life of Addie Larue

- She shines in his darkness 📚

*Luc doubts himself. Addie helps him with a bit of sexual tension.*

Westworld

- Silence sounds the best on you. Logan Delos x fem!reader📚

*Logan wants to spice things up in the bedroom with a game. SMUT*

House of the dragon

- Queenmaker 📚

*Ser Criston Cole has a bit of a different role in the Dance of Dragons*

- King's favorite 📚

*you and Criston hit some rocks in the path of your love, but all is good in the end*

- Sleepless nights 📚

*Rhaenyra's younger sister, you, learn something a princess shouldn't know before her wedding night from the dashing Ser Criston Cole*

- Knightly fly 📚

*a continuation of the fic above, if you will, but fluffy, not smutty. a date night on the back of a dragon*

- Take my heart with you where you go 📚

*could be seen as a continuation of the two fics above, but also a stand alone. targaryen princess reader has to marry her uncle, Daemon, saying goodbye to Criston forever.* //// alternative happy ending ////

- One. Two. Three. 📚

*a day in the life of reader and her husband, knight Criston Cole with their two kids; a newborn on the way*

- Love the way you hurt me 📚

*a targaryen born with magic, a knight with unbending views of life, a lost child and a surprisingly happy ending*

- Soothing stars 📚

*after Criston is rejected by Rhaenyra, his best friend is there to pick up the pieces*

- NSFW headcanon

- Not so strong 📚

*reader is married to Harwin, but loves Criston. However, when you find out your husband and sister have children together, it's still a lot to take in. And you cannot go through it alone*

The King (2019)

- Galloping circus 📚

*magical!au* *king Hal is thrown into a cursed circus from where you help each other accomodate*

Grishaverse

- The child of moon and stars 📖

*there is only one Darkling. No family of his own, no connection. The girl bending shadows in Ketterdam must certainly be a scam coined by the notorious Dirtyhands. But the plots thickens.*

Lady Bird

- summertime love

*y/n fell for the notorius Kyle Scheible, but what happens whne they're alone, horseback camping in the middle of the wild woods?*

ACOTAR

- Feysand first time sexy time (Rhys POV)📚

- Man of Honor Rhysand (blurb)📚

- Lucienweek2023 prompt 1: Exile📚

- Lucienweek2023 prompt 2: Style📚

- Lucienweek 2023 prompt 3: Mask📚

- Lucienweek2023 prompt 4: Courtier and Emissary📚

- Lucienweek2023 prompt 5: Family📚

- Lucienweek2023 prompt 6: Romance📚

- Lucienweek2023 prompt 7: Free day📚

- A court of waves and flames 📖

- Elucien angst (with sort of a happy ending)📚

Hunger Games

- Fish out of water 📚

*when y/n enters the Games she expected pain, but hoped it'll end once she is crowned Victor. However, the District Four girl is about to be thrown into a far crueler world than she expected. And all of that under the sorrowful mentorship of Finnick Odair.*

- When snow melts

*Sejanus finds out Coryo betrayed him*

Dune

- Between waves and dunes, there's us📚

*Paul takes Chani to see the sea (canon NON-compliant, slighty ooc)*

REQUESTS ARE OPEN / CLOSSED

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Beloved Cherry Blossom ~ Yamaoka Kazan/The Oni x Fem!Reader

Note: Since Kazan lived in the feudal era, and died there, his S/O would be someone from that time, so, just like him, she'd be dead, so the shock of seeing the dead back alive would be great for him...Who also died in a painful death. Haha.

"My son, you reached the age when you have to marry and ensure the continuation of our bloodline. Since you haven't bothered looking for a potential wife, I took the liberty of finding you a pretty girl. She is the daughter of a respectable samurai who guards the Emperor, and her father ensured she is a very capable, smart and understanding woman, so she will be able to deal with your...Temper." Kazan's father sat down with his son, who scowled, offended at what he heard, but despite all this, he was well aware of this bother he had to deal with. "...Yes, father." he muttered, sharply looking down at the floor. "We will go to meet her tomorrow, at her home, an in less than a month, we will have the marriage. I know you are not the type to care about families and women...But you have to do anything in your power to ensure the honor and survivability of the Yamaoka bloodline." yes, of course, his father just had to sigh in disappointment. "I understand, father. I will make you proud." Kazan answered before leaving the room to train, as a way to let out the pent up rage.

Who needed women and a family? He certainly didn't care about that. They were a nuisance. A weakness, at best. Father is too much of a sentimental, even for a samurai. What a ridiculous charade...

And his displeasure continued even the next day, as he dressed in a rich, official kimono, to show off his heritage, but at the same time, his long hair was put in a disheveled ponytail, rebel strands flying with the wind, and the neck of his outfit was lowered down enough to show his outlaw-ish predisposition. Needless to say, his father was angered by this side of his son - Surely, he taught him better! - But it was far too late, and they had already arrived at the L/N estate.

Just outside the big, beautiful house, a petite young woman, her long dark hair shining like ebony, her skin as white as snow...She looked so frail that she'd almost resemble a snowdrop. And she was delicately playing a soft, yet sorrowful tune on her bamboo flute, while her father put a pink flower in her hair, looking at her with nostalgia and love.

Kazan look at his own father, before glancing back at the girl whom he found out was named Y/N, and realised how big of a difference it was to was a son, compared to having a daughter. The difference in the two men's behaviour was huge.

He once heard a samurai, whose wife had just given birth to his daughter, "Treat your daughter the way you wish her husband would treat her." He didn't care at first, obviously - Kazan's mind was never on marriage - But now he was beginning to understand the meaning of his words, for they were wiser than anticipated.

Her father was tender, and treating her as if she was the soft petal of a cherry blossom, and his voice was low, loving and respectful, not wanting to startle her in any way...He was talking as if he was trying to keep the zen equilibirum intact at all costs.

The love between a man and a woman is supposed to be like Yin and Yang...

But how could Kazan possibly behave in such a way, when all he knew was to be a rageful brute who would destroy everything in his path in the loudest, brashest way possible?

"Ah, Yamaoka-san, you have arrived. And you brought your son with you. It's an honour finally meeting you, Kazan. Here, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, dear, why don't you go prepare some osmanthus tea for our tired travelers, while I guide them to our table in the cherry blossom garden?" her father pat her hair, and in return, she bowed slightly at the guests, offering them a gentle smile, that would put all of Spring's flowers to shame. "Yes, right away, father. I hope you will like our flower garden. Papa had them all planted in honour of my mama. They are all her favourite kinds and colours." ah, yes, of course. Women have a special kind of bond with their mother - That was something he would never be able to fully comprehend, Kazan realised very easily, by the way the girl was close to shining as soon as she talked about her birth-giver.

The son of the Yamaoka family obvious saw women before - He wasn't an idiot - And he had enough experience with them...But there was something different about this one. She was...So...Innocent? She seemed to naive and not from this world, almost as if she had no idea of the terrors of the world outside of her residence.

It was such an endearing thing, almost exciting - But the young samurai wasn't sure if he wanted to protect this innocent ignorance at all costs...Or if he wanted to shatter it into pieces and taint it completely.

But that question was easily answered as soon as she came back and started pouring tea for him. And then later in their marriage, the way she behaved so gently with him, it was so weird, so foreign to him, and yet, it made him feel something else...Something completely different from the bubbling, infernal rage he could feel in his chest all the time.

It was soothing, mending his soul completely, for some reason that he couldn't comprehend at all.

But why should he, anyway? He was content just having her by his side whenever he was home. Only she was able of taming the storm that clouded his mind and soul.

His little cherry blossom.

And only the Gods knew how many men he had to kill to make sure she isn't harmed, or prayed upon. He never realised how many desperate, disgusting, dishonorable and lecherous men could be, but Kazan wasn't going to let her see anything other than the honour of a samurai - Like him, his father, and her own father.

However, not even her gentle soul would be able to contain his rage whenever he'd hear that dreadful, shameful nickname they would call him.

"Oni-Yamaoka"

Why was he an Ogre, all of a sudden? Because he brought justice upon the fakes who made a mockery of the code of the samurai? Because he wanted to protect the sole person he cared for in this life? Even his father was against the aggressiveness he displayed on the battlefield, and in the actions he took...It almost felt like even his father was agreeing with that stupid nickname!

"Here, Kazan, lay your head on my lap and forget about your worries, at least for tonight." Y/N pat her lap with a sweet smile, her eyes gleaming with love and benevolence as she reached out her other hand to reach out to him, and as if possessed, he followed her lead absent-mindedly. "Y/N." Kazan called out after a few minutes of having his eyes closed, feeling himself relaxing as her fingers were soothingly playing with his long, untameable hair. "Why do you always tell me to lay on your lap, whenever I'm angry?" "Do you not like it, darling?" she asked, but the passive smile on her face showed that she knew that wasn't the case at all. "I do. I was just wondering why." he grumbled in a lower voice, which made her muse, her smile shaping into an almost kitten-like one. "My mama always did that to papa. She said that the best place for a man to relax is on a girl's thighs. I don't think she was wrong." oh, what a sweet giggle she had. It sounded crystalline, like a river of diamonds going through the forest. "...I won't comment on that." the man closed his eyes, not wanting to give in to the flushed sensation he felt hearing something so embarrassing. "You do not have to be embarrassed, my dear. We are man and wife. There is nothing we could do or say that would be worth or deemed as embarrassing." she reassured him with an amused tone, as her small hand touched his bare chest, just where his heart would be. "Why are you not afraid of me, like the rest of them? You are nothing more than a frail woman. You have the eyes of a baby fawn, and the frail bones of a rabbit. You are nothing more than a flower in comparison to me. I could snap your neck like a twig if I'm not careful touching you. And yet, you allow yourself to be vulnerable around me, and while at it, you encourage me to be the same as well. I will never understand the complexity of women and their thinking." the samurai sighed, grumbling in faux annoyance. "My, my, was that what was on your mind? How lovely of you to be concerned about me. Well, I will tell you a little secret, since you are so curious, but make sure it stays between the two of us, alright?" she giggle softly, almost like a little child kissing her crush on the cheek, and it made Kazan's heart flutter. Was she truly trusting him with a secret? What did he do so worthy to her that she deemed him the perfect candidate as a secret-keeper? "I would not dare tell your secret even to the Emperor himself, or my father." came the samurai's vow with such seriousness, that made the girl grin. "You see, women aren't physically strong like men are, but what we lack physical prowess, we make up for our incredible emotional strength. So, I believe that, at least in these times of war and bloodshed, a man's role is to protect the physical body of the woman, while the woman's role is to protect her man's heart and soul. Without balance, there is no future and no happiness, wouldn't you agree? If we don't make the best out of this life, and look at the beauty of the world...Then have we even lived at all?" there was wisdom in the words that Kazan deemed rather naive, and yet...What she said wasn't wrong, per se. In fact, it was true. He was well aware that, with his body, the best he could do was protect her, but he would never be able to sooth her broken heart the same way she does to him...And likewise, he remembered the mirthful laugh he let out when she tried lifting his weapon from the ground.

However, he wasn't going to say anything out loud, and decided that, instead of voicing his opinions, he'd rather grunt and close his eyes, letting sleep take over him, his head still resting on her soft thighs.

Maybe having a wife wasn't as bad as he once thought...

But times change fast - Years pass, lives pass, the river passes...And yet, only one thing doesn't pass, and that is Yamaoka Kazan's rage, which only grew stronger and stronger with each day, and each time he heard himself getting called "The Oni".

He was desperately angry, and not even Y/N's loving touch or sweet voice could save his soul, so much, that in fear of accidentally hurting her, he decided to stay out and train or go on and kill more and more samurai impersonators, hoping to somehow release all his anger and be able to return home.

He knew Y/N would be worrying for him, but she needn't do such a thing, it would only hurt her heart, and that was the last thing he wanted. He was strong, and feared - Who would dare go against Yamaoka Kazan, anyway?

The days away from home multiplied, and he was away for a stupefying month...Y/N must be crying, worried sick. He wasn't afraid of anything physical in this world, yet the thought of her doe eyes shedding tears...It was something he was terrified of, especially if he was the cause of that.

But on the way home, he found a pink lotus flower, and he thought she would love it, so he gently took it with him back home. It was raining, and an ominous feeling crept into Kazan's heart, and he realised there seemed to be an almost dark aura around his home.

It wasn't yet sleeping time, so why were there no candles lit? There was no sign of any living being there? Where were the servants? Where was his beloved Y/N, waiting for him on the porch, playing the flute the way she always did?

Something was not right...

The man rushed inside the house, and as soon as he slammed open the sliding door, he was met with nothing that he expected - Pools of blood on the floor, while the otherwise neutral-coloured walls were splattered with the red liquid, and the corpses of the servants were brutally mangled and thrown around as if they were defect ragdolls.

It wasn't the horrifying sight that scared him, but the fate of his wife - So he made haste and ran to their shared room...And there she was.

In more pieces than she should be in.

Her hair was a mess, her kimono was a mess, her make up was a mess...And she had been tortured, from the way her wounds, slashes and cuts looked on her body.

Who...? Who could do something so...So...Disgusting...To a defenseless woman who had no means of fighting back? Where was the honour in defeating a weak civilian, such as her? What was the purpose of this massacre?! Was it to anger him? To bring out the Ogre from him? Is it what they all wanted? To see The Oni they feared and hated so much? They got revenge on a small woman, just to get to him?!

"Ah, Kazan, finally. Took you quite a while to return home...I thought her body would rot away and get swarmed with maggots by the time you'd return. And what's that in your hand? A flower? Did you want to apologise to her with a stupid flower? You have caused my daughter immense distress, and yet, she loved you to the very end. You should have seen her cry out your name, praying for you to come back home and save her...But, alas, the Ogre is never home! He is so busy killing, that he didn't realise he killed his own wife! Hahaha! Yamaoka Kazan, you are a pathetic excuse of a man, you could never come close to her strength! I tried everything to get her to tell me your secrets...But she didn't say a word. She ignored me. In the end, she came to hate me, her own father, who cared and loved her since she was born...And she loved you, some spineless monster who knows nothing but carnage!" what...? What was this man saying...? Is he truly implying that he tortured his own daughter to death, for...Information...On him...? "What...Did you do...?!" red was the only thing he could see, as he couldn't help but stare deep into her dead eyes that still held the fright and agony they last felt when she was still alive. "I KILLED HER! I KILLED MY OWN DAUGHTER, Y/N! This whole marriage was meant to bring down your stupid family of brutes and uncontrollable monsters! It was meant to kill YOU! But she was stupid! Nothing more than a sentimental woman! She LOVED you, a monster who knows only bloodlust! It's YOUR fault that she is dead, Kazan! YOU killed her! YOU!" her father yelled at him only meaningless gibberish.

In fact, Kazan couldn't comprehend words anymore. Instead, he could only hear whispers - They were soft and feminine...They sounded like Y/N...Could her ghost be talking to him? Was she trying to calm him down one more time, from beyond this world?

Yes, you were a saint, truly...It was a pity you had to meet him...If you hadn't, you'd have still been alive...And your beautiful flute song would still resound around the forest, along with the thrill of the birds.

"I am sorry, Y/N" was the last thing Kazan thought...

As The Oni took over completely, and went on the greatest blood shed known to mankind at that time...

------

What am I doing here...? What is this strange place...? It looks nothing like the beautiful flower garden Kazan made for me...So where am I?

The girl looked around like a confused meerkat, asking herself a limitless amount of questions, only to look down and realise her beautiful pink kimono was dirty with mud, and she gasped in shock. How could she let that happen! She can't let Kazan see her like this, what would he think?!

Ah, yes, that's it, just look around for Kazan, he'll surely know what's going on!

However, instead of finding her strong samurai, she saw three other people, all looking of a different race than her, and wearing such strange clothes...

Was she behind fashion, and she had no idea? She was sure she was buying only the best kimonos there were...!

"What are you just standing around for?! Run! We have to repair the generators!" a girl with unnatural coloured hair yelled at her before she sprinted the hell out of there.

Generators...? What are...Generators...? And why is this place so creepy...?

Hold up...This paper wall maze...This was from her home! Yes, that means she was close to home!

She ran through the little maze with a smile on her face, only to see one of the man working very focused on some kind of contraption, and he urged her to help him out. She sheepishly crouched opposite of him, frightened, but she carefully tried to do something, but instead, a loud noise and sparks came out, and she shrieked in fear, shielding her face as she fell on her back.

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" she cried out, her eyes watering. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you want to die that badly?! Get a grip and do something useful for once!" the man screamed in her face, before running the hell out of there.

Why were they all so rude to her...?

She was so used to her family, her servants, friends and Kazan to be nice with her, that she didn't realise people like these existed too.

A bit shaky, Y/N got up, trying to pat away the dust from her dirty kimono, and continued to look the estate...Only to find her home...But why was it in such a deplorable state...? Surely, she wouldn't allow her beloved home to end up like this...!

As Y/N made her way inside the home, she noticed the scary amount of blood splattered all over the place...Almost as if there was more red than colours of walls an the floor. It was so frightening...And confusing.

Who died here? And how in the world...I mean...She was sleeping, and then...

Oh.

Oh.

No.

She wasn't sleeping...

As soon as she stepped into her room, she didn't notice the blood on the floor, but the discarded pink lotus that laid on her pillow. As she crouched to take the flower in her room, she got a sudden flashback of her memories from the night she died...

She waited for Kazan, and the elderly servant woman was comforting her, pouring her tea and patting her back, as she played the same flute song she did when she first met beloved.

But then, her father paid her a visit...And a true hell was unleashed...

Her own father did something so atrocious...Such a betrayal was nothing she could ever phantom in her own life, and yet, her life was ended not by a stranger, but by her own kin.

As silent tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her delicate cheeks, a loud roar shook the whole estate, and the brusque blurting in the room of a huge man was enough to fright her to fall on the ground with a startled yelp.

And yet...

The raised weapon, the samurai garments he wore...And that Oni mask... There was only one person in the world who could look like this.

"Kazan...?" her voice came out weaker than a whisper, and she wasn't sure if he even heard her calling out his name. For a split second, she was terrified of the thought of that horribly enormous weapon striking her down where she stood, in her own bed, for the second time...And yet...

The monstrously big man dropped his weapon and slowly crouched in front of her, picking up the flower and putting it in her hair, pinning it away from her gorgeous face.

"Y/N...It really is you..." his voice came out as a dark grunt, in fact, in very much sounded like a demon, and yet, his moves and actions seemed more delicate than even this lotus flower.

The girl started laughing from happiness, allowing more tears to escape her eyes, being reunited with the love of her life, and she threw herself in her arms, feeling safer than she ever did in her life.

"I missed you so much, my dear Kazan...I missed you so...I can't believe such things happened to us...And yet, here we are, together again, even in death, even in hell." as she said that, she slowly took away his mask, and revealing his rugged face, obviously one of a man seasoned in war and tortured to death - She put her hand on his cheek, just as he used to do with her, and caressing him, she leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead.

It was meant not only as a lucky charm, but as a 'home sweet home' as well, for there was no home without Kazan's arms wrapped around her protectively...

And there was no home without the petite body of his beloved S/O in his strong embrace, watching her fall asleep.

"I promise you never leave you again, my beloved cherry blossom." he said so, and yet, having been in this Hell longer than her, he knew of the atrocities she, as a Survivor, would have to endure, and the hell the Entity would put on the both of them.

And yet...

If anyone even dares to look at her the wrong way, The Oni would make sure that, no matter how immortal the Killer might be, he would bring an end to them.

He already lost her once, and he's not going to let a tragedy befall her ever again.

[whirling-fangs]

@tcntoumushi // moved to beta from.

     Well that certainly explained all the fuss she heard earlier! And why the kakushi she’d happened open looked as sore as they did, literally and figuratively. Hekima laughs, clapping her stained hands together in amusement as he boasts of his victory. She felt sorry for the poor souls who had to oversee his recovery, but he was a fascinating one to converse with.      “Ehhhh, being restless can be frustrating, but we shouldn’t overdo it when our bodies are still mending. You can cause permanent damage that way!” The young woman muses, readjusting her glasses as she gave his mask a contemplative stare. “When I’m told to stay put, I’ll read some books so that way I’m not feeling like I’m doing nothing at all. It keeps the mind sharp!”      And he only becomes more baffling with each moment. Her heterochromatic eyes grow wide behind her lenses, shifting in her seat to scoot closer to the edge of the engawa.

     “Poison immunity, really really? That’s handy! Still, I don’t want you to eat anything that could be bad for you if you don’t have to, and I bet it doesn’t taste all that good!” Hekima chirps, watching as her guest twiddles with the pestle that she’d been working tediously with. A thoughtful hum escaping her as she touches a black-stained finger to her chin. She’s never had to explain something like painting before, but she supposes it makes sense if he’s from the mountains like he says he is.      “A painting is when you use tools like ink and paint to create a picture. It can be anything that you’d like. And I could make a larger batch, but I only need a little bit to make a couple of paintings. But you shouldn’t hold it-” She attempts to correct his form with the tools, yet it’s not fast enough to stop him from obliterating the stone mortar full of semi-crushed berries. Hekima yelps in alarm, rolling back from the force. She catches herself and her glasses, waving away at the cloud of dust that swarmed the air around them.      “Too far on the enthusiasm! We were only trying to squish the liquid out of them, not turn the mortar into liquid, too!” She laughs between coughs, readjusting her yukata as she sits once more. “Looks like I’ll have to settle for a different activity.”

Inosuke went oddly silent for a few seconds, as he contemplated her reply. Reading books, huh...

"That sounds boring as hell. Lying down is annoying, no matter what. I'd rather be outside doing some proper training."

He didn't insist, her praise thankfully taking his attention away from the topic.

"I won't know what it tastes like unless I try it!" He claimed, quite willing to take a lick at the ink right this moment. The berries look tasty enough, and he's having a very hard time resisting the urge to devour them.

"You create... pictures? That sounds amazing! So you just think of anything, and you can use the paint to make it appear? Is that what it is?"

He was easily impressed. The human world was a complex and confusing one, but it was filled with wonders that left his childish curiosity craving more every day.

Crunch. There went the poor mortar.

"Ah. It broke." Inosuke pointed out, as if his relentless smashing wasn't the reason why the mortar was shattered to pieces. A finger idly dipped into the spilled berry juice, and disappeared under the confined of the boar mask. What a waste of good berries.

"What else can we do now? Are we gonna make paintings with something else?"

[keilemlucent]

half-day

hawks | takami keigo x reader 

word count: ~3k

absence helps the heart grow wounds 

warnings: reader takes medication, angst, sad uwu 

beta’ed: @hawnks

a/n: so in the middle of all the horny, here’s some angsty, SFW, hurt/comfort i wrote as a vent. enjoy 💗

...

“Did you take your meds yet?”

You paused on the edge of the bed, rubbing at your eyes with the inside of your wrist.

“No, I forgot. Sorry.”

You kicked yourself for how weak your voice came out.

Keigo’s wings drooped, though you could only tell by the wide shadow they cast on the wall of your shared bedroom.

It was late, far too late for you to be awake, but you’d forced yourself to stay lucid and somewhat lively to wait for Keigo to arrive home after patrol. It wasn’t something you did often, as he so often was kept past his scheduled hours.

This night was no different.

He’d come through the balcony door in the early hours of the morning, sighing harshly and kicking off his boots with a huff before even noticing you blinking at him from the couch.

And with a single look, his heart sank.

Keigo wasn’t an idiot.

You looked so tired.

Your eyes were shadowed, punched with sleepless bags and the corners of your pretty lips pulled down and taut. You worried your hands, picking at your cuticles and fingernails.

You mustered up a smile, and fuck, if it wasn’t one of the weakest things he’d seen in a long time.

He’d been quick to whisk the two of you off to bed after that. A short shower later, he slung on some sweats and draped a towel over his shoulders. He tried to keep his look casual, despite his own exhaustion, aches and anxiety.

Because you looked shitty.  

Not that you ever looked bad, Keigo had seen you in any number of states. Fucked up, fucked out, bright and shining like the sun itself and tear-streaked—

But none hurt in the same way or as much as he’d been seeing you lately.

When he crept into the bedroom, your gaze was vacant, trained on the floor as you picked at a hangnail on your thumb.

So he asked about your meds, just probing, seeing where you were at.

Truthfully, Keigo’s work had been keeping him from home, though he wasn’t actively avoiding you like this.

But, he did have the undeniable knowledge that his absence was hurting you.

Guilt.

“You don’t need to be sorry, dove,” Keigo slipped next to you on the sheets, letting his wings stretch out and back over the thrown back covers. “Do you want some fresh water?”

You shook your head, silent, as you grabbed your pill organizer from your nightstand.

Keigo eyed the old glass of water, frowning. He could practically see the dust settling on the surface of the stale liquid.

“Are you sure—”

“It’s fine, Kei’, let’s just go to bed,” Your voice was so hollow, half-broken and swallowed up by the gulp of water you took down with your meds.

Keigo managed to keep a grin on his face, but it was hard.

He couldn’t restrain himself from taking your cheeks in his hands, worrying your undereyes with his thumbs the moment you set the murky glass down.

You didn’t say anything, just sagged into his grip, brow creasing.

There was a tension in the air, but nothing that could be cut or the kind that could easily immolate. This was the kind of sluggish frustration that pulled on your muscles and ligaments like gummy syrup.

It dragged the two of you down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You spoke without thinking, your hands inching towards his knees.

Why was he?

“Lots of reasons, the first being that I love you,” Keigo reminded you, softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

It was all the touch you needed to fall into his shoulders, pressing your face into the wet towel around his neck.

It would’ve been cumbersome, a deterrent from fully touching him, but in that moment, it soaked up the budding tears at the corners of your eyes.

He didn’t need to know how poorly you were doing.

Why did his little affections send you spiraling?

Why did each of his touches feel like aloe to a wound that was deep and tarry, impossibly endless and nothing that could be tackled in a night?

Why did it hurt so good?

“I don’t want to hear the others,” you told him, squeezing his covered knee. “I think I know. I’m sad, not dumb.”

Your quip earned you a half-hearted chuckle, Keigo smoothing a hand up and down your spine.

“Can you lay with me?”

You gave a wordless answer, slipping into the sheets with him while feebly rubbing at your eyes.

Keigo sends a few feathers to click off the bedside lamps, keeping on a small light atop the dresser, the kind that throws pinpricks of faux stars onto the ceiling in oscillating little rings.

It was a false comfort, but you’d both take it.

You laid facing each other, naked in mind and body by then.

With your cheek squished into your pillow, it was even easier to see the tear tracks and worry that you carried.

Keigo had to be careful, he knew he had to, if he pushed you too hard for your words or feelings, you could just lockup, deflect and drift off into fitless sleep yet again.

You didn’t make him reach for too long, didn’t let him worry himself for very long, before you spoke up, weakly, and interrupted his thoughts.

“We’re okay, right, Kei’?”

The question sent splinters of worry into the tender flesh of his heart.

Keigo responded instantly, dragging your body into his as his feathers twitched and ruffled, “Yes, yes, we’re completely okay, better than, I love— “

“I know,” You pressed your face into his sternum, locking an arm over his lower back. “I know you love me.”

You still sounded so empty.

Keigo didn’t know what to do, fuck, he was grasping for even what to say.

“How can I make it better?”

He had to try, right?

Maybe that was the reason why he’d been rushing off so often and for so long lately, without rest, no matter how he felt.

He was a hero, his job was to make things better. He wanted to fix things, mend and stitch the ills and pains of others.

Yet, the person closest to him was splitting at the seams.

Work had been busy, busier than normal, and it just gave him the excuse to avoid his personal problems, like any sane, normal person.

Maybe, he was justified in shoving off the weight of everything, maybe, but only because every time he asked how he could help, you’d just say—

“You can’t, Kei’. It’s okay.”

Just like you did then.

Except, in the past, your voice would just echo from your lips as you gave him a sad smile.

This time?

Your voice broke and your breath hitched as you tried to tug him closer.

He can feel your tears wet his chest.

You tried to fight for so long.

You still were, notably. Against the loneliness and against the odds of your odd relationship, you smiled and mused your way through the struggles of it. You loved Keigo, and the burdens were bearable. They were never from him, they were from the fucked circumstances of his employment and the conditions around it.

You had a deep, heartfelt understanding of this. It was communicated about since the beginning of your partnership, and you had learned, quite well, how to deal with Keigo’s job as a hero. You’d peace with it, mostly.

A lot of the time, contending with this reality was hardly difficult.

But, it was distinctly entirely unmanageable during times when your own mental health started to spiral downward.

So, here you were, beginning to weep into your partner’s chest over all of the weight that was bearing over your mind.

Each moment, your mind sparked with a new poison, until one slipped out amid your muffled tears.

“I can’t even fix m-me— “

You snapped.

And you damn near shrieked into his chest.

Keigo hadn’t seen you do this poorly in a long time.

It hurt, all of it did, but like fuck he was going to push off the responsibility any longer. You’d never admit it, but his absence had to be doing some damage.

“You don’t need to,” Keigo promised, shifting to straddle your hips.

Maybe, on a different night, things would’ve gone a different direction.

Not that night though.

Keigo pressed his weight over your chest, tucking your face into his neck as his feathers settled up and over the two of you. A scarlet shield that read black in the witching hour of the evening.

You didn’t really notice, but you could feel Keigo’s breath and body over the top of yours. He was like some sort of barrier towards the outside world and god did you need it.

You tried to reply, but your words came out as blubberings, broken by tears and ragged breath as you buried yourself into Keigo.

Despite the fact that Keigo was over you, it was the unseen, soul-crushing weight of you that bore down on him.

How did you let it get this bad?

You choked on another sob, your thighs squeezing around his hips.

Your nails raked down his back, an accident borne from your own frustration. Keigo didn’t react to the pain, even when it tread so close to the sensitive roots of his wings. He could bear it— if you had to, he would as well.

This is the least he could do, right?

Be there, though he definitely should’ve been there sooner.

He nuzzled his nose into your temple, brushing his lips over the sweat and tears gathering.

“Cry, dove, I’ve got you now.”

And god, did you.

You sputtered and wept against him, whatever hollow sheen you’d been carrying falling away to a flood of pent up pain.

Keigo had his own mess of emotions about being complicit in letting you get to this point, and what that said about him as a partner, but he swallowed those feelings down to the pit of his stomach and busied himself with comforting you.

He wiped the tears from your cheeks, kissing away the stray ones that dripped down to your jaw and neck. His fingers and nails scratched and massaged your scalp, part of him prayed that the little circles he drew would pull some of the tension and stress from inside your skull, but that was just fantasy.

Ultimately, the only thing to do was nothing, and that was probably why Keigo avoided it for so long.

Powerlessness was not something he was used to, nor did he want to become familiar with it. He was the number two hero in the nation, for fuck’s sake. The last thing he ever felt was helpless, sans a few choice feelings about his arrangements with the Commission.

But with you?

He felt so useless in moments like these.  

But, that was the nature of these things, and he knew this, the two of you had been over that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel himself getting choked up.

And as much as he wanted to suppress his own feelings, he just fucking couldn’t.

And everything spilt over at once, as things tend to.

Keigo scooped you up, pressing your front to his, pressing your cheek into his own, a few of his own tear tracks forming.

The feeling of Keigo’s own sadness tugged you from your own panic.

You swallowed thickly, your dry tongue sticking in your mouth as you tried to speak coherently.

“H-hey, Kei’?” You asked, trying to rub away at his tears. “C-could you take a h-alf day tomorrow? You don’t need to, but— “

Keigo shushed you with a kiss, sagging over top of you a moment later.

“Yeah, y-eah, of course,” Quietly, Keigo added, muffled into the crook of your shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to ask.”

“It’s okay, but it’s how i-it is,” Your voice shook as you coaxed Keigo to meet your gaze.

And oh, to bear souls with another is quite an intimate thing, don’t you think?

Especially when there was so much raw between the two of you, things that weren’t quite right, and things that hurt a bit too much.

Yet, at the same time, as you searched Keigo’s pretty ambers, more vibrant next to his reddened eye whites, you held nothing against him. There was both implicit and explicit understanding swimming in the air between you.

The unavoidable harshness of your arrangement with the truth that both of you cared so much, even if you didn’t know how to chew of your chunks of reality. It was comforting, seeing Keigo give you a broken little smile as you rubbed his tears away, and he yours.

“I love you,” Keigo's wings fluttered with his words. “I’m sorry for not being here like I should’ve been.”

“It’s okay,” It was, mostly. “I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

You both needed to be better, but being ‘better’ was a process in and of itself.

Carefully, you rose, your hands finding Keigo’s bare hips while his helped prop up your back.

You swallowed around your fat tongue, grimacing and reaching for the stale glass of water.

Just before you could grab it, Keigo reached past you, stopping your hand from closing around it.

“Let’s start small,” Keigo gave you a weak smile. “Can I grab you some fresh water?”

You nodded, the warmth and care of the gesture immediately relaxing you. Quirking a brow, you managed a small grin, “Yes, thank you.”

And you let him.

And all that you’d been carrying with you didn’t dissolve, but it maybe felt lighter.

...

You spent the rest of the night twisted up in each other.

Truthfully, Keigo felt greedy. He’d been too absent and that had made him needy for you and your touch, even if it was just idle and soft.

He craved you in other ways, but you were more than enough.

By the sun rose came, he was hardly sated, but he had calls to make and things to arrange.

...

The next morning, you awoke alone, though the sheets were warm.

A few feathers laid around you, snuggling up to your cheeks and under the covers, fluttering every so often against your bare skin.

As you drew back to lucidity, you could hear Keigo’s muffled voice from the kitchen.

Your body ached, but in a necessary way. It reminded you of the night prior, along with your scratchy eyes and raw throat.

You threw on one of his shirts and padded towards his voice.

Despite your state, and the rawness of the air, Keigo still managed to stun you speechless, as he so often did.

He stood in the kitchen, hip popped against the counter with a pair of sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips. His phone was tucked between his shoulder and ear as he spoke low, hushed and hurried, his hands and a handful of feathers helping prepare two steaming mugs of coffee.

You didn’t eavesdrop, only approaching when Keigo breathed a sigh of relief and the phone was set down on the counter.

Somehow, you were able to surprise him.

Your arms looped around his waist from behind, circling and squeezing.

“I’m guessing you’ve gotta run?” You mumbled into his spine with a weak laugh. “I should say fly, huh?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, turning to drape his arms over your shoulders, “Nope, neither, dove. Two days.”

“… Two days?” You scrunch your brow, though Keigo was quick to smooth out the wrinkles with a quick kiss.

“Two days off a month, barring emergencies, not counting today. Fully off and all yours. And that’s not counting today,” Keigo’s smile warmed his voice. “Sound good?”

Your scrambled psyche rushed to catch up with the revelation that ‘holy fuck, Keigo actually had real, scheduled time off.’

“I can see how hard you’re thinking, chickpea,” Keigo tsked, somehow wrangling you onto the counter top, slotting himself between your parted thighs. “I’ve got this one, okay? I want to be around more.”

You bit your lip, gaze pointed towards the ground.

“For me or for you?”

“Why can’t it be both?”

You swallowed your tongue, still frowning.

It easily could.

Keigo needed the rest, even if he had trouble admitting it. As much as he claimed to be lazy, he was more so a workaholic due to his background. It was difficult for him to ever stop working for any considerable length of time.

Perhaps it wasn’t in his nature, just his training.

All the same, the idea of having Keigo around and mostly to yourself for a few days a month seemed goddamn fantastic.

“... Can it?”

Keigo softened visibly, rubbing at your side, just below the bottom hem of your sleep shirt. Maybe, he was a bit sheepish in those moments, but he’d had to be pretty stern making the calls he had that morning.

Speaking to the right people to allow him to get that time off had been a pain, but seeing the slow way you were deflating and melting into his arms made it worth it.

Not to mention he needed some lazy days as well.

“Of course it can,” Keigo gave a soft little smile. “Both of us getting a bit of extra rest, don’t you think?”

You flickered your gaze to his, where the gooeyness of his amber eyes caught and held you.

A part of you, one that had been particularly loud lately, screamed to ask for more reassurance. That in some way, Keigo was lying and you had to know.

But, with a deep breath, and a press of your forehead to his, you relaxed a bit.

Not enough, but it was a sure start.

“Alright, but only if you promise to let me help you relax too, and that includes today,” You silenced any retort he might have with a gentle kiss.

The moment you tried to pull away, Keigo’s hand was on the back of your neck, holding you steady and close.

“I dunno dove, it is my half-day,” He hummed with a raise of his eyebrows, the dark circles under his eyes hardly detracting from how luminous he so constantly was, “I think I’ll do whatever I’d like.”

You gave your own little grin, “That’s alright too, I guess. As long as you get some rest today.”

“So, a lazy day, that’s what I’m hearing?” Keigo’s wings fluttered at the concept.

With a nod and one more stolen kiss, you hummed, “A lazy day it is.”

[anzhin-the-starman]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 7 - Infatuation

[This lore is a part of Anzhin's story during the three-year peacetime after leaving the Shadowlands, a little over two years in.]

Anzhin stood before his friend's door for quite some time, not quite knowing what to do. It was strange to be called here... Was the good healer trying to get him in for a checkup? He had been struggling quite a bit lately with his spirit, so that might be the reason, but he usually waited until he definitely needed a bit of Mist-mending.

"You know I can sense you out there, Anzhin." came the familiar deep, rich voice from within the home. As Anzhin floundered a bit, it was followed with a sigh. "Just, come in, please. You are wasting a lot of time."

The half-elf shook his head before pushing the door open, finding his 'elven' friend sitting at a table. Bright jade eyes peered at Anzhin, flaring white with assessment and the healer stood, picking up a tin from the counter. "You are distraught, your Chi still frantic. Why do you always wait until it's too late for easy mending, or only come when I call?" Karakash grumbled, pulling a small rice-paper strip from its container and placing it to dissolve within a steaming cup of fresh tea.

"It... It's difficult for me to explain." Anzhin said with a tight, nervous laugh.

The 'elf's head swayed with slight irritation, though he wouldn't push further. He knew not how to heal the Mind, only soothe and mend the Body and Spirit. He returned to the table and set the tea out, sitting down and gesturing for Anzhin to join him. "Let it seep. I will let you know."

The Mage nodded quietly, sitting down at the table and doing his own little inspection of his friend. The 'elf' seemed a bit... troubled. Anxious, perhaps. Anzhin grew concerned. "So... Why invite me here? A preemptive check-in, or...?"

"Can I not invite a friend over for some tea?" Karakash deadpanned.

Anzhin's brow shot straight up. "You don't do that, Karakash, nor have you actually called me a friend before. It's always been 'acquaintance' with you." He reminded, his gaze settling into something rather skeptic.

The healer pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I... need help. This conundrum is something unfamiliar to me."

"Go on..." The half-elf encouraged.

"I..." Karakash took a few moments before clearing his throat and finding his grasp on his wording. "I would like to ask Velathra to join me for dinner. As a date."

It was a good thing Anzhin hadn't had any of the tea before him yet or else he would have spit it out of shock. "Come again?" He squeaked.

The healer rubbed his face. "I want to ask Velathra on a date. I've grown... infatuated." He admitted with an exasperated groan.

Anzhin blinked, pausing to find his own words. "How long has this been going on?"

"A little while." Karakash answered with a tensed jaw.

"And you've only thought to ask now?"

"I needed time to think. To make sure it was not a fluke." The 'elf' grumbled. "But, after some careful analysis and study, this... pain in my chest only happens when I think of her." He took a deep breath and exhaled, before jade eyes settled on the drink before the half-elf. "You may drink your tea."

Anzhin was quiet for a while before he nodded. "Understandable." He then picked up his tea and started to drink. After a few silent moments soothed with the balm of Mist-enfused tea, he spoke up once again. "Just... ask her. I know it can be intimidating at times, but Velathra is an incredible, welcoming soul." Summer greens peered at the 'elf,' a small smile curving his lips. "Honestly, I believe she would accept."

Karakash just... took that in for a bit, sipping his own cup of tea. "I... shall try tomorrow."

"Bring flowers~" Anzhin mused. "Aetheril and Talandra's Roses are her favorites."

~ @daily-writing-challenge​

Mentions: Velathra @dragonsiblings​

[sasorikigai]

[ dream ] + [ touch ] ( Old Guard or Assassin AU )

SOULMATE STARTER PROMPTS || @sonxflight || accepting

[ dream ]   -   for my muse to meet your muse in their dreams.

[ touch ]  -   for my muse to be able to feel everything your muse can feel.

💥 || Perhaps Hanzo Hasashi had been nothing more than a wandering soul traveling the wasted land; the subconscious brimming with perilous endeavors stretching the continents and periods. He feels paralyzed, stuck in time, in the moments that he so desperately tries to get away from. The screams of the afflicted and suffering, his own stifling anger threatening to shatter his ribcage in an eruptive force, along with the reciprocated violence repeat themselves over and over. Relentlessly, all the accumulated guilt, shame, and fear of the past all come flooding back the Immortal’s mind. They are impossible to escape, and he remains paralyzed. Paralysis within that same screams, the anger, and the violence as they refuse to wane and disintegrate within him. 

So many years have drained by, taking along Hanzo’s unabridged pain, the insane mindfuckery and the mercurial observations. All of his life’s passion and frenzy keeps him at bay amidst the torrential cacophony of his uncontrollable inferno sweeping forth, threatening to tear him asunder in the midst of ongoing war.

Had he dreamed of two souls merging into one, but every time the unfurling dreamscape had a solidifying chance to settle into his subconscious, it would come to an abrupt end. Time has been a continuing progress of existence that represents the past, present, and future as an inevitable force that can be both his best friend or his traitorous friend; time causes all pain and healing. In the brief stability of his dreamscape, would Hanzo Hasashi come across one Ryou Sakai, as his patience overwhelms the victim of time, as the stalling taunt of the other’s silhouette merges into the stark clarity for more than one construct of a scene. 

How Hanzo remains tethered to Ryou’s eggshelled bones; wondering himself if his consciousness has already left the world. Even with the ravaged hell wrought upon the mortal body, the war-torn muscles and sinew had already begun its repairing, as the weaving fibers of flesh begins to mend the deep lacerations that would have been irreversibly fatal. Beneath the magmatic velvet of spilled sanguine, Hanzo’s own cacophonous heartbeats beat with such vigor and vehement passion, as dark, brooding eyes gaze towards where all the falsehoods reign. Those who eschew the truth and all the good claims of the pristine world, as the cruel brutes loot the news of all fruitful days when they had been one of those who try and choose a new way to birth a world constructed in betterment and goodness. 

In the ripple of the crimson wave, Hanzo sees the other; his own suffering may be intransient, and yet, he had triumphed over and over again, conquering such torment and despair. He will march past death and leave no one behind, because death too, would lose its breath in headlong valleys when he moves into the familiarity of Ryou Sakai’s home as he would with stumbling legs. He will continue to learn to communicate with miles of darkness, despite his own body being anchored to the shore by its rusting, ferrous blood. His wound may darken on his chest like a crow, and yet, such close proximity of death will hand Hanzo Hasashi every new day like a golden coin; for his heart of gold gets heavier, thus worthwhile to carry. 💥 ||

[panharmonium]

Thoughts on sasuke?

that’s it in a nutshell!  

i’ve written a pretty good chunk of in-depth thoughts about sasuke in a couple places on my blog, particularly in this tag (because his relationship with kakashi is something that i find particularly compelling), and then this piece from last week, and my various “pan watches naruto” posts, which generally have some scattered musings in them.  but in general, i’ll just say this:

“thoughts on sasuke” is an interesting question for me, because one of my best friends watched naruto when we were a lot younger, and he and i have been arguing (playfully) ever since i started watching it myself, because he HATES sasuke, whereas i find that viewpoint almost impossible to understand.  like - in no way does this show intend for us to dislike sasuke.  the entire point of the show is in fact the exact opposite.  the whole story is, at its heart, about how deeply the other characters love him and how badly they want to bring him home and help him get better.  we’re supposed to want that, too.  and watching the show without caring about him, for me, is just like...i’m not sure what someone would get out of it, i guess?  sasuke’s story is the microcosmic version of the broader message of the show; it’s how the themes are scaled down and explored on an individual level.  we’re supposed to be rooting for him.

i’ve wondered, in the course of these for-fun arguments with my friend, whether part of the disconnect between us comes from me having started to watch the show as an adult, as opposed to as a teenager.  maybe if it’d been younger i wouldn’t be coming at it with the same perspective?  but as a grown adult (one whose background is in teaching kids in sasuke’s exact age range), all i can see when i watch his story is a kid who’s been failed or exploited by almost every adult and/or institution in his life, and i’m not remotely surprised to see him going off the rails right now.  that doesn’t mean i think he’s making good decisions.  it just means that i think he is currently incapable of making better ones.  maybe if i’d been younger when i watched, i might have been more frustrated with him, but watching as an adult, all i see is a child in extreme distress.  

the point of his story, for me, is that people (children, especially) need support and love in order to grow and thrive and protect themselves from self-destruction.  we see this play out over and over again, with naruto, with gaara, with nagato, and also with all the kids who don’t make it - all of the children who are discarded and then used or exploited by adults who don’t care about them (haku, kimimaro, all of orochimaru’s other minions, itachi) - and i think the endpoint of all these warm-up stories is ultimately supposed to be sasuke’s parallel rescue and recovery.

and obviously, i’m watching this for the first time, and i still have about half the show to go, so maybe i’m wrong!  maybe that’s not the point, and maybe sasuke hits a point of no return, and maybe nobody is ever able to help him.  but i don’t think that’s where this show is going, honestly.  and if that IS where it’s going, then i think it’s a betrayal of the narrative and thematic promises the story has already established, the things we keep hearing over and over again from so many of the other characters in this show, all of whom are set up as parallels to each other (and, ultimately, to sasuke):    

this story, at its core, is about the nine-tails telling naruto, “destroy everything.  erase anything that causes you pain.  give me your soul, and in exchange, i will rescue you from your pain,” and naruto ultimately rejecting that offer, because someone who cares about him swoops in from beyond the grave to save him from the same trap that sasuke hasn’t yet been able to escape.

it’s about what naruto says to gaara when he’s asked why he would fight so hard for people other than himself: because they saved me from myself.  they rescued me from my loneliness.  they were the first to accept me for who i am.  they’re my friends.

it’s about what kakashi says to sasuke up in that tree: it seems neither of us has led a charmed life, exactly.  still, we’re not all that bad off.  at least you and i have found new comrades to help fill the void.  

it’s about what sasuke says himself, when he realizes that he’s willing to die to protect naruto and sakura (even if he does backslide later and try to make himself forget): i lost everything once.  i don’t ever want to have to see that again - my trusted comrades falling right in front of me.

and it’s about what gaara is taught when he’s a small child:

wound your body, and the blood will flow, following fast on the heels of pain.  but as time passes, the pain eventually fades away.  with the help of medicine, it can heal even faster.  but even more dangerous is a wound dealt to the heart, because there’s nothing that has more trouble healing.  wounds to the heart are a little different than wounds to the flesh.  unlike a wound to the body, there is no medicine for a wounded heart, and sometimes it never heals.  

but don’t worry!  there is one thing that can mend a broken heart.  but it’s a very complicated remedy.  it can only be administered to you by another person. 

there’s one thing that can heal the heart.  only one.  it’s love, gaara.

so...i love sasuke.  i think we are supposed to love sasuke.  and honestly, i will be very, very surprised if this show doesn’t validate that choice.

[ktheist]

saving grace | 1

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.1k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

x

“that’s not a reward,” you heatedly claim, somewhere in your periphery, the royal assistant flinches from your tone, “that’s banishment! you wish to banish me to another country where i’ll be of no threat to you because of the information i hold!”

“l-lady ___, please lower your voice.” jungkook, seokjin’s new advisor, tries to placate only to stagger back from a glare you shot.

the music and chatters is loud enough to drown a scream - and you haven’t reached that point of wanting to yell your heart out at this man. the area you are in - on the second floor on the veranda overseeing the ocean of people dancing in the hall - is secluded enough to give the king his privacy.

“now, why would i do that to my most trusted confidant?” the smile on seokjin’s face could not have been more dubious. though he may wear the crown and sit upon the throne, his crude nature is what he truly is.

it’s not a secret that seokjin is the son of a maid who rose to the top but it couldn’t have been possible without the help of the count’s daughter. he needed information but his status as a prince born from a mere maid, hadn’t allow him to attend the social functions nor received any acknowledgement from the aristocrats. it was you who offered to be his eyes and ears in exchange for moving into the royal palace once he becomes king after the siege.

“as i recall, you wished to live in a palace like a princess,” his voice is unusually high pitched, laced with mockery of what you can only assume is an attempt to mimic yours, “and it just so happens that the prince of aflar is looking for a bride - who knows, despite being the 12th prince, perhaps he’ll be able to rise as the king. that way, you’ll become queen.”

“i don’t wish to become queen! i wish to live a free life without my parents dictating who i should marry just because a lady cannot inherit the family title.” this time, the heel of your foot hurts from the stomp but the anger rushing through your veins allow forbids you from showing it.

“___,” he’s used to calling you by your name - of course, it’s been five years since you’ve known each other. five years after finding out the second prince’s true nature and regretting choosing his side every waking day of your life, “you wish to live in the palace but refuse to take lessons to prepare you as my queen - what would people think of the respectable lady who doesn’t have any prior relations to the second prince-turned-king suddenly living with him under the same roof?”

“there are thousands of servants living in the palace.” you plainly point out - he must’ve expected this if he doesn’t even bat an eye at your words.

“servants don’t go prancing around the palace looking for the king as they please.”

“th-that’s because you’ve been avoiding me under the guise of the workload left by the previous king,” the stutter is what brings about the sly smirk on his lips.

“my, then your reputation is already ruined,” he feigns a disheartened sigh, almost as though he truly cares, “it’s not like the servants are loyal to me so they’ll talk - they might even be talking now - if news gets out that we’ve been acting like lovers, your chances of marrying well has dwindled to zero. you ought to quickly find a marriage prospect to mend the mess you made.”

something in the way he pans out his words causes your shoulder line to jolt backwards - as though physically slapped by the truth of his narration. though not proven yet, and though the thought of having a man to call your husband would fix everything makes you sick - you can’t deny the simple-minded way of thinking of these aristocrats.

the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. whether you’re seokjin’s - as he had time and time indicated - lover. what matters is the double-edged sword you’ve forged for yourself.

one wrong move, and they’d believe seokjin if he’d called you his lover and then claimed you a traitor who tried assassinating him in his sleep.

but as of now, despite becoming the king, he’s still struggling with the lack of support from the aristocrats. and having managed to wedge your way into the top circle is possibly the only reason you’re still able to do whatever you want.

all of a sudden, a disarming smile curls on your lips - seokjin must’ve noticed if he’s trying to control the curiosity that flashes in his eyes before he sports a bored expression.

“very well, i thank you for giving your blessing for me to pick out any marriage prospect i want.” the smile stretches gleefully over your features as the man’s eyes widen at your next words.

“what are you-”

“i wish to wed the duke of cralon and head knight of the kingdom, yoongi min.”

x

“the min family is rumored to be the wealthiest family in the kingdom - perhaps far surpassing the previous king. one word from the duke and these filthy aristocrats will grovel at his feet,” the voice you use trickles with sweet honey while seokjin’s hands tightly grip the seat, “but for some reason he’s staying quiet after coming back from the war and finding out the king he serves has had his head cut off.”

“what are you trying to say, lady ___?”

it’s the honorific that tells you he’s speaking as the king and everything that allows him to sit on the throne. his features, when he’s glowering, is heartbreakingly beautiful.

that’s how it feels to be driven into a corner, seokjin.

“i never told you but the duke fancies me. every year, he sends me birthday gifts,” technically he isn’t the only one - it’s just a formality to maintain an amicable relationship between the houses of nobles but having been out of touch with the ways of the nobility, you’re almost sure seokjin isn’t aware of said ways, “but my parents wouldn’t allow us to meet because of his infamous reputation and i never had any interest in marriage,” the pleasant smile on your lips is a contrast to the man’s contorting features - he must understand where you both stand now, “but if i accept his proposal, the duke won’t stand and watch as the new king sends away his fiance, will he?”

when the king glares up at you but doesn’t seem to have anything to say, you thought that’s the end of it. thought you can curtsy and call it a night whilst devising plans on how to get the duke’s attention and make him fall for you within the limited span of time you have to show seokjin how smitten the knight is for you.

...until the man himself steps out of the shadow without even a scrape of his boot against the ground. the duke is a man of many things but graceful had been far beyond your imagination. and yet here he is, in his knightly attire in black and hints of yellow lines on the sleeves and shoulders - a glaring contrast to his porcelain white skin and silvery grey hair yet perhaps what contributes to highlighting his crimson eyes. the color that’s rumored to be the curse of the goddess for the min family’s generational brute and violence that lead them to winning wars and coming back unscathed.

“your ma-” it all happens too fast.

he’s about to greet seokjin - whether it is with weighty contempt or newfound alliance, you’re not sure - with a hand on his chest and an uncaring glance your way. then you’re running towards him and before you know it, your arms are around his neck and your voice is pitched higher than you would like, “your grace, i’m glad you came back safely!”

you never thought someone could actually turn into stone in a split second but you don’t think the man in your arms is breathing at the moment. and you know exactly who’s fault that is - your own.

“please, play along,” in contrast to the high pitched tone from earlier, you curse yourself for sounding meek and timid - if your heart isn’t beating like a galloping horse and your body isn’t heating up like a baker’s oven, perhaps, you would have had better control of the situation, “my life depends on it and if we walk out of here alive, i’ll do anything you wish, duke.”

...was what you said but it all seems too far blown out of proportion, you might as well forego all your worldly desires and surrender yourself to the church and become a woman of god.

“perhaps, marrying the foreign prince would have been a better option after all.” you lament out loud, pressing the sleeve of your nightgown to your eyes but instead of being engulfed in darkness, you see a vivid replay of seokjin’s knitted brows and troubled expression. and if you’d just focus, you would still feel yoongi’s muscles underneath your fingers as you held onto his arm after flinging yourself at him whilst you make your way back to where you were standing - in front of the king.

pleasantries were exchanged while a dark cloud loomed over the three of you before yoongi excused himself and since you were clinging onto his arm, you ended up leaving as well. before you’d managed to conjure up a plausible explanation for your behavior towards a person you’ve never met. but right in that moment, leslie, your maid had called for you to inform you of the carriage waiting outside.

relief threatened to paint your features but you’d hid it with a dip before peeking at the crimson eyes that’d stared right into your soul. ‘letter’ you’d mouthed before leaving joining leslie in search for the carriage.

it’s been three days since then and there is not a single spot on the table perched in front of your window that isn’t covered with the thin bundles of papers leslie has presented you with when you ordered her to find out more about duke min. he isn’t particularly a social butterfly but his reclusive nature had extended to a point where only the butler is the only one who ever spoke to him. besides that, ever since he’d came back from war, he’d been swarmed with reports and the recent issue of missing goods from the iyesgarth port owned by the ducal house. none of which are useful for you to attract the attention of the duke for an exchange of protection.

“what was that, my lady?” at the familiar fluttery voice, your whole body shoots up.

“leslie!” the woman’s name tumbles out of your lips in surprise, “when did you get in?”

you didn’t even hear her enter-

“a few minutes ago while you were still snoring off,” she answers simply as she walks over, inspecting the teal dress she must have gotten from your closet while murmuring to herself about the ‘handiwork is terrible. we shouldn’t order dresses from vivian’s boutique anymore.’

it didn’t seem like she heard anything but if she did, leslie has always had a knack for going about her day as though she knew nothing. you wonder how much information she holds just from that uncaring personality of hers that allows people to feel at ease with knowing she wouldn’t tattle.

but this isn’t something you could let go, “leslie, how much did you-” but it’s her rambling that almost has you biting down on your tongue as you clamp your mouth shut.

“...won’t do. you need to dress pretty for the duke, my lady.”

almost as though the traces of sleep has flown out of the window, you’re crawling over the bed and grasping onto the maid’s shoulders for dear life, “d-did you say duke?”

an unsuspecting smile graces your lips once the realization that your unusual behavior, is caused by the news of the duke, “yes, he’s on his way here as we speak!”

it takes a moment for you to register her words. another for you to blink back at her as though waiting for her ever smiling face to fade into the dark before you finally wake up, wishing fullheartedly that this is all just a bad dream.

“my lady?” leslie cocks her head to the side, as though searching for your conscience that’d retreated so far back into your existence, she realizes she’s staring back at nothing but a shell.

“why...” the lowest murmur leaves your lips like a calm before a storm before a hurricane rages and whirls out of your entire being, “why is the duke coming here?”

x

“___! what did you do to summon the rage of the duke to our home!” your father, dressed unusually impeccably, stopped in the middle of ordering the butler and servants for when the duke arrives.

“m-me?” yes, you knew you had sounded utterly audacious for someone who boasted - and even blackmailed the king - about the duke’s affection for you, “i didn’t do anything!”

it was in that moment that the clamor of a carriage had echoed from outside. the sound of the horses neighing comes a second later. but nobody heard the footsteps of duke min as he tread towards the open doors of the mansion.

he wasn’t named grim reaper for nothing.

“my apologies for coming on such short notice,” at least he's rational enough to admit his fault.

you catch the sight of the tip of his fringes falling over his face as he bows, before you curtsy, head lowered and eyes fixed to the ground.

your mother had scolded you an earful about peeking while curtsying, “___! have some refinement! a lady does not peek like an uncivilized cavewoman!”

if you’d lived in a cave, you wouldn’t have to be constricted to such formalities in the first place.

“please, don’t apologize,” your father presses smoothly, unlike his frazzled self from just a minute ago - it must have taken him years to hone such composure as to not tremble under the duke’s crimson eyes, “we at the ___ manor, are honored to have you as our guest, your grace. though we are quite puzzled by your grace’s reason for coming here.”

“reason.” the duke echoes, it seems the only thing delicate about him is his features but you’d be lying if you said you don’t find the low gruff of his voice thunderous to your heart.

a short silence lapses as though he’s sifting through his memories and finally letting his gaze travel to you - though his tone doesn’t seem to harbor any murderous intention, those crimson eyes that seek yours render your body cold. you clasp your hands together out of needing something to hold onto as you fix him one of your schooled, noble smile.

“i wish to speak to the eldest daughter of this house,” he says simply, “about our engagement.”

that same smile on your face falters into a pressed line.

x

“my, my,” your mother laughs, royal purple fan that’s been fluttering over his face now being lowered to her lap, “what troublesome rumor has spread about our beloved ___.”

the slightest twitch on her pristine smile tells you otherwise. but you can’t challenge her genuinity - not in front of the yoongi, at least.

and to be truthful, the more pressing matter - one that plagues your very talk as of now - is the fact that the conversation pertaining your supposed blessed marriage had only been attended by seokjin, jungkook and you - there were guards but you doubt any of them were interested in gossips about a count’s daughter’s affairs.

...could seokjin be the one to have spread the rumor?

before you can even come to a plausible conclusion as to why the king would do such a thing, you’re brought out of your train of thoughts by the woman covering your hands that are on your lap, grasping onto them tightly - at first glance, it would appear she’s genuinely concerned for you, “how do you plan to take responsibility over daughter’s wounded reputation, your grace?”

it’s commendable how your mother is still able to let her lips stretch over her face as though the man’s red eyes aren’t piercing through her skull like a spear. you’ve always known she was a scary woman - she wished to pass on her legacy onto you and perhaps that was why you would always end up huffing and trudging back to your room every time you tried to tell her you didn’t want to follow such path.

her ways were effective but you weren’t looking to gain something out of another’s suffering.

“mother!” your voice bounces over the walls, “his grace’s reputation is also tarnished by the rumor, how could you ask him to take responsibility as if it was his fault?”

the woman stares down at you with her signature glare but after years of being on the receiving end of it, you’d grown a spine or two, “silly child, who’s going to marry you now that the rumor of your engagement with the grim reaper has spread far and wide?”

“mother!” it almost comes out a chide at the word she uses to describe the man sitting right across from you.

“d-dear wife,” your father is sweating bullets from his seat as he bravely speaks up, “why don’t we let the duke and ___ discuss this matter privately? it is, after all, their reputations that are on the line.”

“theirs?” your mother’s hiss causes your father’s shoulder line to shrink back.

yoongi’s reputation may have been borne by only him but for a lady, everything you do reflects on your family name. that, you understand and for once, your mother’s outburst is well-founded.

the roots of rage almost tangles around your ankles as well - but the uncertainty of the source of rumor lingers on your mind.

it is the moment when the door shuts behind the butler after your parents which required a lot of pleading from your father, do you allow yourself to feel the heat of yoongi’s eyes on you - if looks could kill you’d be dead for simply and foolishly meeting his gaze.

“your grace, i apologize on my mother’s behalf... my mother, she’s only worried about my future like any mother would,” the head that’s held up high, the shoulders that line straight and the schooled smile on your lips - does well to conceal the inner turmoil inside you. but when all you receive is a steel gaze and a pin-drop silence, you’re forced to change the topic, “i was in the middle of writing you a letter.”

in other words, you mean to say you’re too hasty, duke.

unlike you, the man has his legs crossed languidly, his sword - said to be forged by the spine of the devil himself - is leaned next to his foot, almost as though ready for him to pull it out of its sheath if you so much as move, “i thought you would chip a nail writing me one so i decided to spare you the pain and pay you a visit, my lady.”

the underlying mockery in his words does not go past you yet it takes a moment for it to register - he looked like a straightforward man based on the menial conversation he shared with seokjin and you as a witness.

but it’s true what they say about judging books by their cover.

“that’s very considerate of you, your grace,” the smile you force on goes against the normal order of nature but the man doesn’t seem fazed. his crimson eyes fixes themselves on yours as though trying to take a peek into your soul and find out your darkest secret. if there’d been any trace of humor, it’s all vanished into thin air now.

“your grace, i told you my life was on the line that night. and you helped me regardless of who i was - i’m thankful for you. there’s no way i’d start a rumor of us being engaged and trouble you further,” you begin, capturing yoongi’s gaze with yours - where you get such courage for someone who’s about to spew half-truths, you don’t know, “but that night - it was because seok- his majesty was about to marry me off to the 12th prince of aflar because i’d offended him with my words.”

“so he does whatever he wants just like his father,” his eyes glazes over you, as though picturing the new king at the back of his head as you speak. the matter of what he came for no longer as pressing as he made it out to be - dare you say, it was just an excuse to for him to come barging in.

“no!” the hurried denial warrants a narrow of eyes from the duke - as though wondering why the lady whose pleas were ignored, is defending the very person who’d ignored them. you only wanted a way out - not breathe the flames of an uproar from the nobles who chooses to remain neutral, “what i mean is, i’m sure his majesty will understand if you let me stand by you for a short while - i promise i won’t get in your grace’s way.” the last part is added as an afterthought when his eye twitches just the slightest bit as though displeased by the thought of some lady sticking to his side like glue.

the silence that lapses between you is tangible as your body screams to be released from the frozen state you’re in - you couldn’t move a finger even if you’d wanted to, at least not until yoongi seems to finish thinking.

“what exactly did you say to the king to have him want to send you away for good?” comes the million gold question.

this is it. you know he’d catch on but you’re not so prepared to give an answer. you’re not sure if the hesitance shows in your face but you doubt your mastery for hiding your emotions is as spectacular as his.

and so, with a tilted chin, you set a resolute gaze upon the duke, “the missing shipments from the port iyesgarth,” you state, noticing the curious raise of brow, “how are armwells doing these days?”

“impossible,” the frown that etches itself on his face is another kind of heartbreaking beauty. leaning back against the chair again and consequently allowing you to let out the breath you never knew you were holding, he continues, “the armwells own the warehouses. why would they steal shipments from merchants who pay them plenty just to leave goods in their warehouses?”

“the answer you’ve been looking for is right there,” the smile that blooms on your face is a pleasant one and the knit of yoongi’s eyebrows is all heartbreakingly adorable. “their spendthrift son has been gambling away the money and however much they make over the warehouse fee is starting to not be enough.”

there’s a light in his eyes that shines with doubt and with that, births the shadow of, dare you say, plausible confidence in what you’re saying.

“the goods from the shipment are being sold in the black market,” those crimson eyes follows your every movement as rise from your seat, hand clasped together in front of you - a habit you’d developed to appear small and unsuspecting, “ask around for a franny.”

x

franny is baron armwell’s alias. he couldn’t go around selling stolen goods under his name because the authorities - namely, the duke as part of his line of work after coming back from war - would catch on. it had just so happened that isabelle armwell, a lady you occasionally talk to at gatherings was sporting a long face at the debutante ball. she was spilling every single family secret after a trip to the washroom and a consoling hug.

with a heavy heart, you wave at the girl with the brightest blue eyes and blonde locks that flows past her bosom in waves. she’s wearing a light blue dress with minute diamonds pooling around the hem and dispersing up her waist. it’s been exactly five days after the duke min’s visit and over one week of celebrating the knights’ victory.

“___, i didn’t think you’d be here!” her beaming smile reminds you of the smudged makeup and tear stained eyes you bore witness just a month ago.

“why would you think that?” you blink despite having an inkling of where this conversation is going-

“well, since the rumors of you and duke min’s engagement...” she fiddles with her fingers from what you can only assume to be jitters. of course, a lady her age who’s just debuted into society would be curious of how you tamed the beast laying dormant.

to be frank, you did not.

“-remains a baseless rumor.” you speak rather loudly, hands on your hips as you steal a glance at the throne where seokjin sits, his eyes already on you, “i’m not sure who started it but duke min and i are-��

“lady ___,” a familiar guttural voice greets you from behind you. isabelle’s shock-stricken gaze that’s fixed at something - or rather, someone - past your shoulders is enough to confirm who the bearer of your doom is.

and true enough, standing before you, in the min family’s signature black suit and maroon undershirt, is none other than the devil himself. as opposed to last time, there’s a suave smile on his cherry pink lips - perhaps, nothing more than a show - and his silver hair is swept back, revealing his round visage and making his otherwise soft feature appear sharp and clean.

“your grace,” you dip down, dress lifted midair just below your hips before coming up and noticing the man also in the middle of standing back straight after bowing, “for a moment there, i thought it wasn’t you, but a shapeshifter who looked like you and attended this ball.”

if there’s anything you know - and you know plenty - about the duke of cralon, is that he rarely shows his face at balls and parties. even the ones held by the previous king.

the first time you met him was purely coincidental but not unprecedented. granted, the ball was held to celebrate the victory of the winter knights in the war. if there was any celebration duke min would attend, then it was that one. and he did attend.

but for him to appear at a regular ball held by the new king...

“alas, it is i and not some monstrous shapeshifter - i was hoping you’d spare me a dance, lady ___.” a gloved hand extends your way, hovering in the air as you scrutinize the man’s uncharacteristically smiling face - as though he’d found humor in your underlying tone.

his motives are unclear but the fact that you have his attention must mean your lead has lead to a fruitful discovery.

“why, this will pour oil to the flames,” you murmur under your breath - low enough for only him to hear and yet slip your own hand in his.

“so you’re friends with lady armwell,” the mellow tune of the cello pours into the room as a new song begins.

the feeling of the hand on your waist is unsettlingly gentle and careful - almost as though he’s fearful that your bones may break if he held on tighter.

“she only tearfully told me about the her brother’s unmanageable gambling habits, the information i gave you was out of my own findings - i can find out a plenty of many things for your grace if you choose to help me shake his majesty’s eyes off me,” you search for those crimson eyes as he twirls you around once, “i trust it’s been helpful to your grace, but if you are still unconvinced of my expertise-”

the bells of chuckles that drums in your ears are the last thing you expect to hear - quite frankly, the chances of gaining a threat for whatever reason is much higher than bearing witness to the duke’s laughter.

“there’s no need,” this time, his hair doesn’t brush over his eyebrows when he shakes his head, “you’ll make a fine fiance, ___.”

the lack of honorific doesn’t entirely go past you but that isn’t a material matter at the moment.

did he just said... fiance?

“your grace, unless my ears are-”

“yoongi.”

“p-pardon?” the warmth on your hip and hand seeps into you as he directs your body to move with the melody of the instruments, reminding you that there are hundred pairs of eyes on you and if the lady were to stop dancing all of a sudden, then there is no doubt of a new kind of rumor surfacing.

but judging from the way he dips his head and his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, you can almost hear the squeals and gossip that will fill tomorrow’s tea party, “since we’re engaged, shouldn’t we at least call each other by our names?”

words die in your throat, as does the music. you barely notice the hands that held you falling away as you watch the man take a step backwards and lower his head - so much for formalities after deciding to forego it just five seconds ago.

“i’ll send a letter tomorrow notifying my visit in three day’s time.” with that, you’re left staring like a fool at the black and red insignia engraved on the back of his jacket.

it is a moment later that isabelle and the other ladies begin to crowd you, that you finally come to your senses.

“it it true? you’re engaged to the duke of cralon?” lady irene’s beaming smile is far too close for your liking.

“calm down, lady irene. don’t make a-”

before lady krystal manages to finish her sentence, you already find yourself slipping past bodies and out of the ball room. your destination is unclear but you saw yoongi take a left and that could only mean that he’s heading towards the garden instead of the double doors of the exit.

lights line the tall walls surrounding the palace but you wouldn’t have spot the grey locks that appear almost white if not for the moonlight. the crimson dragons on either side of the shield symbolizes the min family’s pledge to protect the crown. the fact that he’s wearing this and not the official knight outwear means he’s not here as the head knight but as a-

“your grace,” you send a prayer to the goddess for the sternness in your tone but it easily dwindles down and hits the ground as you’re met with the echoing footsteps of the duke who doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

your temple throbs as the image of the duke’s handsome features come unnervingly close to you whilst he whispers-

“yoongi.” you almost scream.

it is settled knowledge that the duke of cralon possesses inhumane abilities that helped him and his predecessors win wars for the kingdom, cearis. if his unfailing reputation isn’t enough, then you’ve already seen how you would be completely helpless in his undetectable presence that night when you failed to notice him until he presents himself to seokjin and consequently you.

but in your haste to right the wrong, you’ve forgotten the possibility of abruptly calling his name ending up with your face buried in his chest when he whirls around to face you.

with cheeks that feels like they’re surrounded by a thousand suns, you quickly clear your throat after taking one step back. his raised eyebrow, however, tells you he thinks nothing of the minor mishap just now.

still, you meet yoongi’s gaze with a pair of knitted brows and a distraught tug in the corners of your lips, “i believe there’s been a misunderstanding, your grace,” the briefest lift of eyebrows as though he is painfully aware of the way you address him, doesn’t go unnoticed by you though you wish it would, “when i asked if i could stand by your side, i did not mean as your fiance - it makes me think you don’t trust me enough to believe that it wasn’t me who spread the rumor.”

“i do believe you,” he says simply, “but wouldn’t you say the rumor plays in your favor, ___?” there he goes again, addressing you informally, “since everyone saw us dancing together, they’ll feed into the rumor. it doesn’t matter if the king doesn’t buy into it. as of now, his position is vulnerable and if he were to break two lovers who are mad for each other apart and marry the other off in the name of political gain, the aristocrats won’t sit still.”

“so just now...” you trail off, the image of isabelle and the other nobles’ fallen jaws flashing at the back of your mind, “it was a return of favor because i helped solve the mystery of the missing shipments?”

“you don’t seem pleased,” his eyebrows begin to knit together.

“how can i be when i was not consulted of such plans prior to this?” the silence that lapses between you is no different than back in the parlor in your mansion, except yoongi seems to consider your request more seriously this time judging from the hard lines set upon his otherwise smooth forehead.

“then, what would you have suggested, ___?” the blinking red doesn’t seem too menacing now that he’s staring at you with genuine concern.

sighing, you curse yourself for admitting the truth in his words, “your grace is correct that the rumor gives us an advantage. however, next time we are to make a public appearance, i’d like to have a say on how it’s to be executed.”

his gaze lingers on you for the longest time - you’re not sure whether he’s debating on foregoing your investigative expertise or whether he should reveal to seokjin that this is all a faux. but what he does next could never have crossed your mind in the list of things he duke yoongi min could be thinking.

“i understand,” the figure in front of you dips to a bow, a gloved black hand levitating midair as a shadow casts itself over his gentle features and contrasting glowing eyes, “my apologies for acting without taking your feelings into consideration just now, lady ___.”

the title returns in his mouth yet your chest caves in displeasure. you’re not too fond of him calling you just by name but you’re not any glad that he’s back to using that honorific.

“v-very well, you’re forgiven,” you force out after realizing you’ve made him wait long enough, cheeks warm as you place your hand in his, eyes fixed on his lips that presses against your knuckles - they really are as soft as they look.

a halo encases his body when he stands straight. and if it weren’t for his abrupt remark, you would have pondered on the faintest hint of smile on his features, “now then, may i ask another favor from you, ___?”

another one? right after you assisted him in finding out the culprit?

“your grace may, though please bear in mind tonight doesn’t count as you returning the favor so you’ll be owing me two public appearances.” you shrug as casually as possible.

“that’s fair,” he nods a little too nonchalantly before getting to the point - and perhaps a tendril of regret wraps around your heart for agreeing without hearing his request first when he utters his next words-

“i wish us to call each other by our names - it’s suffocating to be so polite.” he sighs, hand ruffling his silvery tresses like a child tired of the etiquette lessons forced on him and not at all like the man that had you on the edge of your seat back in your mansion.

“th-that’s-” the words teeter on your tongue but refuse to leave your mouth as you fumble for a reason to object but the longer you stare into those indecipherable eyes, the emptier your mind gets and the harder your heart races.

“r-reasonable,” you stammer out, the flash of anticipation across the duke’s face leaving you no choice but to add, “yoongi.”

x

note. hello!! i’ve been working on this for a month or so (whew) bc i got super into historical au’s and just wanna write something without prince and princesses as the main leads and this happened!! hope you guys enjoyed it and are looking forward for more. drop your @ below if you want to be included the taglist!

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Demon Brothers + Hobbies 🏊

Lucifer

what free time

when he does somehow peel himself off of work, he enjoys ballroom dancing

i can just imagine him putting on a vinyl song, holding up his arms and doing the steps to the dance (1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3) and god forbid someone tries to come in during this time because he’d be too embarrassed to be lenient on their punishment

i imagine he’s super into learning other couple dances too like tango and salsa, so when you get together with him count on being his partner!

i bet he also loves teaching other people things-- like genuinely, considering he is the oldest of the seven (his brothers just test him LOL)

incredibly patient when showing you the steps, taking pride in your improvement and growing warm at the thought of you being able to dance with him at the next chance you get

and his weakness???? online shopping on akuzon 

which, when you find out, makes him extremely embarrassed and depending on whether you have the same past time-- you may or may not buy everything on akuzon

on his home screen interaction dialogue, he says something along the lines of “Akuzon is too convenient... it’s easy to buy a lot of things” while blushing

so I’m thinking sometimes when he does take a breather from his workload, he scrolls on akuzon just browsing for things because it’s quick

and ends up putting like 5 things into the cart  that he doesn’t really need

doesn’t always follow through and buy everything, but he definitely has moments where he impulse buys and it’s gone to bite him in the butt when packages arrive in droves and his brothers are like ??? why are there so many things

Mammon

loves music-- both listening and making it!

likes making his own mixtapes and playlists

and when he gets to share it with you, he’s so nervous; but the giddy happiness he feels when you tell him that it’s good is SO worth the wait and time he puts into his music

he’d be happy just having his mixtapes and music to himself but being able to share it with someone makes it a lot sweeter

definitely makes playlists for and about you because sometimes the feelings he can’t put into words he can tell you through music

idk if he has a recording studio in his room, but i think it’d be pretty fitting if there was

probably gets into composing his music, rapping mayhaps??

at some point likes to DJ as well, though he’s not too good as it rn, but he definitely loooooves playing with the sound effects and tracks

all of these things are him being able to express himself-- put a twist on something that already exists or creating something on his own

it gives him a sense of freedom: to express himself and to do whatever he wants as he pleases

pretty well-rounded when it comes to playing instruments

when he puts his mind to it, he can probably learn anything

most likely already knows how to play the guitar and the drums

has a pretty good voice too tbh

Leviathan

swimming!!

he may be a shut-in, but ya boy has ocean decor, can control sea creatures, so it’s only natural he can swim and swim well

doesn’t do it as often since he prefers watching anime/playing games loads more, but he it’s definitely something he enjoys since it feels like his natural place to be 

considering his dream is to be a professional gamer, it’s not far off to say that he finds it his hobby to start off small and be a youtuber, probably posting reviews of games he’s played or even writing out walk-throughs online

actually loves going to concerts and cons

if he was a fan of hatsune miku you BET he’d want to go to her first live concert with her life-sized hologram, waving the glowsticks in unison with the crowd

would definitely go all four days of Anime Expo where he would be SO happy surrounded by people who can love the same things he does with the same passion

loves creating cosplay to go to these cons by hand; impeccable detail and intense dedication into the craft that shows his love for whatever he’s making

kinda shy about wearing it, but if you’re down to wear any of his costumes, he’d absolutely die happy

it’s just too much love for him to handle in one sitting 

and ofc, hobbies include board games, games, DND, all those!!

Satan

asides from reading, loves traveling when he can whenever he can

he invites you out to places because he enjoys discovering new things and experiencing new things and traveling is the perfect way to do all of that all the time

he’d enjoy hiking too-- on trails, through the wilderness, among the wild; just give him a backpack, an explorers hat, maybe a walking stick (just like the ones in the movies) and he’s on his way!

loves going hiking with you because he likes the way your face lights up at new scenery or the wonders of the world

likes that he can share this enjoyment and excitement of discovery with you because it feels like he’s sharing a little bit of himself too

indoor activity is snuggling in the covers and having movie marathons! and now that he has you and all your movies on DVD (lol) he can now enjoy so much more things

and when he finds out about Netflix, he is NOT sleeping for DAYS

“Satan... did you sleep last night?”

“couldn’t. the new season of How to Get Away with Murder came out.”

SLAM POETRY

doesn’t think he’s very good, but definitely likes writing down in his journal and even some scattered words that form a bit of poetry sometimes

really really shy about sharing it, but if you coax him a little, he’d be willing to show you (though you’ll have a hard time convincing him to show you poetry he wrote about you)

people have said, and I agree, cat cafe is definitely something he’d seek out and enjoy; literal dream come true

a house of cats that lucifer can’t ban him from LMAO

Asmodeus

has a very creative mind and deft hands meant for craft (among other things ahem)

as a fashionable person and a trendsetter, he’d love making his own jewelry and clothes, picking out the beads and metalware for the earrings or bracelets and feeling out the cloth and stitches for his outfits

if levi IS into making cosplay, it’d be such a nice way for them to bond together since Levi is pretty good with picking out material too

i like to imagine he enjoys making jewelry for his brothers too:

a stud earring for mammon, maybe convincing him to explore other options and wear other jewelry too

giving his brothers the options of clip on earrings if they wanted to try something temporary, gives satan a golden bracelet, lucifer a silver ring etc

suuuuuper supportive of you if you wanted any type of piercings and would absolutely love it if you wore his jewelry

god he would bedazzle you in all his jewelry and clothes if he could

another hobby is doing yoga!!

good for the body and soul uwu

definitely gives a good reason for any of his flexibility, or maybe it’s because he’s naturally flexible that yoga is calming for him

also loves to invite you to do yoga with him

you’d definitely get a bit steamy doing certain positions with him, but MOST of the time, he does encourage you to stretch, relax, and strengthen your body

Beelzebub

so athletic he could probably play every sport

i agree with the masses: he’d DEFINITELY be good at hockey

basketball too (just imagine Kagami from Kuroko no Basuke)

you know what they say about big hands

big, strong hands, good for crafting that involves a little more strength, but considering he’s a pretty tender and patient guy, is great at sculpting with clay, which extends to pottery as well

just imagine him sitting near a kiln, spinning the clay and using his hands to shape the curve and notches of a pot

considering how many plates and bowls he’s probably eaten, it makes for a good way to replace them HAHA

good at crafting with glass too considering it requires steady hands and strength to spin glass evenly

enjoys a lot of arts and crafts and loves giving them as gifts, especially if they’re made from his own hands

one of the main reasons why he started and likes doing these as a hobby actually

adores the look on you face when you created a glass terrarium for your plants or created glass ornaments dyed with your favorite colors

would definitely be the type of person to put his hands on yours as he teaches you how to shape the clay and have plenty of fun with you watching you try to make glass ornaments with or without success

Belphegor

during his waking hours, he loves to study the stars

loved to watch them in the human world, but without a night sky, he’s content with looking up for constellations in books from the library

if you buy him the cute lamp that lights stars onto the ceiling, he’ll find you so endearing because he’d enjoy lying in bed with you and just looking up at the lights and being in each other’s arms-- imagining the day he gets to do this with you for real, on a picnic blanket, looking up at the moon and stars

i imagine he’d like to doodle too

i say MAINLY doodles because they’re easier like drawing chibis or whatever thinks is amusing and lowkey keeps him awake (though Lucifer doesn’t like it when he draws on the desks)

does sometimes go all out and draw amazingly well, whenever the mood strikes him

when you ask him, he jokingly says you’re his muse; but honestly wouldn’t put it past him to have drawn a portrait of you, awake or asleep, at some point

surprisingly good at sewing-- or at the very least mending rips and tears

i feel like beel has a lot of ripped shirts (...from being, yknow, ripped) so he’s gotten pretty good at simple stitches, which eventually evolved into something more

didn’t start off as a hobby but he did eventually find it soothing to sew and embroider

levi and asmodeus adore his skills and he grumbles, but doesn’t ever say ‘no’ to them when they ask for his help

[kyber-kisses]

Hymn (Part 3)

Winchester Brothers x Sister!reader (platonic)

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the masterlist!

Warnings: descriptions of violence, cursing, more angst and fluff. (You guys know the drill)

Summary: Y/N Winchester has wrestled with demons ever since her mother died, but when her younger brothers lives are in danger it’s their souls she fights to save, because isn’t that what a big sister should do?

A/N: I am so excited for you guys to read this chapter! I worked really hard on it and i hope yall enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated!

The stories told are all we know Exchanged in truth and word The photographs are quilted paths From places we've outgrown

It wasn’t the thunder outside that woke you up. It was never the thunder. If anything thunder was soothing to you, even if you were only eight years old. But it was the creak of your bedroom door that roped you in consciousness. The timid voice of your brother moving softly through the space.

“Y/N?”

“What is it Dean?”

“The thunder. It’s too loud.” The small four year old whimpered, jumping slightly when another round rattled the house.

“You wanna sleep in her with me?” You mumbled sleepily, getting your response when you heard small feet quickly move across the carpet before he dove under the covers besides you.

“Why aren’t you scared of it too?”

“Because Im not scared of anything.” Sighing you rolled over, trying to fall back into the middle of the dream you were having.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now go to sleep.”

. . . That didn’t happen, because not five minutes later you heard Dean speak up again.

“I can’t sleep. The rains too loud.”

Letting out a groan you rolled over once more, flinging the covers off of you as you slid out of bed. “Come on.” You held out a hand, waiting for Dean to take it.

“Where are we going?”

“On an adventure, what else?”

There was a pause before you felt him latch onto your hand, and then he was sliding out of bed besides you, looking up at you with his big green eyes.

“We gotta be quiet though, okay?”

“Okay.”

You navigated the darkened hallway with ease, Deans hand still gripping yours as you descended the stairs. A flash of lightning lit up the living room as you entered.

“What if we get caught?” Dean whispered, looking back up at you through the dark as the two of you entered the kitchen.

“We won’t. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because were ninjas.” You smiled, suddenly hoisting your little brother up onto the tabletop. His small legs kicking lazily over the edge as he watched you.

“We are?”

We carry with the friends we make The hearts we mend and break I see it in another way All lives that we have changed

“Uh-huh.” Nodding, you slightly you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes and reached across the counter for the dented pie tin. Only one slice of apple remained- but that was more than enough. Grabbing that along with two forks you moved back to Dean and pulled out a chair, using it as somewhat of a stool to help you climb up onto the table.

“Do ninjas eat apple pie?”

“I think so. Why wouldn’t they?” You shrugged, lightly tapping your fork against his as you split the piece with your brother. His eyes lit up once again and before you knew it his cheeks were full of apple filling.

Good. Your plan had worked. He wasn’t thinking about the thunder storm anymore.

“Next time can we be cowboys though?” Dean spoke through a mouthful of crust. “I like cowboys better.”

“Sure, as long as I get to be your sidekick.”

“Deal.”

You held out your free hand, pinkie extended. “Pinkie promise?”

“I pinkie promise.” It took him a moment as he juggled with the fork and then his small pinkie wrapped around yours.

“What do you two think you’re doing?”

The sudden and new voice was followed by a click as the light above the table switched on, both of your heads whipping around in surprise.

“Hi, Mama.”

Sure enough standing in the doorway to the kitchen was a very pregnant Mary Winchester, her golden curls falling over her shoulders like a waterfall, her arms crossed.

“I believe it’s past both of your bedtimes the last time I checked?” She mused, her soft and familiar smile crossing over her features as she stepped into the room.

“The thunderstorm was scaring Dean-“

“So she took me on an adventure! Don’t tell Dad!” Dean suddenly blurted, his words slightly muffled by the amount of dessert in his mouth. His eyes widening when he realized how loud he had been.

You watched your mothers eyes narrow before she raised an eyebrow. “Hmm- I won’t tell him. . . As long as you share some of your findings with me.”

You paused to share a look with Dean before he nodded. “I guess we can allow that.”

With that you passed over your fork to your mother, the woman slowly sinking down into the chair you had pulled out earlier. “Now, what type of adventure was it tonight? Pirates? Knights?”

“It’s a secret.”

“A secret? Oh well you can trust me. I’m good at keeping secrets.” Mary whispered back, her elbows on the table as she leaned forward, taking a bite of pie as she did.

Dean was quiet for a moment before he leaned forward. “Ninjas.”

“Ninjas? Oh well that is exciting.” She nodded, the same soft smile from earlier still on her lips. The three of you sat in the kitchen until there was nothing but crumbs in the pie tin and then she was ruffling the hair on both of your heads.

“I think it’s time my little ninjas went off to bed now, isn’t that right?”

You slowly nodded before sliding back onto the floor, the cool tile making your toes curl as you helped Dean down. “Can I sleep in Y/Ns room tonight? The thunders still too loud.”

“As long as it’s okay with your sister.”

You gave him a small nod as you rounded the table, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss on your mothers cheek. “Goodnight, mama.”

“Goodnight you two.”

Mary’s smile came back as she watched you extended your hand to Dean, his own quickly moving to latch onto your again. “C’mon Dean. Let’s go to bed.” She shifted in her seat so she could rest her forearm on the back of the chair, the two of you darting off silently to the stairs and off to bed. . .

I must go alone Cause I need you there So my memory of home is full

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The force in which you awoke from your sleep was enough to make the chains tethering you to the wall rattle, your head slightly snapping back to collide with the cold metal, the impact making you wince.

“Fuck.” You gave a tired groan as you rolled your shoulders- well at least as best you could. A yawn came shortly after as you allowed your head to rest against the wall. Just a dream. . . Or memory. Dream memory? Was that a thing?

You let out a sigh as you felt your heartbeat slowly begin to find its steady rhythm again, eyes shifting tiredly to the bindings on your wrists and the length of chain that shackled them to the wall. That shackled you to the wall.

Shoot. You forgot about getting yourself thrown in here. . . Then again you did have a hobby for getting on the bad side of your keeper.It was like timeout. . .a very uncomfortable timeout.

Shifting as much as your bindings would allow you tried to get more comfortable. Your butt was numb from sitting in the same position for so long, but there wasn’t really anywhere else to go. You let yourself sink back into your previous position, your arms having lost all feeling awhile ago from hanging for so long.

It wasn’t the first time you had gotten yourself thrown in the cell, and if anything; at this point you were just doing it for the sheer amusement. You had to get your entertainment from somewhere . . . Even if that did mean annoying the hell out of some demons.

The silence that had surrounded you was suddenly broken though when the massive door to the old train car rolled open, light splitting through the darkness as the wheels squealed in their tracks revealing a shadowy mass.

At this point anyone else probably would have screamed and cried or pissed their pants. . . But this was practically just another Tuesday night for you, so you grinned.

“Manah. I thought you were never gonna come visit me. You really shouldn’t leave a gal waiting.”

“And I was hoping by this point in your career you would have known better than to disobey orders.” She tutted, deep red eyes locking onto you tightly.

Career. You huffed with a roll of your eyes. That’s not exactly what you would call it.

The demon in front of you was known by most as Aka-Manah. Birthed from zoroastrian legend she had a knack for controlling others, using them like puppets- like she had been doing to you since what felt like forever. She was the same one that snatched you away from your family, along with a pair of particularly nasty hell hounds. You had the scars to prove it.

Not trying to take my time away Replace the old with new My prison with my reasons right Till I come back to you

You called her the Puppeteer because that’s exactly what she was. She snatched people up from their families and made them do her dirty work. Usually it was children, they were easier to work with. Manah liked to stay in the dark, keep her hands clean. Her acolytes as she called them (you being one of them) were her fighters, her killers. . . And because of it you had so much blood on your hands. innocents and guilty alike.  She pulled the strings and you did the dance. You still had your own thoughts and control of your own mind, but it was your body she used. Her finely tuned weapon capable of cutting down anything she wanted gone.

Manah towered above you, tall and long limbed, in a black dress that dropped off her hips and hung loose around her calves, her straight red hair shifted slightly in the breeze coming from outside as she moved to pull at the silk gloves around her hands. She seemed annoyed. . . Angry even. After years you knew how to read her.

A smirk crossed your lips as you tilted your head slightly. “Aw, are my baby brothers causing you and your demons trouble again?” You knew you hit your mark when her jaw clenched. Of course you knew your brothers were still out there, whispers of the famed Winchester brothers passed through thin lips often around here. Manah wasn’t fond of them, they killed so many of her demons that she often took it out on you. This was gonna be one of those times.

Your words got you a harsh slap across the cheek before she knelt down in front of you, your cheeks squeezed between her thumb and forefinger. “You best hold your tongue. I got a job for you.”

“What kind of job? Because like I’ve said a thousand times over you vile skank; I’m done doing your dirty work.”

She squeezed harder much to your irritation. “Oh you know that’s not true. You, my darling Y/N, are my swift and terrible sword. . . And you are far from done.” Using her free hand she fished into the pocket of her dress, producing a thin silver chain, a rams head charm hanging from the center.

Your face fell along with your shoulders as you shook your head. “No. Please don’t.”

Manah ignored you, snapping the necklace around your neck. It was her way of controlling you, as long as the necklace stayed on she held power over your body. You couldn’t take it off yourself, the magic it was laced with prevented it.

“Now, it’s time we got those pesky siblings of yours off the playing field, don’t you think? You’ve constantly asked me to allow you to go back to you family, well here’s your chance darling.”

That’s all it took for you to realize what she was doing. She was sending you after your brothers, and Manah didn’t take prisoners.

Now I must go alone Cause I need you there So my memory of home is full

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