#(his hair isn’t long YET here but it will be eventually :3 maybe when he returns during old wounds I like that)

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[haledamage]

Past, Present, Future

I was planning to write something a little more seasonally-appropriate, but stumbled across a WIP that my brain decided to latch onto instead. So, uh… Happy Life Day?

@queen-scribbles gave me this prompt in a conversation we had well over a year ago, and I’ve finally finished it 😅 the specific request was something along the lines of “LET THEM SMOOCH ALREADY DAMMIT” for Qora/Arcann, and the prompts were:

“don’t leave, illusion, too loud, or harsh whisper”

I’m not sure where exactly this fits on the timeline, but definitely later on in-game. probably post-Echoes of Vengeance, but I… haven’t actually finished that questline yet, so there should be little to no spoilers 😆 ~2.5k words, trigger warning for abuse/violence against children, because this is Qora and Arcann we’re talking about

---

“Again.”

The overseer’s stern voice echoed through the chamber, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

The training room was dark beyond the platform Qora stood in the center of, giving her the illusion that she was alone. But she wasn’t. She knew she had an audience, but who they were or how many, she had no idea. The whole Academy could’ve been watching, and she wouldn’t know the difference.

The sweet-metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, along with the acrid odor of sweat and the ever-present ozone tang of lightning.

There was blood in her mouth, too. Her lip was bleeding sluggishly, split by a lucky blow… five fights ago? Six? She’d lost count.

Four acolytes stepped out of the shadows to join her on the platform. They were all older than her - most of the other acolytes were - and they were all armed.

Qora tightened the grip on her own practice blades, the handles digging into her palms. Her combat stance was steady, even if the rest of her didn’t feel it.

“Begin.”

The first acolyte lunged too quickly, too eager for the kill, and didn’t have the safety of numbers to protect him. One hard strike to the jaw, and he was on the floor before the others had even started moving.

The second and third were smart enough to attack together, both rushing her in tandem. Their swords were a blur of motion, almost too fast to follow, but she managed to keep them at bay. When the larger of the two raised his blade for what was meant to be an incapacitating blow, Qora reached out with the Force and dragged the smaller one between them. The blow took her opponent out instead. After that, the other one was dispatched easily.

The fourth snuck up behind her as soon as Two and Three were down. The pommel of his sword slammed into the back of her skull.

Her vision went white. She lashed out on instinct, swinging her blade in the direction the blow had come from.

She heard her opponent hit the mat, and followed right after him.

It was over almost as soon as it began.

“Again.”

The overseer’s voice sounded farther away, hard to hear over her own too loud heartbeat. Static hissed at the edges of Qora’s vision, and her eyes refused to focus. She could feel her consciousness slipping, and clung to it with everything she had.

“Again.”

The repeated order was a threat. A concussion would be the least of her worries if she didn’t stand up soon, but her legs refused to obey her orders.

A hand appeared in what remained of her field of vision, and Qora snapped her head up. Forcing herself to focus past the pain, she followed the arm up to… a boy. 

A boy she knew--though she wasn’t sure how she knew him. 

He looked to be around twelve or thirteen, the same age as her, with the same buzzed hair that she and all the other younger acolytes had, and gentle, pale blue eyes. The fine white robes he wore were much different than the grays and blacks the rest of them had, and contrasted so sharply against their dark surroundings that he almost seemed to glow.

“On your feet, Qora,” he said in a soft, raspy voice, his words firm but not demanding. “The next wave won’t wait for you to recover.”

“They never do,” she replied dryly. Her own voice sounded unfamiliar to her ears, a Corellian drawl instead of the crisp edges of Dromund Kaas. Like someone had filed all the corners off of her accent. She hadn't sounded like that in a long time.

She shook off the thought and took the offered hand, letting him help her to her feet. He didn’t flinch away from the cold metal of her prosthetic, or from the way she stumbled as her bruised and battered limbs protested the change in position. He just held on and let her take her time steadying herself.

He only let her go once he was sure she could stand on her own. “Are you alright?”

Part of her wanted to laugh at the question, no matter how sincere it was, but she bit it back. Instead, she said, “You shouldn’t have come here, Arcann. It’s not--not safe to be around me. Especially not here.”

“Just try and stop me.” Despite her warning and his challenge in response, Arcann carefully cupped the back of her head. The pain eased immediately in a warm yellow glow and a muted hum of the Force. “Unless you’d rather face them on your own?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“...No.” Qora felt guilty as soon as the word was out. It was stupid and selfish and Arcann was going to get hurt because of her, but it was too late to take it back. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“Never.” His hand slid from the back of her head along her jaw, until his thumb brushed her bottom lip. Another whisper of Force healing, and there was no evidence of the split lip besides the blood in her mouth. “There is nowhere I would rather be than by your side.”

There was a sound of boots scuffing against stone as someone else approached, and Qora and Arcann turned in tandem, shifting until they stood back to back. Blindly, she reached back and pressed one of her swords into his hand.

He squeezed her hand before taking the offered weapon. “You know this is a dream, right?” he murmured, as six new acolytes stepped into the light with them.

“Yes.” She knew it the same way she knew Arcann’s name, knew the difference in her own accent. “Doesn’t make it less real.”

Further conversation was halted as the overseer’s voice snapped “Begin,” and the acolytes closed in.

Qora and Arcann moved as one, staying back to back in the center of the platform. When one of their assailants rushed toward Arcann’s left, Qora spun to intercept, knowing his vision was limited on that side--or would be, someday, in a future far from this place--and caught the oncoming vibrosword with her own before it could make contact. She took that one down with a sharp elbow strike to the jaw.

A second acolyte took advantage of her momentary distraction and threw their sword, sending it in a Force-aimed arc toward her now-unguarded side.

Arcann snatched it out of the air without even looking, still holding back another two opponents with his other hand. He presented Qora the hilt with a small, playful flourish. “Your weapon, my lord.”

She laughed, exultant and a touch manic, as she swept the sword out in front of her, sending another opponent scrambling backwards to avoid it. It was the first time the Academy walls had ever heard her laughter, even in dreams.

The remaining assailants didn’t stand a chance. They were on the floor before they had time to react.

“How many more are there?” Arcann asked, when they were alone again. He hadn’t even broken a sweat yet, that first round barely enough to make him breathe faster.

“However many it takes.”

“Again,” the overseer called out, but neither of them heeded the implied threat this time. Qora was no longer afraid, now that Arcann was by her side.

“Takes for what?”

“For me to learn my lesson.” She stepped away from him toward the edge of the platform. From there, she could just barely see past the heavy darkness to the dozens of faceless, nameless acolytes that still waited for their turn. Far more of them than there’d ever been while she was a student (a prisoner, a gladiator, a slave) at the Academy.

She felt when Arcann stepped up beside her, though his footsteps made no sound. “Is this training, or a punishment?”

She laughed again, empty, humorless, bitter. “You’d be surprised how often the two coincide.”

“No. I would not.” The anger in his voice was a distant thing, an echo of past rage rather than something fresh. His hand gently covered hers, easing the white-knuckled grip she still had on the vibroblade. “This isn’t your life anymore, Qora. You don’t have to keep fighting.”

The sword fell from her hand, and she reached out to cling to him instead. “This is who I am. What I was made for.”

“Not anymore.” He tugged on her hand, coaxing her to turn around. When she did, his other hand settled over her cheek, the warmth of his touch comforting in the chill of the training arena. “It’s time to wake up.”

Qora awoke with a gasp to find herself in the familiar confines of her quarters on Odessen. The blankets were hopelessly tangled around her legs. The cluttered shelves and tables nearest the bed were in disarray from the Force reacting to her emotions, some of their contents spilling onto the floor.

Arcann’s arm tightened around her waist, and just his presence was enough to clear her mind and slow the panicked flurry of her heart. Without a word, she rolled over and pressed her face into his shoulder.

His hand traveled up and down the length of her spine, gentle and soothing but firm enough to anchor her. With every caress, the Academy fell farther away.

Eventually, she felt calm enough to pull back, if only just far enough to see his face. The look she found there was patient and understanding, embers of anger shining in his eyes but very clearly not directed at her.

“Sometimes it feels like no matter how far I travel, part of me will always be twelve years old, alone in that pit,” she confessed quietly. Arcann’s anger flared a little brighter, but he didn’t interrupt. “It was supposed to break me. So they could reforge me into something more useful. I guess in some ways, it did.”

She certainly didn’t bear any resemblance to the child she’d been before the Sith took her, that little girl who crawled through Corellian junkyards for scraps she could turn into art. Sweet little Qora, who could fix anything you brought her, be it a speeder or a teddy bear or a broken arm. She liked to think that girl might have become a healer, if she’d been able to join the Jedi like she was meant to.

Qora let her hands wander, fingertips tracing the lines of scars on Arcann��s shoulder and chest, following the edge of where warm skin and firm muscle gave way to the cool metal of his cybernetics.

“This happened on Korriban, too, didn’t it? Not long before we met.” It wasn’t really a question, and she didn’t really expect an answer, but she got one anyway.

“Yes.” He caught her hand and stopped its further exploration, pressing it flat over his heart. “And they paid dearly for it. My brother and I made sure of that.”

“Good. I hope you burned it all down,” she said in a harsh whisper. She hoped Arcann and Thexan had reduced the entire planet to ash, every tomb, every temple, every overseer, every blasted k’lor’slug crushed under the might of the Eternal Empire. “Not even the memory of that place deserves to be left standing.”

Rage burned so hot in her chest that it hurt to breathe, and she shook with the effort to push it down. Tears blurred her vision and stung the corners of her eyes, but Qora refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of her tears, even when they weren’t here to see it.

Arcann didn't reply, but instead rolled them over so that she was on her back, his body caging her in and pressing her down into the mattress. It grounded her, forcing her out of the past and back into her own body, driving away all thoughts of Korriban and the Academy and the shadows of the training room.

He kissed her then, slow and deep, demanding her attention to be on him and him alone. That was a command she was more than happy to follow. The fire in her chest receded, replaced by a much more pleasant warmth that built and spread through her under his skillful guidance, and the tremor in her hands abated when she cupped his face between them.

It was only when the mood started to shift from comfort to desire, kisses turning heated and hands starting to roam, that Arcann broke away. He was breathing harder just from kissing her than he had been at any point in the nightmare they’d just escaped.

“They will never touch you again. I swear it,” he vowed, deep voice solemn and utterly sincere.

“I believe you.” She exhaled a long breath, releasing the last lingering tension with it, and drew him back down enough for their foreheads to touch. “Thank you, Arcann. I needed to hear that.”

No matter what the Sith Council thought, or the machinations of whoever they’d decided to blindly follow this week, she was beyond their reach now. She had no doubt that if they tried to subjugate her again, they would learn their lesson the hard way. And Arcann would be among the first in line to teach it to them.

She was grateful that he was so willing to remind her of that, when she needed it.

Qora let out another sigh and slid her hands up to the back of his neck, playing idly with the hair at his nape. It was only barely long enough to run her fingers through, but she adored it. Both for what it represented for Arcann’s healing and growth and because it was just… pretty. His hair was silky soft to the touch, and the warm caramel color made his eyes appear an even brighter blue. It warmed her heart every time she looked at him, to see this visible proof of how far they’d come.

They should probably talk about what had just happened, she knew that, but she wasn’t in any hurry to broach the subject and reopen those wounds for the second time in one night. It’s not like this was their first time sharing dreams, anyway, even if none of the others had been quite so… authentic. Dwelling on it wouldn’t solve anything.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” There wouldn’t be any more rest for her tonight, but that didn’t mean Arcann had to suffer on her account. “There are still a few hours until--”

“No.” How he could put so much intention into a single syllable, she’d never know, but when combined with the heated look he gave her, it was enough to make her shiver. 

“Oh?” she said in feigned innocence, even as she lightly scraped her nails against his scalp. It earned her a low rumble that she felt more than heard, something between a warning growl and a contented purr. “Did you have something else in mind?”

His smile was soft, and so was the kiss that followed it; neither did anything to dim the desire burning in his eyes.

“The past will always haunt us, in one form or another.” He took one of her hands in his and slowly led it down from his neck and over his shoulder, his chest, his ribs, lingering on a scar there.

It was one Qora knew very well. And she should--after all, she’d put it there herself. During their last fight, when she’d “defeated” him. She brushed her thumb over the thin, raised line; such a small souvenir from something that had been so important.

Arcann only let her linger for a few seconds before moving on, guiding her deliberately lower. His lips grazed her cheek before finding firmer purchase on the sensitive spot under her ear. “There is no need for us to give it more power than it already has. I would rather… appreciate what’s right in front of me.”

“By all means. Appreciate away.” Her breath hitched when he kissed the hollow of her throat, ruining any attempt at keeping her tone light and teasing. She gave it up as a lost cause, and surrendered completely to him, and to whatever came next.

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of underage drinking, descriptive sexual activities. masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part one) a/n:

hello!! my name is sozila, and this is my first ever work on tumblr/ao3 so bear with me if my writing seems a little elementary :,) let me know what you think, esp if it's constructive feedback! i've been a huge fic reader since i was 11, if that's any solace <3 (i'm in my second year of college now lmao) this piece really just came to me because i craved older brother sukuna and breezed through every fic with him in it. also, i wanted to incorporate parts of my college experience and hence the allegory to infectious diseases, i promise i'll hash it out adequately soon haha <3 also to note: i'm aware this chapter is rather short, but i intend to make longer chapters as the story continues! until then, here's a little bit of what i have :) enjoy!

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part one) you were 2 years into being best friends with yuuji itadori before you saw him. an idea of him was created in your head through a web of yuuji’s descriptions, megumi’s mild irritations. nobara’s hot-cold opinion that “he’s an insufferable asshole, but those tattoos do numbers on girls”. some part of you felt allured by the mystery of his identity, even though you knew exactly who he was. at least, as much as you could from the near-empty instagram account and pictures from yuuji’s childhood littering the apartment.

it was odd you didn’t meet until now, but university had other plans for you. it made sense though— as a pre-med student, you didn’t have much time to hang out or go to frat parties, as much as nobara complained about your lack of thrill for wilding out. you digressed, but promised as soon as you secured an internship you’d maybe allow a bottle of vodka on you, in the comfort of your shared apartment. yuuji and megumi never held your busy schedule against you; which you genuinely appreciated. you loved that whenever you did get to see them, things picked up right where you left off.

which is why you were surprised at the very least to be met with someone you knew yet were so unfamiliar with standing before you when you knocked on yuuji’s door.

“you one of yuu’s new leeches or what?”

your brows furrowed a little more at the jab on your character, but you utter nothing as you take in the fact ryomen itadori isn’t a mythical brother your best friend made up. he looks exactly like the lockscreen picture on yuuji’s phone, save for a couple new tattoos on his face and arms. his hair was a mix between a mean undercut and ivy league, sporting the same pink hue of his younger brother’s. a simple silver chain hung on his neck which drew you downwards to his chest. he was definitely built much bigger and wider than yuuji. coarse, and just.. raw. you register you’ve been staring at this man clad only in a wife pleaser and joggers for an inappropriately long time and clear your throat, straightening, holding your bag a little closer as if it was going to disappear with a glance of his sanguine eyes.

“you gonna stand there all day, or should i close the door on ya?”

his gruff voice now laced with irritation led you to match his demeanor. you give him a wry, plastered smile and push past him. he lets you, surprisingly.

“can’t really go in with you blocking the entire entryway, asshole.”

he doesn’t acknowledge the blatant insult and walks towards the kitchen. your nose catches it first- he was cooking something really good. suddenly, he yells over his shoulder while he stirs the pot.

“yuuji c’mon, i’m not babysitting for your ass!”

the thomp-thomp-thomps of yuuji’s footsteps follow with him hurrying down the stairs and he flashes a dorky smile to you. “sorry, sorry! you met my lovely best friend then, aniki?”

he grunts without turning around. you didn’t even consider this a conservation, but yuuji seemed unphased by his wet-blanket personality. guess older brotherhood looked like this. yuuji flits around the stove where he’s working to stick a finger in the pot and steal a taste, which sukuna smacked him upside the head for.

rubbing the back of head, yuuji then turns and faces you to give your arms a little squeeze. “megs is running a little late from swim team practice, but he’ll be here soon. ryo made dinner for us though!” he quips brightly.

with a whip of his head and a withering look, you deduced sukuna wasn’t aware of this information, but grumbled to himself. you made out a “motherfucker” and “freeloader” in his long curse.

you pull your happy-go-lucky friend a little out of earshot and bring him to your level to whisper harshly. “yuu, i don’t want to inconvenience your brother.. he already seems pissed i exist,” you murmur. your gaze returns to the giant man in the kitchen and something tickles in your chest. immediately he slaps your shoulder and chortles, as if you told him something outlandish. “don’t even worry! he acts like that all the time, he just doesn’t know you well enough yet.”

you weren’t sure you even wanted him to.

it was 7:30 when you heard the ring of the doorbell and your head lifts from the snug placement you took on the couch. sukuna had already slipped away upstairs so yuuji answers this time, much to your dismay. you lament internally that megumi wouldn’t face the same frosty welcome as you did. you hear two voices instead of just the one you expected and crane over to see a certain red headed girl you knew. she beams upon noticing your peeking form. “you’re here early, miss i-have-no-time-for-my-beloved-friends,” quicker than you could react, she was already beelining to jump on you with a smothering hug.

you try to muster a clear response but get muffled by her puffy knit sweatshirt. “if you checked your phone you’d know i told you!” you push your computer out of reach so it wouldn’t be swept in the tornado that was nobara kugisaki.

megumi had already taken a seat on the rug beside yuuji, deep in conversation about winter finals. however, it became evident it was more megumi lecturing yuuji on course material and the latter looking more confused and stressed by the second.

you move nobara enough to clap your hands and catch their attention.

“if you guys utter the word ‘exams’ one more time, i swear will explode.”

nobara snorts above you and knocks on your head. “look who’s talking. is your memory shot to hell or do you not remember all the times you bring it up yourself?”

“she literally did this afternoon,” yuuji mumbles with a pout. you throw a decorative pillow at him.

“hey! don’t forget i literally made your study schedule for you. and even the studious want a little break,” you defend with a huff. nobara d’awws and squishes your cheeks. “my poor little baby! however did you survive.”

“you guys suck. i deserve nothing but love and affection.”

yuuji rolls his eyes and whines. “oh my goood, yes we love you and appreciate you, hugs kisses rainbows blah blah— i wanna watch a movie already!”

you giggle at his antics as nobara pushes off you, walking to the unabashedly large TV and starts filing through yuuji’s big movie bookshelf. “what are we feeling tonight? fast and furious, ladybird, jigsaw..”

after a couple minutes you all agree on midsommar, which you protested but lost in a 3 to 1 vote (democracy is a joke). you could never sleep properly after a good horror movie, hence you always watched them during the daytime. but because your friends were evil, namely nobara, you had to endure some at night and ended up sleepless and jumpy. “if you can’t sleep, just slip in with me tonight,” nobara counters with a dismissive wave. while you knew neither nobara nor her girlfriend, maki, would bat an eye because of their long friendship with you, you worried for your own well-being. nobara was a huge kicker in her sleep (she denies this profusely). too many times after a night out you’d wake up on the floor with bruises on your side while nobara dozed peacefully, starfish-ed on the bed. you sigh and accept your fate.

the movie ends up being just as if not more unsettling than you expected. you knew nobara clocked out much earlier than you thought when you heard no reaction to the bear scene (never getting that image out of your brain, you fear). you stretch your neck to assess who’s out. beyond the dirty plates on the coffee table from the dinner sukuna “made” for you all, you can make out yuuji cradled into megumi’s chest, snoring lightly. the urchin haired boy didn’t stir much either, so you peel from nobara’s vice-like grip on you to throw a blanket over the two of them. out of the corner of your eye, you see yuuji cuddle into megumi a little more, a small smile on his dozing face. god, you eagerly await the day they could be honest about their feelings. you step back around quietly to adjust nobara on the couch into a more comfortable position.

to navigate out with a better light you fish your jeans for your phone but to your dismay, are met with empty pockets. it didn’t help that your nerves on high alert and the living room was lit only by the glow from the tv. something straight out of a horror movie. genuinely fuck my life. you frown as you crouch down to feel around underneath the couch. after a few minutes of helpless padding later, the task seemed fruitless and you began to retreat to yuuji’s room. nothing could prepare you to feel a big, cold hand palm your shoulder. you freeze, your spine going icy. is this how i’m going to die? swiveling faster than your mind could compute you almost let out a bloodcurdling shriek, only to be met with the same cold hand pressing your mouth shut.

“are you fuckin’ mental?”

sanguine eyes bore back into yours and you fight the urge to bite the hand pressing on you. the audacity of this guy was baffling, really.

you shove him off and glare pointedly.

“me? i’m mental? says the dick who decided to sneak up on someone and grab them like a fucking serial killer!”

you jab a finger on his chest, seething in a whisper. his chest, in reality, was much harder than you anticipated and your finger probably hurt more than the attack on him.

a step. he’s closer to you and now in possession of said finger.

“i lightly tapped you. the rest was damage control, sweetheart.”

“sweetheart?”

“i can’t call you that?”

“how about you don’t call me anything, ever? thanks.”

“makes sense that i can’t call you. got your phone, and all.”

your mouth drops a little. “what?” he snickers. “if you weren’t so busy trying to curse me into the next domain, you’d realize i’ve had your phone in my hand this whole time. fuckin’ idiot.”

lo and behold, your phone was nestled in his raised hand, looking much smaller than you remembered. or was it that his hand was just that large in comparison? how big was this guy, really? part of you wanted to stop everything and just ask him to hold different objects and compare how they perceived in his grasp. but reality struck and you recall this is the same guy who just scared the living daylights out of you.

you yank it out of his stupid mammoth hand, ripping his grasp on you in the process and take a step back. you were awfully close to one another upon closer inspection.

“not an idiot, by the way. 4.0 gpa doesn’t exactly scream stupid.”

“idiocy applies to everyone, sweetheart. regardless of how much you dick ride your textbooks.”

every word that left his mouth had a lilt to it. the laughter in his eyes, his head cocked to the side.. he was messing with you and relished it. that pissed you off. who the fuck was he to decide who you were? what you stood for? you had barely known this imaginary-but-actually-real brother for a couple hours, and here he was insulting and teasing you all in one gift-wrapped present. what gave him the confidence to be so insufferable? and better yet, what could you do to stomp it out?

“go to hell, sukuna.”

you were unwilling to stay in his irritating presence for a moment more. your face was stony and unrelenting, your foot tapping incessantly in impatience. you wanted to slap his face off, but thankfully for him, your best friends were in dreamland just a few feet away.

“goodnight, idiot.”

your feet padded angrily up the stairs and you could still feel those dark sanguine eyes boring into your skull and all over your body. you decided that imaginary or not, yuuji itadori's older brother was the most pompous asshole you've ever had the displeasure of meeting. you didn’t get hit with your skin radiating heat until you closed the door of yuujii’s bedroom behind you. question is, was it anger or arousal?

... she never told me her name.

omg light banter... guys i really love slowburn so sexy time isn't guaranteed soon :( once i've outlined it i'll add specific explicit warnings and maybe you'll get a glimpse of what i envision for you and sukuna aaaaa :) for tumblr, i'll have a navi/masterlist up in a little!

peace luv bathtub!!!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

love marks & battle scars

[rival! enemy! ken sato x baseball teammate! undercover KDF agent! reader]

part 3

part 2 | part 4

pairing: ken sato x reader

cw: unproofread, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, eventual ANGST, cursing, hardcore!intimidating!reader, matsui’s daughter!reader, cursing, minimal details are modified to fit into the storyline, girldad!kenji, reader becomes emi’s mother figure, goofy ahhhh writing as usual

ken sato, your egotistical new teammate has been ticking you off and thinning your patience, being a threat to your place in yomiuri giants.  

ultraman, your nemesis who always gets in the way of your job in the kdf, that you only joined in hopes of finding leads and getting clues to track your parents. 

and somehow you even ended up co-parenting his… kaiju daughter. something you never signed up for.

Ken brooded for a while as your last conversation—that obviously didn’t go well—replayed like a broken record inside his head.

He came home that night while your words echoed in his ear. He isn’t mad at you, nor was he hurt. Okay, a little hurt. Although he didn’t take what you said personally. Everything on his plate right now is a mess. The infant pink lizard under his care right now, the whole saving lives as Ultraman gig, Shimura’s nagging, your judgment, his dad’s expectations for him as Ultraman. Everything is too difficult to juggle altogether and he’s not cut out for all this. He just wants to play baseball.

Maybe you were right.

Maybe he is being a burden to the team. But like everyone else, he’s trying. Why isn’t he enough? Is it a sign of weakness to want a break?

He used your gel pad to relieve the pain below his eye where he took a good hit. Even if you’re still angsty with him, he thanks you for the ice pack. If you hadn’t given him yours, he would’ve used a makeshift one, or his cold canned drinks.

The next games are in a few days. After putting the baby kaiju to sleep, he searched about you on his projection computer. Careful not to wake the sleeping baby, he clicked on one of the cams focused on you in a game. You never miss a bat, your pitches are good, your movements are precise. You really are that player. He looked at you intently in the video, maybe if he watches you through the screen frequently, he’ll learn from you. 

He eyed your moving figure. You were zoomed out yet even so he can see your face. He combed his hair with his fingers as a small smirk appeared on his face unconsciously. His expression darkened while staring at you through the screen intently. Oh, he will prove you wrong. He’s not a burden. He knows that deep inside, you’re wrong. Just you wait and he’ll prove just how hardcore he can be, just like you.

When he realized he was mindlessly staring at you for too long, he stopped the video then switched the video to a video of his mom talking to the camera and cheering him on. Ken’s expression slowly went from his smirk to a warm, solemn smile in front of his mom’s projection, reminiscing the precious moments he had with her. His lips quivered. If only she were here, she’d make the burden of his sufferings at least a little less heavy and more bearable. 

”Mom, what am I supposed to do?”

He heard the baby kaiju as it cooed inside the containment glass behind his back, seemingly curious about what’s playing on the projection monitor. Ken didn’t even notice that she was stirred awake. Thankfully, she wasn’t in a crying mood tonight. Because Ken saw her curious about his mother, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he introduces her.

“This is my mom, Emiko Sato.” Ken tried to introduce his mom’s face to the kaiju. She smiled, as if she understood what he had just said, that made Ken involuntarily smile too, reflecting hers. “Emiko… Emi.” he looked down in deep thought. “From now on, I’ll call you Emi.”

He remembers the saying that goes, “Once you name it, you’ll get attached to it.” A load of bollocks. Of course that’s not happening since soon he’ll be leaving the kaiju to where it rightfully belongs, in Kaiju Island, its natural habitat. The name is just to identify her because to be honest, he doesn’t know what else to call it instead of a kaiju baby, which is overrated.

He placed his hand against the glass separating him from the Kaiju whose name is now Emi. Emi also smiled at him behind the glass, like she agrees with the name given to her. Ken feels a sense of pride in his chest. At least now, he’ll have someone to remind him of his mom. A fragment that’ll remind him of her, even temporarily.

—

Shimura called the whole team for training the next day. He was still mad about the humiliation he got when Ken initiated a brawl in court. So he was subtly extra hard on Ken today while training. Although after hours, the training was interrupted when some permitted journalist arrived, spoke to Shimura and excused all players for a short interview.

“We’ll call it a day. After the interview, you can all go home and rest. Plenty, so you don’t screw up the next games.” Shimura announced, looking at Ken in his last phrase, obviously referring to him in the screw-up bit. Afterwards, Shimura left the team to walk toward the interview site closely to supervise the interview.

Ken sat himself at the bench while some of the members were interviewed individually. They had a specific list of names, but he doubts he’ll be called, especially not after the brawl he started a day ago. He can hear the voice of the interviewers and the answers of his teammates as a background noise from the close proximity while he lifts his head to look at the ceiling while he rests, wiping the sweat off his sweaty neck.

“Sato, how are your bruises?” Yoshida, a teammate, sat beside him. It wasn’t a sarcastic question but one with concern laced on it, yet still keeping it civil. Some others followed and also sat nearby.

“Glad you asked. I didn't even feel a thing.” Ken sarcastically answered. He’s used to his teammates striking conversations and his teammates are also used to him not being interested with idle chat.

No attachments, no strings, no friends, no nothing. 

That’s what he swore upon himself. Soon, he’s going to leave Tokyo and go back to LA. It’s not that he hates it here, but he just likes LA more. Everything in Tokyo reminds him of the tragedy of his mother and the way his own father traded them for his responsibilities as Ultraman.

Yoshida laughs his snarky, informal response off and takes it lightly. Before he could follow up, another teammate from behind Yoshida tried to converse with Ken. “How long have you been playing baseball? Who inspired you? You know, your favorite player?”

There it goes. They’re getting him to talk about himself. And for Ken, it’s hard to resist not talking about himself. Okay, whatever, just this once.

“Hideki Matsui.” Ken proudly answered, yet based on his teammates’ faces, they were disappointed with his answer. Ken worried for a split-second if he said something wrong. “What? He's always been a childhood favorite of mine. He's good, right?”

“Undoubtedly.” another teammate remarked. “Well, would you still idolize Matsui if you find out he’s not a good person nor a good parent?”

Ken’s brows crossed. “Matsui has a kid?”

“A daughter, particularly.” Fucile, the redhead answered with a wince like he knew this topic very well yet is distasteful. Ken only found out about it now. “The poor girl,” he added.

Yoshida nudged Fucile like he leaked classified information and that they’re not supposed to let Ken know about that, which only sparked Ken’s curiosity more. “How do you say he’s not a good parent?”

His teammates looked at each other like they fucked up, it can be read from their expression that they don’t know what to reply. Like there’s a certain information they’re trying to protect.

“Well… because he–uh…” Yoshida’s hands flew everywhere, finding the words to say and struggling to think of a way to explain it to him.

“Because he constantly pressures his daughter to perfection.” You casually butted in their conversation. They didn’t even notice you there!

The boys who started the gossip’s faces lost color and halted, just like a deer in headlights. The words ‘WE’RE FUCKED’ basically written on their foreheads. They’re that scared of you? Why? How does this topic concern you?

“We didn’t tell him anything else… He…”

You looked over to them, and twisted a corner of your lip slightly upward.

“Oh, I’ll tell him, then.”

“[L/N]–”

“He’s a part of the team, isn’t he?” you looked back at Sato. “It’s only proper he knows.” he looked directly at him, which he returned with the same intensity. 

The team was silenced. Ken’s eyes moved left and right without moving his head away from facing you, but it seemed that there really is no one who wants to talk about it. No one but you. So he faced your standing figure with his whole body this time while he was seated. He can’t help but observe how you’re talking to him right now, yet you still keep a lot of distance between you and him on purpose.

“Knows what?” He waited for you to start.

You sucked air through your nose before starting the narration while still keeping yourself composed. 

“He wasn’t always like that.” you began, but Ken still looked as puzzled as before. “Matsui used to be family-oriented. He loved playing baseball with his daughter on their lawn in their old house during his day-offs when he was still an active player in the Giants. He’d always make time. But then, when his wife died because of doing dangerous business in some organization, Matsui’s soul died with her.” 

You inhaled another breath to avoid showing emotion while continuing the part of the story that’s the hardest to tell. 

“Everything changed when his wife died. He became cranky and he started to despise everything he once loved. Including baseball. He blamed the death of his wife to his daughter, even the things that were out of her control. He detached from her and never showed any love for her after, only high, unrealistic expectations and the shame of having her as a daughter.”

He didn’t know his idol was this cruel to his own daughter. While Kenji was listening intently as he absorbed the information, your face senselessly looked gloomy, you guess no matter how you suppress it, it’s still stronger than you. You shook it off and continued.

“He regained his love for baseball, but he never mended the bond he had with his daughter again. Now, he’s living off of his lasting passion for baseball and supporting his former team, that's now ours. Yet even after his retirement, he’s being more irritable because his former team keeps getting a streak of losses. And for sure, he’s going to lash out on his daughter for that, again.”

Not even a second after you mouthed the last word, Shimura called you from the interview site. Just as when you were about to tell him one more important detail. Actually, two. But this calls for a different time, you guess. You coldly turned away and braced yourself for the worst of the interview questions. Some of the questions are from fans from social media. A wave of guilt struck Ken again, yet he didn’t tear his eyes away from your figure.

Because of the silence that followed the story you told, they heard the interview questions directed to you.

“[Y/N L/N], what will your father say about the streak of all the games you lost, especially with the way Matsui’s obsessed with keeping the Giants’ record flawless?” was only one among the questions simultaneously thrown by the interviewers eager to get your statement.

Ken’s eyes squinted. “Wait, what does Matsui have to do with her?” 

Yoshida and the other teammates looked at each other, hesitant to answer his question and elaborate.

“Sato, we’re going to hold your hand in our heads as we tell you this,” Fucile told him as an expression. “She told you the story anyway, now it’s up to us to tell you the context. The very Matsui’s daughter we’re talking about? That’s her, [Y/N].”

Ken’s jaw fell. “Matsui’s daughter? That Matsui?”

“Yeah. [Y/N L/N], Hideki Matsui's daughter. Doesn't really have a close relationship with her dad since her mom died. It’s not a secret but it’s also not something she parades. We’re surprised you don’t know, we really didn’t want to be the ones to tell you.”

“She’s Matsui’s daughter?!” Ken cannot control the utter shock he’s going through. First, upon finding out Matsui isn't a good parent and has a kid he wasn't aware of, and now, the kid is you?

“You gotta stop calling her that or she’ll beat your ass. She doesn’t like being associated with him. I think it’s because people think she’s where she is because of him just because they’re related.” Yoshida shh’ed Ken.

“Why did I never know of this?” Ken caressed the side of his brow. If they know this much about you, you must’ve been really a long time member of the Giants. Yet you’re still distant with your teammates, like he is. But it's notable how the teammates seemed to know about your family history, so it's possible to know more about you, after all.

“It's not mentioned frequently in the media anymore because it's like a taboo thing, we don’t know. She uses her mother's maiden last name as her last name and it’s also the one written on her jersey. But she's still Matsui by birth.”

Ken stole a glance of you while you were being interviewed. You were wearing the sharp gaze you naturally had while looking at the camera recorder.

He felt as if he had been living under a fucking rock.

—

You drummed the table with the pads of your fingers waiting for Aoshima’s call. He emailed you privately that there is an urgent matter he has to talk to you about. You were about to bring up your suspension and say “doesn’t suspension mean cut off from work, meaning even calls from work?” but you know he’d be pissed and you’d just set yourself up with an extension of your suspension.

After coming home for baseball practice, you washed yourself in a hot shower rinsing off the sweat and dirt that you accumulated and immediately got ready for this meeting. When the caller ID Capt Aoshima flashed on your computer, you de-hunched your back and sat up straight before clicking answer.

“Agent Saturnine, apologies for the sudden meeting at this late hour, but I have news for you.”

You fidgeted with your ballpoint pen while looking at the camera. “I’m listening.”

“I’m lifting your suspension off,” you gaped your mouth in surprise and waited for what he has to say next, “In exchange, I’m assigning you to a new mission.”

A new mission? What might it be?

Aoshima waited for your reply for him to proceed. You crossed your fingers on the computer table and leaned in with interest.

“Anything.”

“Your new mission is to know about Ultraman’s identity. Find who Ultraman is, behind the mask, and surrender him to the KDF.”

***

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[literatecowboy]

The King With No Name

3. Cat and Maus

Part 4 here Summary: König - the king of Caldera - has been called upon by your father to choose a bride from his daughters in order to establish an alliance to keep peace over the lands they rule. When he arrives, he is enraptured by you, your father’s eldest child - an unconventional woman by all standards. He pursues your hand in marriage, doing his best to make you fall in love with him like he has fallen in love with you - much to your dismay Author's Notes: Inspired by the royalty fics I’ve been seeing around lately Warnings: Arranged marriage, eventual smut, pining, dogged pursuit of reader’s love and affection

Read part 1 here

-----

“Are you alright, maus? There were many people in there,” König said, reaching up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The carriage you were in rattled down the street, headed back to the castle. The reception would be held in the gardens and would undoubtedly last through the night.

“You’ve got what you wanted.” were the first words you’d uttered all day, your voice small and broken. 

“Not yet, maus. I want you to love me like I love you,” he said, squeezing your thigh gently. You recoiled and got up to sit on the other side of the carriage. König did not stop you.

—

You emerged into the garden to applause. Doing your best to keep your head down, you shuffled to the long table at the head of the clearing and sat at one of the head chairs, doing your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Your mother sat beside you and squeezed your arm under the table. 

“Smile,” she ordered through gritted teeth. “You need to at least pretend to enjoy yourself.” she hissed as König sat on your other side, greeting your guests with pride in his voice. 

“You cannot make me smile like you have made me marry him,” you whispered, refusing to meet her gaze. She stiffened but said nothing more. 

The reception dragged on like the ceremony had, but at least you weren’t alone. After the food was served and guests had begun to get up and mingle, you excused yourself from the table and found Lydia in the crowd. 

“Is Sadie alright?” you asked quietly, pulling her into a grove of oak trees and away from the crowd. 

“She doesn’t want to be here. She didn’t come to the ceremony either. I’m worried for her.” Lydia admitted, shaking her head. 

“I saw Ferdinand at the ceremony but I haven’t seen him at the reception. I’m afraid this decision of father’s has created several enemies for me to face,” you said with a sigh, wringing your hands nervously. 

“She’ll come around. You had no choice. I’m…sorry. I know this wasn’t what you wanted in the least.” Lydia said, squeezing your shoulders. 

“Lydia, I’m afraid,” you admitted. She sighed and nodded, pain in her eyes. 

“I’m afraid for you, sister. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Sadie because she was so set on marrying him…but he’s a brute. In a kingdom that wars so often with others…I fear for your safety.” she said softly. 

“Maybe it’s good that it isn’t Sadie, then. I’d rather die than let anything happen to you or her,” you said resolutely, shaking your head and glaring back to the reception at where your mother and father stood, laughing with their guests. 

“You are strong. I know you will come back to us.” Lydia murmured. The soft crunch of footsteps sounded from behind you and Lydia looked down, nervous. 

“Wife,” König called softly. “Will you please come back to me? My men would like to meet you.” 

“I’m speaking with my sister,” you said coolly, refusing to look over your shoulder at him. Lydia shrunk away under his gaze. 

“It’s okay, I should go find Henry,” she admitted, slipping past you and giving König a wide birth as she went to rejoin the party. You finally turned to face him and he took you in quietly. 

“I have not yet had a chance to tell you how lovely you look today, maus. You will make a fine queen,” he said, offering you his arm. 

“I would be a fine queen even if I was not beautiful or wed to you,” you said coldly, ignoring him and walking away from the grove. He followed like a lost puppy. 

“And yet you are wed to me,” he said, and you could hear his smile under his hood. His joy made you scowl. 

“I didn’t choose to be.”

“Correct, I chose to be.” You whirled on him in an instant, instinctively going for your hunting knife only to remember that your mother had confiscated it before the ceremony. 

“It’s best you get this through your head now. I don’t love you. I don’t like you. I think you’re fucking creepy. If it were up to me I would have sent you home unwed and missing your balls with the fear of me haunting your nightmares for the rest of your life.” you snarled, shoving him. He didn’t budge and caught your hands, keeping them pressed tightly to his chest as he gazed down at you.

“You are a fire-forged woman,” he breathed, his eyes dilating. You could feel his heart racing under your palm and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you closer. You felt something hard brush against your belly and blushed, squirming in his grasp. He was warm and smelled oddly nice, but when he caressed your cheek, his hand was rough and calloused. 

“Am I interrupting anything?” a man called out as he approached, and you pushed yourself away from König when his arms slackened. 

“No,” you muttered, heat creeping to your cheeks. 

“Ah, maus, this is the captain of my guard and my most trusted soldier, Sir Wilhelm. You will see much of him in the coming days as we return home to Caldera.” König said. Sir Wilhelm knelt and dipped his head respectfully to you. 

“My lady. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said. 

“Caldera is not my home. My home is here.” you snapped, folding your arms over your chest and huffing. 

“Thank you, sir, for your kind introduction,” you muttered as you slipped past him and headed back to the wedding feast. 

“You chose a wild one,” Wilhelm said, raising an eyebrow as he watched you disappear into the crowd of dancing and drinking guests. 

“She’s perfect,” König breathed softly, watching you go. 

—

As you predicted, the reception lasted long into the night. While it was underway, your things along with provisions and wedding gifts were packed into wagons and sent ahead back to Caldera. It was planned that you would depart the next morning with König - your family and the gathered lords would see you off following the seal of the alliance. You would not give them that chance. 

At the end of the night, König walked with you back to your room, one hand on your back as he guided you gently. 

“Are you sure you would not rather sleep beside me, maus?” he asked, the worry evident in his voice. 

“I wish to spend one more night in my bedroom,” you said stiffly, opening the door to your chambers and stepping inside. König eagerly tried to follow but you put a hand on his chest. 

“Alone, König,” you said, looking down as he took your hand in his again and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. 

“I will see you tomorrow then, maus,” he murmured before departing. Before the door had even fully shut behind you you were ripping free from your wedding dress and tossing it to the floor. The room was sparse - most of your things had already gone. As quickly as you could, you tugged on your pants and a tunic before donning your light armor and tying your hair back. In an instant, your weapons were on you again, and you slid the window open, sliding out into the rain and dropping down onto the roof below. 

You raced as quickly and quietly as you could across the battlements and leaped down into a pile of hay sitting outside of the stable before scrambling out and into where the horses were kept. Your mare let out a confused greeting as you led her from the stable where she had been leaning across the aisle to nuzzle against the nose of König’s horse. 

Throwing her saddle on, you strapped your gear to her and ensured you had everything you’d need to survive in the wilderness for a time. 

“Come on lady, we’re out of here,” you murmured as you mounted up, drawing the hood of your cloak up as you rode out of the gates and into the night. 

This time, König was too busy touching himself to the memory of you in his arms with your name on his lips to see you flee. 

—

Your absence was discovered by Lydia just after dawn. König, who was already awake and waiting for you to come out, had been startled by the news. Your parents were…less so - but they were furious. 

König had agreed to sign the treaty to establish the alliance anyway, and after doing so with considerably less fanfare than had been planned, met with Sir Wilhelm. 

“There are tracks in the mud going west. She left just before the rain let up late last night,” he said as he and Knonig knelt to study the hoofprints that lead off the road. 

“Ja. Just after I left her.” König admitted, rising and looking off into the plains. You were undoubtedly long gone by now, riding deeper into your father’s kingdom. 

“Should have posted guards. I didn’t think she’d try something this drastic.” Wilhelm muttered, climbing back onto his horse. König did the same. 

“No, no, it is alright. She is not a prisoner. She has merely left for our honeymoon without me.” König explained, patting his horse’s neck and shifting in the saddle. “Have the men gather things to set up camp and then follow my tracks. I will catch up with her soon,” he said. With that, König urged his horse on, shooting forwards off the roads and onto the plains in pursuit of you.

—

You stopped to rest that evening after a long day of riding, exhausted from not sleeping and having eaten little throughout the day. A little lake fed by a roaring waterfall would be your campsite, you decided, as you started a fire to cook the rabbit you’d hunted earlier. Your horse grazed nearby as you set up your little tent in the plush grass and unfurled your bedroll so you could enjoy a peaceful sleep later. 

But despite yourself, you couldn’t relax. You still smelled like König. Of course, his scent was a pleasant one, but having it constantly clinging to you almost defeated the purpose of your escape.

After checking to make sure nobody was in the little forest grove you’d set up camp in, you stripped down and washed your clothes in the stream before leaving them on a sun-warmed rock to dry. Enjoying the warm water, you decided to wade in a little before diving forward and swimming out to the waterfall. 

Where the waterfall landed was surprisingly shallow and you stood up under it, laughing as the water dumped over your body and soaked your hair. The sun was setting now and the water looked golden in the light, the trees around you blowing gently. A fox cried out a little ways off and butterflies danced over the surface of the water. Birds chattered in their nests and the grass rippled in the wind. 

König watched from afar as you ran your hands up your body and through your hair, his cheeks red and his cock hard in his pants. He studied you as you jumped back into the deepest part of the water, disappearing for a moment before resurfacing and sucking in a breath. He slipped a hand into his armor and palmed himself a little through his pants before retracting his hand, face burning in shame. 

Your horse came to drink at the edge of the pool and you kissed her on the nose, eventually emerging and laying out on a rock so that the setting sun would dry you. 

König did his best to avert his eyes but could not succeed. He made himself turn away and return to his horse, climbing on to pretend as though he had just stumbled upon you. 

“Maus? Are you here?” he called out after a moment, trying to make extra noise as he rode through the undergrowth and toward your camp. You scrambled to put your dried clothes on and finished tugging your shirt down as he entered the clearing, your face red. 

“You left without me,” he said as he climbed off of his horse, looking around your camp as if he was just seeing it for the first time. “You have made me chase you like I am a cat, little maus.”

“But you have chosen a beautiful spot to camp. Tell me, where are we going?”

-----

taglist: @0mint-chocolate0, @elowynnlane, @littlelovebug98, @saturnknows, @passdaweedgaara, @lexuria

[ectoplasmic-entity]

How about a platonic Dark Danny and a sweet, naïve ghost child Reader who is fascinated with Dan, grows attached to him and is affectionate towards him and over time Dan finds himself starting to care about the child and becomes like a big brother or father figure to them.

This was a bit of an interesting request anon, considering that I had to write from the perspective of a child. I generally don't write child characters.

I'd put the child reader in the 6, maybe 7 to 8 range. Kids are smart, but they're not the best decision makers and as you said it, naive.

So, this was good practice .3.

Genre: Gen

Rating: K

Content Warnings: N/A

Words: 3.1k+

Dan didn’t notice you the first time.

He’s quite distracted, all in his lonesome, with just the eeriness of the Ghost Zone for company. He hunches over on a huge chunk of rock, balancing perfectly on the edge. Dan’s cape drapes down behind him. Teetering back and forth with abandon, and the cape wavers ever so elegantly with his motions.

It cascades down his body, shrouding him in shadow. Hiding Dan from the rest of the world. The haunting essence of the Ghost Zone doesn’t help matters much. Infinitely spiralling as far as the eye can see. Few ghosts rarely stray off the beaten path.

No one else is here besides Dan. Isolating as it may be, it lets him unwind and be alone with just his thoughts.

He hears it first. A loud shuffling of fabric twisting around. Loud and clear, right behind him.  It startles him, but he doesn’t react… yet. Slowly, Dan turns his head around. His ears twitch, searching for any sounds to alert him to unwanted visitors. His hair flows calmly with the occasional crackle. Posture tense and guarded.

There’s nothing there. An innocuous emptiness taunts him.

Dan grumbles softly, annoyance flashes across his face. Everything seems so distracting when it usually isn’t.

Carefully reassuming his original position, Dan bows his head down and slowly closes his eyes. His body slants down as he relaxes, the faint rumble of his breaths expel from his mouth. Calm and steady as can be, which are infrequent moments for Dan.

Several minutes of quietude pass. Eventually, Dan begins to relax, his limbs going slack and his muscles easing the tension. He tunes out his surroundings, nothing more than a white noise in the background. The thrum of his ghost core nearly brings him to a lull, pulsing a soothing rhythm through his body.

Then, again, another loud shuffling ensues. Ruffling and rumpling without a care. Dan twitches, his facial muscles pull slightly. Who could possibly be making such a noise?

He turns his head again. Red eyes narrow and wandering. Little by little, his lips slowly curl back to bare his fangs in warning.

A flicker of movement catches his eye. Something very small scuttling around, right below where he’s perching. It leads his eyes to a curious shape that forms under his cape. It’s long enough to drag on the ground, naturally something may have gotten trapped under it. Dan blinks, he thinks he sees what looks like a pair of spectral eyes glowing under the fabric.

Frowning in suspicion, Dan reaches down with his fingers splaying out. Grabbing a fistful of fabric, he swiftly strips it away without a thought. His eyes widen in surprise, the fabric slips from his hand and flutters to the craggy surface of the rock. Dan’s breath shakes lightly as he stares down at you, too surprised to speak.

You stare right back with wide eyes and a tiny grin that forms on your face. You then turn your attention to the cape and, taking a handful of fabric, you pull on it.

Dan hardly acknowledges it, only flicking his gaze to the side for a moment. Instead, he reaches down for you, imposing himself to be huger than you think. You squeal in excitement when he picks you up, your hands cling tightly to his cape and your body dangles in the air. Dan holds you close to his face.

“Where’d you come from?” Dan asks, one brow rises.

You only smile up at him, your body swings back and forth with increasing momentum. He’s certainly sturdy enough to be used as a swing.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Dan says, tilting his head.

You look up at him again, your eyes lock into a stare with his. You’re both silent, waiting for the other to break contact. At one point, you hold your breath under Dan’s intense gaze. You can’t help but grin widely at him.

Only one thought ran its course through Dan’s mind. Why, of all things, is a ghost child doing here? He never picked up on your presence the first time. Though, the longer he observes you, the more he thinks you’re at the age where you aren’t fully capable of using your powers yet. Your ecto signature isn’t strong enough for him to sense it.

You stop propelling your body, slowing down to a gentle rocking. Dan’s flowing hair mesmerizes you, bright and calm to your eyes. It seems magical to you. Curious, you try to reach out to him. Just to brush your hand through his hair. You keep your eyes on Dan as you do so, silently taunting him.

Dan inhales deeply and sets his jaw. He stares back, his eyes glowing a bit brighter. He holds his arm out, creating a distance between the two of you, and prevents you from reaching towards him. Your jaw hangs open in surprise, you were expecting a far more vibrant reaction. Dan grins down at you, a shadow casts over a portion of his face. You hang there with a pout appearing on your face, your cheeks puffy and lips turn down slightly.

Bending over, Dan lowers you back down to the rocky surface and, with some light shaking, makes you let go. You land with a soft thud, forcing a small grunt out of you. You look up at him defiantly, huffing and puffing.

Dan’s face twitches. He’s a little put out by the entire interaction, his lips move, but no sound comes out of him.

How is this kid not scared of him?

Finally, “Go away, kid,” he says, standing up straight with a stretch. “Who knows what’ll… happen if you stick around.”

Without as much as a glance back, Dan seamlessly takes off in a flight. His dark form blurs as he blends into the chaos of the Ghost Zone. Twisting, grotesque amalgamations amass around him. Hopefully this will be more than enough to discourage you from following him into the depths. 

No ghost child would be so daring.

Time is of little matter to him. With how this realm operates, it’s as useful as trying to make out what colours the ‘sky’ is to determine what day it is. It’s easy to get lost, which more than suits Dan to be alone with his thoughts. It’s eerily quiet as well, something that reaches far too deep into his ears for his liking. He doesn’t mind the quiet for the most part, he does get a bit fidgety at times.

Oddly enough, his thoughts keep wandering back to you. You aren’t the first, but one of the very few who didn’t actively show fear of him. Dan snorts softly in amusement, a small child has bigger guts than even the hardiest soldier. He supposes that does say something about you.

Dan does wonder if your parents are looking for you. Or, if you even have parents at all. 

His chest aches dully with the sudden change of thought. He slows down to a stop, floating aimlessly in the vast darkness. Controlled breaths slowly blow through his mouth, Dan’s hands turn into fists like he’s trying to crush such emotions from within. His head falls back a bit in contention, he blinks several times. That you even approached him in the first place persistently nags at him, and now he can’t shake it.

Looking back, Dan is clearly no longer in the same proximity where you first came upon him. No ghost ever did, not with the Zone constantly shifting around. You might still be there, without a way to get around.

Dan hardly moves a muscle before he hears a small sound behind him. That same shuffling of fabric twisting about. He freezes on the spot, and waits. His body unusually tense.

Could it be?

No. You couldn’t have.

Although… you probably did.

With a turn of his head, Dan spots you almost instantly. Most of your body is hidden behind his cape, you pull it up to your face, hiding half of it. You avert your eyes, pretending you don’t see him. You smile to yourself now that he’s seen you again.

“Were you following me the entire time?” It isn’t a statement.

You move the cape from your face, tucking it under your chin, and beam a huge smile at him. He’s honestly quite funny with all these small reactions, even if they aren’t as enthusiastic as you want them to be.

Dan sighs heavily and folds his arms, eyes not quite hard, but not entirely friendly either. He doesn’t necessarily hate kids, they’re just small and get in his way. You following him is especially bothersome. Credit is given where credit is due, Dan has to admit.

You must be pretty resilient to stand being in his presence without being overwhelmed. And to physically keep up with him for such a long time.

“Better you with me than anywhere else, I guess,” Dan says to himself in resignation.

Still, he doesn’t want to drag you around with him forever. The notion has Dan rolling his eyes, at the very least, he can keep you in one piece long enough to find someone to hand you off to. If… he can, that is, ghost children are incredibly vulnerable without their parents.

That’s probably why you’re so insistent on following him. You feel safe in Dan’s powerful ghostly aura. You’re less likely to be noticed by unsavoury individuals that way, too.

Dan perks up at yet another small, but softer sound this time around. A quick glance reveals you yawning widely, the tips of your tiny fangs barely visible. A soft groan emits from your throat. You hastily wipe your eyes to keep the sleepiness away. It’s in vain, as you yawn again, and your eyes droop a little. Your hand relaxes its grip on Dan’s cape, and you stumble forward, your body heavy with exhaustion.

Dan tenses slightly, wondering if you’re merely just seconds from collapse. He didn’t consider that you’d expend all your energy keeping up with him. The sight of your tiny form teetering tugs at… something in Dan’s chest. A deep inhale, he lets it sit for a moment, he knows what that feeling is. He’d rather ignore it for now and focus on the situation at hand.

He turns around just as you start to sway, no longer having the energy to keep yourself upright. You’re too out of it to register your surroundings, except for what’s in front of you. Namely, a vast sea of darkness. You hardly notice a large dark shape approaching you, nor do you notice you curl up comfortably in a pair of arms, close to someone’s chest. You yawn once more and mumble incoherently, a protective aura washes over you.

For a moment, the Ghost Zone seems to sit still. It amazes Dan with how small you actually are, easily fit right in the crook of his arm. You curl up more, huddling into his chest, where the aura of his ghost core gently pulses.

“Okay… that was easy,” Dan mutters to himself.

Carefully adjusting the position of his arm, Dan makes sure you’re secure before he goes on the move again. Dan looks around, eyes shifting suspiciously. Somewhere discreet enough to hide the two of you to allow you a chance to rest. 

A big rock or…

A cave. A huge rock-like structure sits nearby, a singular gaping entrance inviting. The inside is pitch black, no problem for Dan as he can light it up with ecto fire. He inhales deeply to steel himself for whatever may come, despite that his ghost sense hasn’t gone off at all. Dan slowly glides towards the structure; the eeriness encroaches in on him. Touches down his spine in a cold shiver and shadows whisper in his ears.

He doesn’t realize it yet, but he holds you more closely to his chest. Your presence seems… to ground him, keep focus.

Blissful relief floods him as soon as he’s within the confines of the cavern. It’s a strange feeling. Hiding himself, it’s a bit lonely. With you, it’s out of harm’s way. All there is with the two of you is the occasional drip, echoing out in a tune.

Dan leans against the wall and slides down to the ground, cradling you in his arms. He peers from the corner of his eye; the faint glow of the Ghost Zone scarcely lights up the entrance of the cavern. An uncomfortably bright green glow. Either way, he’d still see who’s coming before they ever realize Dan is even there.

Sitting back to relax, Dan lets his head fall back to ease the tension. Your weight on his chest continuously brings him back to why he’s doing this in the first place. He… sees a bit of himself in you if he’s being honest with himself. A lost, scared child.

Dan breathes softly, his chest rises up and down evenly. His ghost core thrums in parallel with yours, your own core pulses against his chest. He watches your expression as you slumber away. Your brows quirk now and then, your breaths soft and wispy. The ideal visage of a relaxed, content ghost.

With a sudden breath, Dan fights back a yawn that nearly escapes his mouth. Grumbling under his breath, Dan concentrates on his hand. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then, with a quiet crack, a small ball of green fire sparks to life. It hovers dangerously above his hand. In a brief motion, Dan pushes the fireball out to the open. Its spectral green glow lights up the surrounding area.

Huffing in satisfaction, Dan sits back, and after he makes himself comfortable. Or, well, as comfortable as he can be with all these rocks. Casting one final gaze at you, Dan’s mouth twitches as his eyes slowly close. Allowing the darkness to lull him into a deep sleep.

You awaken with a full body shudder. 

First, bleary looks have you jolt fearfully. Your core hammers as you attempt to regain control of yourself. Breathing deeply, you blink several times until your vision clears the sleep away. You find yourself staring at Dan’s calm visage, his throat rumbling quietly with small sounds.

You smile widely in anticipation and happiness. Likewise, you remember now – Dan sure helped you out yesterday. Was it yesterday? The time is pretty weird here. Sure, a lot of ghosts say Dan’s pretty scary. Maybe he is. But he’s scary enough to keep the other ghosts away from you.

You sit up straight, staring at him curiously. Unlike his grumpiness from before, Dan seems quite calm here. It’s like a whole new person.

Shifting your eyes around in thought, you hold a hand to your chin to focus. Since Dan technically doesn’t see anything right now, perhaps you can surprise him. Nothing too surprising. Maybe just show him you’re glad to have him around.

You shake with excitement, before you stop and hold your breath. You carefully watch Dan as he mumbles quietly and shifts around. He doesn’t show signs of awaking from beyond the morning stir. You breathe a breath of relief. Getting up on your knees, mindful of where you place them, you get up close to Dan’s face.

With a shaky breath, your eyes hyper vigilant, you slowly lean forward with both of your arms spread out. You slowly ease them around his neck, in awe of just how big he is. Your hands link together behind him with little effort. Your mouth twitches into a small, victorious smile.

A spike of bravery hits you, and you lay your head down in the crook of Dan’s neck. Again, you hear the quiet rumble emitting from his throat. It reverberates throughout his body. Your smile widens, you close your eyes in content.

Before you know it, your eyes snap open as Dan sits upright. You hear a loud yawn right in your ear, making you freeze up.

The first thing Dan notices is something clasping around his neck. In a sleepy confusion, he stretches his body out before he massages the space between his eyes with his knuckles. Dan then blinks a few times, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He turns his head, and is met with the sight of you clinging around his neck.

Dan blinks again to be sure he isn’t seeing things.

“Woken up by a hug of all things,” Dan says out loud, “that’s a new one.”

Without another word, he moves to stand up. You’re forced to let go of his neck lest you end up awkwardly dangling from it.

The mystical glow of the green fireball casts a beautiful glow over Dan. You stare up at him in an admiring awe. You’re sure you can see his ghostly aura glowing.

Furthermore, you grab his hand and tug on it, making him turn his attention to you.

“Hm… what should we do with you kid?” Dan says, cocking his head.

You continue tugging at his arm.

“Still not speaking, huh?” Dan grumbles in annoyance. “Do you… want something?”

Upon hearing the magic words, you stop pulling and hug his leg. Dan steps back in wariness when you do so. You breathe shakily, focusing on the protective aura that wraps around you. Your hold on him tightens.

“You want to… stay with me?” Dan asks, surprise flickers across his face. His hair flows in intensity with the brief spike of emotions.

You haphazardly nod. The corners of your mouth turn downward in a pleading pout.

Dan stops to consider the possibility. His mind works around in a whirlwind.

On one hand, you don’t seem that bad. Endearing, even. But you’d definitely slow him down, and judging by how you already seem attached to him, Dan would have to keep an eye on you in some capacity.

On the other hand, however, you show no fear of him. That already says a lot about you. Besides, ghosts might leave him alone if they see a ghost child with him. And well… there’s already one of Dan in this world. There doesn’t need to be another.

“How about this?” Dan kneels down when you let go of his leg. “You can come with, I keep you in one piece, and you can tell the other ghosts to… uh, leave us alone?”

He feels a bit silly for phrasing it that way. But you’d understand what he means.

You do a little jig on the spot and bob your head so violently it's surprising it doesn’t make you dizzy. You raise up your arms at him. Dan seems to get what you mean and picking you up, he settles you on his shoulders. His hands on your feet to keep you steady. You look around in exhilaration, you feel like you’re at the top of the world.

Dan turns to the ghostly fireball he made the night before. He stares into its flickering green void for a few seconds. He blinks and with the flick of his hand, the flame goes out.

[readwritejayy]

Father Material

(Read on AO3 here)

Post-game domestic bliss — Gale and Lettie are expecting their first child, and Lettie reminds Gale he deserves good things.

Words: 647

Notes: Takes place a few years after the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Lettie is my Seldarine Drow Durge. Minor spoilers for Gale’s epilogue.

“I just think it would be funny if the baby came out looking just like you, but with my hair,” Lettie explained. She glanced in the mirror at Gale standing behind her, busying herself with braiding her pink-purple hair.

“Well at least it would match all the little purple robes my mother has been sending us,” he replied, holding up yet another tiny handmade purple wizard’s robe.

Lettie beamed at the sight, despite Gale’s mild embarrassment at his mother’s excitement.

“Besides,” Gale continued, setting the little robe in a pile with the other handmade clothes, “I think it would be wonderful if our child more closely resembled you.”

Lettie hummed as she finished the other braid, her vibrant hair now long enough to fall over her shoulders.

“As long as it has your big brown eyes, I’ll be happy,” she said. “Though perhaps having a little child with your sad, round eyes will end up biting us down the road when your mother spoils the child rotten.”

“I don’t think we can avoid my mother spoiling her grandchild,” Gale explained.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Lettie gazed at his face in the mirror, watching his eyes fill with love at the sight of her growing bump. A flicker of uncertainty passed over his features, something that Lettie had grown used to seeing in the last months.

“You’re scared,” she said softly. Lettie held his hand in hers, bringing his fingers to her lips and kissing his knuckles.

“We’re having a baby,” Gale chuckled. “Of course I’m scared.”

But Lettie shook her head. “You’re scared in a different way than I’m scared. I’m scared because this is a big change and it will drastically alter both of our lives. You’re scared because you think you’ll crash and burn, like you’re lacking in some way that I’m not.”

Gale pursed his lips.

“It’s not…okay what I mean is…when you say it like that…” He fell silent, sucking his teeth in annoyance. “Stop that.”

Lettie openly snickered at him. “Look, it isn’t my fault you wear your heart plastered across your face. And it’s not exactly a new insecurity you have.”

Still holding his hand in both of hers, she rubbed her thumb into his palm.

“I don’t know how to convince you we wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t wholeheartedly believe you were worth it,” she said firmly. “I wanted to keep you from sacrificing yourself, I wanted to be at your side, I wanted to marry you, and I wanted to start a family with you. I’m not fooling myself into thinking you’re something I’m not. You’re the only one waiting for the imaginary other shoe to drop.”

Gale stared back at her—rather, he stared down at his hand clasped between hers. Sometime during her monologue, she had started squeezing his fingers hard. He didn’t pull his hand away.

“I know,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry. A lot of this just seems too good to be true.”

“I wish you didn’t feel that way. Because a lot of what you have is just…normal things. You’re a professor, a job you’re enthusiastic about. And you have a wife who loves you more than anything, and a child on the way. None of this is ‘too good to be true’, it’s just good.”

“I know,” he said again. “Maybe it’s the ‘good’ part that I’m still adjusting to. But I’m trying my best.”

He looked down at his hand, his fingers turning the same shade of ash-purple as her skin.

“Um, Lettie?”

Lettie glanced up at him, then down where he was looking. “Oh! Oh, sorry love.” She released his sore hand, kissing his palm and moving it to her belly. “You deserve all of this, and I hope eventually you actually believe that.”

Gale sighed. “Yeah, me too.”

[katia-dreamer]

The vast and unknowable sea reaches out in front of her to the horizon. It’s beautiful, but it’s unnerving too. At least here in the crow’s nest, she feels a little less sick to her stomach.

Vex shifts, and her arm brushes against Percy’s. The space is quite small and almost every inch of his side is pressed against hers, so it was bound to happen eventually. She leans further into him, thrilled by how warm, alive, and vibrant he is in this never-ending expanse of blue. 

Percy smiles when they touch, but he doesn’t stop working in his sketchbook.

Vex rests her head on his shoulder. He’s a bit bony, but she doesn’t mind. For a moment, she allows herself to drink in her surroundings. She can almost taste the salt on her tongue, and she feels the warmth of the breeze on her face. She hears the noise on the deck below.

But up here, it’s only the two of them, and she feels more relaxed than she has in a very long time.

They’ve had very little time together that hasn’t been overshadowed by impending doom. So, she decides she will take the opportunity to enjoy it. She brings her fingers to his forearm, absently following the curve of the muscle up towards his elbow. Then she trails her hand back down, tracing the prominent veins that dance through his skin, enjoying how his arm hair tickles her fingertips.

“Stop that. I am trying to concentrate.”

“Stop what, darling?”  Vex asks as she innocently turns her head to get a better look at him.

Percy pushes his glasses up his nose. “Distracting me.”

Vex grins in triumph. “I'm distracting?"

“You bloody well know you are.”

She laughs as she rests her head on his shoulder again. Her eyes scan the horizon, but she’s hardly paying attention. He smells so good, and he’s so close. Unable to resist temptation, Vex leans in and kisses his neck. It’s little more than a brush of lips, tender and fleeting, yet it’s wonderful all the same. 

But there is a question that has been on her mind for days, gnawing at her. 

Did you hear me? Do you know that my heart is yours?

Vex takes his hand in hers and squeezes it. “Percy?”

“Hm?”

The words are there; they rest on the edge of her tongue, but she can not bring herself to say them. Maybe she will find the courage another time. “Never mind.”

“All right.” There is a note of disbelief in his tone, but he doesn’t press further. However, he does close his sketchbook. “This is quite relaxing, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“No dragons,” Percy says.

“No dragons,” she echoes.

“Just us.”

“Just us.”

He brushes his lips against her forehead. Then his arm winds around her waist, and they sit in peaceful quiet for a while.

In that stillness, there is only Percy and Vex.

-

A/N: Happy birthday, @blorbologist

I have so few things you haven't seen, so I just went with this. You bring so much joy into my life, friend. I love you very much, and I appreciate all you have done and DO for me.... The way you encourage me and are patient with me.

My life would not be the same without you.

I hope you had a wonderful day. <3

[ladyloveandjustice]

I Read the Odyssey-The Liveblogyssey! (Part 3)

The Odyssey liveblog continues! See the liveblog from the beginning here.

We continue with the Odyssey!

Ino informs Odysseus of the basic fact that heavy clothes are hard to swim in (which you think he’d know as a guy who spends so much time at sea but I digress) and tells him to strip, then gives him a magic immortal veil to tie around his chest, though he’s gotta toss it back in the ocean the second he gets to shore. Odysseus, understandably, does not trust any god at this point and is pretty skeptical, but is eventually forced to try to swim.

Poseidon is like “at last you are in pain” Dude, I think he’s been in pain well before this.

Odysseus finally crawls to shore, completely naked, and goes to sleep. Meanwhile, a princess called Nausicaa (not the one from the hit Miyazaki movie and manga, but her namesake. That sadly means she isn’t hanging out with giant bugs) is urged by Athena to wander down towards Odysseus.

Wanting him to make a good impression on Nausicaa, Athena turns Odysseus super hot and buff. I’m not kidding, it says she “poured attractiveness onto his shoulders”. I love that the gods can give you a makeover. She makes him look “bigger and sturdier” and makes “his hair grow curling tendrils like a hyacinth”.

Apparently she can’t give Odysseus clothes though, so he is forced to awkwardly “cover his manly parts” with a hunk of driftwood when he jumps out to speak to Nausicaa. He considers going to beg her help by kissing her knees, but decides that a naked man grabbing her knees would probably freak her out, good call. He gives this incredibly long speech about how beautiful she is that would probably freak most people out, but Nausicaa likes it. Thus, Odysseus is introduced to the king and queen.

Everyone loves Odysseus of course, and there’s a big party. Like all cool parties, there’s a poet there, and he tells this wild story about Ares and Aphrodite’s courtship I’ve either never heard or forgotten about:

Hephaestus suspected that Aphrodite was cheating on him, so he made chains so fine they were invisible and put them around the bed like spiderwebs, so then when Ares and Aphrodite slept together, they got all trapped.

Hephaestus hollered about it, wanting his dowry back (which…apparently the gods have dowries? What did Hephaestus use to pay them? Do the gods have currency? The only thing I think they could want is sacrifices, so maybe Hephaestus paid in that. Apparently sacrifices are transferable).

 So Poseidon, Hermes, and Apollo come to see, and Hermes is all “Hephaestus, who is lame and slow, has used his skill to catch the fastest sprinter.” Wow thanks Hermes love that backhanded complement.

And Apollo and Hermes also instantly become frat boys. Apollo is like “lol lol Hermes, my brother, would you like to sleep with golden Aphrodite in her bed even weighted down by mighty chains?

And Hermes responds “lol lol I would be bound three times as tight and let you gods and all your wives look on”. Which really makes it sounds like he’s just a kinky little bastard. Had bondage been invented yet in Ancient Greece? Probably. Maybe Hephaestus accidentally invented it. The true origin.

Poseidon is like ‘are you two twelve or something knock it off” and says “Hephaestus look I know Ares is stupid, but I promise he’ll pay you back the dowry, just let him go”

Hephaestus is like “hmmm I don’t know if I should”

Then Poseidon is like "look I will pay you back if he dodges his debt. Just let him go”.

Poseidon is a surprisingly devoted uncle! He will also go all out for his son later, so I guess “devoted to family” is his literal only good point.

So Hephaestus lets them go. And Aphrodite flounces off, completely unbothered, and just goes back to her island to get oil rubbed on her by beautiful girls (yes this is how they put it). hashtag flawless.

But the poet is not just content with this silly story! He starts singing about Troy and poor Odysseus is just sitting there quietly sobbing, pulling up his hood so no one can see him. He’s doing this for MULTIPLE SONGS and the king is right there and just sits uncomfortably for a while before FINALLY saying “hey y’all how about we give the lyre a rest and play sport or something.”

But I guess Ody enjoyed all that crying and really wants to do it again, because he actually ASKS the poet for a song about the Trojan horse. Like dude you know it’s going to be traumatic for you why do this to yourself.

Homer does a MASSIVE self plug, saying this COOL poet is telling the Trojan war SO accurately it’s like he was THERE and Ody praises him more than ANYONE!!! It’s so blatant it’s hilarious.

So when the Bard starts singing about the Trojan horse and “dreadful violence” Ody and crew committed, and of course Odysseus just falls to the ground sobbing “as a woman weeps when she fails to wrap her arms around her husband, fallen fighting for his home and children. She watches as he gasps and dies. She shrieks, a clear high wail, collapsing on his corpse. The men are right behind. They hit her shoulder with their spears and lead her to slavery, hard labor and a life of pain”.

Some serious irony here, considering how Odysseus inflicted exactly this on countless women during the Trojan War. I think this was likely intentional. Homer’s a smart guy, so I think it was his aim to have Odysseus relive the pain of his many victims, as he recalls the violence he wrought. Especially since he confirms that he helped with the abduction and rape of Trojan women a few lines later.

Which, as an aside, I don’t know why people are so focused on whether Odysseus cheated on Penelope with Circe when he did something way more horrible than cheat on Penelope---he assisted in the abduction and rape of other women, and probably even participated (I think if he didn’t, the Iliad would have noted that, since it was common practice so him refusing would have been notable)! I’d be much more horrified to find my husband did than him knocking boots with a goddess. But the thing is, Penelope probably knew he’d be doing that. It was an expected wartime practice. I saw a post that “if you believe Odysseus slept with Circe multiple times you believe all men want sex all the time" and I want to be like…okay I obviously don’t believe that about men, but I can acknowledge that’s what the Ancient Greeks largely believed which greatly changes the intention of the text. Men were expected to take “war prizes” or in Sparta’s case, sleep with younger men, because there was this idea that men needed a way to fulfill their sexual appetites while separated from their wives. The war prize practice was wrong then and it’s wrong now, but when interrogating a text like this you have acknowledge the environment it was created in, what cultural values shaped it, and that there’s no way Odysseus can come out as a “good person” or “good husband” from our perspective. You can’t turn away from the practices he engaged in, you can’t wash away the terrible things he did.

Anyway. Back on topic. The king notices Odysseus is crying again and is like “whoa stop playing that song!!! this party is clearly not fun for all!”

And then he uh, quizzes Ody about his PTSD. Seems kind of rude but okay! As a result, Odysseus finally reveals his name and sits down to tell his cool story.

(as an aside Ody mentions using a knot he learned from Circe. Apparently tying knots are among Circe’s talents???)

Then we get to what I think is the most interesting thing I’ve discovered this reading this, something we never went over in high school and college. Which is that, for the portion of the story he tells, the text seems to really indicate that Odysseus is an unreliable narrator. It’s pounded in your head what a great liar he is right before he tells his story.  In face, the very last line before be begins his tales is “Wily Odysseus, lord of lies, answered”. That really seems to imply to me that parts of this story might be fabricated, possibly tailored to make him look better because he wants these people to like him and help him get home. And that’s interesting, thinking what may be a lie! Obviously all the parts with Calypso that happened before this are true, as they’re not part of the telling. And some broad facts like Ody angered the cyclops, angered Poseidon, is true as gods and other comment on it.

But what about the details? Was Odysseus as faultless as he makes himself appear, and were his men as stupid as he has them appear? I think it’s incredibly likely he might have been more to blame for some of the deaths than he lets on. Did he even beat Circe in a fight? Did he even sleep with her? And what if there are details he deliberately leaves out, or even more painful things he doesn’t mention?

It's tantalizing to think about, and it’s weird I’ve never heard of that aspect before this.

But now we've finally gotten to the parts everyone remembers about the Odyssey. As such, I think I'll go at a much quicker pace, since anyone who's has it assigned in high school knows the basics, I'll just be commenting on weird little details. Til next time!

[jimblejamblewritings]

riddle means misery | part 3.

Summary: Y/N Riddle. Not much more has to be said. Everyone hates her. She’s evil... she has to be.

Warnings for the Series: 18+, this series is dark. Manipulation, dubcon verging on noncon, abuse of power, violence, ed mentions, death, blood

Pairing: unknown yet x black!reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You woke up in the morning to sunlight on your face and a lot of commotion around you.  

“Riddle.” James sat on his bed. “Knees now.”

You went over to him and kneeled down, wondering if you were going to be used in some way everyday. James shoved his dick into your mouth. 

“Suck… Merlin, you’re shit at this.”

James grabbed some of your hair and instructed you on how to blow him. Every now and then he would thrust into your mouth. Eventually, he got tired of how you were doing it and held you in place to fuck your mouth.

“Gonna cum, Princess… swallow it.” 

Peter decided he wanted a morning blowjob, holding you by the hair and instructing you just like James. You sloppily moved your tongue around the tip like he requested. Just like James, you swallowed when he finished. You went to breakfast with them, squished between James and Sirius. Marlene, Lily, and Dorcas squinted their eyes at seeing you. You tapped James’ shoulder.

“Can you pass the jam?” 

Lazily, he gave you the jam and a butter knife. The girls dropped it when the boys started talking to them. They literally paid no attention to you at all. You ate quietly and didn’t even bother to listen in on any conversations. Maybe if they went to the lake you could go into the Dark Forest and collect mushroom samples. 

For the first time ever, you were grateful to be a Gryffindor because you had every class with the Marauders. They didn’t sit next to you but they were right behind your desk and actually blocked any spells cast your way. You ate lunch between Remus and Peter. You smiled to yourself at the new found freedom. It might actually work. Maybe you could even get through graduation without another incident. 

However, you didn’t go very long without being messed with by the Marauders. If you were a muggle then your lower half would be so sore. Either that or your mouth. Sometimes it was the four of them, sometimes it was just one person. They started taking pictures. That made you nervous. There was a little box of polaroids. It was a game for them. Taking pictures of each time they used you was an accomplishment. You were at your makeshift desk when the rest of your new roommates walked in. You didn’t blink when Sirius sat on your scroll to get you to stop writing. 

“There’s a party tonight, Gryffindor won our match.”

You weren’t sure why he was telling you. You remembered because Remus took you under the stands to blow him and you both barely made it back to see the snitch caught. You had gone back to the room while everyone else was storming the field. You looked at the four of them with a tilt of your head. What did they want? Were you supposed to leave because there was a party or did they want you to get them off before it started? Maybe they wanted you to get them off when the whole thing was finished. 

“We don’t like going to all the parties,” Sirius started. 

So, you were getting them off the entire night. 

“Our friends just hang out up here.” Sirius sat down next to you, giving Peter your cat to put in the bathroom. “It’s just us, Marlene, Dorcas, Lily, Griffith, and Archie.” 

“Isn’t he your ex?” you asked, referencing Archie. 

“Mutual breakup, still friends. Point it, you’re staying.” 

Your eyes went wide. They didn’t say anything else. They all got ready and talked to each other while you were frozen in the corner of your bed. 

“What the fuck is Riddle doing here?” Dorcas asked as she walked in first. “Is that her stuff?” 

She rubbed her eyes and moved her box braids out of her face as if that would change what she was looking at.  That made the others stop. They immediately looked as you kept writing your essay. Your eyes were focusing less and less on the actual words, just staring at the page and not really writing it. Peter smirked. 

“Princess.”

You cringed as you looked up at him. The new friends laughed. Remus shamelessly explained the little deal they made with you. Archie stretched, a sliver of brown skin could be seen where his shirt rode up, and complimented the Marauders on their brilliant plan. They sat on the floor and hung out like you weren’t there. Your ears perked up when their games and talking turned sexual. 

Dorcas shook her head. “Absolutely not. A girl’s not cumming ten times and staying awake.”

Marlene looked at her. “Just cause you barely get through five—”

“Five?” Griffith asked. 

The girls laughed. Marlene took a sip of her drink. “Dorcas’ ex-girlfriend actually knew her way around a woman. Just because you boys are disappointing—” 

“Uh, who says we’re disappointing?” 

“Griff,” Lily sighed. “I don’t think you want to know what the girls are saying in the bathroom.” 

The other boys laughed as Griffith just drank to avoid having to speak. Lily looked at Marlene. 

“But ten seems excessive, I’m with Dorcas.” 

“Well, the boys agree with me. Ten is doable.” She looked at them. 

James shrugged. “Maybe. You’d need more than just you though.”

Marlene cut him off with a laugh. “I know that! I wasn’t suggesting you try to get a girl off with just yourself and make it to ten.”

“Oh, then, yeah. Ten is doable.” 

“See, Lils, Dorcas? James agrees with me.” 

“Still don’t believe it… Riddle!” 

You looked over at Dorcas, wishing she hadn’t said anything. The book was set down and you looked from her to the Marauders who were just smirking. They weren’t going to initiate anything but they had been hoping this would happen. They had talked about it yesterday. Organically letting it happen. You were their plaything, not their friends’, so they didn’t want the others to feel pressured to touch you. They were just going to have your presence known and see if anyone took the bait. Lily took it perfectly by starting a conversation about guys being shit at snogging. It spiraled and they just sat back and watched until Dorcas called your name. 

“Do the four of them ever make you cum ten times and you stay awake?” 

You scratched at the back of your head, making Archie laugh. 

“Don’t tell me between the four of you, you can’t get a girl off.” 

Remus crossed his arms. “Go ahead and tell them.” 

“I’m… I’m not really allowed to cum,” you whispered. 

You felt heat rise to your face when the laughing turned towards your expense. You couldn’t get back into your reading as they started asking questions that the Marauders answered for you. There was a fake sympathetic whimper from Marlene. 

“Boys, that’s just cruel. She should get to know how good the rest of us feel… I wonder if she can take ten. Riddle, you think yo—”

“Princess,” Sirius cut her off. “Come on over.” 

You put the quill down and slowly made your way over, prolonging the time before your embarrassment. Sirius pulled you down into his lap. He took off your dress, leaving you in just your socks and panties. You bit your bottom lip when ties kept your arms behind your back and he plunged a vibrator into you. Sirius moved over and sat you down in between him and Dorcas. They kept playing their card games and talking. You felt the knot and looked at Sirius. 

“Count them.” That was all he said before you were finally allowed to let go. 

You mumbled the word one and stared at their card game. It became overwhelming as you murmured five and flopped over into Sirius’ lap. 

“Is this how bad you are at five?” He teased Dorcas. 

“A bit worse, at least she stayed upright. I’m down at three.” 

You whimpered when her hand dragged your panties. 

“Merlin, she’s wet as hell though.” 

“Six,” you whispered. 

“Hey,” Archie garnered their attention. “Not fair, you two get all the fun. We’d like to see.” 

Peter took you from Sirius’ lap, taking your panties off and handing them to Griffith. He spread you open to show you off more. You wanted to leave and lock yourself in the bathroom. Being their plaything could be so humiliating at times. 

“You want to keep those, you don’t tell anyone. That’s our little deal with Riddle, isn’t that right?”

“Easy enough,” Griffith said. “Why the hell would we give this up to watch someone dunk her in the lake?” 

The rest of them nodded as you moaned out seven. Just like the Marauders, this was more entertaining than whatever hex someone could conjure up. You were completely at their mercy and it was better than any spell. Watching your eyes go wide when they suggested the Marauders should send the box of photos to your father was priceless. You barely got through nine as it was established to you that only the Marauders could have fun whenever but if one of the others was in this room then they were allowed to touch you. They took advantage of that by touching you while they were still there. You focused on other things as they groped you.  

“Told you,” Lily said. “Ten’s too much.”

Peter pulled the toy from you after removing the ties. “Anyone want a go at her? Part of the deal, we can have her whenever.” 

Archie pinched one of your nipples. “You ever tried her passed out?”

“Passed out? No. But when she’s sleeping you can just do what you want, feels even better if she’s waking up in the middle of it.” 

You woke up in the middle of the night, still on the floor. The dried and sticky cum on your thighs let you know that nobody cleaned you up— not that you really expected them to. You let your cat out of the bathroom and passed a washcloth over your body before going to your mattress. You only managed to put on a big shirt before passing out against the pillows. 

~~

You were already taking off your winter coat as you walked to the locker rooms after Gryffindor lost. Everyone was gone except for James who was drying his hair with a towel after just getting out of the shower. You knew by now to just find him after a game. He barely spared you a second glance as he threw his stuff into his bag.

“Get on your knees.”

James zipped up his bag and walked with it until he was in front of you. The bag dropped to the ground and his hand shoved your face into his crotch. He was complaining to himself as he started to set a rhythm.

“They’re lucky I was just too tired to catch the snitch, rough night. It’s like they knew and rescheduled it for the morning after.” 

He was pistoning in and out of your mouth, both hands on your head to have you just how he wanted. You felt yourself gag and looked up at him. 

“You can take it. Don’t be a disappointing whore now.”

That was all he said before he kept going. There was a bit of drool coming from the sides of your mouth. James pushed till he was nestled down your throat and your nose was smushed against him. The gagging continued.

“Fucking hold it, Princess.”

He let go after shooting his load straight down your throat. You coughed and sputtered when he pulled out. 

“You’ve done better,” he commented before walking out. 

You watched the locker room door close and just stayed on the ground for a bit. You didn’t like to be near any of them after getting a letter from your father. He’d say so many things about you if he knew. The first thing you would hear was how you weren’t just a whore for letting the four of them touch you everywhere they could think of. Your father could even potentially brush over that if they were all purebloods, saying you were having fun but knew better. He wouldn’t be able to let it go if he knew who. He would say you were filthy for letting Peter or Remus even touch your ass let alone fuck it. You just needed a moment alone to remind yourself why you weren’t gross.  

It was for protection. Lots of people sold a lot more of themselves for a lot less— and usually it involved selling their souls not simply their body. You weren’t hurting anyone. And you weren’t doing it for reckless fun that your father would frown upon. It was a necessity so it was okay. After telling yourself that you were fine, you left the locker room to go clean yourself up better in your room. 

You were almost to the dorm when you were pulled into a closet. You didn’t even have to look to know it was Sirius. They all had their own places outside the bedroom that they liked. For James it was the quidditch locker rooms, Sirius liked broom closets, Peter would grope you under one of the stairs no one used, and Remus would use the prefects’ bathroom if it was empty. You were a bit shocked to see Peter was in the closet with Sirius.

They pulled down your skirt and bent you over to check that you still had your plug in. Of course you did. It was impossible not to know it was there but it was better than trying to take one of them with just lube. You also knew better than to take it out without asking and you weren’t going to lie. You forgot once and just lied, saying that Remus took it out. James had actually gone to confirm with the other Marauder. When the truth came out, at first you thought that you were in the clear because nothing happened. But then the next party in Gryffindor happened. 

“You’re going straight to Moony after this. He wants the room all to himself.” Peter pulled the plug out.

Just like James, they sounded frustrated and tired. Both of them wasted no time fingering you to try and get you wet enough. 

“There we go,” he said when his hand was drenched, rubbing all over his dick.

He pulled out the plug and both of them lined themselves up with you. You bit into Peter’s shoulder to stop from making noise that could be heard outside. You didn’t like when more than one of them went at a time. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience for you. Usually, you tried to think of something else to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Both of them brought you near your breaking point before finishing themselves off. You balanced your hands on Peter’s shoulders as they helped back into your bottoms. They only bothered with a cleaning spell. You’d take a nice shower after Remus. Maybe you could even try a bath again since they wouldn’t do anything to harm you. 

Remus was still knocked out when you got to their room. You frowned. There was a new cut on his face. It ran over the bridge of his nose. From what you could see, it was deep enough that it wasn’t going to fade but scar up like the two small ones on his jaw bone. There was a little jar on his nightstand and a note from Madame Pomfrey. You realized yesterday had been one of those moon nights. That’s why they were all tired and frustrated. 

They never said it outright but considering you’ve been rooming with them since basically the first day of the new school year, you had heard the whispers and seen them leave. Then there were their Animagus forms. And the fact that Remus was obnoxiously taller than everyone else. The signs were obvious when you put them together. You did actually feel bad for Remus. It couldn’t have been easy on him, transforming every full moon. 

You didn’t like seeing anyone in pain. You knew what hurt felt like and wanted to help anyone get rid of it— even if they didn’t necessarily deserve that help. That was how you proved to yourself that you weren’t like your parents, with unusual kindness. That’s what a good witch was. Someone kind. Someone who used magic to bring joy to others. So, you grabbed the jar and rubbed it over Remus’ cut. He clearly passed out before he could do so. 

He shouldn’t have all the cuts. You had met werewolves that sided with your father. Fenrir Greyback didn’t have any scars. Well, he did have a few but those were fights he loved to brag about whenever he spotted you in the Dark Forest. Remus didn’t seem like someone who got into fights. He shouldn’t have been harming himself. You wondered how much control he was in. Turned or born all werewolves were the same on a full moon. He must have fought hard to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone.  

Remus swatted at his face before opening his eyes to see you. You didn’t say anything as you finished rubbing in the cream from the jar. You screwed the lid back on and watched the cut heal up into the scar that you knew it would. It had been too deep and Remus waited too long for it to do anything but scar. He was still quiet, in a bit of a daze at your actions. Your fingers were so soft as they had dabbed the cream on him. He no longer felt the painful cut.  

“Sirius and Peter said you wanted me alone today,” you said. 

Remus unfurled himself from the fetal position he was in and stretched. “More tired than I thought, Princess. Just ride me.” 

He raised a brow when you just sat there. 

“Ride you?” you whispered.   

“Strip and listen to me. Just like everything else we do.” 

Remus took off the sweatpants he was wearing and lazily stroked himself as you stripped off your clothes. He moved your head to suck him off until he was hard. 

“Straddle me. Good, line it up with yourself, now sink down on it.”

You drew in a breath. He felt bigger this way, causing you to stop when he was barely in. You ended up getting halfway before shaking your head. 

“Too big.” 

He chuckled. “It’s suddenly too big for your little pussy? I’ve taken you all sorts of ways before, greedy little thing swallows me right up.”

“Can’t get it in anymore. It won’t fit.”

“We can make it fit.”

Remus grabbed your waist and pushed you down as he bucked his hips up. Your mouth dropped open as you fell forward into his chest. 

“See, it fits.”

You whimpered as his hands lifted your hips and brought them back down. He was literally using you to fuck himself. You could just feel Remus everywhere. He got tired but kept moving you up and down, rolling your hips. Eventually, the loud sigh escaped his mouth and he pushed you up. 

“Get to it.”

You weren’t sure if you liked riding— you felt him everywhere and reached little pleasure for yourself. The moan that left Remus’ mouth as he came was silent for once. You looked at your nails that were splayed across his chest. They were orange with yellow suns on them. 

“Remus… can I cum?”

“No.”

You suppressed the whine in your throat. But you didn’t say anything as he pushed you off of him. You weren’t going to get another punishment for cumming without permission. Especially not if Marlene was going to be the one doing it. She and James were the hardest spankers as far as you were concerned— probably because of the quidditch. 

Remus stretched once again and pulled himself out of bed. It was the middle of the damn day, past that, but he was still tired. He felt bad he missed James’ game but he literally couldn’t do it. He walked into the bathroom and got into the shower, not caring that you were still there. You both bathed in silence. 

You never knew what to do with the Marauders when you were alone and they weren’t having sex with you. They ignored you so you thought it was best to just not say anything. You almost dropped your washcloth from the suddenness of Remus squeezing your breasts. He turned you towards him, just staring as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, pinching and pulling for the fun of it. He pressed on your shoulders until you were eye level with his dick again. Remus’ sex drive for about two days before and a few days after the transformation was obnoxiously high. You tried to breathe as best as you could between the onslaught of water and his pistoning in and out of your mouth. With little grace, he pulled you off of him. 

“Hurry up. I want the shower to myself.” 

You grumbled as you closed the bathroom door. He could have just waited if he wanted the bathroom to himself. Changing into a sweater with a band you didn’t recognize— you assumed it to be some muggleborn’s donated sweater of a muggle band— you sat down on your mattress and went back to your journal. You were analyzing the dark powder mushroom. One of your teachers, when you were in Canada, had nearly blinded someone using the mushroom. 

It wasn’t easy to find but it wasn’t a rare plant as well. It was almost terrifying how much in the world could be used for dark magic. The Ministry didn’t know everything and that was a bit concerning. Finnegan greeted you with a meow and curled up while you were determined to finish the analysis. That was the one good thing about moon nights. No one but Remus really had the drive to touch you more than once. You fell asleep without having to take another shower or brush your teeth again.    

The morning brought a surprise when the Marauders sat on the edge of your mattress. 

“Get up, carriage leaves in two hours. Pack whatever you need,” James said. 

“What?” You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Christmas break, Marauders, Princess and her little cat, Potter house. Pack or bring nothing, I really don’t give a shit.”

“I was going to stay here.”

You never went anywhere for any of the breaks. You wanted to sit by the fire in the Great Hall, just enjoy an empty castle. Peter pulled you up and bent you over James’s bed. You felt your panties yanked down. He spanked you once before spreading you open.  

“We weren’t asking. You can stay but all your stuff is going back in your old room. You get in the fucking way all the time, it’d be nice to have our space back.” 

James laughed. “Make it a quickie, Wormtail, or wait till we get home.”

Peter let you go, panties still around your knees. You pulled them up before quickly packing a bag. You figured that maybe you should try to be grateful. Aside from Hogsmeade and the wand trips to Ollivanders, you hadn’t left Hogwarts since arriving when you were eleven. It would be a chance to leave.

Remus took your bag since you had Finnegan in your arms. You followed them out the castle and to the plain black carriage. The carriage rolled to the train station and into the Floo Network port for vehicles. You heard the driver tell the Floo Work to take them to Rothbury, England.

You stared out of the window the whole time. You always loved the outside. That was why you loved Hogwarts in the summer. You weren’t afraid to go out and enjoy what you loved. 

“Woah,” you said as the carriage pulled in. 

You knew James was the rich friend out of their group, followed by Sirius who had the most prestige though, but you weren’t expecting the Potter Manor that greeted you. It reminded you of your old house. Except you didn’t always stay at your old family estate growing up. And it was really run-down.  

“Mum, Dad! I’ve got losers in tow,” James called into the house. 

“Biggest loser’s you, Prongs,” Peter said as he walked into the kitchen. 

“He’s right.” Sirius followed while Remus just shrugged. 

They walked around the house as if they owned it. You could understand Sirius maybe since he lived there now but it was still weird. You just clutched Finnegan and followed them into the kitchen. They were already getting snacks when Mr. and Mrs. Potter came in. They said their hellos and almost moved on when Mrs. Potter backtracked. You held up a hand and then looked at James. You were positive, or at least hoped, that his parents didn’t know the relationship you had with the four of them. You were going to drop dead on the spot if James uttered any words about it in front of them. 

“This is Y/N,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand.

James showed you around before you both went back to the room that the others were in. The first two days, you pretty much stayed in the bay window in the room and read. The only time you came out was for meals. You also came out for Christmas and then went back. Your present was probably at Hogwarts, if you got one this year. Peter knocked on the open door of the guest room. 

“Remus’ room after dinner.”

“Which is where?”

“Attic.”

You sighed. The three day break was your Christmas present. You tried to prepare yourself as best as you could before stepping onto the final step. The attic was actually nice. Large floor cushions everywhere and it was decorated. You understood why James was a prat. He was spoiled to the high heavens. That you understood, being your parents’ only child. You sat down on an empty cushion before being pulled into Peter’s lap. 

Time wasn’t wasted after the door was locked. Once again, they were clothed and you were naked. Peter spread both your legs open for the other boys to see. You yelped as he delivered a sharp swat right to your clit. They must’ve liked that noise because you received more spanks on your pussy before Peter shoved two fingers in. He just played with you while they talked and planned out pranks. James pulled you away from Peter. 

You all jumped at the owl that aggressively pecked at the window. You wiggled out of James’ lap to get it. The package grew once you took it from the owl. Your Christmas present arrived. Of course, your father could have an owl track you to wherever you were. That was a rule the two of you had. He made himself untraceable to everyone but you and you weren’t untraceable now but in the future you were supposed to be. 

You carried the package back and sat in James’ lap before he could grab you again. The Marauders watched you pull out little gifts. It was your typical Dark Arts Christmas package but this time a bottle of firewhiskey came with it now that you could drink. 

“Is that a teddy bear? You-Know-Who sends fucking teddy bears?” Sirius asked. 

“Don’t touch my bear.” 

You snatched it from Sirius. They all blinked. That was the most aggressive they had seen you behave. If looks could kill, Sirius would actually be dead from even daring to touch your stuffed animal. That was something they couldn’t have. It wasn’t part of the deal and you refused to let them take it. The raven-haired boy laughed and grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you onto his dick. The other boys took the firewhiskey meant for you and started sharing it with each other. Sirius held you down for long periods of time before letting you up and repeating it all over again.  

“Fuckin’ pillow princess likes teddies and shit. Don’t know who you’re trying to trick into thinking you’re soft… Oh, look at that.” He pulled you off of him, grabbing your chin and staring at the drool on your face. You felt uncomfortable, only halfway in the moment and halfway thinking about those seventh years last year that wouldn’t let you go. 

“Hand her over, Pads.” Remus started grinding you over his hard-on. 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

“What?”

“Where did the four of you go the day before winter break? You’re always missing at least once a month… you always have new scars.”

Remus pushed you onto the floor. Pulling you up by your hips and slamming into you, he rested one hand on your head for leverage. “If you already know then you know I don’t want to talk about it.”

Remus was the same roughness the next day as any other night after he transformed into a werewolf. You could feel all the anger as he slammed into you over and over. Remus pulled you up so he could hold you better. He thrusted twice more and then dropped you. Sirius marched straight over to Remus’ bed, stating that he wasn’t fucking on the floor this time. The others agreed and quickly followed. James held the bottle of firewhiskey to your mouth and tilted it back, making you finish the rest aside for enough left for a shot that he took himself. Your head hurt and started to pound from the rush of alcohol.

(part 4)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107

[kawowoa]

housewardens helping you take your braids out pt.2

synopsis : it’s been 3 months since you’ve gotten your braids done. it’s finally the day you’ve been dreading; the day you have to take them out. luckily, your dear boyfriend is (hopefully) there to help! hopefully he’ll make the process more quick and fun!

info : black reader, gn. reader, maybe ooc for vil

characters : vil , idia , malleus , azul

a/n : okay finally here’s part 2!! (read part 1 here if you haven’t yet) sorry this took so long, i accidentally deleted the draft n had to rewrite everything zzzz

> vil schoenheit

vil had everything you needed to take them out, stuff you hadn’t thought about using too! oil? he got it, different types of combs and brushes? check, even a damn spray bottle mixed with leave in conditioner and water

before y’all even start taking the braids out, he drags you to the pomefiore bathrooms to wash your scalp and roots. he’ll go on and on about how you need to wash your braids at least once a month to prevent the gel buildup and how it soothes an itchy scalp!

he’d be the type to section off your braids, maybe four parts. he’ll tell you it’s to make sure you don’t miss a single braid

don’t even think about unraveling a single braid without some oil on your fingers, at least not around vil. he’ll smack your hand away and dump the oil bottle in your hands

never again will you take your braids out alone. god, vil makes everything more enjoyable. he’ll massage your back and hands whenever they start to hurt, if you get hungry he has snacks (never the good kinds but it’ll do)

when it comes to knots, vil would be so gentle. he’ll spray the hair before using a detangling brush. if he tugs too hard by accident, he’ll mutter an apology before continuing

just like leona, when they’re a few braids left, he’ll start to braid down your natural hair. but my god his braids hurts, he might as well braid your thoughts while he’s at it. if you complain their food tight, he’ll just say beauty is pain

> idia shroud

when you asked for his help, he was unsure if he wanted too. a new event boss was coming out that night! he needed to prepare but boyfriend duties come first

being a total shut in, he was very uneducated on taking out braids. occasionally he’d seen the videos you posted on your magicam story involving this stuff, but 9 times out of 10 he didn’t pay that much attention to it

nonetheless, you still explained the process to him without him needed to ask. how hard could this be anyway, to him, it was like beating a level 1 boss at player level 80. or so he thought

he was so scared to touch your hair. you could tell him a million times it’s okay and he’ll still hesitate, so much for that confidence he had

eventually he was comfortable enough to help you, not without something to calm his nerves though. playing his favorite movie helped a lot!

idia’s hands are fast. once he gets into a rhythm, the normal time it takes you to finish gets cut town by an hour or three. maybe it’s from all that typing and gaming he does, who knows

being such a considerate boyfriend, he brushes your hair for you. he’ll put your hair in a low ponytail (a style he sees a lot on your magicam story too) with his blue ponytail holder. he’ll even put his in a low ponytail too so y’all can match

> malleus draconia

anything you need help with, malleus is there so of course he’ll help you take your braids out

although, he did suggest using magic to have the braids gone in an instant but you shut that idea down. no magic is ever getting near your hair

he may never did this before, but he’s old and smart so he understands what to do without you explaining anything. the one thing he didn’t understand what cutting the braid, isn’t that worst than magic? he was still a teeny bit confused when you told him it’s not real hair but whatever, he just doesn’t use the scissors

he’ll tell you he read about some of the cultural background of braids (hours after you asked him, the two of you set up a time for him to come and help) , telling you about the new information he learned. he’ll ask you if the information is correct, if it is, he’ll memorize it, if not, he’ll ask you to correct him

honestly, expect him to take longer to undo one braid. he’s being slow on purpose, the longer he takes; the longer he gets to spend time with you

if it takes up the whole night because of him, oh well, he doesn’t care and neither do you

when you eventually finish, he’ll massage your scalp, brush your hair, even play in it. maybe he laced the brush or his hands with a sleeping spell (if that’s even possible) cause goddamn you were one second away from falling asleep

> azul ashengrotto

did you really expect him to agree without him getting anything in return? just ‘cause your his lover doesn’t mean your exempt from his shady business dealer things

the two of you had to start once the lounge closed, which wasn’t too late but knowing how much hair you have plus the amount of braids (depending on what size you prefer) you knew it was going to take a while

knowing azul, he’d take this opportunity to propose a business deal; a new salon within nrc, with you as a co-founder. you thought it was a strange idea but you still agreed, just to humor him

the two of you would converse a lot, talking about anything and everything. hours would go by and you wouldn’t even realize you’re half way finished

any knots he comes across, he’ll have you tend to it. he doesn’t want to mess up or cause you any pain

azul would also be fast at unbraiding. if you’re talking too long on one braid, he’ll take over and ask you to just start on another one

he’ll definitely complain about the mess when the two of you are finished. he’ll be super dramatic about how there’s hair everywhere when there really isn’t, just a pile of hair sitting on the desk

once you both finish cleaning, he’ll remind you of payment. what is it? oh, you have to stay over for the night

[oumaheroes]

Odd Socks

For the lovely @senditothemoonn <3

Summary: The night before their wedding, Francis works himself up into a bit of a panic

Characters: Scotland, France, England/ ScotFra

-----

‘Fucking finally,’ Arthur pushed his way inside as soon as Francis opened the door, kicking off his shoes to dump a bulging carrier bag on the living room coffee table, ‘Don’t answer the door quickly or anything, people might mistakenly think I want to stay warm in October.’

‘It’s not that cold, stop whining.’

‘You stand outside then and wait for your slow arse to open the door.’

‘I was having a shower.’

‘You knew I was coming.’ Arthur mimicked Francis’ intonation and shucked off his wet coat to fall on the carpet, turning away from him to begin unpacking the bags, ‘Go dry your hair then before you get all pissy.’

Francis tutted, snatching up his coat to hang it properly, ‘I’m letting it dry naturally. Hairdryers give a different type of volume than I’m going for tomorrow.’

Arthur rolled his eyes and didn’t respond. Francis settled to watch him in his favourite armchair, a wide ugly looking floral thing that Alasdair had insisted they keep from his old flat when they first moved in together in their little cottage. It was old, didn’t match any of the rest of their furniture which infuriated Francis to no end, and was, at the same time, his favourite spot to sit. It was Alasdair’s favourite too, and he could never know that Francis actually liked it after all of his moaning, so he only ever sat in it when Alasdair was away.

Like he was tonight. He’d gone off with Patrick and Mathias for one final mini stag do in town, a week after the real one which had left Arthur well acquainted with their back garden’s hydrangea bush and Patrick, another of their brothers, taking the wrong train home and ending up in Birmingham.

It was a good night, so Francis had been told. Arthur still couldn’t put weight on his left foot properly.

‘Here,’ Arthur gently waggled one of the cans at Francis, ‘Get started.’

‘I’m not starting with this, am I?’

‘Of course you are.’

‘It’s cider.’

‘Exactly,’ Arthur chose a can for himself and flopped messily onto the nice three seater, legs and arms splayed. Francis tried not to glare at him, ‘Nice and weak. There’s no point getting anything stronger, you don’t want to be hungover for the wedding tomorrow.’

‘What a terrible best man you are.’

‘A responsible best man.’

‘And so unlike your usual self.’

‘Ha ha. Bellend. Is this the thanks I get for introducing you two?’

‘You can’t keep lording that over me.’

‘I can and I will.’

‘I might have met him eventually.’

‘Might have. Might not.’

Francis tapped his nails on the cool metal of the can, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t.’

‘You definitely shouldn’t.’

‘Get married, I mean.’

Arthur choked, halfway through a mouthful of similarly mild cider. ‘What?’ he sat up, tears in his eyes and coughed again, ‘What did you say?’

Francis shrugged, ‘Well, it would be a waste, wouldn’t it?’ He gave a weak smile and gestured to himself, waggling his eyebrows, ‘To take this off the market.’

Arthur gave a high crack of relieved laughter, ‘Oh yes, the poor lads and lasses you’ve not yet sampled. Bless their little cottons.’

‘And in general being tied to one person isn’t good, is it? Not healthy or natural when you think about it.’

‘No no.’ Arthur grinned, big smile all teeth, and took another drink, ‘We’re carnal animals. What you’re doing is wrong, restricting yourself like this to just Al.’

‘It is!’

‘Terribly so!’

‘Besides, it’s not really my thing, is it? Being tied to someone, legally?’ Francis shuddered, ‘How horrible.’

‘I don’t know how you’re going to surrender your bigamist dreams. They certainly are lofty.’

‘Hmm,’ Francis smiled and looked away- to Arthur’s socks, in particular, the slightly different hue of them. Alasdair did that sometimes, grabbed at a pair in the drawer without noticing or caring that they weren’t the same. Who taught them that? Who let them get away with it for so long? Was that to be Francis’ life, reminding his... husband that his socks did not match, seeing this little detail always?

Was that all marriage was, at the end of the day: a slow decline into only annoyances as the gloss of love began to fade. Hard truths worn visible as love’s softness disappeared, leaving nothing but snoring and odd socks and unwashed dishes. Francis couldn’t imagine hating Alasdair, he didn’t think it was possible. He was scared that time would prove him wrong.

He looked up and found Arthur watching him, a slight furrow between his brows.

‘Are you alright?’

Francis took another sip of cider. The fizz almost felt like it was burning on the way down, thousands of small blunt needles on his tongue, ‘Of course,’ he said. Then, ‘No.’

Arthur put his drink on the coffee table, ‘What’s wrong.’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Francis stalled, tongue clumsy all of a sudden, a hundred truths bunching up and clumping together so that they couldn’t be untangled, ‘It’s- I don’t know.’

‘What is it?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it; it’s nothing.’

‘Bollocks. Otherwise you wouldn’t have brought it up.’

‘I didn’t bring anything up.’

‘Yes you did.’

‘I was joking.’

‘Cut the crap, Francis.’ Arthur scowled at him and Francis noticed, only then, the lines around his eyes, on his forehead. Age flashed onto him like a change in lighting, as if Francis were seeing Arthur as a stranger rather than one of his oldest friends. They were adults now, lives settling and falling straight, falling solid, and Francis felt slightly sick at the thought.

‘The wedding,’ he started, fingernails back to their dance on the cider can, ‘It feels... real.’

Arthur watched him silently.

‘Just now, tonight-‘ Francis waved a hand, ‘You know. It’s like the last of something. Of me, perhaps. My life. Of everything until now. My old existence for a new one.’

‘You’re not going to change, Francis.’

‘Perhaps, perhaps not. But my life will.’

Arthur scoffed, ‘Hardly. All that’s going to change is that you go from living in sin to not.’

‘This is not funny, Arthur,’ Francis heard hurt sharpen his words but couldn’t hide it in time. He wanted to say something else, to divert the conversation away from what was causing the twisting sensation in his stomach but he couldn’t think of anything other than a forced flippant laugh, ‘Besides, how would you-‘

‘I didn’t say it was a joke,’ Arthur put down his drink, considering Francis a moment before reaching out and taking his hand. Francis let him keep it, allowing Arthur wind their fingers together, ‘But you’re working yourself up about nothing.’

Francis swallowed, throat dry. The urge to steer this conversation away to lighter waters was strong but he stopped himself. Odd socks, rough fingers. Alasdair’s hair left on the sink, his eyes wide and body warm there next to him in the dark, ‘What if I’m not.’

‘You are.’

‘What if this is a gut feeling? A sign that this wedding, our marriage...’

The clock ticked in the kitchen. Outside a car went past, wheel friction on asphalt. Life moved on quietly. Francis wondered where Alasdair had ended up, what hotel his brothers and Mathias had booked for him and what plans they had. His face, heartbroken, in the morning- kilt unworn and alone on a hanger. Would he keep it? Would he give it away? Francis couldn’t think about it, the mere thought was too raw and it hadn’t even happened yet.

He felt the power to hurt someone so deeply, right within him. In his fingertips to text, his mouth to say the words that would damn him. A life and future broken as easily as that. Love gave too much power to the clumsy.

Arthur squeezing his hand pulled Francis back to himself. Arthur had shuffled closer to him onto the edge of the sofa, odd socks and half busted ankles crossed by Francis’ own.

‘Francis...’

‘We’re not old enough yet to make a decision like this, either of us. There’s so much to see and do-‘

‘That you can do together. As I’m sure you’ll want to.’ Arthur smiled, voice calm, and Francis turned away, unable to keep looking at him. Arthur shouldn't be this serious or mature; that wasn’t them. That wasn’t how they worked. Arthur not adhering to their old routine was jarring enough to shame him.

‘Do you love him?’ Arthur asked softly.

Francis looked back, ‘Yes.’

No hesitation. There never was.

Arthur smiled and the grip on Francis’ hand loosened, ‘Good. Then that’s all that matters.’

‘But what if one day I don’t,’ Francis whispered, the real truth of it all emerging before he could stop it, ‘What if we go wrong? What if...’

He swallowed, unsticking one last thing he hadn’t yet dared to voice even to himself, ‘What if one day, he regrets it?’

Maybe the only thing worse than Francis not loving Alasdair, was Alasdair not loving him.

A beat of silence.

‘I’ve never seen that idiot love anyone or anything as much as he loves you.’ Arthur voice was firm and measured, ‘From the first night dressed as bread for Christ’s sake he’s been a doomed man.’

‘Gingerbread,’ Francis corrected quietly, ‘He was dressed up as a gingerbread man.’

Wordlessly, Arthur took the can from Francis’ hand and pulled him close, winding his arms over his shoulder and around his waist. Francis could count on one hand the number of times they’d done this in the last decade, they’d never been the soft, intimate kind, but he squeezed Arthur back and tucked his chin over his shoulder.

‘No matter what happens, you’ll do it together’ Arthur hugged him tighter, ‘And if he lets you go then he’s a fucking fool. You’re no regret, Francis.’

Francis felt his eyes burn and bit the inside of his cheek, focusing on the pain to steady himself.

This wasn’t the most comfortable of positions. Francis was bent at a funny angle, his weight mostly on one side, and he felt dangerously close to toppling off the armchair. But he felt, in that moment, that there was no better place for him to be.

‘Your neck is hot,’ Francis said thickly, once he felt more in control of himself.

Arthur tutted and Francis felt him wipe his eyes, ‘Shut up.’

‘You’re such an embarrassment.’

‘At least I don’t smell like cheese.’

Francis snorted and pulled away, giving Arthur a swift kiss on the cheek, ‘Throw that horrible cider away, pépite, we’re having wine.’

The thank you went unsaid. It wasn’t needed.

---

‘I think today went well.’

‘Do you now.’

‘I do.’

Alasdair stepped back and turned them, the jewelled material of Francis’ gown glittering in the thousands of fairy lights strung up around the hall. The main overhead lights were off, the dance floor was dim, and all Alasdair cared to see was in his arms.

‘Nice food, great service. And no one died, which is a bonus.’

‘And you were there, I suppose.’

Alasdair laughed and turned them again, quicker now to kick up the hem of Francis’ gown into a dazzle of expensive stars, ‘Aye, I was there.’

‘I’m glad you were,’ Francis gave a wry smile and titled his head, ‘I was promised a husband, after all.’

‘Well, I’m happy to deliver.’

Francis smiled wider and Alasdair felt his heart skip in his chest, ‘You don’t scrub up too badly.’

Alasdair pressed a hand to his chest mock wounded, ‘My love, you sound surprised.’

‘Arthur attempted to convince me that you’d planned to wear jogging bottoms.’

‘Oh that’ll be Patrick’s idea, they had a dare on.’

‘Ah. It almost worked.’

‘I’m offended. But also not surprised.’

Another turn. Around the edges of his vision Alasdair could see the gathering of their family and friends watching them from the side of the dance floor: huddled with phones and teary eyes or wide smiles. Alasdair tried not to think about all of the attention on him and turned them again to the music, soft and slow.

‘You look beautiful.’

Francis smiled and lowered his eyes to somewhere around Alasdair’s chest, ‘You’ve said.’

Alasdair dipped his head and whispered into his ear, ‘Aye, but I haven’t quite got over it yet.’

This wasn’t exactly right but Alasdair would never be able to describe Francis properly, or even accurately. ‘Beautiful’ didn’t quite cover him, it was a heavy blanket word that missed every delicate nuance that Alasdair loved. His hair had been done up, curled somewhere at the back of his smooth neck with tendrils escaping at the front, and the white off the shoulder dress he wore hugged him perfectly. He looked like a painting, elegant pearls at his ears and hair and a dusting of gems nestled into the white silk satin of his dress.

But it was Francis himself that Alasdair most loved- the deep blush across his cheeks, the slightly messy look to him from a long day of activity. Francis on the brink of coming undone from happiness and life, an uncut jewel ready for Alasdair and Alasdair alone to see.

Francis tightened his hold on Alasdair’s arms, ‘Like I said, you’re not so bad yourself.’

A muted crash and a cackle came from somewhere in the crowds and they both looked over to find Arthur, half staggered into a chair and scowling, and Patrick bent double with laughter nearby. Their mother turned and made her way over to them and Alasdair hissed in sympathy.

Francis gave a soft laugh, ‘Arthur’s been good, recently.’

‘You two had a nice time last night then? He tried to hide being hungover this morning when I ran into him- said you made him drink wine all night.’

Alasdair sensed more than saw Francis withdraw slightly. He kissed him on the forehead to bring him back, ‘What is it?’

‘We talked a lot.’ Francis gave a slightly sheepish smile, ‘I had a little bit of a panic.’

‘That’s understandable.’

‘It is?’

‘Of course.’ Alasdair brushed a lock of hair back behind Francis’ ear and left his hand there a moment, cupping his cheek, ‘It’s a big thing, this getting married lark. I had a little panic too.’

Francis looked relieved, ‘You did?’

‘Course. Panicked that I was gonna fuck it up. Panicked that I’d tricked you into this, like I’d somehow convinced you of something I’m not. Panicked that I wasn’t going to live up to what you deserve. I think Patrick had to hit me at some point.’

Francis’ eyes watered but he laughed, ‘You’re an idiot. None of that is true.’

‘Oh, I know. But I still worried about it.’

‘But never about me?’

‘Never about you.’

Francis kissed him. Alasdair held him tighter around the waist, overcome for a moment by everything. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy before, ever feeling this content; he didn’t know that he ever could. He hadn’t thought that happiness could go so far until he’d met Francis and was still bewildered that this man, this wonderful, intelligent, beautiful person, had agreed to be with him for the rest of his life.

Alasdair hoped that that would never fully sink in, that he could keep this feeling bottled up somewhere to remind him of how lucky he was whenever he needed it. They had a whole life together ahead of them, filled with dogs and kids and holidays by the sea. A loft full of memories, walls full of photos- Alasdair simultaneously couldn’t wait for it, and also wanted time to stop so he could savour every part.

‘I never worried about you either,’ Francis said when they broke apart. He touched Alasdair’s chest and ran his fingers over the solid silver broach pinned to his kilt, ‘Only about me.’

‘Stupid worries, then.’

‘Always. And like I said, Arthur was good last night. For once.’

Alasdair made a note to secretly thank his brother later. Potentially, he wouldn’t push him into a hedge the next time an opportunity presented itself.

The song began to wind down to its end and Alasdair held out his arm to spin Francis around properly, a quick twist for everyone to see before he pulled him back close.

‘I hope you’re ready for me to carry you over the threshold tomorrow.’

‘I’ll make a note to pause the hangover for when you throw me onto the sofa.’ Francis said with mock seriousness. He looked down at Alasdair’s and raised an eyebrow, ‘You’ve got odd socks on.’

‘Do I?’ Indeed, he did. Alasdair groaned, ‘Shite, I’m sorry. That’ll ruin some of the photos, won’t it?’

Francis grinned wider, ‘No, they’ll be perfect.’

[firstkanaphans]

Can I ask what happened with the Earth/Stud subplot of Friendzone? I haven't seen it.

Apologies if this is a little rude, I won't mind if you don't answer. :)

This isn’t rude at all, Anon! I’d be happy to tell you. But let me start this off by saying that I do not like Friendzone. At all. In fact, my biggest worry going into Only Friends was that it was going to be like Friendzone. Every single character in Friendzone is the worst person you’ve ever met in your life and yet it’s written as if you’re supposed to root for them. Luckily, it seems that P’Jojo has pivoted a bit in Only Friends because even super toxic characters like Boston are still likable. You understand their motivations even if they suck. Friendzone is just a mess.

But onto Earth and Stud.

Full disclaimer: It has been a while since I watched Friendzone and I have no plans to watch it again, so this is just my recollection of what happened. It’s also a wild ride, so strap in.

So Earth (played by Singto Prachaya) and Stud (played by Plustor Pronpiphat) have been friends since college. Stud is a, well, stud. He sleeps with any boy that will have him (mostly AJ Chayapol who I’m pretty sure was only 17 at the time). Earth is in a long-term committed relationship with a much older doctor named Sam (played by Nat Sakdatorn, the ultimate zaddy).

One day, Stud decides it would be super fun to sleep with Earth’s boyfriend Sam. In my recollection of this, Sam put up no fight whatsoever. Stud flirted with him like twice and Sam was just like, “Earth who?” Earth, meanwhile, is just a precious little cinnamon roll who has never done anything wrong in his life: great friend, great boyfriend, plant dad. Does not deserve this shit.

I think Stud and Sam only sleep together once? Maybe? But eventually Earth finds out and is super mad at Stud and not nearly mad enough at Sam, but whatever. It was 2018. Back then it was still okay to blame the mistress.

Anyway, as all of this is happening, Stud starts to realize that he hadn’t slept with Sam because he wanted Sam. He had slept with him because he wanted Earth and was only trying to break them up.

Season 1 ends with Earth still dating Sam (🤮) and I want to pull my hair out at how stupid everyone is being.

But it’s not over yet because there’s (unfortunately) a season 2.

In season 2, Earth struggles with still not trusting Sam since he is, you know, a dirty fucking cheater, but luckily him and Stud are able mend their broken relationship. I think the impetus for this is Stud’s mother dying? Maybe? It’s actually very sweet. The power of friendship and all that.

They start hanging out more and somewhere along the way, Earth decides that a great way to get back at Sam for sleeping with Stud is by sleeping with Stud himself. So that’s what he does. Stud is, at this point, madly in love with him and Earth is well-aware of those feelings, but does not feel the same. It’s deliciously angsty. My favorite scene in the whole series. You can watch it here around the 3:15 mark. (It’s fade-to-black because this was 2018 and we all know that gay sex wasn’t invented in Thailand until Tharntype in 2019.)

Sam finds out—I’m pretty sure Earth just straight up tells him in an act of pettiness I can only aspire to—and rather than ending what has at this point become a very toxic relationship, he suggests an open relationship instead so that Earth can sow his wild oats or whatever. And then the series somehow still ends with Earth and Sam together. Jesus effing Christ, I can’t.

Now that I’ve typed all of this out, I’m realizing it’s basically Only Friends if the reason Boston hooked up with Top was because he was secretly in love with Mew and now I want that so freakin’ badly. Mew is the beer-flavored nipples girl in this show and it’s what he deserves.

I think that’s all? I know it probably sounds super intriguing when laid out in a concise list like this but I cannot stress enough that you should not watch this show. It’s not good. And it’s so freakin’ long. Each season is like 16 episodes and most of it is just a het dumpster fire of trash. I spend every day praying Only Friends stays on the path it’s currently on and doesn’t veer into Friendzone territory. But even if it does, at least it’s gay.

[skyward-floored]

I….I couldn’t decide so I’m giving you 3 options and you can either do all 3 or just chose 1 for a snippet or any random facts you want to tell me! My brain will love anything you throw at me! I love all 3 of these so much! No pressure also! 💜

Incredibles au

Royal castle town wedding

Courage of ages

I will gladly talk about all three, you underestimate my ability to blab about my projects hehe

Incredibles au

INCREDIBLES AU WOOO Been working on the main fic on and off, was feeling kinda discouraged, and then I actually reread all of what I’ve got and was like “okay this actually isn’t so bad”.

I’d love to start publishing it, but the literal first chapter is so full of action scenes that I can’t write it very fast 😓 Plus there’s some (kinda important!) plot things I’m still trying to make work, and haven’t figured out yet. So eventually! Just not yet. Here’s a bit of it though!

“Hey Warriors!” Wild called from the table, then spat an entire mouthful of water at him from across the room before Malon could tell him not to.

Warriors lunged forward and shot some ice from his hands, freezing the water and catching it before it could hit the ground. He held it out to Wild with a grin, and he took it with a slightly disappointed expression.

“Aw... I like it when it shatters.”

Time grabbed his coat from the hanger as Warriors made the rounds and asked how everyone was doing, before ruffling Legend’s hair and making him squawk.

“How you doing Ledge? See you’re still crazy about carrots,” he teased with a look at his plate.

“And I see you’re still insufferable as ever, uncle freezer burn,” Legend snapped back, whacking his hand off his head.

“Aw, I love you too.”

Royal Castletown Wedding

I’m going to put the other two under a cut so I don’t take up everyone’s dashboards 😅

Castletown wedding! It’s only got another chapter or two left, then it’ll be finished! I’ve got a few deleted scenes from it too I’m hoping to maybe post once it’s finished. I honestly just need to sit down and finish the silly thing, but lately other things have been taking my attention heh.

Here’s a section of it :)

“Poor Cia...” Artemis murmured, pity in her eyes. “She’d never truly returned after all. She was merely a shadow, a tool like everything else...”

“Well shadow or not, she sure made a mess of things” Legend grumbled. “Good riddance.”

The others nodded, though Warriors seemed oddly subdued still, his eyes glazed like he was looking at something only he could see. Then he shuddered, and shook his head, snapping out of whatever daze he’d been in. He noticed Wind was looking at him, and gave him a faint smile, but Wind turned away.

Courage of Ages

Coa my beloved 💖💖💖 My own Links meet au thing, I’ve got so many random scenes and interactions (and aus heh) with these guys written down that may or may not actually end up in the alleged main fic. I always welcome questions about them! :D

But here’s a bit that’ll probably end up in the main fic at some point, or might just be a scene I’ll post by itself. We’ll have to wait and see :)

“Who all do you have back home Cloud?” Gloam asked once Windy had finally quit pestering him.

“You got anyone like that?” Light asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Their resident cloudy hero blushed, and scratched the back of his neck. “Well. Yes. I mean...”

He held up his left hand, tugging off the glove atop it and revealing a wedding band around his finger.

“...I do have someone waiting for me back home.”

Gloam clapped him on the shoulder as a few ooohs went up from the others. “Well wouldn’t you know it, one of us is hitched! You’ve been holding out on us! What’s her name? You been together long?”

Cloud’s face turned wistful, and he sighed. “Zelda. And it hasn’t even been a week. I was on my honeymoon.”

Several glances were exchanged at the name, but Windy merely looked dismayed.

“Oh no, that’s terrible Cloud, this must be awful for you!” the sailor exclaimed, and the chosen hero smiled a bit despite the sad look in his eyes.

“Yes. But at least I know she’s safe.” His expression turned dismal. “She likely has no clue what happened to me.”

[thekinkyleopard]

NEW GUY

Pt. 1

A Remi x Levi Non-Canon mini series

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Limes, Voyeurism, & Cheating

Author’s Notes: Hey guys! I have decided to make a slight mini series? Maybe two or three parts? 👉🏻👈🏻 Or however much me and Geezy like it, might depend how long I make it. 😅 Enjoy! @aller-geez owns Remi and did the preview art!

Description: Levi, his boyfriend and sister all live together and are finding they could use another roommate to help pay the bills. They accept a strange guy, Remi, who’s new in town, and Levi finds himself struggling to remain faithful.

“Look babe, if we get another roommate in here, we’ll be able to have some extra spending money since your OF isn’t taking off yet,” the grey haired 32 year old man sighed deeply pinching the bridge of his nose. The other male, whom he was talking to, much smaller in stature, looked downward nervously at his hands.

“But I hate strangers..” muttering gently, still avoiding eye contact with the more agitated one.

“I get that, but you’re just going to have to trust me and Connie because she and I both think things would be easier if we got a new roommate; so I have someone coming by today, to take a look at the room, if he likes it, we’re in,” Alistar said crouching to face level with his boyfriend sitting on the couch, an index finger coming to pull the other’s face up by his chin, forcing eye contact. “Trust me baby, and you never know! We could all become really close to them,” flashing a half grin, Levi couldn’t help but break into a small smile, out of habit to please the other. He’d felt himself feeling farther and farther away from his boyfriend as of late. He was always more concerned about his thoughts, his opinions, his boundaries, his feelings than he ever was about any of those things related to Levi. So, he smiled, because if he didn’t, it would commence a three hour long argument about how he wasn’t supportive enough, or excited enough.

“Okay Al, I’ll trust you,” trying to put on his best confident smile and face, which seemed to suffice as Alistar moved in and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss.

“Thank you, puss,” grinning brightly before being slapped on the side of his arm.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” he frowned at the man, serious now.

“Awe but it’s so cute, you’re my little pussy cat,” teasing now as he flicked the tip of the white haired male’s nose with his index. Levi wiggled his nose and crossed his arms across his chest. Ready to start the very argument he was trying to avoid, he was cut off. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, Levi’s head snapped over to it, grabbing the sofa blanket and wrapping it around his body so only his face was visible. “Don’t be shy…I’m sure he’s really nice,” Alistar stated walking across the living room to get to the front door of the house.

It was a 3 bedroom, and it started out that they all had their own room when they moved in together. Eventually Levi moved into the master bed with Al when they started dating. The third room became storage but they’ve cleared it out and put a bed and dresser in it for guests, now turned into a perk for a possible roommate. Opening the door with little to no caution, Alistar was greeted by a man, that was almost the same height, but taller by an inch, though unimportant, it was very clear to Al. Infact something about this man made him feel very insecure. “Hey, is this the house renting out the room?” He asked with a low, almost uninterested tone. Alistar nodded at the black haired man, Ruby orbs connecting with worn emerald ones.

“Yup, that’s here, you Remi?” He asked hand on his hip before swinging the door open enough to let the green eyed stranger in.

“I am indeed,” his voice cold, reserved. He wasn’t very social from the looks of it. Levi eyed him from the couch, before long, Remi and Al stood in the midst of the living room.

“This is the living space, that’s my boyfriend, Levi,” their eyes connected and while Alistar yaddled on about logistics of the living space, Levi and Remi froze in time and space and just stared deeply into each other’s souls, neither saying a word. Alistar’s words nothing more than fuzzy background noise. Remi, eventually broke eye contact and turned his gaze into Al’s direction.

“And my room would be?” Uninterested in knowing any details about the living space as he never planned to be in it, although was slightly more interested in the small male he made eye contact with, he seemed…intriguing. ‘What was his name again?’ The raven haired male asked himself.

“Oh, yeah, let me show you, you probably won’t be out here much anyway, you said you …?” Turning to look at Levi while answering Alistar’s question, looking more quizzical than serious as he spoke clearly.

“Traveling salesman. I travel for work a lot, so I really just need a place to sleep,” he lied with ease, Levi could sense it, lifting a thin brow at the other to indicate that he was onto him. “Rad, yeah so follow me to your room since that’ll be the star of the show,” Al replied walking towards the hall, Remi turned on his heels and went to follow but not before shooting a quick wink at the suspicious one. Levi sunk into the couch…what was that? His stomach turned and flipped, heart palpitating through his chest. Was it because he knew the stranger was blantanly lying and trying to move into their house? Or was it possibly because …let’s be honest the man was hotter than hell. Taller than Alistar, long black hair, muscular frame…some would say he was rather simple compared to Alistar who was very decorated, edgy. However, there was something incredibly masculine about Remi that was drawing him in. Shaking his head he rolled his cerulean blues, looking at his phone now and texting his sister, even though she was just across the house in her own room, there was no point to face her. She only spoke through text anyway, as she was mute.

‘Connie! The guy is here to look at the room 🫣’

‘Oh yeah? Does he seem nice 🫣?’

‘No 🫣’

‘Oh 🫣’

‘Yeah 🫣 but like…not mean? Just not …social’

‘Okay well that’s not unredeemable! 😅’ oh Connie, always the positive one, believing the best in people while Levi tended to be just a bit more cautious. Which was ironic, because she’d been hatecrimed so often being a trans woman. You’d think she would have some sort of reserve when it comes to strangers. Levi admired that about his little sister.

‘We’ll see 🫣’ Levi sent back before tossing his phone to the side, he stood up shedding the blanket from around him letting it flop lazily back onto the couch. Today he was in a pair of light blue with white trim baseball short shorts, and a white tank top. He walked slowly over through the hallway, hearing the mumbling and muttering of the two men talking in the spare, he squeezed past into his and Al’s room. Once inside the safe confine of his own space, he looked around deciding that maybe he’d take his anxiety out on some looming. He still had a blanket he meant to finish for Connie, it was trans flag colored and had been taking him weeks because he’d never loomed anything so big. He dragged his supplies out from under the bed and sat on the floor digging through it to find everything he needed. Backed up against the side of his bed while sitting on the floor still, he started looping and wrapping through the plastic shaper. He hummed softly to himself getting lost in his craft for quite a while before the door of his bedroom slowly creeped open. “Hey babe, Remi likes the room so he’s going to start moving his stuff in, he already gave me the deposit and first month so…you want me to order something nice for dinner before I have my zoom meeting?” Asking kindly as he stood from the open doorway still. Levi looked up now coming back to the reality of where he was and who was talking to him, he smiled softly.

“Sure! Pizza? Get buffalo wings for Connie?” He asked sweetly and in return his boyfriend nodded smiling back.

“You got it, Puss,” walking away so he didn’t have to face the inevitable frown he would get from the leopard he loved so much.

“Prick…” Levi muttered under his breath. He truly hated the nickname, it made him think of all the times the boys would call him a pussy in school, so it wasn’t cute, it would never be cute and he’d explained it to Alistar dozens of times, but the man has an ego the size of the moon. He can never be in the wrong. Whatever. He continued to loom quietly before he heard another knock, softer now. “Hello?” Levi called out thinking maybe it was his sister…though usually she would just text him.

“Hey…I’m sorry I hate to bother, do you have a clean towel? All mine smell like shit…” Remi stood at the doorway looking rather embarrassed to even have to associate himself with the people he now lives with.

“Are you moved in already?” Levi asked quite surprised the man was already asking for a towel and not moving in and unpacking his many boxes that normal roommates came with. Sighing with slight irritation about the interrogation he muttered his response.

“I don’t have a lot of shit…about two bags…so yeah I’m moved in already…can I please get a towel? I’ll give it back when I’m done…” Avoiding eye contact with the leopard now who started to set all his things aside.

“Come in,” he invited the stranger through as he walked over to a large closet across from the door Remi just entered. “I have some extra towels in here I was going to donate anyway, I bought some new sets,” he said gathering 4 slightly used folded white towels. Besides some light color damage, they were good towels. Remi stepped closer to the man in order to take the items in his hands as to not burden Levi with having to carry them any longer. Their arms touched, hands brushed against each other as they exchanged the towels from one to the other, their eyes connecting at the same time, again, they found themselves frozen. It was like being seen for the first time, without the other person having any clue or idea who they were. Levi wasn’t sure that made any sense, but there was something about looking into those bright green emerald eyes that had him stuck.

“I uh…yeah, so you can have these,” The white haired male blushed brightly as he stammered through his sentence.

“Thanks…Im Remington by the way…you can call me Remi,” instinctively telling the other his name hoping it would give him the same treatment. He needed to know who this small but breathtaking man was, he hadn’t been paying attention earlier when Al introduced them. However, he once again found, he didn’t want to look away from him. Remi found himself completely and totally lost in an ocean of blue eyes and the freckles dusted across the smaller’s face.

“Levi…Lee if you’d prefer,” his voice almost a whisper, lucky for Remi to get a fresh introduction. Just as entranced as the wolf was, Levi found himself incapable of breaking through this feeling. Despite everything in them screaming at the idea, they broke free from each other’s long gazes and Remi stepped back, towels in his hands.

“Thanks, Levi,” smiling from the side of his mouth once, before turning and leaving the leopard alone in his room again. He felt flustered, hot, his body ached. What was this? He was in a committed relationship, he shouldn’t be feeling like a school girl having a silly little crush on his new roommate! Get it together, Levi. He shook his head and walked himself out to the living room where his boyfriend was setting up his laptop. He knew it wasn’t the best look doing what he was about to, because the context was simply the fact another man’s presence was turning him on. He swiftly walked his way to Alistar, grabbing and kissing at the man who was struggling to get his settings right on his laptop. “Babe not now,” he swerved his body trying to avoid the oncoming assault of affections.

“Come ooon let me suck you off while you’re on zoom, no one has to know,” he nibbled and purred into the side of his boyfriend’s ear. Said boyfriend only seemed to get more agitated as Levi pressed on.

“No, we have two people who could walk in and I don’t need the distraction,” arguing with simple logic that he could get Levi to level with.

“Homeboy is in the shower, Connie never leaves her room unless for work, and I promise it’ll be fun~” he wasn’t letting this go, he needed something, it was torturing him. He couldn’t take it.

“Babe please, stop, I need like two hours by myself out here can you just let me have that?” Turning to look at the leopard with bored dull eyes, Levi finally took the hint.

“Fine, I’ll be in our room….” The younger pouted. Al smirked and shook his head, returning back to his screen the second Levi bounced himself up off the couch.

It was like this a lot lately…him trying to initiate some form of intimacy, and ultimately getting shot down unless they were plastered drunk. He trudged his way down the hall pausing to notice the bathroom door was slightly cracked, hearing the clear sound of running water. It couldn’t hurt right? He thought selfishly as he peaked slightly inward. It was Remi all right, in all his naked and wet glory, muscles glistening under the wet and bright lighting. Levi’s face turned dark red, his body flushed and hot as his eyes drifted from his face…down his chest…and…no, he looked away. Quickly he made his way back to the room he shared with his boyfriend, forgetting to shut the door, angled half way open still. Levi buried his face into the pillow, laying on his stomach. He let out a muffled, gentle moan as he replayed the scene over and over in his head. Steamy, hot, man. Possibly from being so romantically and intimately deprived, Levi’s libido was acting out, and that’s fine. It can’t hurt to have a naughty little fantasy, right? It’s just in his head.

From the position he was in, Levi snaked his hand in between the mattress and his body, rubbing his groin lazily against the palm of his hand through the shorts he wore. “Haa ~” he breathed heavily as he continued to rut lazily against himself, his tortured member coming to life with these actions. The pressure of the mattress almost causing his hand to numb. Taking the opportunity he pictured what would have happened if he just walked into the shower. Let the man press him up against the wall and kiss down his sensitive skin…”Mmmh aaah~” Levi moaned again as he continued to pleasure himself in a painfully insufficient way. Eyes plastered closed he rolled onto his back now, hand shoved within the hem of his shorts and briefs, cock begging to be touched as he gripped it in his palm. His other hand rubbed small circles around the top of his chest, pausing to dust his pinky over the peaking buds that begged for freedom under his tank. “Fuck…” he gasped as he arched his back into the touch, completely lost in his fantasy of this new man. Was it wrong? Sure. But it was between him and the universe, no one else had to know. “God..Remi…” he whimpered, low, sensually as he continued to slide his slickened length through the hole he created of his tightened fingers. They were his fingers but in his head, they weren’t his fingers, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone to have a dirty fantasy about his roommate. Harmless.

His thumb pad teased the tip of his leaking head, his back arching higher, tossing his head back as he could feel the pressure boiling at his core. He bit his lower lip now as he could feel himself getting closer. Levi opened his eyes to look down at himself but caught eye contact with the very man he was fantasizing. Unable to stop, it only fueled him to see the male standing there in nothing but a towel around his waist, a smirk plastered across his very smug expression. Bright green eyes, brighter now almost glowing, as he watched Levi squirm and touch himself, knowingly to the thought of him. They continued to stare at one another, Remi crossing his arms and leaning against the open doorway with the same amused expression, never breaking their connection. Levi huffed loudly as his body convulsed, orgasm hitting him harder as they stared each other down, whimpering and moaning weakly as he made an absolute mess of himself. Remi smirked, immediately leaving the scene of the crime before either of them are caught in such a promiscuous predicament. Oh no..that wasn’t innocent. That wasn’t good. He should not have let that happen…that was very bad…but it felt so good. Levi laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Dinner!!” He heard his boyfriend call out from the far end of the house. Oh no..okay no, maybe it was an accident, maybe Remi needed something and just didn’t know what to do seeing that?? Yeah that’s what happened. It wasn’t a mutual thing..no way.

Painstakingly slow, Levi unpeeled himself from the bed and quietly stepped his way to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. Cleaning himself off of all his icky substance and making himself presentable now, he flicked the light switch off and made his way into the living room. Connie sitting on the couch already with a plate in hand, smiled brightly at her brother as he joined them and pointed at the chicken wings in front of her. Levi smiled warmly back at his sister and nodded. “Yeah I told him to get you the wings, so those are all you sissy, dig in,” laughing as he started to build himself a plate. Alistar came walking into the space now from the kitchen holding a bottle of ranch. “Ooo! Baby knows what’s up!” Levi wiggled back and forth upon seeing the condiment. It was almost like being in their presence and being back into reality, the sins of his past no longer existed. Which was short lived as it all came shattering back to him the moment his boyfriend opened his mouth.

“Go ask Remi if he wants some pizza, I got extra,” the dragon man spoke neutrally as he threw a few slices on his own plate, then dousing them in ranch. Levi swallowed deep in his throat, nervous. He had to face him??? So soon??? After??? Stay calm, Levi, it’s fine. Keeping a collected expression he nodded, set down his plate and went back down the hallway he had came. “Hey Remi!” He called down the hall before approaching his door and knocking. “There’s pizza out there if you’re hungry…” he was immediately thrown off by the way Remi suddenly swung open the door, hovering over him now, hunger deep within his tired emeralds.

“Hungry? Sure…Pizza..? Hm…” voice stern, dark as his eyes slowly scanned the leopard up and down, not even trying to hide the fact he was getting a full view to his liking. Levi blushed, brightly across his nose and cheeks as he felt more like prey than friend at this current moment. He felt his body getting hot again, rising from his toes to the crown of his head, something about this animalistic stare down…he felt more exposed than when he was well…exposed. Remi wouldn’t be the only one, the leopard also took his glances at the man. Plain black tshirt with …’oh, not the grey sweatpants, dear god is he even wearing underwear? is that his…? Soft?? Or?’ Vulgar thoughts began to flood through the frontal lobe of his short attention span, before forcibly dragging himself into some sense.

“Y-yeah well there’s uh…there’s wings too, but good luck cause uh,” he laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck now avoiding eye contact. “Connie probably ate them all by uh..by…” Remi stepped closer, inches apart from each other, Levi backed into the door frame, and could smell the deep forest scent of the soap the other applied earlier in the shower. “Now….” The word came out in almost a whisper, his ocean eyes staring deeply at Remi’s pierced lips. However, it was but a passing moment because just as quickly and easily as Levi was put in this hazy state of mind, it was quickly snapped away when the wolf pushed past him with a grin.

“Hm, cute,” was all he uttered before disappearing down the hall. There he stood feeling as if he just got doused by a car speeding through a puddle. It was almost like he had been poured completely empty, all further feelings void. ‘What the hell is this man doing to me?’ He questioned his sanity for the moment, before eventually deciding to gather back into the living room. Connie was silently devouring the food on her plate, Alistar was prattling on about himself and his work with rehab centers all around the country. Al was a bit of a narcissist, and at first it was cute to be dating someone so sure of themselves and confident. However, some humility might be good for the soul, because it became quite a competition to be more Holier than thou, for Alistar. It truly didn’t matter that no one in the room was even listening, the dragon just liked hearing himself talk at this point. Levi sat on the couch across from a very quiet Remi who sat on the single round chair, as to avoid sharing a seating space. They continued to steal glances at each other through the noise of Al’s insistent one sided conversation. Connie only looking up now and again to reassure Alistar that she was listening to him. That’s probably why they made such good friends, he liked to talk, she never talks. Match made in heaven.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I made it out alive if I tell you the truth cause I fer sure thought I was going to die…” the grey haired man chatted onward, shoveling bites of pizza into his mouth in between thoughts. The leopard once again made eye contact with the new roommate, Remi staring him down as he took aggressive bites of his food. Feeling rather bored of the conversation and mischievous at heart, Levi dipped his pizza in a hefty amount of ranch, pulling it up above his face and allowing it to drip, opening his mouth wide, his eyes darted over to make sure his new house mate was watching. He was. No one else seemed to notice, but oh, the wolf did. The white substance slowly oozed down onto the leopard’s exposed sleek tongue before plunging the pizza into his mouth with a satisfied smirk. Remi swallowed his food and narrowed his eyes noticing a small white drop on the other’s chin, taunting him, ‘oh it’s like that?’ The wolf immediately thought to himself. To perform something so lewd so openly with his boyfriend there, told Remi all he needed to know about the two’s relationship.

Oh what fun they were ensured to have.

To be continued…

[starlit-dreaming]

re: in the back of my mind [prologue]

Fandom: WMMAP / SBAPOD Rating: M Main/Eventual Ships: OC x OC, Lucathy Minor Ships: Felily, Calena, and more Note: I FINALLY REWROTE ITBOMM (i post on ao3 first, tumblr second, and wattpad third)

Cross-posted with AO3 and (eventually) Wattpad under the same title.

MASTERPOST / CONTENT WARNINGS

Chapters:

Prologue || [0] Act 1: Beginning of the End || 1 // 2 // 3

Summary:

“Maybe next time.”

Athan was what one might call an anti-fan for The Lovely Princess novel — that is, he loved to hate it. It was total garbage, but the writing was pretty lit. Imagine his surprise when he finds himself reborn as a baby in that same garbage novel’s universe.

Or rather, a Lovely Princess fanfic he always reread in his previous life.

//A retelling wherein Athanasia has a younger twin brother… or at least, that’s what it should’ve been.

—————

CHAPTER WARNING: • Suicide

Due to the fact that suicide and grief is a heavy topic of discussion in this story, I will not be setting an individual chapter warning for it unless it’s explicitly shown or discussed in future chapters. Or unless I feel that it’s warranted for the chapter (like there being a scene that focuses on it).

——————————

0. an unfinished prologue

"What should I live for? I say, "until next time, until next time," I've agreed to chase after my dreams. Ah, it's okay. "You're okay." You and me, we're lost, An unfinished prologue." Song: Prologue — Minami (美波)

——————————

Everything is quiet.

There’s a strange calmness, despite the aches and bruises that makes it difficult for him to breathe. The cloud drifts, the orange and red glow of the setting sun settling into purples and dark blues, with the faintest glimmer of a star in the distance.

He cannot breathe, or rather, it’s difficult for him to breathe in the cold spring air. It’s his broken nose, he thinks, but it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

(Breathe in, breathe out.

This feeling is temporary, and soon, it will pass.)

The dull ache is a reminder, he tells himself, biting down on the bitterness lest he turns back, though he doesn’t understand it entirely. Not yet, maybe he never will, or maybe he always has. His eye throbs, stinging from the wind.

Trembling hands reach towards the metal fence, his legs climbing on up and over the railings until he stands on the ledge. It was only a step away. His bandaged hands hold the metal safety net behind him, and he stands there, numb. His vision blurs as his eyes burn from tears, and his cheeks grow numb from the cold caress of the wind.

(This isn’t how he imagined it would go.)

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough,” he whispers to the stars, as the sun rests into the slumbers of night.

(At least it will be on his terms.)

There is no one here, just him and the moon and sky.

(And you, who can only watch on, helpless.

What could you do?

Nothing .)

“…maybe next time,” he wishes, to the stars above. “Maybe next time,” he wishes, as if it would be enough, “Maybe next time.”

The wind rushes through his long hair, beckoning him over.

His eyes shut tight.

He jumps.

——————————

—————

———

—

“When does life end?”

He looks up from his laptop to the front of the classroom, where his professor stands in front of the whiteboard.

For a sunny day, questioning mortality didn’t seem to fit the sunshine mood. There was a sense of unease that could be felt amidst the silence after the question was posed, but it was a question waiting to be answered. He didn’t really want to say anything, however, so he remains silent.

After all, life ends when you die, what else could it be?

“When we die,” one of his classmates threw out their answer. A young woman wearing a beanie, nursing a to-go cup of coffee. (Coffee sounded good, maybe he should stop by the coffee shop after class? He didn’t get enough sleep the night before.) A few awkwardly murmur their agreements, the majority nod.

“When we go to heaven,” another calmly added. An elderly gentleman, with a notebook sitting before him, with glasses perched on his nose. It was a classic answer, all things considered.

The professor accepts that, looking around the classroom.

“Wonderful. Does anyone here have an answer that differs from these two?”

In the corner of his eye, [][][][][][] shyly raised her finger. His best friend was in clear disagreement with the statement, but didn’t want to outright say it — she never did outgrow that hesitant hand-raising habit, though. The professor smiles, gesturing for her and telling her to go ahead.

“It doesn’t,” she states, hesitant. “Whether you believe in reincarnation or not, or in an afterlife, life doesn’t end.”

The statement stumped him.

It seemed to be exactly what the professor wanted, however. He smiled, with his eyes asking a question he seemed to already know the answer to.

“Could you please elaborate?”

“Um…” [][][][][][] blinked, briefly casting him a glance — she didn’t expect to get this far. If he wasn’t curious about the answer either, he’d be snickering at her panic. “It’s not to say that death isn’t a valid answer, as it is the end of a life,” she calmly explained, looking back at the professor. “When we’re born, you could say that’s our introductory chapter, and notable events throughout our lives are the chapters of our storybooks. Say, for example, someone we care about dies, that’s a chapter in our life, but that’s the conclusion of that person’s story. Life will still continue on, even if that person dies.”

He never thought about it that way. The fact that life will still move on, that there were still people taking their steps forward. A death can affect multiple people, becoming a chapter in someone else’s life. Damn, that’s pretty deep.

“Fascinating,” the professor said, turning to the board. “That’s more or less what I was looking for, but using books as an example is a nice touch. You all have great answers, and none are wrong in their own rights. Whether an afterlife exists or not, or if you believe in reincarnation — that’s not my question.”

A circle is drawn, representing the cycle of rebirth as the professor drones on, adding words to go along. He’s frankly too tired to follow along. Something, something — the professor mentioned religion because of reincarnation?

“So when does life end?”

“It doesn’t.”

(“Maybe next time.”)

———

The world itself is constant — always moving on.

“When we die” is a simple, straightforward answer when asked when life ends — it doesn’t address the complications, it doesn’t elaborate, for it’s a statement that stands on its own. It’s an acceptable answer at face value, an answer understood and taken without question. It’s an answer that isn’t wrong, as a life does in fact end.

But death is only a chapter of a story. An arc of grief.

When life ends with one person, there is still life found in another. Who does the dead leave behind? Who are the ones that wither life away and grieve? Who are the ones that deal with the aftermath of loss? Who will hold the memories of the dead, the ones who will always remember no matter their thoughts and feelings? Who will keep the dead alive in memories?

For those who still live, it’s a chapter in their lives; those stuck in the past will be left behind in a world of constant motion. In this world, those who move forward are the survivors of grief, the ones who attend funerals and grieve, the ones who remember the constant barrage of “what if’s”, the ones who eventually learn to smile again.

But then, there are those who chase after a shadow of the people they used to know, clinging to the past.

The ones who stop in this moving world, who forfeits their lives.

And, the ones who choose to end their story.

———

(“So when does life end?”

“…”

“It doesn’t.”)

—

———

—————

——————————

His heart slams wildly against his chest, and he snaps his eyes wide open. An abrupt cry escapes from him, high-pitched and whiny — almost like a baby, his mind unhelpfully adds — and he gets teary-eyed from the amount of shock. Teary eyes stare up at the ceiling, and if he has to be honest, he’s feeling pretty freaked out right now after that sensation of falling.

He doesn’t remember much of the Before, not even his name and age. Probably early twenties, if he had to be honest, but that’s all.

And, well, he was pretty damn broke, too. The fact that he’s awake in a big old fancy room that could only exist in the manhwas he’s read throughout his life, he can’t entirely rule out kidnapping. He couldn’t really move either…

“Hhhng…” he tried to voice out, only to realize that yes, it was indeed a sound coming from him. He was swaddled up like a baby in the most comfortable of fabrics.

Well, fuck. He’s always thought about what-ifs when it came to transmigrating, but to think it actually happened to him. He never actually thought too deeply about those what-if scenarios, because he just couldn’t imagine a world without the internet.

What the hell were the odds?

‘Whoa…!’ he hears a startled voice — a girl, he seemed to know immediately. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

He sniffs, blinking watery eyes to see a blurry figure of a baby laying beside in their crib that looks too big, too much.

‘Who…?’ he numbly thought, trying to look for the voice. ‘Oh… wait. Fuck, I’m a child,’ yeah, amazing observation there, genius. The realization of this fact had just slapped him upside the head despite having come to terms with it about a minute or so ago as he noticed that they were both in a crib. He looks down, feeling his chubby cheeks touching the soft fabric he was clothed in. ‘I hope I’m cute.’

‘We’re twins, so I think we look alike, if that helps,’ says the other voice. She didn’t seem very reassured though, as she continued, mostly grumbling to herself, ‘At least I’m not alone in all of this…’

He glances back to the baby dressed up in a pink onesie with a floral headband.

‘Okay, so… I transmigrated into a baby like one of my rofan manhwas,’ he notes, more for his sake than anything. ‘Do you know what we’re in?’

‘You trans-what now?’

‘Transmigrated,’ he patiently explained, ‘It’s basically when someone reincarnates — usually into a story they used to read in their previous life. Or a show they watched, although I think it’s normally a novel they read.’

‘Huh. Well, the only thing I can think of is The Lovely Princess, since my name is Athanasia.’

‘But there’s no prince in the novel,’ he frowned. ‘So maybe that’s going to be the main difference? Or maybe we aren’t actually in The Lovely Princess. Assuming that I haven’t lost my marbles — which is debatable, really — I’m basically living as Arjen and Arien from The Twin Siblings New Life, since we’re basically communicating through telepathy, so a fanfic, maybe. We’re both blonde, so maybe we’re the same twins in TSNL even if we weren’t twins in our previous life? Never mind, we have jewelled blue eyes so definitely The Lovely Princess. Unless you’re a figment of my imagination, and I’m crazy after all…’

‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ the voice flatly stated in exasperation. ‘But I assure you, you haven’t gone crazy, and I’m literally right next to you.’

‘Is my name Athanasios? Please tell me it isn’t. That’s like, the classic twin siblings naming sense in The Lovely Princess fandom,’ he wondered, his squirrel brain kicking in.

‘Yeah, you’re Athanasios. Sorry, I guess?’

‘Well fuck. Do people hate us? Are we royals with a good for nothing dad?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Huh. I sincerely hope we’re in a childcare rofan type story…’

‘Dude, what the fuck is a childcare rofan?’

‘Romantic fantasy that involves children being well-cared for. Preferably us being well-cared for.’

‘Right…’

‘Man. I kinda hope we’re not in a Lovely Princess fanfic — I’ve read so many screwy LP fics, and I want no part of it. Just call me Athan, honestly. Athanasios sounds too similar to Anastacius the former Emperor. God, if I transmigrated into Starshine-Dreaming’s fanfic, I’d be so screwed…’

‘Uh… Athan. What’s a fanfic?’

‘Oh boy…’ he wearily thought. ‘This is gonna be a long life…’

——————————

There were a few things that Athan remembered.

(And no, that didn’t apply only to fanfiction, mind you. He remembers more than a college drop-out hyped up on caffeine working on a fanfic at the ass crack of dawn. Which totally doesn’t apply to whomever is reading this.)

So, he’s pretty sure he and his newly acquired sister transmigrated into the unfortunately popular The Lovely Princess novel. Or some variation of it, at least. He was what many would consider as an anti-fan in his previous life, really. The most that he ever did was read fanfics and fix-it AUs that he managed to find, and on top of that, he was more of an Athanasia stan than a Jennette or Claude fan.

Which is precisely why he thinks that he might be in one of those AUs that he’s read so much about, the one where Athanasia had a younger twin sibling.

He’s not sure if that’s better or worse.

More often than not, the twin sibling fanfics he read would result in all bad endings (or simply just left unfinished), since the fandom seemed to be following a collective opinion of how poetic it would be for the twins to die together. How they would never die alone and cue the sad emojis here and the overly dramatic tears there.

Frankly, it’s a surprise that he didn’t die from high blood pressure with how much those types of fics grounded on his nerves. Especially all the salt he felt towards the fic writers who wrote Athanasia as a bitchy older step-sister trope to Jennette’s Cinderella story. Only a few people criticized the novel, but due to the book’s overwhelming popularity, a lot of those voices went unheard and a lot of the fics he actually enjoyed hadn’t been updated.

According to his newly acquired sister, she remembered the novel. (And she was a total normie in her previous life — she never heard of fanfiction or even fandoms! The most she ever did was interact with fans who claimed that the novel was hot shit and that she needed to better understand how amazing it is. Ptooey! They wouldn’t know a good story if it smacked them in the face! The Lovely Princess is fantastic from a literary standpoint, but it was overall a crappy romantic tragedy wherein the author was probably just a self-insert. It’d be like if someone called Romeo and Juliet the greatest romantic tragedy play ever written when, if you really thought about, it was a fucked up story of kids dying for the sake of love and meant to be an overdramatic comedy.)

Meanwhile, Athan remembered only the bare minimum of the novel and remembered every detail of Toska, a fanfic he consistently reread that was never finished. It was a bad ending for the twins, but it delved into the idea that Jennette wasn’t fully innocent.

‘How did that fanfic go, again…?’

In his previous life, he poured countless hours into reading fanfic after fanfic in hopes of finding a happy ending. Some fic writers portrayed her as one of those Mean Girls stereotypes for the sake of having an antagonist, few had her be too OOC because of the dumb blonde trope, and others had her be the jealous tramp trying to steal Jennette’s beloved Ijekiel. (Cue the gagging here.)

And then there were some that barely mentioned her at all despite the fic listing her as one of the major characters. (Like, what was the point? Why mention them in the tags at all if they aren’t gonna be involved apart from a mention?)

There was one goldmine, though. It was a fanfic called Toska written by FFN User Starshine-Dreaming, as mentioned before. The word Toska was one of those untranslatable Russian words that could easily mean “yearning”, “melancholy”, “listless”, or “boredom”, but it was all of it and so much more.

His favourite explanation of the term coincided with the fanfic writer’s — a longing with nothing to long for.

Fucking poetic, right?

It was focused on Athanasia, written in third-person POV with the twin siblings AU. The story wasn’t incredibly popular or anything, but he did enjoy reading the developing familial camaraderie between the twins. It delved into a realistic exploration of a family with an absent father and a dead, unloved mother, diving into the feelings of inadequacy against their newfound sibling. The twins had only themselves and their nanny, Lily, thus, they were (mostly) quiet and gloomy.

There were headcanons that were completely far-fetched, but plausible, with ideas that miraculously worked. There was a genuine reason to dislike Jennette, and that was due to the fact that she was naïve for a princess who knew nothing about proper palace etiquette, and she had a two-faced personality. The twin brother wasn’t overly rude, but it was very obvious that he didn’t like Jennette, not even a tiny bit. There were moments in which Athanasios did humiliate Jennette for not knowing proper etiquette, though Athanasia helped her flourish.

It was a pretty damn depressing fanfic, if he had to be honest. In the fic, the author had Athanasios fall in love with Ijekiel, but he fell in love with Athanasia despite being engaged to Jennette, and the prince had just been blatantly rejected. It was pretty much a yay for the gay rep, but a boo for the sad in his mind.

It featured a lot of one-sided love, actually, which seemed to be the author’s favourite thing to write. Unlike her fics for her other fandoms.

(Talk about a sadist, amirite?)

Additionally, there were only twelve chapters, and it ended off on a god-damn cliffhanger.

It gets worse. How so, one might ask? The fanfic was posted seven years ago from the first time that he read it — he was nineteen when he stumbled upon it. The fic was never completed, and the author was no longer a part of the Lovely Princess fandom judging by their very active Tumblr under a new username. He only knew them as Starshine-Dreaming, going by Starlit as an online name (they had a common seasonal name that made him laugh cause it was a funny coincidence, and he can’t remember why — what was their other name? Winter? Spring? Vernal? Ah, whatever) and he sent them an ask on Tumblr regarding their progress to which they answered with an outdated shrug kaomoji hours later and said that they were thinking of doing a rewrite.

Yeah… a rewrite that took years, apparently. Not that he blamed them — life seemed to have been pretty hectic for them.

Doesn’t help that Athan was dying from a lack of content.

It also didn’t help that the author deleted that fanfic when they deleted their FFN account. He was only able to read it over and over again with ease because of some sorta FFN .pdf file converter he used prior to its demise, since he had shitty Wi-Fi. They had an AO3, but it wasn’t ever reposted.

But alas, that was three years ago before he died.

Long story short, there was no hope for a new chapter before his death. There was also no known rewrite in existence.

The fanfic starts with the twins having their first meeting with their deadbeat sperm donor when they turned seven, and would regularly see him once a week, though it would only last for several minutes because the twins were terrified and shaking the whole time. A lot of the time he seemed disinterested in them and their conversations, and when they got older, those meetings became once every two weeks, then once a month, and then only on special occasions.

Deadbeat Claude didn’t bother with them much after Jennette came into the picture.

Since Athanasios from the fanfic was one of the few who was openly against Jennette, he was deemed as a “villain” in Jennette’s life and had to disappear like many of Ijekiel’s admirers who hated her. It didn’t help that her cheerful personality seemed to have won everyone’s hearts. She was an eyesore, to put it simply.

However, Athanasios was still a prince, so it wasn’t exactly easy to get rid of him. Not unless the deadbeat sperm donor does it himself. Which, surprisingly, he didn’t.

The issue solved itself when Athanasios goes missing and is claimed to have been poisoned. A lot of people blamed his ex-fiancée, Verena Pompidou, but apparently she went missing after their engagement got broken off due to her obsessed infatuation with Ijekiel, meaning that she wasn’t a viable suspect. So, the next person to be suspected naturally went to Athanasia, because what if she actually did inherit His Majesty’s murder-y tendencies? It was essentially a “like parent, like child” situation — they both had killed their brothers! If you believed that, of course.

Of course, he died at sixteen in the end, two years before his sister.

That was where the fanfic was left off at. It didn’t say anything other than the fact that he was declared dead by their sperm donor. Starlit did leave a TL;DR on her Tumblr stating that Athanasios died and that the events were more or less the same as the novel after his death since she couldn’t think of anything more to it, hence why she left it off with that. She mentioned that her rewrite would be a hopeful or happy ending instead.

Still, he would’ve liked to read more of Athanasios and his crazy ex-fiancée. It would’ve been nice to know the events leading to his death and have confirmation!

There were a few things that remained the same between the novel and the fanfic: in both versions, they lived in the Ruby Palace which was meant for the concubines and lovers, excluding the Empress. Their dad was pretty much a deadbeat asshole — I mean, seriously! Why have kids if you’re not going to be a part of their life?

So yeah, if they were in The Lovely Princess, he could kiss the rofan genre goodbye. So much for an easygoing happy life without any hardships.

And then, well, there was another problem Athan was experiencing.

There were a lot of blanks in his memory. It’s strange, and honestly a bit alarming to know that he didn’t actually know anything about himself. He could remember oddly specific details — his best friend and her mannerisms, but not her name, going to children’s birthday parties in the most uncomfortable of formal wear, reading fanfics and manhwas, and how he loved to stare up at the sky.

Part of him both pitied and envied Athy, who remembered her life and the events leading up to her death. Dying in the midst of winter, possibly because of sleeping pills, or likely because of lack of heating. She remembered growing up in poverty, hence why she didn’t particularly mind being a hated princess if it meant having three meals a day and growing up with more luxury than she had ever known.

He could respect that.

(Ignoring the times that she laments over being mistreated or openly hated by the maids, but he supposes that it’s just his newfound sister being a drama queen cause Athan quite likes being ignored, so he can sleep… until he needs a diaper change or to be fed.)

And it’s just… frustrating. No matter how hard he tries, all he could ever remember is the sunset sky, the stars lighting up the night and flashes of a city from heights. Him on a rooftop, looking up with his problems drifting away. Maybe late autumn or early winter’s cold caress against his cheek, wind running through his hair.

His previous life seemed nice, if he had to be honest. It must’ve been peaceful…

Well, it’s better to leave it at that. He can’t go back.

(But, as the voices whisper reminders in the back of his mind, he wonders if he died because…

. . .

“It’s a pity you weren’t born a [][][]—”

. . .

“Does it matter?”

“…it doesn’t.”)