#I have far more quarrels now with the writing on that ask ^^;;

[outeremissary]

Was clearing out some photos on my phone tonight and rediscovered this little picture I'd done back in January 2023 in an attempt to make something to go with an ask. In the end it never got posted on Tumblr because I didn't like it at the time, but when I look at it now there's something a little charming about it.

[moonstruckme]

hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss. 

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck. 

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.” 

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.” 

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning. 

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.” 

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.” 

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.” 

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else. 

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter. 

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.” 

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment. 

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.” 

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out. 

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you. 

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.” 

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.” 

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James. 

Remus scowls. 

“Open it,” you tell him. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.” 

“Let me try.” 

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.” 

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way. 

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows. 

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.” 

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.” 

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.” 

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?” 

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?” 

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.” 

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.” 

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?” 

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?” 

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.” 

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.” 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!” 

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?” 

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.” 

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?” 

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.” 

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.” 

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.” 

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?” 

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, mollified. 

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.” 

There’s no response. 

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway. 

“Pricks,” Remus mutters. 

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first. 

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?” 

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing. 

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead. 

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.” 

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.” 

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?” 

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.” 

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.” 

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him. 

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.” 

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.” 

Remus scoffs. 

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.” 

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss. 

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.” 

You and Remus exchange a look. 

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you. 

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.” 

“Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly. 

Remus looks at you. You shrug. 

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”

[itsswritten]

Share your pain.

Request: From anon “Hiiii would you write reader saying something hurtful to az during an argument (established relationship btw)??? And az gets upset over it but they later make up and it ends in fluff? I'm sorry I'm obsessed with hurt/comfort 😔”

Pairing: azriel x reader

Word count: 2.3K

Warings: Angst, nightmares…I think that’s it. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Summary: In the wake of a heated argument, you and Azriel find yourselves adrift, the once unbreakable bond strained... :(

A/n: hi again, hope you enjoy this. First time I’ve written a bit of angst for Azriel. Let me know what you all think! <3 - L

The air in your bedroom hung heavy, the usual sanctuary of rest and reprieve now echoing with the bitter remnants of a lovers' quarrel. You hadn’t meant for things to get this tense, but as the moon cast long shadows across your bedroom, there was no denying the unresolved tension between Azriel and you.

The first six months of your mating had been a whirlwind of passion and frenzy, a time you fondly recalled. The initial intensity of the bond was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. You had known Azriel more intimately than anyone else, or so you thought.

Yet, as the months rolled on, the veneer of your relationship began to crack. Despite the depth of your bond, Azriel remained an enigma, his troubles hidden beneath layers you couldn't penetrate. Initially, this mystery was part of the intrigue you loved about him. But as the struggles of the war haunted him, manifesting in nightmares that would leave him thrashing in the solitude of his own battles, the barriers between you grew thicker.

This particular night had been no different. Azriel, caught in the clutches of a haunting dream, had awoken hot and thrashing.

"Az… let me help you" you whispered, reaching out with a tenderness only a mate could offer.

But he pulled away. Recoiling from your touch and standing by the side of the bed. He erected an invisible barrier, refusing the solace you offered and, as always, shutting you off from the bond. 

The rejection hurt.

At times, he would freeze over, pulling a wall up so high to stop his feelings from spilling over to yours. Initially, you assumed it was to spare you the pain he felt, but with time, it began to feel like mistrust.

"Please, Azriel," you pleaded, the use of his full name an attempt to bridge the growing chasm between you. "Don't shut me out."

"Y/n…Don't" he bit back sharply, a flash of frustration in his eyes. The lump in your throat grew, emotions simmering beneath the surface. You were on your feet now too, flimsy night shorts and a vest hanging loosely on your frame, while the air around you turned cold. Any remaining shadows that had been soothing your skin fled to their master to comfort him.

"Is this how it's going to be, then?" you asked, your voice strained with the weight of unspoken grievances.

This was never how you imagined having a mate would be like.

Cold and lonely.

Your fingers played with the bottom hem of your sleep shorts while trying to muster through your feelings. Trying to keep calm, find the right words to soothe your partner, but no matter what you did or said, it never worked, and you began to doubt if you were the person he even wanted to find comfort in.

Your chest seized, a pang of hurt rolling through. You had hoped Azriel could feel the anguish he was putting you through, but of course, that ice wall was built up. It not only stopped you from seeing into him, but it rejected any connection from you too.

You had been suppressing your own needs and feelings for far too long, prioritising his pain over your own. You could feel the anger begging to spill over your edges.

“We might as well not be mates..” you choked out.

A gasp left Azriel’s lips as he said your name, disbelief clouding his expression at such a notion.

You knew it was a cruel thing to say.

Azriel had been waiting for this type of connection all his life. He had told you that you were worth the centuries of waiting. And even though you knew he loved you dearly, and his intentions were never malicious, he was hurting you. 

Selfishly, you wanted to hurt him back.

“Maybe you’re better off alone with your shadows” you bit out spitefully.

His gaze shattered, a flicker of pain mirroring your own. As if the mere mention of his shadows had drained the strength from him, they slumped in a rare display of vulnerability. Before he could utter another word, unable to bear the weight of your words, you stormed out of your bedroom, and out of the House of Wind.

~~~

Days passed in an agonising blur, the weight of your words lingering in the air like a heavy stormcloud. That night, you had winnowed away to a friend's apartment in the city, seeking refuge far from the House of Wind. Leaving those walls behind offered a semblance of peace, though you remained unsure of how to navigate this situation under the prying eyes of the Inner Circle.

Your friends were always lovely, but it was hard to escape the fact that they were Azriel's friends first. Azriel’s family. 

Lily, an old study companion, opened her home to you without hesitation, setting up her spare room and insisting you stay as long as needed. In moments like these, you regretted letting go of your own apartment. In the frenzy of the mating bond, you had moved in with Azriel, opting for proximity to his friends and his high lord's court.

The morning after the fight, Azriel had sent a ripple down the bond.

"Can we talk, love?"

You instantly rejected his call, erecting your own emotional barrier around the bond. The irony wasn't lost on you – you were now doing the very thing that hurt you, mirroring Azriel's tendency to shut you off. 

Perhaps a taste of his own medicine was warranted?

You had been an open book for him, laying your wounds and traumas bare. Despite the difficulty of discussing certain matters, you wanted Azriel to know every part of you. 

Yet, here you were, mimicking his defensive actions.

Azriel could probably find you if he wished. As the Spymaster of the Night Court, he likely knew your location without relying on the bond. Although he had never visited Lily's place, you were sure his shadows had scoured the city for you as soon as you left that night.

You missed them. His little minions, you would call them as a way to tease him. Always at his beck and call, and quick to caress you, much like his own touches

A pang of guilt washed over you as you recalled his expression before you left.

"Maybe you're better off alone with your shadows."

It had been a petty, low blow from you. Azriel had confided in the past that he once worried it would only ever be him and his shadows, that he was somehow cursed to not find love, companionship, a life partner. 

A soft rap at the door interrupted your thoughts. You had secluded yourself in Lily's apartment for four days now, ignoring any attempts from Rhysand to contact you mentally. 

“Y/n…It’s me” the soft female voice spoke behind the door. Feyre.

You invited your friend in. Quickly popping the kettle on and making you both tea. You sank into the plush sofa next to Feyre, bringing your teacups to the coffee table in front of you as you both idled in general chit chat. 

“How is Rhys? …and everyone?” You asked. You hadn’t realised till not being there how much the inner circle had become integrated into your life. Your days often spent with laughter over meals, mornings spent sparring with Cassain and your afternoons filled with fun company of the girls. 

And of course the nights, spent all consumed with your mate.

“Everyone is good” Feyre spoke, her smile dropping at the edges “Well not everyone” she spoke honestly. Feyre gently guided the conversation toward the true reason for her visit.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here," she said, her eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and concern.

"Did Azriel send you to check on me?" you asked, a hint of scepticism in your voice.

Feyre's hurt was palpable. "Y/N, I came here to check on you. I’ve been worried about you. We all have.” Your own gaze softened, embarrassed at the harsh assumption you had made. 

“But I would be lying if I didn't say I didn't come partially because of Azriel. I'm worried about him too. He's not acting like himself, not sleeping, not eating, avoiding us all…even Rhys and Cassian."

Your heart hurt. The bond aching at the news of your mate suffering.

"I know you want to punish him," Feyre added gently.

"I don't want to punish him," you replied, though a part of you realised that, in a way, you were. Hurting him the exact same way he had hurt you.

Feyre sighed, her gaze never leaving yours. "I get it, trust me I do. But just come home, please" she pleaded.

You sat as you recalled what she had said. Perhaps it was time. 

~~~

You waited for Rhysand to dispatch Azriel on a task before returning, unsure if you were ready to face him immediately. Feyre had kept you informed, grateful for her assistance in navigating this delicate situation.

Avoiding your shared bedroom, the space now haunted by the memories of your recent argument – you sought refuge on one of the balconies overlooking the city. The night had descended, casting the realm below into a humming sea of lights beneath the purple midnight sky.

Perched on a comfortable lounge chair, a blanket draped around you, you found solace in a book you had forgotten about. Left untouched when you departed, was laid waiting on the bedside table for you when you returned. In fact the entire bedroom looked untouched, the bedsheets had not been warmed for a while.

He’s not been sleeping. You remembered Feyre’s words from earlier, the realisation breaking you a little at your mates pain.

Deciding it was time to address the tension that lingered between you and Azriel, you closed the book and set it aside. Breaking down the emotional barrier hastily erected around the bond, you sent a gentle ripple through the thread – a subtle breath to signal your readiness to talk.

Hoping Azriel had concluded whatever task had taken him away, you pondered on the fact that, even without the ripple, he would likely sense your return. His keen senses, coupled with the vigilance of his shadows and network of spies, made you a detectable presence. You understood your mate well enough to know though that he wouldn't intrude if you needed space. 

The ripple was your invitation, an indication that you were ready to see him.

The first sign of his return was the wind, a gentle breeze brushing across your face as Azriel's wings beat the air upon his descent. Looking up, you caught your breath at the sight of your godly partner. It took a conscious effort to regain your composure, resisting the urge to succumb to the overwhelming emotions stirred by his presence.

“My love…” he breathed. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes and a ruggedness that was unusual for him.

“Azriel,” you spoke his full name, tilting your head to encourage him to join you on the lounge chair. Instead, he stepped forward, dropping to his knees in front of you. 

Cauldron give me strength; he was so painstakingly beautiful. 

His large hands found your lap, yours naturally finding his fingers, tracing the harsh lines that covered them.

"I've been giving this a lot of thought," he began, his voice a low murmur. "I never meant to shut you out, Y/N. I’m so sorry”

You nodded, your eyes settling on his hazel gaze. Letting your mate speak his truth, his own self-reflections.

“It’s just always been me. Me and my shadows,” he smiled, glancing over to the little grey flurries that were now tangled up in your hair. “So when I finally met you, got you…I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared, my demons might repulse you, terrify you, make you leave me. It was... instinct. To protect myself."

Your gaze softened, the realisation settling in that the barrier Azriel erected wasn't out of a lack of trust, but rather a reflex born from deep-seated pain. 

"Azriel," you spoke gently, "I don't want to dictate how you deal with your trauma.” Your hand moved to his face now, thumb rubbing his cheek gently. He breathed in at your touch, closing his eyes at the intimacy he had missed for days. “But I need you to trust in us, in me. Let me share the burden, even if it's just a fraction."

Azriel's shoulders sagged, a mixture of relief and regret evident in his eyes. "I want to, Y/N."

"I understand it won't happen overnight. I just need you to believe that I'm here, that you don't have to carry everything on your own."

The vulnerability in your words mirrored Azriel's, creating a fragile bridge between you. His shadows, attuned to the subtleties of emotion, responded by weaving gently around you. 

"I'm sorry for the things I said," you admitted, humility colouring your voice. "I never should have pushed you like that. It's not my place to demand you share those things with me."

Azriel shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, you're right. I need to change, to let you in more. It's just hard, but I'm willing to try."

A shared understanding passed between you, a silent pact to navigate the complexities of healing together. 

"Let's start fresh," he proposed, sincerity in his eyes.

You nodded with a gentle smile on your face. The mating bond buzzed. Azriel leaned over, his lips pressing against yours in a not-so-subtle, hungry kiss.

“Now come here” He growled with a teasing grin, you screamed lightly as he pulled you into his arms as he stood. He looked at you with a feral glint in his eyes.

We have some catching up to do, my love.

[goatgoesmbe]

THANK YOU!!

Hi, it's simons petty gf anon.

Just a thought, because she's only passive aggressive with her anger but always in a kind way simon is worried that if a physical altercation would happen that she would freeze up. But in reality, she's the dirtiest fighter he's ever seen. (Both of my parents were cops, military grandfather, youngest of 3 only girl) she has no honor in her fighting style, when asked about it, she says there's no honor in a fight. Only life or death.

Alright, ive been wanting to write this properly- but its been sitting in my draft for too long i just need to get it out so- no beta, I hope u still like it tho <3 u_u

All i could think about when i read this is the meme 'call the ambulance, but not for me'

short continuation of this

tw : assault, mention of violence, mention of blood, stalking

You were Simon's sweet little bird. Known to always be kind to everyone, even to the worst assholes, even to people who didn't like you.

And while you appeared to be nice and patient, with a smile that never faltered no matter what you've gone through, he eventually learned that you were not a pushover despite what everyone thought.

You could stand your own ground, you had your own way of dealing with people who disrespected you.

However, that didn't mean Simon would be less protective of you

Because the world wasn't a safe place, there were things far worse than a little quarrel with strangers, arguments with your mother, an altercation after accidentally bumping into a stranger, or verbal harassment.

He was thinking about real danger.

You were always so soft and gentle, so naturally, it triggered his instinct to protect you from any harm.

That was why he was the way he is right now, heavy boot putting it's full weight on the gas, the sound of the engine rumbled loudly, cutting through the night. Hands gripping on the steering wheels while his eyes were sharp, focused. While his ears fell deaf to the blaring of the other cars honking as he sped past them.

"Simon. Can you send help? I think i'm being followed.. can't really talk or call 911 myself rn" Your text read.

He was lounging at the couch when his phone buzzed. Content on watching the football game that was playing on TV, only to drop everything when he saw your message.

You were having a girl's night out with your besties at this women-only club that had just opened in the city. While he was one protective bastard who always wanted to watch over you, you insisted on him staying home because you wanted to spend the night with just your friends. It was reasonable, so he agreed.

But now? he regretted agreeing to that.

Tires screeched against the asphalt, making a sharp, piercing sound that sliced through the air followed by a loud slam of the door as he stepped out of his car.

With his gaze blurry from dread, he looked at the screen of his phone. He had a tracker planted in your devices, smart watch, laptop, phone. And so he followed the red dot shown in the map, finding himself standing in front of a dark alley.

"Simon" He couldn't be more relieved when he heard your voice and immediately took a few steps into the darkness, turning on the flashlight on his phone before aiming it forward.

The air was thick with the lingering scent of sweat, iron, and damp asphalt, mingling with the distant stench of rotting garbage. A dented trash can lay on its side, its contents spilled and trampled, a mess of torn paper and shattered glass glinting under the weak light. Blood stained the ground in dark, irregular splotches, soaking into the filth of the alley floor. The brick walls bore fresh smears where hands had braced against them, the rough texture now streaked with sweat and something darker.

And at the bottom of said walls, a lone figure was sat. Beaten and stripped off his shirt which was now ripped and used to tie his arms behind his back. Said figure didn't react at his presence, but Simon could see the subtle raise and fall of the person's chest.

"Simon" You called out to him again, snapping him out of his thoughts as he shifted his gaze to you.

You stood there with a smile that he always saw on your face, which was now sported with a fresh bruise, purple blooming beneath your skin. A dark welt shadowed your cheekbone, and a small cut on your lip still glistened with fresh blood. A smear of crimson streaked your jaw—and he didn't know if it was yours or someone else’s.

Your clothes were a mess, your skin tight dress were wrinkled, clinging to your curves like they had been grabbed one too many times. The faint imprint of a handprint marred the fabric near your collar, evidence of the struggle that had just unfolded.

And knuckles were raw, the skin split in places, thin trails of blood tracing along your fingers. Which told him what he needed to know.

Because despite your battered appearance, it was nothing compared to the state of the git who was leaning against the wall.

"Called the ambulance yet?" You asked, gesturing at your victim with your chin.

He didn't know if he could fall in love with you even more, but somehow, he just did.

[ladykailitha]

Three Cheers for Toby the Tiger Part 3

I am living for the love this story is getting. This story is an absolute blast to write. I wish I knew more about gymnastics to describe accurately what Eddie does, but I hope it come out clear enough.

We have more canon, Eddie being sweet, and the return of Eleanor.

Part 1 Part 2

~

The next day Eddie was forced to shower with the basketball team after cheer practice and had the severe misfortune to be in the same cluster of showers as Hargrove, Hagan, and Harrington. He pushed as far back to the end of the row as he could and prayed they didn’t notice he was there.

The resulting quarrel made for some great entertainment, but too soon it was just him and Steve in the stalls.

“Hey, are you okay?” Eddie dared to ask when it looked as though Steve had no intention of leaving.

Steve looked over at him and Eddie’s stomach sank. Steve’s eyes were red and puffy and he really doubted it was to do with getting soap in his eyes.

“It just sucks, I guess,” Steve admitted. “Everyone is saying she broke up with me and is with Jonathan now, but I thought it was just a fight. Yesterday she implied we were still together so I don’t know where everyone is getting that from.”

“Do you love this girl?” Eddie asked, turning off his water and slicking back his hair.

“Of course I do!”

“Right,” he said with a nod, “here’s what you’ve got to do: you buy her flowers. The most expensive flowers you can find and you apologize. You grovel and beg and plead for her to take you back.”

Steve looked over at him for the first time. “You think that will work?”

Eddie shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try. If you think she’s worth fighting for, then you should go all out.”

“All out huh?” he repeated with a furrowed brow. “Yeah. I’ll do that! Thanks, man!”

“No problem,” Eddie said, brushing pass him to get out of the showers. “Good luck!” He could feel eyes on him the whole time, but it didn’t feel...bad or wrong or anything negative. It felt neutral. Like he didn’t know what to make of Eddie. He scoffed. Dude could get in line. Most people didn’t know what to make of him and that included his uncle Wayne.

~

Eddie was about to do his triple twist back flip for the first time in full costume and had three spotters today, they were that concerned. Today it was Miranda, Gigi, and Megan. Chrissy was out today because she was getting her ankle looked at to see if it was well enough to get back into cheer.

They had pulled out the big pads that were used for the high jump. Gigi stood at the end of the pad, while Megan and Miranda stood guard on either side.

He loosened his limbs the best he could in the Toby costume, shaking them out and bouncing on his heels.

He managed to get through two and half rotations before he hit the mat with a thud.

Gigi and Miranda were at his side in a heartbeat.

“Fuck!” Eddie cried, pulling off the head, to allow his own head to rest on the pad.

“It’s trickier, huh?” Megan said with a grin. “You’ll get it.”

He rolled his eyes and then pushed himself to sitting. He scooted over to the side of the pad, to stand up.

“Try it without the head,” Gigi suggested. “Get it perfect in the costume without the head then work on it with.”

Eddie sighed. He knew she was right, but it felt like he should be able to get it. He nodded.

He got into position as Miranda got the head off the mat. He ran at the springboard again. He hit it and it launched him into the air. He completed all three turns but the landing had him bouncing too much, causing him to stumble.

“Good!” Megan called out. “Better. You’ve got this!”

So back to the starting position and he did it again. And again.

Until he stuck the landing.

Someone let out a low whistle and clapped loudly. Everyone turned to see who was cheering Eddie on.

Sitting in the bleachers in her cheer uniform was Eleanor.

“Eleanor!” Gigi called out and ran for her best friend, knocking her over into the bench behind her.

“I’m sorry, Gigi,” she whispered. “I should have listened to you. He was absolutely awful.”

“Did he hurt you?” Gigi asked fiercely.

Eleanor shook her head. “He hurt Marcus. Just like you said he would. Like Eddie said he had.”

Eddie came over and put his arm around her. “Can you tell us what happened?”

She nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose. “I went straight home after the fight and my dad had one of his asthma attacks. It was so bad that, I had to drive him to the hospital. Because I was there so late, my parents let me stay home from school to catch up on my sleep.”

“Oh shit!” Megan said, as her and Miranda came over to join them. “He thought Marcus had convinced you to tell him to fuck off and hurt him.”

Eleanor nodded. “Him and a couple of his friends waited until after school to corner him without teachers around.”

“Is he okay?” Eddie asked, gently.

“Thankfully they weren’t able to do much because the AV club was meeting nearby,” she murmured, “but he had a black eye and split lip. Once I got back I put him put him on blast, telling him that I wouldn’t touch his dick even if he paid me now. No one hurts my brother and thinks they can get into my pants.”

“Go, girl!” Gigi said, giving her a high five. “That’s how you do it!”

Eleanor grimaced. “Not exactly. He started hanging out by my locker, following me to my classes, and trying to stop me from going to cheer practice.”

“Holy fuck!” Miranda gasped. “That’s why you haven’t been to practice?! Why didn’t Coach Miller tell me? I would have organized to have one of us girls with you at all time or even a couple of trusted guys like Eddie.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I don’t like how we were kept in the dark at all. We’re your friends.”

Eleanor looked around them in confusion. “You mean you guys weren’t mad at me and ignoring me because I wouldn’t take your advice?”

All four of them looked at each other in befuddlement.

“No, Eleanor,” Gigi said with her brows furrowed. “We wouldn’t. We so concerned. We kept asking Coach Miller about it and she kept telling us it was none of our business and to leave it alone.”

Eleanor looked at each of them in turn.

“I wonder why at least Gigi wasn’t told...” she wondered out loud.

“I even called your house a couple of times,” Gigi said. “You mom kept telling me your were fine, you were just going through some personal things and that when you were ready, you’d call.” She sniffled. “I was about to stage a siege on your house after practice.”

Eleanor sniffled again as she fought back tears. “I think she thought she was protecting you, but it only made me feel sad no one was there for me.”

“Well,” Miranda said, “we’re here now and we’ll do everything we can to protect you, okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks, guys!”

~

Eddie’s view of the basketball team took a fucking nose dive after that. As far as he was concerned they were all like Kyle and Billy and if any girl on the squad even glance their direction, he would steer them away, whispering what Kyle did to Eleanor and Marcus as a warning.

Then the school’s hierarchy fractured like an earthquake, splitting the ground wide open.

Steve Harrington and Billy came to school with their faces beat to hell.

Word spread like wildfire. Harrington had stepped between Hargrove and a black kid who was hanging out with Hargrove’s step-sister.

He overheard Steve tell Nancy Wheeler that if he hadn’t, Hargrove would have killed him for sure.

Anyone found siding with Hargrove for going after a black kid were labeled racists and hacks. Which was half the basketball team, Tommy H. and Kyle among them. The other half of the basketball team sided with Steve that no one deserved to be beaten to death just because he had the audacity to look at a white girl.

Coach Rowland was so pissed at having to bench half of his team for being dumbasses and that he had bench Harrington because of the concussion Hargrove had given him. When Billy got in the coach’s face about it, Coach told him it was for unsportsmanlike conduct and if he wanted to protest it, he could take it all the way up to the school superintendent, one Joshua Sinclair.

Hargrove’s face could have soured a lemon.

“Because the alternative,” Coach Rowland hissed, “is hauling your ass in for attempted murder. I’m sure that’ll look great on your college application, now wouldn’t it?”

Billy backed down fast after that and while the assholes still stood by his side, there were a couple of players that backed Harrington after that one.

Coach let them back onto the court after they came to him about not knowing the whole story.

Eddie was for not letting any of them back, but then they wouldn’t have had a full to team play, and he really doubted that Principal Higgins would have counted just cheering for the football team as time served.

So he had to be grateful that there were enough of them who weren’t assholes to form a team for them to play against other teams.

Plus there was how hard he had been working on his flips. He would have hated not being able to show them off.

~

The first basketball game of the season had Harrington on the sidelines in his jersey. He tilted his head and tapped Eleanor on the arm.

“What’s that about?” he asked, jutting his chin at Harrington. “I thought he was benched for too many knocks to the head.”

“Oh he is,” Eleanor said cocking her head to the side and rolling her eyes. “But he’s the only one good enough to be captain. But in order for him to be captain he has to play a little. So Coach has him do the tip off and the first two minutes and then substitutes him for Jason Carver, who is the real captain.”

“So why not just make Carver captain?” Eddie asked, intrigued. This was turning out as interesting as a D&D campaign with all the twists and turns to this drama.

Eleanor shook her head. “If it was junior varsity, making Carver captain would be a no brainer, but this is varsity and a senior must be captain.”

“Is this one of those hierarchy rules?”

“Right in one,” she said pursing her lips. “It’s bullshit. Because every second they have Harrington on the court is risking his health.”

“Like how bad could it be?” Eddie asked, tucking his jaw in and furrowing his brow.

“Like permanent brain damage levels of serious,” Eleanor said dryly. “Concussions are no joke. Just raising his blood pressure out there could cause problems.”

Eddie let out a low whistle. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No sympathy for the Devil, he repeated to himself.

The home team came bursting through their banner, Panthers or whatever. Then their team burst through the banner that read “Tigers”.

They gave each other handshakes and high fives before settling on the sidelines.

“Those shorts should be a sin,” he sighed, pulling on his Toby the Tiger head.

Eleanor looked at him strangely but wisely kept her mouth shut, mostly because she had to agree. The tight, short shorts that barely covered anything should be outlawed.

They went out there to cheer and Harrington stepped out onto the court.

He waved at the cheering crowd and then squared off against the other team’s pick for the tip off. Harrington got the ball and was almost instantly fouled.

“What the fuck was that?!” Eddie hissed to Eleanor, so he wouldn’t be heard over the crowd.

“Shit,” she said, eyes wide. “They know about his concussion and are trying to actively take him out.”

“That’s like attempted murder bullshit!” Eddie whispered back.

“Oh yeah.”

“Do you think mascots can be ejected from a game?” Eddie asked innocently.

“I don’t know, why?” Eleanor said giving him the side eye.

“No reason.”

~

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10- @themoonagainstmers

[inkedcerulean]

an alliance in waiting | chapter 4

jacaerys velaryon x fem!frey reader

summary: you and jacaerys have an argument.

tags: fighting, angst.

jace taglist: @hotdhoe @chimmysoftpaws chocotorta2027 @drvcosstuff @emilly-adopted-mcmann @charlottelaffin @suniika @princessofthereach @twilightzone24 @ghizlana @yohanseyebrowmole @fairyjuhak22 @francislovergirl @viserraslawyer @ackerman0-0 @shi-toshi

It was already noon the next day and you had not seen the Prince. Your parents had summoned you to ask about how the courtship was faring, and you assured them that all was better than you thought it would be. Then, you told them of your request.

Your father’s face went coarsened with wrinkles. “You have not seen the ladies Roesaynne, Gertrude, or Leona in years,”  he said. “If there are any quarrels, it would be ill-received with such an audience.”

“Do you really expect me to misbehave so badly as to put our house to shame?”

The scribe, Nethanial, whom you requested, entered the room with a scroll of paper.

“You requested the scribe?” your father asked you.

You ignored him as Nethanial sat down.

“Daughter, this is a precious time for you,” your mother said. “Perhaps if we were to invite only one one of them…”

Your father nodded at this.

You were silent. This was a sensible outcome and you knew it. Still, anger seeped in you when you looked in both of your parents’ eyes. Defeat bred rebellion, and it was the rebellion that you wanted now.

In his seat, Nethaniel turned the paper so that you could read it. Sers Addam of Hull, Ulf the White, and Hugh Hammer were three names you recognized, as were the names of other noble houses. Lefford, Redwyne, Roxton, and Rosby. Next to this were three scrolls.

“Let it be Leona,” your mother said. “She was ever a good influence when I knew her.”

Looking at Nathaniel, you sunk back into the walls as he followed your parents' request. Jacaerys’ words affirmed your longing for comfort and appreciation. But this halted the delicacy of such feelings.

Your father took the scroll away from Nethanial’s hands and threw it across the room. It landed like a feather, quiet as the rage within you grew.

“No,” you said. “Have a little more faith in me.”

Your father left the room first, and then, after a sympathetic look, so did your mother.

“You may go now, Nethanial,” you said.

He finished writing on Leona's scroll before passing it to you.

Apart from the guard that stood at the doorway, you were the only one left now. You picked up the guest list from the floor, wanting to refresh your memory as to who exactly was invited. You folded it up and placed it into your pocket.

There was a secretive way to get what you wanted. First you would send the three letters by raven.

There was a scurry of handmaidens at the end of the hallway, Freya one of them. They all smiled at you, a respectful and distant thing.

“The Prince awaits your presence in the orchard, my lady.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Myrna. I will be there shortly.” You smiled curtly and headed in the direction of your room.

The view from your desk was of the very orchard you would be in soon. Since it was so far away, only a distant slope of green with apple trees reaching up to the sky, there was no prince to be seen. You took two scrolls from your desk and set Leona's down . You wrote of your request on Roesaynne and Gertrude's, signing your name at the end. And then your favorite part, the burning of the wax, where the blue and the grey seal locked onto the parchment. 

Ten minutes later, you shut the door at the Rookery; your parents could not find you here. There were three ravens whom you extended your hand towards, and then you let them take the letters, one each, for them to fly off with them in tow.

Then, you made your way to the Prince.

The fresh air was a welcomed feeling as you stepped onto the grass that held the orchard just beyond. The orchard was a walk away from the eastern castle, but you could walk there blindfolded if asked. It was a place away from the cacophony of your siblings and the suffocating castle air.  A hint of summer was in the air, proved by the trees’ light green sprouts of leaves and the white flower buds to accompany it. The orchard was just beginning to bear fruit, bringing prosperity to the Riverlands, small a commodity as it was.

Eagerness sparked in your bones to tell Jacaerys of the news, but there was an unsettling curiosity there as well. The Prince’s evasive behavior at the end of last night confused you. If he was feeling ill, or if it was something you said that you shouldn’t have, you must know. It was interesting how involvement in another person’s life could complicate your own, or draw you away from it. It seemed a peculiar thing, to set aside your own emotions in favor of another person’s.

Jacaerys was standing in front of you, approaching as you did him. He did not look as sorrowful as he did last night, but you were not sure if that was a good thing. In the daytime, it was less acceptable to fall into melancholy than at night. It was perhaps the fact that the beginning of the day was meant for duty and business, leaving the night free for contemplation.

“You left so abruptly last night,” you said. You stopped a foot away from him, leaving only a measure of prickly grass between. “Are you sure that nothing is wrong?”

“So I did,” he said. “But it was nothing, I assure you.” He took a step forward and gestured towards the line of trees in front of you. 

You began walking as well as you looked at the delicate amber in his eyes. “I was afraid that I said something wrong, and you left because of it.”

“No, no. All that you said was alright.”  he said, looking bashful now. “Forgive me, the fault is mine,” He smiled to show his front teeth, which had a crooked tooth. “Thank you for saying all that you did. It was… complementing.”

“Oh,” you said. His face, all appreciative, relaxed, and attentive was not something you expected. “Good. That was my intention.”

Moments passed of no words. In truth, he did look worn and tired, but there was a certain resilience and courage which you saw in his face. It surprised you enough that you had forgotten the other half of why you were here.

You cleared your throat. “I sent my friends the invitations.”

The sun shone through the branches, coating your betrothed in a yellow light.

“You did?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips, at which you nodded. He took your hand and squeezed it lightly. “This is wonderful news, wonderful. What did your parents have to say?” 

You frowned. “Please, you cannot tell them.”

“I will not.”

You nodded. “Would you like to see the guest list?” You took the scroll out of your pocket and handed it to him. “I needed to be reminded of some of the lords and houses that will be there.”

Jacaerys froze and his face fell. “My lady…” he trailed off. “The dragonseeds are invited?” 

He looked up from the scroll, his eyes boring into yours. You could not discern the emotion on his face, only that he was frowning. His hand in yours did not loosen its grip but went cold all the same.

“Yes,” you said. “What is wrong with that?”

“They do not carry the true name of House Targaryen,” he said factually. “ They cannot be at the wedding. They have no place there.”

“Jacaerys, I do not understand. Why would we not invite them? These knights helped win the war. Without them, I doubt that we would even have this celebration.”

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes. “You are saying that without them I would be dead?”

“If the Gods chose to be cruel, then yes!”

“These… These knights are not knights at all. They are lowborn, in what world would it be right for them to rise to the likes of us?”

You gasped, not knowing what to say, and began to pace around in slow circles. You laughed. “I cannot believe that I am to wed a man so pompous.”

He glared at you; you rarely felt so wounded.

“Houses Rosby, Lexton, and Redwyne. These lords declared for Aegon once. What would they say once they are in the presence of a lowborn who has succeeded in war? Their obeisance could change again. And would you be there to support my claim?”

“I— of course I would,” you said softly. You reached out to rub his palm, lest you and him become all but static. You looked at him, earnestness seeping out of your chest. “Your mother sits the throne. There is no contesting that now.”

“How can you be certain?” The sound of his voice was hollow.

You sighed, frustration weighing you down. “I cannot.” You had many questions for him, why he thought so lowly of those knights and lowborn, and many more. But all you could ask now was…

 “Why the Freys?”

It took him some time to answer, and in doing so, he let go of your hand entirely. “I don’t understand.”

“There are many fair maidens in the realm for your choosing. Why did you accept this?”

“I did not choose this marriage any more than you.”

“That is not true. My Prince, you could have refused.”

“And brought the Realm to judge?”

That silenced you.

“My lack of choice was not determined by my sex, but by my status. Do you see?”

“You accepted a marriage to please the Realm, but still, you will not make peace with your own blood, with the people that you will someday rule over? What good a king would you be, then?”

Jacaerys set his jaw. The trees around you seemed to lose their color, mixing with the color of his eyes, which were now dark and muddy. 

There were three apples by your skirt, mushy and discolored. You kicked at one of them, and it moved across the grass before a root stopped it. “And suppose I was born without the privileges of my rank… Would you show me the same disrespect?”

Jacaerys remained mute and looked at you for a beat, before turning away from you to walk back on the pathway.

As soon as you entered your chambers that day, you began sobbing. The hope that you might see your friends again was dampened. It was anger as well, as deep as the sorrow. Would everyone in your life leave you? You knew that in your womanhood, with your maidenhead soon to be lost, that such emotions had to be untangled. You alone must soothe the unpleasantness, and uncover whatever reasons Jacaerys had for being so vexed. 

You leaned against the pole of your canopy bed and tried to collect yourself. The afternoon sun was still bright, but reason told you that it was best to sleep now. You wiped your tears with your handkerchief and took your shoes off before collapsing onto the bed.

 Just as you were about to close your eyes, a knock sounded at the door. “Is it you, Fara?”

“Yes,” the voice said cheerily.

“Come in,” you said, sitting up against the headboard.

Once she opened the door, Fara gasped at the state of you.

“My lady! Are you ill?”

“No, no, I am not sick,” you said.

Fara stepped in and closed the door. “What is it, then?”

You pursed your lips. “Please, sit.”

Fara sat down at the chair near your bed. Outside in the hallway, you could hear Marsella yelling at Thimbus. Then, the sound faded, as did their footsteps.

You turned your attention back to your handmaiden. “Would you be willing to lend some advice?”

“I’ll do my best.”

You nodded. “How do you prepare yourself for confrontation when there has been a misunderstanding?”

Fara raised her eyebrows. “Is this about Prince Jacaerys?”

“Yes,” you said quietly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, did something happen today?”

“I… would rather not disclose that.”

“Well then, I’d think about when they started getting angry. It might take some time to remember, but usually, that is the way. Think of the timing, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Fara,” you said. 

She nodded, but it did not seem like she understood. You flipped the blankets over and got up, touched her arm and said, “I mean this. If it will truly work itself out by heeding your advice, then I should not be worried.”

[poisonlove]

Addyy | w.a

Y/N transfers to the prestigious "Nevermore" academy and becomes entangled in an eccentric and mysterious world. In her dorm, she shares spaces with Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams, both possessing intense personalities. Navigating complex dynamics, y/n delves into unique relationships and secrets, exploring the dark side of the academy.

Part 1

I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh.

I had just arrived at the Nevermore academy for less than five minutes, and I was already stressed from the never-ending talk of the director. Yes, the academy is prestigious and blah, blah, blah.

"Usually, we don't admit mid-year students... but her grades are excellent" Principal Weems says as she walks down the corridor, the sound of heels echoing. "All right, Miss... we don't have any more rooms... so you'll have to share with someone," she said with a slight smile.

"Yeah... okay," I replied with boredom.

I tried not to look back out of annoyance and just returned the smile. The blonde took two steps toward a wooden door and opened it for me.

"Welcome to the Ophelia Room... if you need me... you know where to find me," Director Weems gave my shoulder a squeeze and turned away, walking off.

A confusion of colors assaulted my eyes as a perfectly divided room greeted me. One side was terribly black and macabre, while the other was a riot of colors.

I suppressed the urge to vomit.

In the middle of the room, two girls were in the midst of a quarrel.

"Turn off this horrible music; it's time for my writing," said the shorter girl, looking at the blonde in front of her with inquisitive eyes.

She wore a gray-black uniform, much like the rest of the room. Her hair was neatly tied in two perfectly aligned braids that gracefully fell over her shoulders. Her skin was very pale, almost as if she were dead. As far as I could see, her lips were tightly pressed.

She showed no emotion.

The other was notably taller, with a blue-black uniform and blonde hair with shades of two different colors. She literally bared her nails in defense.

"This kitty has claws and is not afraid to use them," the blonde said with a challenging finger.

"Turn off this thing," the dark-haired girl repeated.

"I do what I want; after all, Taylor Swift is much better than the cello solo you play every night," she replied venomously.

I decided to intervene.

"I disagree," I said, placing my suitcases on the floor.

Both turned toward me. Brown eyes met mine, and a faint smile spread across her lips, immediately replaced by a darker look. Blue eyes lit up upon seeing me, and a smile spread across her lips.

"I hate Taylor Swift," I confessed, and the shorter one looked at the girl with disdain. The blonde snorted and turned off the music.

"However, I'm y/n," I added, approaching and shaking hands with the blonde.

"Enid Sinclair," she replied.

I glanced at the dark-haired girl who had turned her back to me, walking towards her desk.

"Sorry," I whispered to Enid and broke the contact between our hands, walking towards the center of her roommate. I put a foot outside the line, and a creak made the girl freeze.

"Stop, if you want to live," she said with a cold voice, putting a hand on the chair.

"Don't listen to her; she's always..." Enid began, but I didn't let her finish. "And what if I don't want to?" I asked.

I walked and approached her even more. Suddenly, she turned towards me, looking at me seriously.

"Y/N," I repeated, and she continued to look at me without blinking. I dangerously approached her, and she looked at me without moving a muscle.

"Things, I think we should bury her sooner than expected," Enid said with concern.

Our faces were very close, and I gave her a faint smile. She looked at me curiously, surprisingly turning her gaze away with her cheeks reddened.

"Wednesday Addams, now if you don't mind, step aside from my path," she whispered softly, authoritatively. She turned completely towards the desk and sat down, starting to manipulate the typewriter.

"Incredible," I whispered with a triumphant smile.

"I can't believe she didn't kill you for invading not only her room but also her personal space," the blonde said in amazement.

"Don't get your hopes up, Enid. I just wanted to be... kind," Wednesday said, almost disgusted by the last word. "Now shut up before I start thinking about taking away your privilege to speak," she said casually, focused on the paper in front of her.

"She's back," Enid laughed.

"Y/N, do you want to take a look around the school?" Enid suggested.

"I've seen enough... but okay," I smiled and approached the blonde. "I want to avoid getting killed... especially because I'll have to share a bed with Wednesday," I said hastily, almost running.

Enid laughed, and Wednesday froze in place, surprised by my words.

...

"Your friends are really... peculiar," I said with a half-smile.

Enid and I walked through the halls of Nevermore. The blonde had introduced me to her circle of friends, and we explored the school's gardens. I had a nice afternoon, but it was getting late, and it was time to return to my room.

"They're just idiots" Enid replied, gesturing. "Ajax, huh?"I asked with malice, raising my eyebrows, aware of Enid's infatuation with this guy.

"Shut up"she mumbled weakly, blushing. The blonde quickened her pace and entered the room, trying to dodge my questions.

I laughed and followed her.

"Come on... tell me"  I murmured with a 5-year-old's voice. "Tell you what?" Wednesday suddenly intervened. I turned to the right side of the room and smiled when I saw the image of little Addams.

"Addyyy, you finished writing, I see" I said with a finger of happiness.

The mentioned one furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Addy?" she repeated.

"A nickname... don't you like it?"I asked curiously, tilting my head to the side. "I hate it" she said coldly, looking at me without blinking. "Now tell me what you wanted to know about Enid" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It doesn't matter, Wednesday, it's our business" The Blonde intervened, sliding under the sheets. She yawned slightly.

Look, she's already in pajamas.

Wednesday didn't say anything and just approached her bed and sat on it.

"y/n/n, do you want to sleep here?" Enid proposed, leaning on the bed, looking at me with tired eyes.

"She doesn't need it; she'll sleep with me" Addams replied absentmindedly as she slid under the sheets. "You heard the boss"  I joked as I walked towards the suitcase that had been moved next to the bed. I took off my shirt and pants.

"What... what are you doing?" Wednesday asked timidly. I took the shirt out of the suitcase and looked at Addams. Her eyes roamed my body, stopping for a few seconds on my stomach.

"Am I putting on pajamas?" I responded with obviousness. She blinked and looked at me again. "Okay" she responded coldly, but her flushed cheeks made me smile slightly at the cuteness.

I put on the pajamas and lay down next to Addams; there was a noticeable space between our bodies.

"Goodnight Wednesday, night y/n" Enid said, turning off the light.

"Don't call me Addy if you want to keep all your fingers in place" Wednesday replied before turning around and giving me her back.

"Goodnight to you too..." I mumbled to myself.

◇◇◇

A slight squeeze on my side made me open my eyes; darkness surrounded the room, and an unsettling silence reigned between the walls of the academy.

I slowly looked down, and inevitably, a smile appeared on my face. In front of me was the image of Wednesday hugging me, and it was damn adorable. Addams' arms were around my stomach; her head rested against my chest, and sighs escaped her lips, making me tremble slightly.

If I move and wake her up... she'll probably kill me

I stayed still in my place and closed my eyes again, relaxing in the arms of little Addams.

◇◇◇

My body collapsed against something hard and cold; an unpleasant pain pricked my back, and my breath got stuck in my throat for a few milliseconds. "But what..." I'm dragging the words, opening my mouth, trying to get as much oxygen as possible. My eyes moved to the figure of Addams looking at me slightly amused from the edge of the bed.

"Addams" I muttered between teeth, looking at the responsible with anger. I closed my eyes and started to breathe slowly, trying to calm down and avoid causing a kinetic storm. "Why did you throw me off the bed?" I asked slowly, rubbing my elbow to alleviate the pain.

"You hugged me tonight; you're lucky I pushed you instead of inflicting excruciating pain" she said coldly, getting up from the bed.

"I didn't hug you! It was you who did it" I said as I got up from the floor. "No" she simply replied, looking at me without blinking.

"Apparently, you were the one who needed some affection"  I responded, pointing with my finger at the uniform leaning on the chair, making it levitate in my direction.

"I don't need affection; I hate physical contact and all of humanity... and especially, I don't need you" she affirmed and headed to the desk.

"Shut up, Things.." the raven-haired girl whispered as she grabbed her jacket.

"Enid?" I asked, looking to the left side of the room, searching for the girl's wolf mane.

"She already left" Wednesday said, grabbing her backpack.

"Perfect" I replied, heading to the bathroom, getting ready for class.

(...)

"Can you believe that Addams threw me off the bed this morning?" I asked Xavier.

The artist smiled mockingly as he tapped the desk with the pen.

We were in the greenhouse attending a lesson from Professor Thornill, and for the occasion, I decided to sit next to Xavier since I was still angry with Wednesday and had no intention of talking to her at least for today... Besides, she didn't seem interested in talking to me. I looked at Addy's profile... coal eyes focused on her notes; I shook my head disconsolately.

"Actually, it doesn't surprise me... but I'm surprised she didn't take out any organs or cut off a finger" he smiled as he concentrated on writing something on paper.

I looked at my notes, and I hadn't written anything at all..."Damn it..." I whispered, resting my head on my hand.

"What's wrong?" Wednesday turned around and looked in my direction. Her eyes met mine with indifference.

"I didn't write anything..." I affirmed sadly.

"This is because you've limited yourself to talking all the time" she replied monotonously, looking at my completely blank sheet.

" Don't tell me..."  I whispered mockingly; in response, Wednesday rolled her eyes. She turned again, giving me her back.

"Well, guys... the lesson is over... you can go" Thornill said in a high-pitched voice, smiling at her students.

I got up from the chair, took the bag, but perfectly aligned sheets in the corner of my desk made me freeze in place. I looked up and saw Wednesday Addams watching me.

"These are..." I took the notes from the bench, and inevitably, I smiled at the perfectly ordered and impeccable handwriting.

"Don't get your hopes up... you were just pathetic with that dejected look" she replied coldly.

Her words didn't hurt me for a second; I found Wednesday's gesture damn adorable. The girl turned her gaze annoyed and walked quickly towards the exit of the greenhouse; seeing her smile had caused me a strange and annoying sensation in the pit of my stomach.

As if spiders were spinning webs inside.

[belit0]

hello 😇 your posts save my days and every time i read it i'm happy 😂, you could write madara and s/n on a mission and they have to pretend they are brothers but madara is very jealous (he almost ruins the mission)

Hi!! Thank you so much!!! Little spoiler: "-I am a master of deception.-" my ass.

Madara Uchiha was a lot of things—a warrior, a strategist, a leader of men.

But what he wasn’t was someone who could tolerate another man looking at (Y/N) like that.

And yet, there she was, draped over their target, laughing sweetly, fingers trailing down the bastard’s arm, a perfect performance of flirtation. The warlord, a smug, overfed pig of a man, gazed at her like a prize he was about to claim.

The tavern they were in—the safe haven their target used every night—shook with the sound of voices and shouts, warriors and ladies of the night moving all around.

The air, thick with smoke, fragrances, and alcohol, felt almost suffocating. And not just because of that— but because of the aura Madara himself exuded.

His fingers twitched over the hilt of the concealed dagger at his waist.

(Y/N) had warned him before the mission. -Don’t be weird about this.-

-Weird?- he had scoffed. -I am a master of deception.-

Lies.

The instant that man leaned in closer, that his filthy, undeserving fingers brushed the bare skin of (Y/N)'s shoulder, Madara stood up so fast his chair scraped across the floor like a battlefield war cry.

-DON’T TOUCH MY SISTER.-

Silence.

(Y/N) froze.

The warlord froze.

The entire place froze.

Every person in the tavern turned to stare.

(Y/N) could feel her soul leave her body.

The warlord raised a slow brow. -Your sister?-

Madara’s jaw was iron. -YES. She is far too pure for the likes of you.-

(Y/N) clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palm.

"Brother...," she hissed under her breath.

He was not listening.

-She is a delicate flower, my sister.- Madara ranted, voice a storm of territorial rage. -A gentle, soft-hearted girl. She would never—never—His fists slammed forcefully against the table, making the glasses jump and the liquid spill.

Loud.

Too fucking loud.

—entertain the idea of being courted by someone like you.-

(Y/N) wanted to scream.

The warlord hummed, amused. -This one doesn't act like your brother at all.-

(Y/N) gave her best-outraged sister gasp. -Excuse me?-

The man continued -Well yes, in fact, he looks more like a jealous lover than an overprotective brother... but, if you’re siblings,- he smirked, -then you must fight all the time. Siblings always fight.-

Their target glanced around at everyone in the tavern, his people eagerly watching the inappropriate spectacle Madara was putting on.

-I fight with my brothers all the time, almost to the death! Don’t you all do too?- he asked the crowd around him.

-YEAH!!!- they all shouted in unison, their cheers and howls making the walls of the place tremble.

Madara froze.

(Y/N)’s brain worked at the speed of light. Before he could sabotage the entire mission, she took the next best route.

She stood up.

She punched him.

Right in the gut.

Hard.

Madara choked on his next breath. He staggered back, doubling over for a split second, completely unprepared for the sheer force of her attack.

(Y/N) flexed her fingers, shaking them out. That was satisfying.

-You mean like that?- she chirped at the warlord, who threw his head back and laughed.

-Hah! Now that is more like it!- he bellowed, delighted. -A true sibling quarrel!- The whole room shouted and laughed, imitating the man's reaction.

(Y/N) beamed, desperately suppressing her rampant irritation. -Exactly!- She smiled, nudging a still-winded Madara. -Isn’t that right, big brother?-

Madara… was silent.

Because Madara… was seething.

Not at her.

No.

At the fact that she had hit him in front of this worm and he couldn’t retaliate.

His teeth ground together.

His rage simmered, barely contained behind an expression so still, so eerily blank, it made the air itself feel heavier.

-Yes,- he gritted out, voice smooth as a dagger drawn from its sheath. -Of course, little sister.-

(Y/N) gave a bright, sweet smile. -See? All settled, then.-

The warlord laughed again, dismissing his previous suspicions entirely.

(Y/N) pulled Madara aside under the pretense of refilling their drinks, whispering under her breath.

-What the hell was that?!

Madara’s lips curled. -You punched me.-

-You deserved it.

His eyes gleamed, furious. -You enjoyed it.-

(Y/N) smirked. -Maybe a little.-

Madara exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had never wanted to drag someone out of a mission so fucking badly, remind her who she was outside of that assignment, outside of that farce.

His. Utterly his.

Instead, he forced a breath.

This was far from over.

[vickyvicarious]

Jonathan's decision to play along today was very difficult to make. But, in the end, it was the right move. He set aside his anger and impulse to rebel... perhaps as much or more out of fear rather than just logic, but we do see his reasoning and it makes sense.

And honestly, I think he pushed his luck nearly to the limit anyways. Look at how Dracula asked. First, he waited a few days after everything that went down with the vampire ladies, perhaps to see if Jonathan would bring up the topic. If Jonathan does, maybe he had plans to lie to him again, to gaslight him about either never sleeping outside of his room, or about Dracula finding him dreaming somewhere else and helping him back to his own bed. Still, Jonathan's reaction to such a lie could very easily force an end to all this pretending. But since he never brings it up at all, Dracula knows he can continue his game. In fact, Jonathan is proving to be a very resilient player, one who has just enough struggle in him to make it more interesting, without being too unmanageable or ever close to actually get away.

Dracula gives Jonathan this 'request' "in the suavest tones" - he's really emphasizing his charm here, being extra friendly as he tries to make Jonathan feel even worse. But then, contrary to what he's seen thus far, Jonathan hesitates.

I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is to prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new suspicion.

I think he must have been sitting there making these arguments to himself in real time. Wrestling with his fear and his outrage and possibly losing most of his control over his expression and body language as he did so. And at first, this is fun for Dracula. He wants Jonathan to struggle like this. It's fun to watch. But then, the longer it goes on, the more real becomes the possibility that this will be Jonathan's breaking point. And if it is, if he outright says "no" even this once, then Dracula's entire game is ruined. He's just committed to wanting to keep Jonathan around for another full month. Jonathan passed the test with the other vampires. Dracula has been looking forward to this. How dare he spoil this -

Dracula's rage rises as he finds himself forces to make excuses and be convincing when he likely assumed he no longer needed to put in that much effort. Jonathan finally does agree, but he didn't do so right away. And it's a very fine line, because continuing to do this does in fact make him more interesting and fun in the long run, and thus perhaps allow him to live longer. Maybe after they separate for the evening (morning, being nocturnal) Dracula would actually look back on this moment with indulgent enjoyment. He pushed perhaps right up to the limit of what Dracula would tolerate, but he didn't quite cross it, so the game can continue. But at the same time, pushing like this (or rather, resisting being pushed before giving in) is extremely dangerous in the moment - because in the moment, there's still a chance Jonathan could cross the line. Dracula has a temper and he will take it out on Jonathan if he decides he's had enough.

It's that tightrope again. More of the same. But I just... love imagining this moment. Dracula's sickly-sweet smugness at the start, his utter confidence in his victory once again. And Jonathan - pausing. Saying nothing in response. Thinking it over, taking so long to do so, trying so hard to keep a neutral face but not fully succeeding, maybe keeping his head bowed so his expression can't be seen. Dracula's anger building along with almost a sort of desperation, as he lays out all this bullshit reasoning, maybe losing control of his own tone somewhat as he gets more aggressively vehement. The absolute tension rising, up and up right until the moment Jonathan looks up and agrees, when it suddenly dissipates. But the aftermath lingers, even in Dracula's victory. Even as Jonathan writes the three letters, one after another under Dracula's watchful eye. Dracula takes them from his hand, squeezes his shoulder in ostensible thanks, but such a clear threat. Jonathan's face twitching, a little spasm of fear and despair, at the contact.

It could be SUCH a good scene in an adaptation that emphasized the abusive dynamic here.

[poisonouslili]

Letters From A Disgruntled Courier

A short letter fic for Our Last Liaisons by @rotting-ink who's amazing work has been plaguing me with severe brainworms.

ao3 link here!

♡ ship: pavel volchek x princess reader (x the aide if you squint)

♡ about: pasha's needy sister throws a tantrum on paper while he is being a dutiful soldier, the aide is more talkative when pissed off.

♡ warnings: err, its fluff but the ship is step-cest so.

To my most beloved, my darling, my sun—

To His Highness Prince Pavel Tasiavich Volchek,

From your afflicted sister, left abandoned in the frosty forests of silence,

It has been a hundred years since I last glanced upon your face, and it will be near as long—nay, a thousand more since I have received nary a word from you. Each morning I rise with the sun and ask the steward if word has come from the battlefront, and each morning I am told, with the cruelty of indifference, “No, none yet.” far too much for my liking. Shall I die of disappointment? Shall I wither like a frost-bitten lily? Shall I perish from neglect?

I so terribly want to quarrel with you, I would scold you most heartily, but how am I to do that with a ghost? For that is what you are now!—a wraith! A shadow of a brother! A prince of fog! You leave me no letters, and thus no way to quarrel with you. You rob me of my earned right to voice my displeasure so cruelly!

Oh! Rabid werewolf! Rat-sucking vampire! Turkey cock! No, a peacock! Exotic tom-cat! Golden pheasant! Salty snail! Serpent in the sheets! lion in the reeds! You are all these things and worse!

When you left me  saddled in your house and rode off in your accursed red uniform, you gave me your word to write to me so often that I would forget your absence. Yet you broke your vow to me for I know nothing but! You lie, precious brother, and you should be ashamed of it! I shall demand the army strip you of your medals for such crimes! Mother herself should strip you of your rank and title for such a great betrayal against your own kin!

Am I to lose my mind along with my health? Would that please you, brother? Will you be satisfied then, seeing me become an empty husk with how much I long for your company? For you to come home only to find your sister a shell of longing and silk?

I remain, despite my better judgment, your loving, suffering sister

——— Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa of House Aureus

To General Pavel,

Write.

She has not ceased her whining for fifty four days. I know because she counts every day aloud.

The household sleeps not in trying to appease her. The cook has taken to weeping in the storage room at the rising number of abandoned meals. 

She paces from dawn to dusk, announcing your betrayal to the heavens, the walls, her dolls and to me. I am but a person of few words. I have used them all in telling her to sit. She will not sit.

If you have mercy on the staff hired in this estate and wish to return to a sane retainer, write. I do not care if you are still barricaded somewhere or all the couriers are dead. Write. A single page. A line. Your name. Send a fucking strand of your beard if there is no ink.

Do not make me endure a fifty fifth day.

(dividers by bronzewasp)

[evans23]

Loving you is a losing game II

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Reader OC

Summary : After your quarrel and your discovery of some new feelings towards your husband, you have to comply to his new rules. But Richard was far to imagine the shift of your behavior towards him while he is still ready to make everything in is power to make you fall in love with him.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Forced marriage. Mention of conjugal violence.

A/N : Hello dear 😁 I didn't proofread because I'm too lazy. Let me know if the mistakes are a bit too obvious. I also kindly remember you English is not my mother tongue and as long as I can accept constructive criticisms, I ask you to stay kind, I have a soft and fragile heart guys.

Part I - Part III - Part IV

Also read on AO3

True to his words, the next morning, you weren't able to leave the house at your convenience. Not that you wanted to leave the house with your swollen lips and your bruised cheeks. There were another bunch of bruises and scratches on your legs and arms but you concealed it with the most comfortable of your dress.

This was rule number one from now on. If you wanted to go out, you had to be escorted by your maid but it seemed your husband burdened her with all the work in the world to be sure she wouldn't be able to accompany you anywhere.

Richard was at work and you haven't heard from him since last night. He had entrusted his new rules concerning you to the staff and it had been your maid's duty to inform you of them when you woke up.

You were still allowed to write anything you wished but henceforth, you will have to go to your publisher escorted by either your husband or your maid except if the first one could come to your house, as a matter of course with the permission of your husband and with the whole meeting supervised by the footman.

You could have found these rules rather magnanimous regarding your past behavior towards him if it hadn't been for his last rules, the one you despised almost as much as your father's decision to get rid of you for the perception of a monthly allowance.

From now on, Richard wanted you to sleep in the master bedroom. With him. In the same bed. You weren't disposed at all to do that but all your belongings were being moved in his room. Your clothes will now rub shoulders with his. Your dressing table was already settled in a corner of the room with all your beauty stuff and little by little, your room was emptied in favor of Richard's.

You let the staff at their tasks, it wasn't as if you could do anything to prevent it from happening and you were useless or at least you didn't want to help them to settle your new prison.

You were in your office, surrounded by papers and books, asking yourself if tonight Richard would coerce you to submit to your marital duty. The simple thought brought tears in your eyes but you rubbed them away with a sharp gesture of your hand.

You couldn't focus on anything. Writing, reading, and even eating seemed impossible as your mind was worrying about what your husband was able to do to you.

Maya, one of your friends, your best friend, was often punished by her husband. Physically punished. Spanking, trashing with a belt, slap on her face, nothing was spared to her. Could Richard do the same to you ?

If this were the case, the new feeling that had invaded your head and made butterflies dance in your stomach would disappear as fast as it has appeared.

However, if Richard had wanted to be violent with you, he would have already done that. Since your marriage, you had defied him more than once and never he had raised is hand on you whereas another man would have chastised you at your first mean glance towards him.

No, you tried to reason with yourself, Richard wouldn't beat you. He could have done that last night when you provoked him, almost asking him if he could have the nerve to do that. But he didn't. He just swore things would change for you and they were.

For the first time since your wedding, Richard came home for supper. He required that you eat with him and you complied with more or less reluctance.

He asked you about your day and you answered half-heartedly that you had read which was half true. You had borrowed one of Richard's books from his more than large library but you hadn't been able to concentrate on the words.

Instead, you had tried to decorticate and understand your mitigated feelings for Richard. Angriness, hatred, resentment, bitterness and something among all of these powerful and exhausting feelings, something which could be called love. But you would rather swallow vinegar than admit it.

The bedtime came too fast. Ordinarily, you went to your bedroom long before Richard came back from work and you were reading until late in the morning. In general, you didn't sleep before 1 AM, always too engulfed in a good page-turner. It wouldn't be the case tonight as you had to share your bed with your husband and the man needed to sleep to be fit for work although you weren't sure if he slept that much as he more than often came home after 11 PM and didn't go to bed immediately. You knew he was used to locking up in his office for one hour or two, working a bit more before going to sleep.

Out of kindness, at least you supposed, he let you go to the bathroom first. You took your bath, dismissing your maid while she wanted to help you.

"I know how to get clean by myself, thank you," you told her a bit too harshly.

In fact, you didn't want her looking at you with pity because of your bruises. You hissed when you went down into the hot water. Not one part of your body wasn't hurting you.

You returned to the bedroom after a while and Richard, to ease you a bit, averted his gaze while you sat at your dressing table to apply some cream on your face. You were brushing your hair when he returned from his own bath.

"May I ?" he asked.

You looked up at him through the mirror, a confusing look engraving your features. You then understood he wanted to brush your hair. Coyly, you handed him the brush. He carefully brushed your long brown hair with a delicacy you didn't know he had in him.

"Your hair is beautiful. Not as much as your eyes nevertheless. Your eyes could mesmerize Ulysse himself in a far better way than the singing of any siren."

You involuntarily blushed at his compliment, whispering a feeble thank you. Richard grinned, aroused by your sudden shyness around him.

"Shall we go to bed, dear wife ?"

You silently agreed, following him to the king-size bed. You settled in and Richard watched as you wrapped yourself under the blankets.

"Are you cold ?"

"A little bit," you admitted.

It was early spring but the temperatures weren't that high and the mansion tended to be cold, cooling down as soon as the fireplace went out. Tonight, no one had lit a fire in the bedroom to your disappointment. You couldn't stand having your bones shaking because of the cold.

"I am sorry. I forgot to ask a servant to lit a fire. I know how much you hate the coldness of our house. Personally, I prefer to sleep without any fire on, the coldness helps me to lulled off, but from tomorrow on, a fire will be lit every night before we go to bed."

You nodded, asking yourself how he knew about your aversion to the cold. Don't be stupid, you silently scolded yourself, your maid may have told him. After all, she was the one lighting the fire in your previous room. What surprised you more was what came next. You didn't know he was so acutely aware of what was going on in his home as he was always away. But he knew a lot of things. A lot of things about you didn't know he could have noticed.

"I know you like to read before sleeping. Don't deprive yourself. It doesn't bother me. Actually, I like reading a bit too before trying to catch on some sleep. Not as late as you but please, read until you can't keep your eyes open. Once again, I won't be annoyed by it.".

And again, you nodded, not knowing what to say. You didn't know anything about your husband. You had never really paid attention to him, his habits, how he liked to drink his tea and what kind of books he liked to read. On the other hand, Richard had learnt so many things about you just by observing you from a distance, looking discreetly one morning at how you were making your brewage sweeter by adding too much sugar, by taking a glimpse at the title of a book which was laying on the table in the parlor or on a piece of furniture in one or another hallway of the mansion. He knew you touched your lips with two of your fingers when you were thrilled by what you were reading and how you tucked your hair when an idea popped up for your book and how it made you run towards a sheet of paper to put down that idea before it disappeared in the abyss of your infernal whirlwind of thought.

"By the way, I saw this book in a library this morning while I was commuting to work and I thought you could like it."

He strode towards you and handed you a book entitled "The Demonology of King James I".

You cautiously took the book, brushing the letters of the title which the adornment stood out.

"Did you read it before ?".

"No. Thank you, Richard," you said softly.

It was the first time he heard you say his name and his breath was taken away at how it was pleasurable to hear you pronounce it with your accent from the north. You had rolled the "R" like a Scottish although you were born and had been brought up in London.

"Where does this beautiful accent of yours come from ?" he asked while he settled beside you in the bed.

"I don't know," you answered genuinely. "Maybe from the woman who taught me how to write and read. She was from Ireland and as long as I can remember, she was around me during all my childhood."

Richard hummed, knowing that you didn't like to talk too much about it. He wasn't sure if your childhood had been marked by the suffering of the lack of money or if it was because of the loss of your mother. He didn't know anything about it except that the woman died while you were very young and you had no memories of her. At least it was what your father had told him when the question of your mother was raised some days before the wedding.

He burnt to ask you questions about your past but he urged himself to keep his tongue. He wanted you to trust him and to come to him because you wanted to. Maybe you would answer if he asked, but then it would be as if he had forced you to confide yourself to him.

He sensed how stiff you were by his side and even though he was focusing on his own book, he couldn't help but take a glimpse from time to time at your still form. Your muscles should be hurting as how tensed you were. He also noticed that you hadn't turned a page since you opened your new book.

"What is amiss, dear wife ?" he asked suddenly.

You jumped slightly at the suddenness of his question, caught off guard. Once again, he proved to you that he was paying attention, clearly aware of everything concerning you even if you weren't voicing it.

"I… I…" you stuttered.

"Say so dear, I won't be angry at you."

He searched for your eyes and you looked into his eyes, looking for any signs of deceit but all you could see was sincerity. Yet, you weren't entirely convinced. After all, he was The Death's Judge, you were certain he could easily conceal his true intentions between several layers of falsehood. Despite your doubts, you answered with honesty.

"I am afraid."

You clapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words came out. You didn't inttend to blurt it out as you did. But you did and you couldn't take it back. It was as if Richard was a verity serum, compelling you to tell the truth whenever he was asking you something.

"Why ?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Your cheeks blushed as you didn't dare admit the reason.

"[Y/N] ?" he gently insisted.

"I am afraid… of you."

His features soften at your admission. You were so cheeky, insolent, even impertinent sometimes when you were talking back to him that never could he have imagined you admit he was frightening you.

"But why ?"

"My friend, Maya… her husband… he is violent. Sometimes, she can't even walk after he… after…" you couldn't finish your sentence, a lump making your throat ache at the thought of your dear friend suffering between the hands of the man who told her how much he loved her after a beating.

"Did I ever hit you ?"

You didn't answer, instead you looked down shyly. He put a finger on your cheek, careful to not touch your bruises, forcing you to look at him. You didn't flinch when your eyes met his.

"[Y/N], did I ever hit you ? Even when you get on my nerve ? Which happens quite often, my dear little disobedient wife." he said with a playful tone.

Once again, you stayed silent, looking down which made him chuckle.

"I will never ever hit you even when you're defying me to give you a beating just to prove your point. Understood woman ?" he asked sternly.

You nodded once a bit alleviated by his admission. However, he wasn't a dupe, he knew something else was running through your mind.

"[Y/N], what else makes you afraid of me ?"

"Idontwantyoutoforcemetosleepwithyou." You said in a breath.

"What ?" he asked perplexed as he hadn't understood what you had just said.

"I… I don't want you to… to force me," you repeated slowly this time.

"Force you to what ?"

You didn't answer and he didn't insist. He knew what you were talking about and as much as he wanted you to say it out loud, he didn't want to make you more unease than you already were.

"[Y/N], I am not going to take you by force. All I want is to sleep with my wife. We are married. I don't want us to live as strangers even if we are for the moment. Know that I have the firm attention to learn everything I can about you and you will learn to know me too. I want us to live as husband and wife and to do so we should sleep in the same bed. Furthermore, I am persuaded it will help you to get closer. I won't force you to make me any confidence but I will attend with all my forces to win your trust. You will sleep with me each night but I swear to God I won't touch you until you ask me to."

And you will, he silently added for himself, smirking inwardly at his boldness.

"And if I never let you take my virginity ?" you questioned bluntly.

"Then, loving you will definitely be a losing game," he whispered, a sad look crossing his face but fading as fast as it had appeared.

Once again, you felt a pang in your heart, hearing him saying that.

"No."

"What ?"

You look at him, embarrassed. You didn't intend to say it out loud.

"I… I don't want you to feel as if I'm a waste of time."

"Then, stop shutting me down, woman. At least, let us become friends."

"Friends…" you repeated. "Friends. Yes, I think I can do that."

You gave him an authentic smile and he felt his heart swelling with affection. It was a good start he thought. The beginning of something. He will, definitely, undoubtedly, win your heart.

"Well, shall we sleep ? I must wake up early for an important audience and I have to confess I am a bit tired of my day."

You blew out your candles and he did the same. As he felt you suppressing a shiver, he laid one of the blankets covering him over you and you thanked him bashfully.

"You are welcome [Y/N]."

He hesitated a moment before coming to the conclusion that a kiss on your forehead wasn't too invasive in the new beginning of your relationship.

"Sleep well, wife of mine."

You closed your eyes with pleasure at the sensation of his lips on your skin, shuddering with deliciousness.

"Good night Richard."

The sleep didn't reach you immediately. The glow of the moon could be seen despite the thick curtains were drawn and you find some comfort in having a ray of light in the room. You didn't like the darkness.

"Richard ?" you asked in a whisper turning to face your husband.

His breath was regular, he was sleeping, a light snore escaping his lips. You smiled while looking at him. He was handsome, you had to admit it. You were tempted to trace his hooked nose with the tip of your fingers but you refrained yourself, not willing to wake him up.

"I don't want you to think that loving me is a losing game. I hope we will be more than friends. I want to be worthy of your love. Richard, I want you to love me." you whispered before turning around, facing the large window, closing your eyes in the hope you will find a well deserved sleep while you reiterate your wish at the moon.

And while you were drifting to unconsciousness, Richard opened his eyes, a large smile eating his face as he drew you towards him by putting his arm around your sleepy form.

Yes, definitely, marrying you wasn't a losing game.

[darkstar225]

Twice's 10th member disappears after an argument with her favourite unnie

A/N: I got an ask on Tumblr and I loved writing it, ty! I hope the anon that gave me this idea likes it! :) (Ik it's angst but it's so good, like?? Ily anon)

The request: can you do a twice 10th member where Y/N gets into an big heavy argument with one of the members which causes her to leave upset for hours without her phone, worrying everyone especially because they have no way of contacting her. When she comes back it's around 3am and she comes back all bloodied, bruised, and disassociated not really speaking. (I know it's angsty sorry)

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

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Y/N had always been the 10th member of TWICE, a fact she cherished with all her heart. Being part of one of the most popular K-pop groups in the world was a dream come true. She had laughed, danced, and cried with her fellow members. Yet, her strongest bond was with Jihyo, the group's leader.

Jihyo was more than just an idol to Y/N. She was a mentor, a sister, sometimes a mother and the pillar TWICE's maknae leaned on during the most challenging times. Today, however, was different. A brewing argument had escalated into a heated quarrel, and their once harmonious relationship had cracked.

It had started innocently enough... Y/N had suggested a new choreography move during practice, hoping to infuse some freshness into their routine. But Jihyo had shot it down immediately, citing concerns about safety and cohesion. What began as a professional disagreement had spiralled into a personal clash.

The argument had raged on for hours, with both of them stubbornly sticking to their positions. It was a war of wills, neither willing to back down. Y/N's eyes had welled up with tears as frustration and hurt welled up inside her. Jihyo's words were tinged with anger and had cut deep, like a knife through her heart.

Jihyo - I can't believe you're so stubborn, Y/N!

Y/N, unable to contain her own rage any longer, snapped back for the first time. 

Y/N - Well, at least I'm not a control freak who thinks she knows everything!

The room had gone silent, save for the heavy breathing of the two women. Their bandmates (sisters), who had been practising alongside them, exchanged worried glances. This was far from the usual friendship that TWICE was known for.

Jihyo's eyes filled with tears, and the youngest instantly regretted her harsh words. But instead of apologizing, she stormed out of the practice room, leaving everyone in stunned silence.

Hours passed, but Y/N didn't return. Her absence gnawed at the members like a persistent itch. They tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Messages were left unanswered, and worry began to replace anger. They knew that when Y/N was upset, she often went on long walks to clear her head. But this time, it felt different.

Jihyo, burdened with guilt and concern, paced back and forth in their dormitory. She couldn't shake the image of her kid's tear-streaked face from her mind. She knew she had crossed a line with her comments, and now, their argument had led to the younger girl's disappearance.

As the hours stretched into the early morning, TWICE decided they had to take action. They couldn't let their angel wander the streets alone and upset. At 3 AM they finally grabbed their jackets and headed out, hoping to find her.

The night was cool, and the streets of Seoul were dimly lit. TWICE members walked in pairs, calling out Y/N's name as they went. Their worry deepened with every unanswered call. They checked all of their girl's favourite spots, but she was nowhere to be found.

Jihyo felt a sinking sensation in her chest. She couldn't bear the thought of her baby being out there alone, hurt and upset because of her. Guilt gnawed at her, clawing at her conscience like a relentless beast.

They searched for hours, their voices growing hoarse from calling their babygirl's name. Desperation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. It wasn't just about finding her anymore, it was about making things right.

Finally, as the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, they spotted her. Y/N was walking slowly along the riverbank, her steps unsteady. She looked dishevelled, her clothes torn, and her face was stained with tears. But what shocked them the most were the bruises on her arms and the blood on her cheek.

Jihyo was the first to cry out, rushing towards her. The other members followed suit, their worry giving them strength.

Jihyo - Baby! 

But Y/N seemed distant, her eyes glazed over. She didn't respond to their calls. It was as if she was there physically but not mentally. She didn't seem to recognize them.

Nayeon, the group's eldest member and one of the maknae's mom, reached out to touch Y/N's shoulder gently. 

Nayeon - Kiddo, it's us. You're safe now.

Y/N flinched at the touch, her gaze finally focusing on Nayeon's face. She seemed to be processing their presence slowly as if emerging from a deep fog.

Tears filled Jihyo's eyes as she took in her youngest's battered appearance. She blamed herself for this, for pushing Y/N to the point where she had left, vulnerable and alone.

Momo (known for her motherly instincts with Y/N, ft everyone else lol) put her arm around TWICE's honey and led her away from the riverbank. 

Momo - Let's get you home, okay my love?

As they walked back to their dormitory, Y/N remained mostly silent, only muttering a few words in response to their questions. It was clear she was in shock. The members tried to piece together what had happened, but Y/N's disjointed sentences didn't reveal much.

Back in their dorm, they gently cleaned the maknae up, tending to her injuries. There were more bruises on her body than they had initially seen. Jihyo couldn't hold back her tears as she applied a soothing ointment to her child's cheek, the one with the fresh scrape. It was a painful reminder of the harsh words she had thrown at her earlier.

After cleaning her up, they tried to get Y/N to eat something, but she refused. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. It was as if her spirit had been broken.

Jihyo couldn't take it any longer. She had to talk to their girl, to apologize and beg for forgiveness. She sat down beside her and took Y/N's hands in her own, her voice trembling with guilt.

Jihyo - Sweetheart, I'm so sorry.

Jihyo choked out, tears streaming down her face. 

Jihyo - I never should have said those things to you. I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I can't forgive myself for that.

Y/N finally looked at her, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and confusion. 

Y/N - Omma... I don't even remember what we were fighting about.

Jihyo's heart ached at those words. It was a testament to how far they had let their anger escalate. 

Jihyo - It doesn't matter, kid. I hurt you, and I promise I'll do everything to make it right for us, I'm your momma and I'm here for you boo.

As the sun rose outside their window, casting a warm glow on the room, TWICE gathered around their youngest, offering her their support and love. They knew it would take time for her to heal, both physically and emotionally. But they were willing to stand by her, just as they always had.

In the end, the argument that had torn them apart had brought them closer than ever before. They had learned the importance of communication and they were determined to be there for each other, no matter what challenges lay ahead. And this made them all share the same thought:

We are proud of our precious maknae.

A/N: I apologise for any errors, English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there's something wrong, ty for reading <3

[ingydarwp]

I’m going to watch thunderbolts later today so I have a few (a lot) important (very much not important) questions!!!!

Whats your favorite kind of shark? Mine are whale sharks.

Will you ever bring back Astrid?

How would Gwen and Cat interact because they both had Derek Shepard (I’m pretty sure that’s Cats dads fc) as a father?

I don’t remember if you’ve already answered a question like this but how would your ocs be like if they swapped places? Like if Isabell was put in Tigers place or if Tiger was put in Gracie’s?

Yelena hates Gracie but how do Melina and Alexei feel about her? And in the same vein do you think that Natasha and Yelena forgave Alexei way to quickly in Black Widow?

How is Bucky able to look at Gracie after Steve left him with her looking just like him?

I feel like you’ve alluded to Jay Mallory not being a good person but does Tiger ever know that?

What happened to Anni Betzler is not a rabbit? Would you ever write it or is it an idea that is just an idea?

I know you’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy so have you ever watched Station 19?

I recently remembered about Callum Rogers (Gracie’s psychiatrically unstable older brother (your words not mine)) and I have so many questions (which I’ve spaced and numbered to make them easier to read.

1. How much older than Gracie is Callum?

2. If he exists why did they create Gracie?

3. Did Coulson also name him?

4. In this world would Natasha still take Gracie? Would she also take Callum or would Shield/Hydra try to keep them separate because a shy and scared Gracie is easier to control?

5. If Natasha did take care of them both how would she treat Callum? Would he see how she treats Gracie and try to keep her far, far away from her?

6. How would Steve handle having a kid like this? What would Buckys reaction to him be?

7. Would Callum ever resent Gracie for being so shy and quiet and a better kid than he is?

And finally are there any fun facts that you want to share that will never make it into a fic?

OH MY GOSH THIS IS A LOT OF QUESTIONS :0 you may even be giving ziggy, the question-asking master, a run for his money.

favourite shark??

i may be basic because i do love a classic great white (or great write shark...) but i'm very fond of cookie-cutter sharks!! and lemon sharks too!! i love all the sharks.

especially ikea sharks. i have four now.

will i ever bring back astrid??

i've actually been thinking about astrid a lot as of late so this question is very well-timed!! she's been lingering in the back of my brain, swinging her legs against my nerve cells and messing with my synapses (i'm counting this as my geography revision for the day).

i honestly do not know!! there was a time where you could've asked me this question and i would've said absolutely not, but i've been swayed by a variety of reasons recently and so the answer is no longer as definite!! she'd definitely need a fair bit of altering — i'd put her into different projects, change her fc, adapt her slightly, etc — but she's not completely off the table anymore!!

if anyone has any face claim ideas or would just enjoy seeing more astrid content, let me know :))

gwen and cat!!

these two would have a very interesting dynamic and i'm giggling rn as i imagine it. they both have very different experiences with his face, i feel 😭

gwen has the real, actual derek shepherd. despite her many quarrels with him and their various arguments, she does really love him deep down. and derek, he adores her. he loves her unconditionally and irrevocably, more than life itself. that's his little baby girl. derek, luckily, is also nothing like declan spector.

cat, on the other hand, has obviously had a horrible experience with her dad, who is in turn nothing like derek shepherd. derek shepherd would LOATHEEEEE declan spector.

as for gwen and cat in themselves, i'm not sure they'd get along. it isn't even about their dads. put simply, gwen is stuck-up, full of herself and inherently dislikeable. she's a spoilt, rich prodigy, and to her, cat is both inferior in intellect and just generally annoying. they'd really clash. gwen would dislike cat, and cat would have no time for her prissy behaviour. not a good match, unfortunately

how would the rest of nat's family feel about gracie??

this is a very interesting question, and honestly, it's one i hadn't really considered before!!

melina would really like gracie. i firmly believe that. melina wasn't necessarily a good mother but she was fair and sharp and she had good grace. she sees through natasha — she always has — and she doesn't agree as blindly with her opinions on gracie as yelena does.

melina and gracie never actually meet, but if they did, melina would be able to accept the fact that nat was cruel and she would be able to sympathise with gracie. melina loved nat enough to recognise her flaws, and she also has enough grace (unintentional pun) to push aside her love for her daughter in favour of looking after a hurt little girl who is actually still alive.

alexei thinks gracie is great 😭 she's not very keen on him because he's very loud and boisterous and takes up a lot of space, but she appreciates the fact that he likes her!! she just spends a lot of time pretending to laugh at his jokes (post thunderbolts breakdown, obviously)

how does bucky cope with gracie's resemblance?

in graceland too, steve does not leave!! it's a decision i made fairly recently and i've been trying to allude to ever since, but this is me stating it plainly 😋 he does unfortunately meet an untimely demise, as many marvel characters do, but at least he doesn't betray gracie and buck.

it is still difficult for bucky to look at gracie, seeing as she clearly resembles something very precious that he's lost, but it's easier for him considering steve didn't choose to leave them. this way, he is able to be around gracie and still grieve what he couldn't keep, but continue to love the thing he does have.

does tiger know about her father?

the thing about jay mallory is he's not necessarily a bad person in the way i seem to have inadvertently implied 😭 i think the best way to describe it is that jay mallory is a bad person in the same way rick grimes is a bad person. the things they do, they do to protect what they love, but they are still inherently wrong actions.

jay mallory does bad things the way rick grimes ripped someone's throat out with his teeth. it is uncomfortable and grisly and unpleasant, but it isn't out of choice. just necessity.

i think tiger is aware of it, in a way. she recognises the need for it and she accepts it, but maybe it still bothers her deep down. truthfully, i don't really know.

nobody in twd is really a good person. not rick, not jay, not even tiger, in the end. i think it's just about the fact that they are bad with the end goal of good, whereas some people - like negan - take pleasure in the need for violence.

what happened to anni betzler?

anni my baby beloved!! as sad as it makes me to say this, anni is no more. because jojo rabbit as a movie features very sensitive topics, i decided when i started posting her that if anyone took offense to me making a fic of it, i would immediately stop. and somebody eventually did, so i stopped plotting it.

while i do like anni and i did like her plotline, i don't want to write her if there are people who aren't comfortable with that, so she is gone :(

station 19?

unfortunately not!! my friend is a big fan though, i think? she tells me about the plotlines on the way to class and i pretend to know what's going on

CALLUM CONTENT!!

a callum mention is wildly exciting to me as i think about his au quite often, so this was super fun!! for those of you who don't know, callum rogers is a what if? sort of character who, in another universe, is gracie roger's slightly demented older brother.

callum would be eighteen when gracie is eight (i think...) so ten years older than her!!

in this alternate universe, callum still isn't a fully successful captain america duplicate!! he's much more of a healthy, normal kid than gracie is, but he's still not super, iykwim, so gracie was an attempt to make another version of callum, but better. ironically, she turned out worse...

i'm not sure who would've named him!! probably coulson, i think. truthfully, i'm still not fully set on the name callum so any suggestions are always welcome!

nat does still have custody of gracie!! callum lives by himself in this timeline. he drops in to see gracie pretty much every day and she stays with him sometimes, but she primarily lives with nat.

i think originally, callum and nat would get on pretty well. they're both bristly, private people who like gracie and also like to keep to themselves. however, the worse nat gets, the more callum despises her. he'd get gracie out of that house ASAP after aou

truthfully, i don't think steve would know how to handle callum properly. callum just does not like him in the slightest 😭 he's very protective over gracie, so having to share her care with yet another person winds him up, and he doesn't like all the problems gracie seems to get into when steve's looking after her. he just completely rejects him. he doesn't want a dad, he doesn't want a friend, and he just wants him and his sister to be left alone. steve tries to respect that, so they don't spend much time together. he's probably also afraid of getting punched in the face by his own son, truthfully

callum can never resent gracie for anything!! in his eyes, she may as well have hung the moon and stars. he adores his little sister and would do anything for her, no matter how dangerous or humiliating or gutwrenching. gracie is his whole wide world and he refuses to let anything get in the way of that.

annoyingly, i don't think i have any fun facts to conclude this because i am VERY out of touch when it comes to my fics atm, unfortunately, but i hope these were good answers!! i'm sorry it took so long to reach them and have a lovely lovely lovely day :)))

[lamemaster]

Nerdanel's Favorite Daughter-in-Law

Pairing: Nerdanel and Maglor's Wife

Genre: Fluff

AN: Really wanted to write this because I feel soft.

If someone asked Nerdanel about her favorite daughter-in-law, the redhead elleth would deny the possibility of having one or would vehemently insist on loving all her daughters-in-law equally.

But. There exists a But. There is one for whom Nerdanel feels greater. The most unexpected of the bunch. Makalaure's wife.

Your arrival had been, to state it lightly wildy unexpected. And maybe Nerdanel would have hated you for binding her son to a mortal but she could not.

You had come to Valinor bearing last fragment of Makalaure's soul. A part of her son that lived in your belly as your child. Nerdanel could have despised you for owning a part of her son but she could not.

Not when her son's presence has been a gift from you. How could she when you are a mortal who dared to give up the gift of Illuvatar for her son's sake.

Maybe that is why you were allowed to step on the soil that even the king of Nuemenor was forbidden.

So, Nerdanel finds herself endeared to you. Even when her eldest, Nelyafinwe, can not even bear to look your way. You are an Easterling from the lands and of the people that once betrayed Maitimo. The wounds of the past run deep and heal slow.

Yet, Nerdanel has found herself unable to hate you. Instead, she can't help but notice how you make the most convincing excuses to not attend a feast that seems to host most of Maitimo’s friends. A sacrifice made out of your will. Not even Makalaure notices it but Nerdanel does.

"Is y/n not coming?" Nerdanel asks Kano, who seems to have arrived dressed immaculately as always. His robes ironed and cuffs straightened. "No she sprained her foot the last minute, so I let her rest for today," Nerdanel knows well about these last-minute sprains that just seem to be a mortal thing. Right at the clap of the moment, Maitimo walks out dressed. "Let's go I'm ready," the one who had no plans on attending the feast seems to have dressed up as soon as the news of you not attending arrives. Maybe the rest did not notice but Nerdanel did. These intricacies of your behavior do not go unnoticed by her.

Nerdanel feels seething rage fill her when her son's words leave your eyes dull and your smiles forced. She knows well enough of lover's quarrel and arguments beyond that but she cannot bear seeing the lines of sadness etched on your face.

The unfairness of your despair tugs at Nerdanel's heart. "Can you not be a brute as such your father?" Nerdanel feels a headache build the more she talks to Makalaure. "But she-," "Makalaure she is alone here in a land foreign to her. Can you least be civil to the one who carries your child?" The carving tool in her hand feels dangerous for a lingering moment.

On nights when her own son's unfairness tugs her heart, Nerdanel seeks you. It isn't hard to find a mortal in Valinor. A mortal who stands out in a world full of immortals. Nerdanel seeks you.

You can't go far. So it isn't a surprise when she finds you in her own backyard. Perched next to blooming roses, Nerdanel can sense your heartbreak. Longing for a time and people long gone lines your eyes. It isn't an easy bargain, the one that you have made at your own cost. You stay here for her son, becoming his anchor you have submerged yourself into the seas of the unknown.

Now Nerdanel has never been much of a cook but today she sticks to her courage with the rounded bowl in her hands. Depositing herself next to you, Nerndal wonders if you can see her the way she can. She does not know the limits of mortal sight. "I hope you like this," gathering a morsel in her hand Nerndanel feeds you. And she feels the wetness of tears on her hands.

"Bibi," Nerdanel feels her heart stop at your words as you hug her. Bibi, the word for mother in your tongue. And Nerdanel hugs her daughter-in-law back. The only one who hugs her.

"My bibi used to make me choori, hot wheat bread mixed with jaggery and ghee. She used to feed me more than any of my brothers," your words from the past ring in her ears.

You have become more than a daughter-in-law, you have become a daughter.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digimon Writing Challenge - Mix and Match: Koushirou + Agumon + Friendship

[Yamato] [Takeru] [Hikari] [Sora] [Taichi] [Koushirou] [Mimi] [Jyou]

Summary: After defeating Mugendramon, Taichi's group, finally reunited, gets to have some well-deserved rest - but Koushirou simply can't seem to fall asleep, overthinking his previous quarrels with Taichi and whether or not he had gone too far by calling him out. Koromon, however, leaves him a piece of mind in this regard...

Word count: 947

Koushirou Izumi had always thought of himself as a person capable of controlling his emotions – at least up until the moment he and his camp companions had been thrown into a completely different world.

At some point, he had just stopped keeping track of the number of emergencies, near-death experiences and conflicts. Especially now that the fate of both the Digital and Real World rested on their shoulders, depending on them to beat the Dark Masters, it was tough to clearly remember all their adventures.

However, today had been a new first for Koushirou. This was precisely why he hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet, deep at night at a safe space Andromon had found for them, surrounded by the remnants of greyish debris and with a heavy heart pounding in his chest.

Never before had he opposed Taichi in that manner. Sure, he had disagreed with him on various occasions, had tried to hold him back whenever he did something reckless.

But never before had they gotten into an argument like this. Not really a fight, only close to a punch that was meant to cover up their whereabouts and yet… After everything Koushirou had heard, after everything Taichi had confessed to him, about his past, why he had acted as irritating as before…

It reminded him of his parents, all the suffering they must have gone through. Not even considering his own suffering at this point, because Taichi’s turmoil was all he could think about right now.

“What were you thinking?!”

“It’s my fault, I need to take care of her.”

“If you understand, quit ordering me around!”

Koushirou had tried to soothe him. To help him to take better care of himself. He had raised his voice – and even if he was aware that he had been objectively right to tell him to take a break, he now felt like he had disrespected him. Angered him. And although Taichi had apologized for his behaviour afterwards… It hurt.

And now he couldn’t sleep, dealing with a stubborn sense of guilt in his chest. What if he had permanently damaged their bond? What if Taichi would treat him differently from now on? All he could do was watching Taichi’s back next to him, who, just like Sora, Piyomon, Takeru and Patamon, was fast asleep, cuddled closely to Hikari, Tailmon and…

“Nyaaaaaargh… Koushirou?”

He hadn’t noticed Koromon moving and now, after a biiiiig yawn, the pink blob was sitting right in front of him, ogling him with his big red eyes.

“You’re still awake too? I assumed you would be out for at least a few more hours after defeating Mugendramon”, Koushirou whispered in response, only now noticing the huge scratch on the Digimon’s forehead he obtained by slicing up Mugendramon into a million pieces.

“No worries”, the little monster shook its entire body. “Hikari’s light made me feel all warm and fuzzy, so I didn’t lose that much energy, hehe! Tentomon’s more exhausted though, huh?”

They both turned around towards Tentomon, who had curled up into a ball right next to his human partner, guarding his laptop while snoring quietly and peacefully – which actually made Koushirou smile for the first time in hours. At least he was getting the rest he deserved.

“Did you want something in particular?”, Koushirou finally asked while getting up into a sitting position – only for Koromon to jump right into his lap.

“Mhmh! I wanted to thank you for watching over Taichi! I couldn't stop him earlier and… I know that he does everything he does to protect everyone around him, so… He needs to understand that he has friends to protect him too! That he is not alone!”

Hearing all that, Koushirou just glanced back to Taichi’s backside. It was almost like Koromon had summarized his own thoughts perfectly, even if it still left a small pounding in his chest behind.

“Friends to protect him too…”

“It scared me when you two almost punched each other, but… I guess that’s what friends need to do sometimes?” The Digimon looked lost in thought for a moment and Koushirou was certain that Yamato had just come to his mind. Understandably so, as both Taichi and Yamato seemed to be more physical when it came to bringing their points across. “He was a lot calmer after that, so you did the right thing! He was really sorry too, he didn’t mean to hurt you, so please forgive him, okay?”

Caught off guard once again, Koushirou blinked. Was it really that easy? Did Taichi maybe feel like he could be more physical with him too because they were… Friends?

“I’ve… Forgiven him immediately, Koromon, please do not worry yourself. But… Are you sure?”

“Huh? About what?” Koromon mirrored the blinking. “You always take care of each other and you always help Taichi like only a true friend does! Using your laptop, figuring out places and routes and mysteries when he doesn’t know what to do… I know you care about each other a lot, so… Please make sure Taichi always sees that he can rely on you, okay? He has me, he has everyone, but he needs to know it too.”

Maybe it really was that easy. Maybe he needed to stop overthinking. And maybe their friendship had become much stronger than he had given it credit for – even if it took Taichi’s monster soulmate to help him to realize it.

Despite the pain he had felt, he hadn’t picked the wrong path. And he would continue to stay by Taichi’s side, even if it meant calling him out, bringing him back on track. Like a true friend would.

“I promise I will.”

[kokinu09]

can you write me a felix apocalypse fic 🤔

running ‘til the end (pt 1)

word count : 2083

A/N : Thanks keeps, new series unlocked 😂

trigger warnings : none yet

masterlist | next

~~*~~

The bowstring is pulled taut beside his ear, aimed directly at the grazing doe a few yards away. Felix keeps his breathing steady, eyes sharp on his target.

He can’t let the potential meal get away this time. Hunger gnawing at his insides from just the thought of finally getting to eat something substantial.

The air is quiet around him. Only the sounds of nature filling the silence. The slight breeze rustling the leaves and overgrown grass, the occasional chirp of a passing bird, the snap of a nearby twig—

The doe’s head whips up before she darts away to disappear in the wild brush.

“Wha—! No!” He quietly curses, forced to lower his bow as he watches his prey completely vanish in the overgrowth. His teeth grit in anger, eyes sweeping the area to find the source of what started the deer instead.

Some rustling catches his attention at the edge of a tree line not far across from him, reflexively raising his bow in defense towards the presence. He half expected to see an undead monster stumbling into the clearing. But, to his surprise, he sees two boys looking to be around his age carelessly bickering as they come out into the open.

“How could you possibly think that was a good idea!” The shorter of the two huffs, cheeks puffing out like a rodent’s full of food as he stumbles trying to keep up.

“You’re just mad you weren’t the one to think of it,” The taller, more slender boy quips. His movements smooth and graceful as he easily maneuvered through the leaves and branches.

“Excuse me?! You think I wanted to nearly break my neck from that jump?!”

“Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t even that hi—”

Felix stands, making himself known with his bow drawn, deciding enough is enough. If these trespassers keep it up, they’ll scare every animal in the area so far away, he’d have to cross the border to catch them. Or attract the unwanted attention of a hoard of brainless monsters that would kill them all anyway.

The tall one spots him almost immediately, cutting himself off when his movement catches the corner of his eye. He freezes and his friend bumps unceremoniously into the back of him.

“H-hey! Why’d you stop—” When the other boy finally lifts his head to look around, his spine stiffens too, eyes blown wide with panic.

Felix tightens the bowstring a fraction more, prepared to pierce them through the heart if they even so much as move too quickly. “You should go back the way you came,” he tells them firmly.

Both boys have their hands raised in surrender. “Y-yeah! W-we definitely will do that!” The cheeky boy laughs nervously, elbowing his friend. “Hyunjin, let’s go,” he urges through gritted teeth.

“No, we can’t,” the tall boy hisses right back, not looking away from the arrow pointed straight at them.

“What do you mean?! We’ll find another way! But we can’t die here!”

“We’ll all die anyway if we turn back.”

Felix isn’t sure if they realize that he can hear their little quarrel, or maybe they don’t really care if he does. But his curiosity is peaked nonetheless.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks the two strangers and when he gets startled looks from both of them he clarifies. “‘We’ll all die anyway if we turn back.’ What did you mean by that?!” His voice rising from impatience.

“Alright! Ok! Relax, we’re not here for a fight.” The tall boy says, trying to reassure the tense boy in front of them. It does little to ease Felix’s nerves.

“There wouldn’t be a fight anyway,” Felix threatens, his deep voice rumbling with promise. He can see the color drain from the smaller boy’s face. “Now talk!”

“Our water supply was contaminated!” The tall boy shouts. It feels like the whole world goes silent in reaction to his heavy words. And it’s Felix’s turn to stand frozen. “If we don’t find another water source, then we die. Happy now?” The sarcasm and malice dripping from his tone is palpable.

A few moments of silence stretches on between them, feeling much longer than they should, until Felix very slowly lowers the bow. His eyes still watching them cautiously, however. The two boys follow suit lowering their hands as tense sighs leave their lungs.

“How many are in your group?” He asks more calmly now.

“Four! We split up to search more of the area!” The smaller boy blurts out, earning an elbow from his friend. “Ow what?!” He questions in annoyance.

“We don’t know if we can trust him! Don’t spill all our secrets,” the tall one replies through gritted teeth.

“Well he didn’t shoot us in the heads so I’d say we can trust him at least a little,” the other pouts.

“Again, you know I can hear you right?” Felix can’t help but chuckle at their banter now, sliding the arrow back into the pack slung over his shoulder.

“Right. Sorry,” the tall one apologizes with guarded eyes. “I’m sure you can understand my hesitation though.” Felix nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I understand better than anyone. I have people to protect too.” He admits as an olive branch for a truce. The wide eyed gasp he gets as a response to his honesty is a good sign. “I’m Felix.” He introduces before they can ask any more questions for information he might not be willing to tell.

“I’m Han!” He greets cheerfully, stepping around the taller boy to extend his hand out to Felix. “It’s nice to meet you!” The latter hesitantly shakes his hand but finds the wide smile that spreads across Han’s cheeky face contagious.

“Nice to meet you too, Han,” Felix says politely before turning to his companion expectantly. There is a tension as the two stare at each other.

Han looks back and forth between them, nervously wringing his hands together as the silence drags on. Until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hyun, be nice. Maybe he can help us,” he persuades in a quiet voice. The other boy looks at his friend skeptically then sighs.

“You’re right. I’m sorry…again.” His eyes drop, looking ashamed at how he’s acted. Felix knows, and he doesn’t blame him, so he offers a warm smile.

“I get it. To be honest, I’m still hesitant about you too,” Felix chuckles. This draws the other’s eyes up to meet his, sincerely grateful and curious at his good nature all of the sudden.

“Yeah,” he breathes a laugh along with him. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

Felix’s smile widens. “It’s good to meet you, Hyunjin.”

Han makes a loud clap with his hands as a sign of finality, reasonably startling the other two half to death. “Now that that’s all settled and we’re all buddies now,” Han drawls out cheerfully, “do you know of a good water source around here?”

The lilt of hope in his question makes Felix feel a little guilty that he can’t just help them right away. Minho taught him better than that. These people may not be dangerous but they’re still strangers and he can’t trust them just yet.

“Um, maybe,” he answers honestly, quickly going on when he sees their faces drop in defeat. “I just have to talk to my people! I do want to help, but I…can’t put them at risk. I’m sure you can relate.” He offers and gets a nod of understanding from Hyunjin.

“Makes sense,” Han agrees too, but it doesn’t stop the sigh that escapes him.

Once again, Felix feels awful. So he quickly drops his backpack at his feet and digs through its contents until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Here! For in the meantime,” Felix says, handing over his canteen that’s three-quarters full of fresh water.

Han’s eyes grow wide, sparkling as he looks from the canteen to its owner. “Wait, are you serious?!” He asks excitedly.

“Of course! Take it! You can use it more than me!” Felix laughed, handing it over. Han eagerly takes it from his hands and turns to Hyunjin with a huge smile.

The latter motions for him to go ahead, prompting the cheeky boy to twist the cap and take a big slug. He groans at the refreshing taste, then passes it to his friend who also takes a drink before replacing the cap. He goes to hand the container back to Felix but he shakes his head.

“No, no. You guys take it. Let the rest of your group have some, too.” Felix says encouragingly.

The canister gets handed back to Han, who holds it tightly to his chest. “Thank you Felix,” he says with the utmost gratitude and sincerity. Both boys offer him a deep bow but Felix waves his hands in denial.

“It’s no problem really!” He says with a laugh, helping both of them stand upright. “Listen, why don’t we meet back here tomorrow. I’ll talk to my people and see what they say. You bring the rest of your group and we can try to work something out. How’s that sound?”

Han’s mouth opens with his smile but Hyunjin raises a hand to cut him off from speaking too quickly. “How many people are with you?” The taller boy asks.

Felix hesitates. Debating himself with how important that information is and how much he can trust these new people he desperately wants to help. If they’re not lying, they’re equal in numbers. And he knows they can all take care of themselves.

“We have four, too,” he admits.

Hyunjin raises a brow at him. “What a coincidence.”

“I’m not lying. They’re my three best friends,” Felix says.

“Prove it.” Han says quickly. “Stop hesitating and tell us their names,” he challenges.

And Felix doesn’t hesitate this time. “Lee Know, Seungmin, and I.N.”

“‘Lee Know? I.N?’” Han parrots. “Are those aliases?”

“It’s what they go by,” Felix responds. It’s not a bullface lie after all. They do go by those names with strangers. If it makes them feel safer, why would he introduce them as anything else? Then his voice lowers in warning. “Got a problem with that?” The threat clear in his tone.

“Easy! I do the same thing!” He squeaks, hands raised in surrender and a nervous laugh bubbling out of him. Felix’s brows lift in surprise. “My first name is Jisung if you’d rather call me that,” he adds with a shrug.

Felix smiles as he shakes his head with a chuckle. “Wow, we’re not so different, are we,” he says more to himself than to them. But they hear and they agree.

“I know it’s stupid to say, in this messed up world we live in now,” Han says softly, a vulnerability can be heard in his words, “but I hope we can become friends. When everything is said and done, I mean.” Felix’s eyes widen at the admission.

“Sungie…” Hyunjin sighs, taking a step closer to him. Ready to comfort the smaller boy when his hopes are smashed by an uncaring stranger.

The little voice in the back of Felix’s mind excited and shouting at him that he wants that too. That there was something about these two that he relates to and can feel that it’s fate they met today. But a bigger more rational part of his brain reminding him that it’s just not plausible to trust new people.

“I…wish we could too, Jisung,” Felix decides to say mournfully. The other’s eyes drop to his feet, nodding in understanding.

“Come on, Sungie. Let’s go back,” Hyunjin suggests, sliding an arm around his slumped shoulders. Then he looks back at Felix. “Will we still be able to meet tomorrow? Even if we just get a supply until we can find—”

“I’ll be here,” Felix cuts in, shaking his head to say he doesn’t need to explain. “One way or another, I’ll help you guys out. I promise.”

Both boys give him a grateful smile. “Thank you Felix,” Hyunjin replies before guiding Jisung back the way they came.

Felix watches as they leave, never turning his back on them until they’re out of sight. Like Minho had taught him. He lets out a deep sigh as he throws his pack over his shoulders to head his own way back home.

How is he supposed to explain this one to the others? And how can he make sure he keeps his promise to these people his heart is bleeding to help?

~~*~~