#and depending how far i get writing‚ maybe ill read before bed

[frootloopscereal]

imagine a life without hobbies. fucking incomprehensible.

[speakofthedebbie]

by popular demand (re: one person) some radioapple fic recs!! (i hope thats what you meant lol most of the fics i read are just radioapple)

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 3 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic

im not sure if its meant to be read as such but it kinda feels like a squeal to bedtime rituals in a way (edit: not meant to be read as such, just the same vibe)

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

also just yes. basically a really not cool joke evolves into a blossoming romance because why wouldnt it. (man if i had a nickel for every radioapple fic that had a masquerade that was sabotaged by the vees- *gets shot bc i cant mention osas yet*)

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

ykw fuck it just the entire series (i didnt mention i would give anything to not give a shit (but i do) and my perfect rock bottom (my beautiful trauma) because the first one sounded a lil too angsty and ive gotten enough of that from other sources [pointedly glares at Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love {also coming up later!}] and the second is (mostly) smut and ive been trying to step back from that because "ive seen worse" isnt a valid excuse for that torture actually)

Of Saints and Sinners by the forever amazing @morningstarwrites!! (if you see this i have a serious question: is this your first time ever writing a fic? because how do you get so much right the first time- [not even beginners luck could explain this level of skill])

i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i am foaming at the mouth till friday (depending on how this goes, that might be tomorrow or today)

Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love by Starlit_Rainfall (no tumblr in sight, so AO3) (i. urgfgh. what happened. i was just smiling over the fluff while crossing to go to school. where did it go. where did it gooooo)

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. also emily is there (fallen) tho we havent seen her in a sec. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6(?) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and minzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

{{future me prefacing this by saying i have no idea where i was going with yesterdays thought process, all you need to know from it was im on chapter 27. also scungilli your comment is making me very worried 😟 well theres no mcd tag so im sure itll fine, right? RIGHT, SCUNGILLI??}}

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent of for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

this one starts off as human!alastor/lucifer but by the middle(?) its just regular radioapple. basically al is encountered by luci while finishing off a job who agrees to keep quiet. luci just keeps on showing up, reveals hes the devil to which al us just like "lol ok" and eventually they get in a relationship (ooh lala 👀) but they break up after saying some hurtful things to each other (oh nono 👀) with luci promising al they will never cross paths again. if you watched the show then well. you know that doesnt happen 😂 most human!al radioapple have al summon him (no hate to them) so this was an interesting change of pace

cannot stress it enough but this is a WORKING list i WILL be coming back to it bc these are purely the fics i could think if off the top of my head. IN FACT, if any of you have radioapple fics you love, SEND THEM THE FUCK IN! i am one person whos only been in this fandom for 4 months, and reading fics/shipping radioapple even less, theres bound to be some ones i missed that you think are Worthy™️! and if theyre nsfw then at the very least it shouldnt be the main focus

EDIT: so sorry anyone who reblogged this before had to see the disgusting unedited version. literally just found out that tumblr doesnt apply edits to reblogs. what the fuck

[becomewings]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

     BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 1 / 4

» pt. 2

Introduction

BTS Universe Story, a mobile game published by Netmarble, was released on September 24, 2020. While the majority of the app is essentially a sandbox and engine for users to create their own interactive stories, it also includes official and canon BU content. The first eight segments were introduced between the release date and December 2020, gathered under the title The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>.

“I’m Fine” is half of the I’m Fine/Save Me ambigram introduced in the Love Yourself era. Notably, all of the BU content available in the game so far falls between events of the webtoon Save Me (also called HYYH0 in its logo) and The Notes 1—chronologically, that is, while bearing in mind that time resets to the morning of 11 April Year 22 whenever SeokJin fails to avert a tragedy among his six friends. I want to assure anyone who is unable to play the game that you are not missing any new, major plot beats from the overall BU narrative. Instead, the stories provide more insight into the motivations and consequences of SeokJin’s decisions in the earlier time loops, as well as more depth to individual characters and their circumstances.

The goal of this guide is to summarize each of the eight stories and highlight noteworthy details, especially if they are not yet present in other BU media. Within each story (which I often refer to as an arc, due to their character-focused nature), episodes must be played successively, but the stories themselves can be played in any order. I will present them over a series of posts in the order they are listed under the <I’M FINE> heading. The Prologue and NamJoon’s arc are free to play; the rest are paid content. Please note that due to the app’s Terms & Conditions, I will not include in-game footage here. The images in this guide are sourced from the official trailers/videos and the live action MVs as appropriate.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Game Mechanic

Before diving into the summaries, I would like to address the primary mechanic of the game: the user’s control of character choices at designated moments in the stories. It’s a primary marketing point that the player can influence the progression of the narrative, with a frequent in-app tip also declaring, “stories’ endings can vary depending on your choices.” The latter is not strictly true—and it cannot be true due to the structure of the game. Choices are presented within most (not all) episodes, but each episode is an isolated unit: episode 2 provides the same content regardless of what you choose in episode 1. Since the consequences of your decisions are not cumulative, each episode reaches the same ending, and each decision inevitably rejoins the “main” story path (effectively reducing the script size).

So what is the point of this mechanic? While the system is not nearly as complex as what major platform titles are capable of nowadays (I suspect due in large part to the story creation portion of the game), it does foster a sense of interaction with the narrative that isn’t present in static visual media like comics or film. The episodes with choices also have incentive for replay to discover the impact of changing a character’s dialogue or action. Sometimes the differences between the outcomes are inconsequential, but other times you unearth new details, interactions, or memories that are missing in the other path.

I say this partially in reaction to all of the comments and tweets I read for the game trailers and even Smeraldo Book twitter’s choose-your-own-adventure style teasers with The Notes 2 excerpts released last summer. Many users expressed excitement, through words or memes, about finally being able to give the boys the happy ending they deserved. I don’t fault anyone for wanting that happy ending—I wish for it, too. But no matter what the rather overzealous marketing has claimed, I don’t believe that the canon ending of BU is ever meant to be in the audience’s control. But I do feel that this mechanism fits the BU narrative. It echoes the “countless loops” SeokJin has experienced in an effort to save his friends, the choices he must make at every crossroad, and the butterfly effect those actions have on all of their lives. I think it is reasonable to interpret the simple branching paths in the game as alternatives SeokJin has explored across multiple loops in his struggle to find the “right” way forward. I’d love to hear if you have theories of your own!

Prologue

The prologue is a brief episode introducing SeokJin’s repeated struggle and failure to save his friends. He wakes up yet again in his bed on 11 April Year 22, the beginning of the time loop. After reflecting on the tragedies that keep befalling the others, SeokJin realizes that he has only tried to fix the problems he can see. He wonders: “Have I tried to understand the root of my friends’ misfortunes? How much do I really know about my friends? Maybe I was never brave enough to confront their real scars and the worlds they’ve been living in. But I need to do it. Because it may be the key to saving them all.”

How to Offer a Hand

In this story, SeokJin attempts to prevent NamJoon’s arrest after he gets in a fight with a rude customer at Naeri Gas Station, his place of work. The first episode opens on the night of 11 April Year 22 with NamJoon curling his fists, glaring as crumpled bills lie untouched on the pavement. (The money looks similar to the shot from the I Need U MV.) SeokJin reaches for his shoulder, but NamJoon shrugs him off and strides away to punch the customer who deliberately dropped the bills for him to pick up. The gas station owner runs over at the customer’s furious shouts and orders NamJoon to apologize. He refuses, and police officers soon arrive and charge him with assault. No one listens to SeokJin’s protests that the customer started it first. The man sneers as NamJoon enters the police car. “Do you even have money for a settlement? Hey, you’re done for.” NamJoon is sentenced to prison again, and SeokJin hears glass shattering before the loop resets.

Rising from his bed on the morning of 11 April, SeokJin reflects on his failed efforts so far. He has hit the customer’s car, called for NamJoon in the middle of the incident, and stopped the fight himself, the latter of which caused his friends to avoid him later. The fight has even escalated; the details are unspecified, but the audience is provided an ominous shot of SeokJin speaking to a police officer alone at the scene. NamJoon is not the kind of person who would normally respond to that kind of provocation with his fists. SeokJin realizes that he cannot merely stop the fight but must discover and fix the true cause of it.

With this in mind, SeokJin heads to Naeri Gas Station during the day and tries to engage NamJoon. This is their first time meeting since they both returned to Songju, although SeokJin has experienced it in many loops already. “It’s been a while,” he greets (as he does at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV). Before SeokJin can dig deeper in their conversation, NamJoon is called away by his boss. SeokJin enters the small employee break room which serves as NamJoon’s living space when he’s not at the container, hoping to find some clues about his friend’s life. SeokJin locates something bundled in newspapers. If the player chooses to open it, he sees a strange shard of glass inside that may belong to a car or motorcycle headlight. He continues on, finding the book Cosmos by Carl Sagan and a notebook. SeokJin hesitates over the invasion of privacy but decides to read it since he needs all the information that he can gather. The journal entries detail NamJoon’s daily life since returning to Songju: his work at the gas station isn’t too bad despite the occasional rude customer; he purchased a book and hopes to get more in the future; he picked up a second job at a wedding hall to help catch up on bills; his brother NamHyeon got in trouble again, leading to more expenses; and his dad’s health has worsened, with hospital bills after an emergency surgery rising to levels that the family cannot afford. SeokJin knew that NamJoon was the de facto head of household due to his father’s illness but was unaware that it was to this degree. He feels sorry for NamJoon yet is also impressed by his maturity, for NamJoon never writes how difficult his situation is.

NamJoon arrives and asks what SeokJin is doing in the room. If the player chooses to answer “reading” instead of “just sitting there,” SeokJin privately observes that the conversation flows more easily when they talk about books. NamJoon says he must leave and declines when SeokJin offers to wait for him there. SeokJin knocks over a pile of books along with money and receipts as he stands. He thinks it is unusual that NamJoon picks up the books before the money. The books seem to be more than a hobby to NamJoon, holding special meaning. Walking to his car, SeokJin wonders if it is pride or determination not to falter that keeps NamJoon from journaling his grievances. He realizes that money is a constant source of frustration and misery to NamJoon, and that’s why he can’t stomach being insulted over the customer’s dropped money. SeokJin’s new plan is to prevent NamJoon from picking up the money. He also calls Palgok County Hospital and offers to pay the patient bill for NamJoon’s father. Anticipating that NamJoon will be angry if he finds out, SeokJin says the payer is Songho Foundation.

That night, SeokJin returns to the gas station with the excuse that he forgot to fill up earlier. The luxury car arrives with a honk, and NamJoon hurries over to assist. He shakes with anger when the customer drops the money on the ground. “Why aren’t you picking it up? You don’t want it? What’s with that look? Pretty arrogant for a part-timer, aren’t you?” goads the customer. SeokJin intervenes. Whether the player chooses to have him advise NamJoon not to pick it up or to order the customer to pick it up himself, the end result is the same. SeokJin asks the customer, “Why are you harassing a pitiful part-timer?” The customer drives away, and something about NamJoon seems off. His face is expressionless, not mad or humiliated. “SeokJin, you…” He stops. “Never mind. Thank you for your help.” The words sound difficult for him to speak.

SeokJin believes that he has saved NamJoon, although this ending feels sloppy. He continues on in the loop to rescue JungKook and later YoonGi, but uneasiness plagues him. Though he meant to help NamJoon with his actions, SeokJin wonders if he hurt him instead. On 5 May Year 22, he returns to the gas station and follows NamJoon when he leaves work early. NamJoon enters a bookstore, and SeokJin sneaks in after him to watch from afar. He overhears employees talking about NamJoon, worrying that he might dirty the pages of the book he’s perusing. NamJoon is too absorbed in the book to notice one of them calling for his attention. SeokJin recalls a memory from their school days when he found NamJoon reading alone in their classroom hideout: he asked why NamJoon read so diligently, and his friend explained that he found it comforting to empty his thoughts of everything else while focused on the book. In the present, SeokJin wonders how he forgot how much books mean to NamJoon. He sacrifices some of his food and transportation budget to afford them, but they enable him “to endure the weight of the world he’s forced to bear on his shoulders.” After realizing this, SeokJin wants to apologize for carelessly sympathizing with the reality that NamJoon has weathered alone.

The next episode is from NamJoon’s perspective, revealing his excitement over being able to purchase a book for the first time in two months. He wants to buy two but can only afford one. The employee at the register sighs and asks why he leafed through a book he wasn’t going to buy. NamJoon apologizes, and she mutters, “So dirty.” He notices his reflection, clothes worn and smelling of gasoline, and realizes she’s talking about him, not the book. He tries to shake off these depressing thoughts, but he is still not accustomed to this treatment despite experiencing it regularly at work. As NamJoon begins to exit the store, the security alarm goes off. The employees demand to check his bag despite his insistence that he didn’t steal anything. Their certainty of his theft angers him. NamJoon allows them to look through his bag, and they are suspicious of the like-new book in it which he brought from home. One begins to call the police until SeokJin appears, vouching for NamJoon by saying he saw everything. The employees accept that the alarm malfunctioned and excuse their suspicions as a mistake.

Outside, SeokJin asks NamJoon if he is all right. NamJoon is thankful but wonders how SeokJin materialized right when he needed him. “How’d you find me here?” he asks aloud. SeokJin explains that he happened to notice him while walking through the neighborhood. NamJoon wonders if it’s because they said goodbye on a weird note last time. He thanks him and turns to leave. SeokJin calls after him. “I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you that day at the gas station. It was a mistake to have called you pitiful. If my rash actions hurt you, I’m really sorry.” NamJoon accepts his apology, believing it to be sincere, and says that things would have turned out a lot worse if SeokJin had not intervened. Thunder rolls overhead, and NamJoon uses the impending rain as his excuse to depart. He declines SeokJin’s offer of a ride and runs home, feeling his friend’s eyes on him.

Before he can settle down to read at home, NamJoon receives a call from his cheerful mother. She thanks him for paying off the entire hospital bill. NamJoon is perplexed and asks what’s on the receipt, since he didn’t pay it. His mother wants to leave it be, but he insists that they investigate so they don’t get in trouble or sued. She reads that the Songho Foundation is credited as the payer. NamJoon calls the hospital, introducing himself as the guardian for Kim YoungMin, but they can’t transfer him to the administrative department at this time. Disappointed, he looks up the foundation’s website, unable to recall why it sounds familiar. He wonders why a scholarship foundation in the city would get involved with him. Spotting photos of a recent launch ceremony on the site, he recognizes a few people: Songju High School’s principal, the familiar-looking face of the foundation’s chairman, and SeokJin. First, NamJoon forces a laugh, and then it’s difficult for him to breathe. He thinks that SeokJin really had pitied him at that moment. The only thing keeping NamJoon going is the idea of getting through life on his own strength. Why does he have to live like this?

The last episode opens on 5 May back in SeokJin’s perspective. He is confident now that he has saved NamJoon, although it occurs to him that a better alternative may have been to simply pick up the money himself instead of stepping forward. (This decision is enacted in a later loop and depicted in the Euphoria MV.) While reflecting on what comes next to save his other friends, he receives a text from NamJoon. “What’s your account number? I’ll pay you back for the hospital bills. I don’t need your help. I’ll handle my concerns on my own.” Heart sinking, SeokJin wonders how he found out. With a sense of foreboding, he tries calling NamJoon, but no one answers. SeokJin texts him back, pretending that he doesn’t understand, and tells NamJoon to call him. SeokJin’s second attempt connects while he’s gathering his car keys to visit the container. “That’s enough. Just send the account number over text,” NamJoon instructs. SeokJin coaxes him to talk for a moment, and NamJoon asks flatly, “Are you going to apologize again?” SeokJin attempts to salvage the situation, but his friend turns cold when he insists that NamJoon is misunderstanding and that he just wanted to help. “So, why? Why are you helping me?! Yeah, you’re always a good person. You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m the one misunderstanding.” SeokJin apologizes again. NamJoon refuses his request to meet in person. “No, I thought maybe there was a reason for everything you did… But I guess I misconstrued it. I’ll pay you back, so I’d prefer if you stopped contacting me.” Long after the call ends, SeokJin stands holding his phone, feeling that the glass is going to break at any moment. He wants to believe that it’s not over, but hope is slipping through his fingertips.

The episode finishes in NamJoon’s perspective. On 8 May and 9 May, he accepts part-time delivery work and reflects on his three jobs. Whenever he thinks he’s at his breaking point, he focuses on his new goal of returning SeokJin’s money. On 10 May, NamJoon wakes up to his buzzing phone and is called in to work. On a scooter, he passes by a bus stop and notices graffiti. (This is the same bus stop, with matching graffiti, that appears in the Highlight Reel.) Mesmerized, he wonders if it’s TaeHyung’s. As soon as NamJoon looks up, the scooter’s brake fails, and he crashes. The shattered glass on the cold pavement reminds him of the headlight shard and the kid who looked like TaeHyung. (So the piece of glass SeokJin saw in April was really a memento NamJoon retrieved from the scene of the crash in the mountain town, where the delivery boy whom he privately called TaeHyung died. This event is described in NamJoon’s 17 December Year 21 entry in The Notes 1.) NamJoon’s vision grows blurry, and the distant sound of an ambulance doesn’t come any closer.

The arc concludes there, but it obviously marks another reset for SeokJin. It is interesting to note that in this failed loop, NamJoon suffers the same fate that he narrowly avoided in the snowy mountain town before returning to Songju.

Please stay tuned for the next Highlights post featuring JungKook and YoonGi!

[feliix]

Mine ✦ JHS (18+)

✦  Pairing: Werewolf!Hoseok x Reader ✦ Word count: 3.6k ✦  Rating: M  

✦  Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship!au, werewolf!au

✦  Summary: It’s your boyfriend Hoseok’s first time in heat, and as much as you’ve prepared yourself for this moment you’d never expect it to go like this.

✦  Warnings: explicit smut, heat sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dom!hoseok, oral: female receiving, dirty talk, rough sex, impregnation kink, breeding kink, hobi is possessive af, knotting, creampie, marking, blood play, praise kink, aftercare,

✦ Requested by this anon ‘Hoseok x reader werewolf alpha heat with human mate? First time experiencing his heat and his knot?’ this anon: ‘May I request for the drinks and Drabbles, Hobi + cocktail. (Lmfao this is gonna be a lot, you don’t need to do all, whatever you feel inspired by {love you}; dom Hobi, spanking, creampie, fingering, toys, pet names)’ and sweet beanie @jintobean​‘ahem. pls might i order some hot coco hoseok it can have some nsfw idc i just need my heart to burst pls and thank’

✦  A/N: another episode of i try to write a drabble but it turns into a oneshot :)))) tagging my bby @hobiance​ for the much needed encouragement and werewolf hobi love♡ also this is my first actual werewolf smut please be nice and beta read by the wonderful, amazing and life saving @ally-127​

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland​ 

read part two here 

You had no idea what you were anticipating as you got home from work today. Before you had left Hobi was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn't himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something was wrong, and before you had even gone on lunch you received a text from your boyfriend.

Hobi: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in heat

There was no time to think about the next course of action, it was clear what you had to do. The next thing you knew you were in your bosses office, telling her that you were beginning to feel ill and that you’d be taking the rest of the day off.

He could smell that you were home before you had even walked through your front door. Hobi’s senses were mad, higher than he had ever experienced before. 

To put it lightly, you were worried. You had never experienced a werewolf in heat before, only heard about it from the older boys and their girlfriends in passing. But now there was no time to ask questions. Hobi was in heat and you’d have to figure it out together.

Muffled moans traveled throughout the apartment as Hobi ached in pain in your bedroom. Concern immediately flooded your system, not knowing if you should rush over to check on him or take things slow. The groaning only gets louder as you approach the bedroom door, pressing your ear up to the door to try and make out the slur of words coming from his mouth.

“Y/N?” He nearly cries as he senses your presence, the smell of you awakening senses he didn’t even know he had. 

Slowly, you turn the handle of the door to reveal yourself to him.

He’s in pain, lying in a pool of his own sweat as a dewy sheen glistens over his body. The only thing covering him is a pair of cotton underwear. They were the only thing soft and breathable enough that he could stand to have on his body, unlike the other clothes torn into shreds that he ripped off earlier. Hopefully he can hold back from treating yours in the same way – you really like the blouse you have on today.

As you see him curled up on the bed you can’t help but become worried for his current state. His face is scrunched in agony, soft groans leaving his lips between each labored breath. Slowly, you make your way over to him, careful not to move too quickly and startle his instincts.

You can only imagine the pain he's gone through over the past few hours. Knowing he's broken every bone in his body to turn, over and over again. Finally that part was over for now, but the everlasting ache of his muscles is still no match for his oncoming heat.

“It hurts,” he moans as his arms cup his sides roughly, rocking back and forth in attempts to relieve some of the pain. You can feel the heat radiating off his body from a foot away.

Instinctively, your hand reaches out to stroke his arm, the hairs standing up as his body shivers in a cold sweat. And then you notice it. The way his nostrils flare and exhale thickly as his eyes begin to glow an amber and gold hue. Your touch comforted him yet riled him up all at once, his wolf wholly and completely awake now that your skin was on his.

His eyes lock on you intently, a deep message hidden behind in his stare – almost like he was going to swallow you whole. You know what he needed. By the bulge in his pants to the look in his eyes you can tell it's you he wants – the only thing he needs at this moment, and you are ready for it.

You already know what you were getting yourself into when you began dating a wolf. It was only a matter of time before your sex life did a 180, and no, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect but today was the day that you’d finally understand what this was all about.

Like a second wind had taken over him, Hobi sits up in the bed, his posture firm and his muscles straining as he holds himself from grabbing you by the waist and mounting you at that moment. He’s waiting for reassurance from you, holding onto every ounce of strength he has before moving an inch.

And so you reach out to him again, bending at the waist as you place your arms on his shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m ready,” is all you have to say for him to know, and then he’s scooping you up with his supernatural strength to lay you on the bed.

Without missing a beat, Hobi’s fingers are looping through the sides of your underwear and ripping them down your legs. Surprisingly, you are a lot less nervous than you had expected to be. Maybe because you know how much pain he is in from holding himself back, and all you want is to finally satisfy his wolf that has been eating away at him for so long.

Your sweet scent fills his nostrils as he moves closer to your cunt. Closing his eyes, he basks in your scent – your scent overtaking him stronger than ever before. With deep inhale, he nestles his nose against your core, admiring the way you smelled before extending his tongue to lap at your slit. Immediately, your body jerks in reaction to his touch, the sensitivity of your clit being tested by his quick and frivolous motions.

“Tastes so good,” he mumbles against your inner thigh, making your body jerk at the vibration of his lips. His ministrations are much more impactful than before; this time he's hungry for it, dying to satisfy an itch that was nearly impossible to scratch.

Soon his hands are prying your legs as far apart as they could go, shoving his face into your center and devouring any juices that slipped past your entrance. Even though you had done this a hundred times, it felt different. He was driven by hunger, his actions quick and frivolous to ready you for his length. It was different but it was intentional; his sole purpose backing each and every flick of his tongue.

Moans pass his lips as they wrap around your clit, sucking harshly. Involuntarily your hips buck towards him, unable to control your own actions from the pleasure his mouth is bringing you. You can tell that he likes it by the way his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you down as his tongue flicks past your entrance and into your velvety walls.

A string of curses leave your lips as your body is rendered immobile, unable to move from the way he’s holding your legs to the bed. He’s ravenous – his nose pressing roughly into your clit as his tongue explores your sex. As much as he wants to be gentle he can’t; his wolf sending each of his senses into overdrive with each drip of arousal that lands on his tongue.

He’s moving so quickly that you can’t subdue your quickly approaching high. Any tug at his hair only makes him move faster, bringing you closer and closer to ecstasy at an alarming rate.

“Hobi,” you cry out, “I’m gonna cum if you keep at it like that.”

He doesn’t respond to you with words, only squeezes your thighs to acknowledge you. He’s too busy devouring your pussy to come up for air. Your words only make him move faster and more desperately, your high coming to a peak as he flattens his tongue across your slit. You take a quick glimpse of his amber eyes before he squeezes them shut, feverishly indulging in your release, licking it up as if his life depended on it.

By now a layer of perspiration has coated your body, the silky fabric of your blouse sticking to your skin. But Hobi isn’t done – things are just getting started.

Retreating from his spot between your legs, he sits back on his heels, wiping any left over arousal coating his chin with the back of his hand. He’s still hungry – the squint of his eyes and the determined look on his face told you so. Heat coursed through your veins as you waited for him to make his next move. He was trying to be patient, trying to let you recover for a moment before he got back to business, but you knew what he wanted.

In the interest of time you remove your own shirt, sitting up on the bed to throw the garment to the side and unclip your bra. His hungry eyes take in your nude figure as he moves forward to push you back onto the mattress. Your body relaxes as his lips connect to a sweet spot on your neck, sucking on it harshly, sure to leave a mark for tomorrow.

You arch your back in response as his lips begin to trail down your chest. A line of wet kisses is left behind as he makes his way down to one of your breasts, taking it in his mouth and circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. His teeth brush gently across your nipple, the sensation of his growing canines scraping against it breaking goosebumps against your skin.

Every day since he first turned has been leading up to this moment. Waiting out each passing moment for a sign of carnal instincts to over take him. Over the past few days you’d just brushed off his overly clingy demeanor, assuming it was just him growing into himself as a wolf. His suspicious and on-edge behavior went completely overlooked. You didn’t expect Hobi’s first heat to come on so soon after turning, but alas, here you were.

Hobi’s hands grab a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent and the knees with your ass on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long digits trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. You can only imagine the restraint he is holding onto at this moment. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened member into you, but he knows that your human body is not meant to handle what is coming for you.

Hobi’s eye’s screw shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Hobi out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. He’s sizing you up, wondering if you’d be able to accommodate his new size. It worries him deeply, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he knew once he started he wouldn’t be able to control himself like he normally could. You needed to do something, say something to help settle the internal warfare consuming his mind.

“I’m ready, Hoseok.”

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coats your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, surprised at this new sensation. His size is bigger than you’d ever taken before, so much thicker and longer than his normal length. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size.

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Hobi begins thrusting his hips slowly  into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, the only thing giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, canines prominent in his bite, “need to breed you now.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as his words meet your ears. 

You’d never had serious baby talk before let alone tried for one. It was his primal instincts talking, you were sure of it. But even if it wasn't there was no turning back now. He was losing control and he was losing it quickly.

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to, but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Hobi thrusts in and out of your effortlessly, your abundance of arousal coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls to make a sound. A loud leaves you lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his canines. It doesn’t hurt like you’d expect it too, or maybe you’re too caught up in his throbbing shaft plunging into you to notice if it does.

“Taking me so well.”

His praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Hobi I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your neck as he sucks harshly on it. You can feel his canines scraping against your soft skin, itching to break the flesh and claim you. It’s what he’d always wanted – having you here like this just makes it all the more enticing.

A string of cuss words fall from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, need to make you mine.”

You knew what this means. You knew you already were his, just not in that way yet. He was holding onto every last ounce of strength to stop himself from biting, from sinking his teeth into your precious skin and claiming you as his mate. It was painful for him to keep at it like this, and you didn’t have any second thoughts before saying it.

“Do it, Hoseok,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “claim me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his canines sink into your skin. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, praying for the awful sensation to but cut short and pleasure to take over. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“Mine.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, having never felt as close to him than you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Hoseok binding to eternity and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating on thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him claiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Hobi,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Hobi it hurts.”

“Its almost over baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine lets you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his lupine senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his wolf was telling him to do then so be it.

As Hobi’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, now forming into a dark scar to let everyone know you were his. Its crazy how just one bite felt like it could change the entire dynamic of your relationship. You were his now, and he was yours. Forever.

“Hobi?”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, refraining from letting his mouth leave your skin.

“Did you mean that thing you said,” your lip worries between your teeth before you can finish your question, wondering if he even remembers anything that happened or if his wolf took everything over.

“What thing?”

“The thing about breeding me?” Your eyes slam shut to brace yourself from the answer.

“Yes,” he sighs out nonchalantly, like he isn’t admitting that his intentions were to get you pregnant.

“Yes?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he presses a chaste kiss between your shoulder blades before pulling out. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss of contact, not sure if you were relieved that he was no longer inside you or not. “Of course I want you to have my pups.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks beautiful. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them like he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s bound to you now, willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the amber in his eyes now faded back to the chocolatey brown color you love so much.

“And I love that you’re mine.”

‘Mine’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley III

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

In the language of flowers, yellow lilies are said to represent both deception (perhaps tied to the notion of concealment) and graciousness.

Release Date: 05/25/20 @ 7 pm

previously ~ next

        Yoongi shook his head, black fringe swaying slightly. “That’s ridiculous. You’re staying with us.”

        “Absolutely not!”

        The refusal was out of her mouth before she'd even thought about it. Both men flinched at her rejection but didn't look surprised. YN however was beginning to be upset, of course they would try to take advantage of the situation. I shouldn’t have expected any different. The tension was beginning to rise between the two and YN suddenly remembered that Yoongi liked to provoke people. Suddenly Jimin raised his hands as if to show no ill will, "We don't mean it like that." His hands raked through his perfectly styled hair, "It's just that you're our mate. Legally now too."

           “It wouldn’t look right. Plus it would be dangerous.” Yoongi finished for him, leaning forward and uncrossing his arms. He tentatively reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. It was warm and softer than YN would’ve imagined, she didn’t remove it and she couldn’t quite understand why. Maybe because it was meant to comfort her and it had been a long time since YN had been comforted. She almost found herself getting lost in its warmth until she reminded herself of who she was with and stopped herself. Sensing her discomfort the betas rushed to speak again. “We have this small cottage in the back, it’s newly refurbished and has plumping and everything. All it would need is a bed.”

           “I don’t know if I would feel comfortable living with all seven of you...it’s a lot.”

           Yoongi sighed, “We understand, though it isn’t like you have much of a choice. No place will take a mated omega. The law won’t permit it. Only...” He didn’t have to finish for her to know what he meant.

           Only the boarding house.

           YN looked up at the men and spoke as clearly as she could, "I'm not your mate. I'm not your omega," she saw how every word was spoken physically deflated them. "However, thank you for helping me. It's only temporary until I find another solution." Something flashed quickly in both men's eyes, but it was far too fast for YN to comprehend what it was. They only smiled and nodded with jovial excitement. Jimin began to talk about furniture that would be added while Yoongi pulled out his phone and seemed to text someone. She realized her hand was still under his and tried to retrieve it, Yoongi didn't allow her too. Before YN could say anything he gave her hand a quick squeeze and released it. Putting his left hand into his jacket’s pocket.

           “So it’s set. We’ll be by later to pick up your things .”

           YN nodded feeling a numbness spreading throughout her body, as she finished her tea and placed the cup down. Her eyes met theirs, dark empty pools, and she wondered if their inner scale was tipped. Were they more animal than human? Beasts? YN would soon find out.

            “Swear you’ll be okay?” Rosé asked, her fingers intertwined into YN’s. They swung back and forth, their arms shaking slightly. The air was silent, save for the things left unsaid.

             "I'm sure. I'll be safe. They won't hurt me." The smile hurt YN, but she forced her lips to spread open for her best friend's sake. She couldn't possibly leave Rosé out for the wolves, even if it meant she would be jumping right into their den.  

           “Don’t forget to text me. Oh, and call me every night.”

YN rolled her eyes but laughed. "Yes, mom. I'll make sure to write you a letter every day."

           “For a year?”

        The two girls giggled and embraced as YN willed herself to stick to her word. Just as she was beginning to doubt herself, someone knocked on the door. When the door opened, it was Yoongi and Jimin again; both with smiles on their faces - ones a little too big to be done out of politeness. They stayed by the door, if they entered their scents would linger and that wouldn't look good on Rosé. Betas did have a scent, but unless they were purposefully trying to emit it, only other betas would sense it. "Are you ready to go?" Jimin spoke after he had waved at Rosé. YN nodded, grabbing her bags resting by the door and handing them off to the two waiting betas. Feeling like it would be a while until YN saw her again, she turned around and gave Rosé one last hug. Rosé leaned deep into their embrace and whispered into YN's ear, "If anything happens. Call me, I'll be there immediately."  

           Tears almost welled up in YN’s eyes but she fought them back, merely giving her a reassuring squeeze before walking out and closing the door.

           Wow, what a fucking house. YN's jaw slackened at the sight of it, though her parents were well off it hadn't compared to this. Then again, combining the wealth of seven of the richest families in Seoul was bound to bear its fruits. Judging by the smirk on the two men's faces, they enjoyed her reaction. So, she did her best to school it immediately. There hadn't been any words exchanged by the three of them in the car, thankfully, and YN hoped it would remain that way. Instead of taking her to the front entrance, Yoongi and Jimin guided her to the side of the house. It once they reached the backyard that her breath was truly taken away.  

           The area was huge with a swimming pool, patio area, and botanical garden. However, it was the tiny home in the back with a garden of lilies that called to her. “It’s like the one at school.” Was the first thing she noted. It wasn’t as large, but it seemed to have similar flowers and evoke the same feeling.

           “Do you like it?” Yoongi asked, looking at her from his peripheral.

           “I love it.” There was no hesitance in her words, they were sincere.

They guided her to the tiny house; which the closer she got wasn't so tiny at all. It was one floor with a large bed, a television mounted on the wall, a small closet, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. There was even a small bookcase filled with familiar books: they had been the assigned reading when she was in school. Probably filled with annotations and other such things. YN wished she still had her copies, but she had donated all but her favorites to school when she graduated.

           Jimin cleared his throat, “Sorry the closet isn’t bigger, but we can expand it later.” YN shook her head, “No, that’s alright. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Yoongi placed his hand on her shoulder, “Dinner will be served in about an hour. You can meet everyone then.” Meet them again. YN felt her throat dry up, she wasn’t sure about how she felt being a room with all seven of them just yet. She had wanted to delay the inevitable, but considering she was staying in their home - it was the least she could do.

           “Sure.”

The two of them seemed pleased at her lack of resistance. Jimin smiled, "Go get cleaned up and we'll come to pick you up when it's time." YN felt it was more of a command, then a suggestion but she didn't care. Once the two of them left, she jumped on the bed and decided to take a small nap. The pillow smelled fresh and clean, only lulling her faster into sleep.

       "I'm very sorry for what's occurred to you, YN. But I want you to know it isn't your fault and that we are here to help." Officer Kim sent a comforting smile, trying to ease YN's nerves. YN remained silent, her grip on the blue blanket thrown around her shoulders was so strong her fingers were white. The officer sighed, tilting her head slightly to send a look to the people behind the screen. When she looked back at YN, all she saw was the teenager's glassy widened eyes. It had been an accident, a terrible one, but teenagers tended to be reckless. If the gruesome bite on YN's neck was anything to show for it.  

           “Do you want to press charges?”

           YN shook her head, caving in on herself even more. Jungkook’s sorry wails still echoed in her head. It didn't matter, what's done is done. YN looked up to meet the officer Kim's warm golden eyes. Her lips parted and she could see the anticipation building up in the cop's face only for there to be a disappointment once YN actually spoke.

           “I just want to go home.”

           Loud knocking tore her away from her dreams, as she saw a shadow-like figure standing outside the doors.

         The door opened slowly, only once he'd stepped in could YN recognize him. "Sorry I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't know you were asleep." Kim Taehyung had probably undergone the most significant change out of all of them: transforming from a lanky teen to an able man. YN didn't realize she had been gaping at him so openly until he smirked. "Um, no don't worry." She scrambled to get off the bed and smooth down her clothes, getting rid of any creases her short sleep might have caused.  Taehyung tilted his head, his eyes roaming her body until they landed on her poorly concealed mark. YN flinched when he stepped forward, but instead of grabbing her Taehyung held out his hand.

           “Dinner is served and it’ll get cold if we wait any longer.”

            As attractive as he was, truthfully they all were, and as much as something inside her willed her to grab his hand - YN refused. Walking past him and outside the double doors to the garden of lilies. The sun had long set and now the half-moon shined brightly in the night sky. Casting a beautiful glow on the garden, the lilies, and YN herself. Perhaps, that is why it took Taehyung such a long time to step outside her room, the man still in the shadows. He was simply basking in her glory. Or perhaps, he was trying to control his rage at his mate's reaction in a way that would frighten the already tense YN.

           When he stepped out a charlatan smile was present on his features, “Let’s go then.” Together the two of them walked side by side until they reached the house. Faintly YN could hear the sound of jazz music and muffled voices, goosebumps rose on her arms as her stomach twisted and turned. Here we go. YN’s hands balled into fists as she dug her nails into her skin, trying to remain calm despite the voices growing louder and louder. Eventually, she could pick on the scent of one...two...four alphas and hear the soft bell-like nature of Jimin’s laugh. They were all here. Now’s the time.

          The conversations began to die down and YN knew it was because they sensed her. She prayed to whatever god's existed that everything would go well. They turned a corner and YN suddenly saw them. All seven of them were wearing what could be deemed business casual attire. They were all littered across the room, but all seemed to be in a circle surrounding a red velvet chesterfield where the lead alpha was seated. His dark hair combed back, a white button-down, and tight black jeans. One by one they all turned to face her, but he was last. His warm chocolate eyes lingering on the glass of wine in his hand before they slowly traveled to meet hers.

           YN finally realized what situation she was in. A prey in a predator's territory and sadly, she'd already been branded. She remained frozen on the spot, unable to look away from the alpha's eyes, she didn't know if it was courage or brazen recklessness. Then he smiled, a warm charming smile that reminded her of the early days. When the two would speak in hushed whispers and aid each other in assignments and tests. Times when YN looked at him with admiration, care, and maybe a tiny bit of love. She did have a small crush on him back in those days, nothing to act upon since she knew he was destined but enough to make her feel happy to be around him.

           He stood up and crossed the room, a steady stride which was a blend of natural yet calculated. As if he was measuring how close he could get without scaring her, it was when he was two feet away that YN slightly stepped back. The action caused him to stop, as he finally spoke.

           “Welcome. It’s been a while.”

Soon they all crowded around her offering kind smiles. Their scents were strangely muted now, YN guessed that was being done on purpose in order not to frighten her - or send her into a pseudo-heat. Not that it would occur considering the suppressants she was on. Conversations started back up again, but YN didn't participate in any. She noticed Jungkook was strangely quiet too but didn't pay him much attention for fear he might get the wrong idea. It was a couple of minutes later that a worker announced the food was served, YN went to follow him but someone tugged at her hand pulling her back.

           “Mind if we have a chat?” Namjoon asked, a hint of mirth in his smile.

           "Sure," YN noted how most of them walked away, Seokjin was the only one who remained but stayed near the threshold.  

           “Wow, you’ve changed. Grown, I mean.” His awkwardness caused a slight chuckle to escape YN’s lips. “Says the person who is now seven feet tall.” At that his smile grew. The glass of wine in his hand was placed on a top nearby and now that his hands were empty, Namjoon took a hold of hers. His large warm hands cradling hers, as his thumbs ran soothingly across her knuckles. “How do you feel?” YN didn’t know why she was so at ease around Namjoon, maybe because they’d known each other before everything happened. He had demonstrated that he was a good person, who had simply made a mistake. As opposed to the other’s who she only knew vaguely and had been forced to get to know because of what happened.

           “Fine. Good.” YN smiled gently, her heart didn’t race as it did before but she felt comfortable around Namjoon in a way she didn’t around the others. It might’ve been that he was the leader: the one who could make everyone fall in line at his command. It might’ve been that she trusted him. YN didn’t want to dwell on it for too long. “Thank you for letting me stay.” She spoke to both him and Seokjin who straightened up.

           “It’s no problem, YN. Your welcome as long as you’d like.” Seokjin’s words were polite and YN was thankful he didn’t mention anything about mates. In fact, she hoped the whole conversation would be avoided the entire evening.

           Namjoon drew her attention back to him, “What’s ours is yours. Whatever you need, don't be afraid to tell us.” Before YN could say anything, he pulled her towards the exit. “Come. Everyone is waiting for us.” He sent her a flirty wink before Seokjin joined them, walking on her other side.

            “So YN, what did you study?” Hoseok wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

           “Sociology.”

           “Sounds interesting. Did you like it?”

           “Yeah, it was interesting.” YN wasn’t the most social person, not to mention she found it difficult to speak when all eyes were on her.

           “Did you get the flowers we sent for your graduation?” Taehyung asked, beside her. He was less intimidating in the warm yellow lighting of the dining room. Ah the flowers. Her parents had delivered the flowers when they went to visit and though YN had been all smiles, she’d thrown them in the trash the second she’d gotten back home.

           “Yes, they were lovely. Thank you.”

           It all seemed too perfect, too surreal, nothing bad had occurred yet and it had YN on the edge of her seat. This wasn’t how she was expecting the night to go at all. It had been years since the incident and though YN was aware that people could change, they seemed so different. People are different during heats. It’s more animal instinct than anything. That may be true, but it felt like she was at a reunion rather than a dinner with her supposed ‘mates.’ It seems the jovial atmosphere was beginning to be too much for someone else because Jungkook finally broke.

           “Aren’t we going to talk about it?!” His hands slammed down against the table, causing everyone to turn and look at him. Jungkook was near the end of the table, right next to Seokjin which faced Namjoon at the head. Talk about what? It seemed his question was more intended for his pack members than for her, but it still left YN curious. Seokjin who seemed unfazed continued cutting his meat, “Kookie, stop it.” This seemed to only anger the youngest more.

           “No, we agreed -” Just as Jungkook was standing up, Hoseok pulled him back down to his chair. Oh no. Alpha’s butting heads was never a good sign. She might’ve assumed this was normal but seeing how tense Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jimin were this was clearly unusual. The sudden growl that Jungkook let out was all the proof she needed.

           Adrenaline began to pump through her blood, as her instincts were about to kick in. If there was going to be a fight, she wanted no part in it. It was then that Taehyung and Jimin both placed their hands on her knees, keeping her still.

           “Calm down, Jungkook. Stop being a brat.” Seokjin scolded him once more, his jaw now locked. The young alpha wasn’t listening, didn’t care to. Suddenly all his attention zeroed in on YN as he spoke. “We have to complete the mating bond.” Anxiety began to trickle into YN’s mind and body. No. no. no. no.

           “No.” YN pushed the chair away from the table and stood ready to walk out and leave the house. She should have known better than to trust them. This had been their plan all along, to get her into a situation where she couldn’t escape. As she passed by Namjoon his hand shot out, gripping her wrist, tugging her towards him. The lead alpha had remained silent during the whole ordeal, as YN looked at him with irritation. Namjoon spoke in a calm mellow tone, “Down.” Just like that Jungkook dropped to his knees and began to cry.

           “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” Now YN was even more terrified. What the fuck is going on.

    Rosé: Hey, how’d your first day go?

    YN: Terrible, I don’t even want to talk about it.

     Rosé: Did something bad happen? Did they do something to you?

     Rosé: Are you okay?

     YN: I’m okay. Things are just really strange here. I don’t know how to describe it.

     YN: It's like everyone's on edge, but they're pretending they aren't.

     Rosé: I mean isn’t that kinda normal. You are their mate and you did reject them, so it makes sense.

      Rosé: You never did tell me why you rejected them though.

      YN: It’s a long story and I’m tired. Ttyl. Night.

      Rosé: Good night.

Hope you enjoyed the story. Tag list is in the comments.

[curious-menace]

Arkham Scarecrow SFW Alphabet

im really enjoying writing arkham scarecrow. maybe ill do something similar to my random riddler headcanons posts with some scarecrows

long post under the cut

 A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Uhhh, the short answer is no. Jonathan is almost wholly incapable of what most people would term “affection”. His idea of loving is not using you for his experiments, only giving you small doses to build up your immunity( not that that will stop him from enjoying watching you panic). Jonathan leans heavily on gifts and words of affirmation as his language of love ( assuming he can even feel that emotion). He calls you  “my dear”  and “my darling” or once “my pumpkin” if he had too much to drink. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Jonathan would make a good friend if he could ever be wrangled into admitting it. He’s a complete bastard, but he's a loyal bastard. He always goes above and beyond for his friends but it's always in a “aw shit. My favorite idiot needs help AGAIN?!” begrudging , kind of way. You probably met in university/college and if you've stuck with him this long he’d be hard to get rid of.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He never asks for cuddles and is pretty touch adversed as a rule. Sometimes though, He simply plonks himself in your space and expects you to know what he wants. Usually it's gentle backrubs/strokes like you would with a child. Sometimes he just wants your warmth to sooth his aching body. He’s heavier than he was in Arkham asylum but still very underweight so you shouldn't have too much trouble moving him into a comfortable position.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Absolutely not. I'm not convinced this man owns more than his books and the burlap sack on his back ,never mind a home. He has plans to take the cloudburst on tour, to go cross country and then across the world spreading fear. That would be a little difficult if he had gotham mortgage sending him nasty emails every other day about missed payments. While he can cook and clean, I doubt you'd want to eat anything he made. Ignoring his filthy hands, he's probably laced it with fear toxin or a lethal amount of hot sauce.

His homemade cleaning chemicals are pretty stellar mind you. They can get blood, piss or tears out of anything. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Scarecrow really is a ride or die kinda guy. If you've wormed your way into his life then he’s going to do literally everything and anything to keep you in it. He’s not above making you dependent on him for safety just to keep you around longer. He’s not a total monster to the people he cares about mind you. If you really didn't want to be with him, he’d let you go….eventually.

I'm not sure he fully understands the concept of a “breakup”on his end. He gets that you don't see eachother anymore but I don't think he quite grasps that it's not because one party is dead. There's a 99% chance he’ll use you for his fear toxin experiments as a way of kicking you to the kerb. If you wake up in a ditch with a text that says “we’re through” you should consider yourself lucky. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I canon arkham scarecrow as having been engaged at one point in his life, possibly around the time of origins. I can imagine his partner gave him a “me or the fear toxin” ultimatum which has led to the man you know now. Despite how he looks, how he speaks and acts, he’s still open to the idea of a partner. He’s a loyal man who can't stand backstabbers, he’d appreciate someone like a spouse/husband/wife to have his back. If he decided he wanted to get married he’d propose almost immediately. It might be more of a business or thesis type proposal with lots of talking rather than flowers and wine and you're likely to be married as soon as you said yes. 

He has a tiny pumpkin ring saved for the occasion. Something like this (image credit https://www.banggood.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s gentle, in a creepy way unsurprisingly. He was a little stronger than the average man before the incident with croc, all that cardio and fighting with batman made him a skinny legend amongst the rogues for how well he could fight. Now? He couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. Mostly he's calm and soft, especially when you wouldn't expect him to be.  He can still be an emotionally manipulative person but chances are good you're smart enough to see right through him. Calling him on his bs is actually a good way to endear yourself to him. He likes a challenge and he loves it when people think they can outsmart him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hmm. yes and no. Scarecrow is severely touch adversed, but...It's not like with Riddler; Edward is on the autism spectrum and genuinely gets overstimulated by a lot of physical contact, he doesn't usually enjoy it unless under specific circumstances. Scarecrow WANTS to be hugged and held on occasion, but the mere thought of someone in his personal bubble sends his hackles up. 

When he first woke up after the asylum, he clung to you like a lampent. Scarecrow gives and recieves hugs like someone who needs them to breath.Your warmth soothes the aching pain when even drugs couldn't . By the time of Arkham Knight he’s grown cold and distant. His hugs are few and far between and unusually half hearted even when he initiates them. Maybe he’s just preoccupied with batman.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I doubt he’d ever say the words ``i love you” but he’s absolutely going to quote love poetry at you, recite lines from his favorite literature  “shall i compare you to a summer's day” and all that. That’s far better than a simple “i love you” right?

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jonathan is sort of one note when it comes to expressing frustration. Coffee machine not working? Melt it down into fear toxin vials. Line at the grocery store? Gas everyone out of his way. He doesnt get mad, he gets even. He’s not a super jealous person, he’s probably the most secure in himself out of all the rogues in Gotham bar Selina and ivy. But when something does hit his jealousy bone just right? LORD HE IS TERRIBLE. 

Unless you were the instigator, you are 100% safe but the poor soul who made the mistake of flirting with you will never see the light of day again.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He can't really kiss to be honest. He lacks a lot of lip tissue and tongue dexterity for deep smooching. He’s quite happy to give you little pecks on the cheek but anywhere else will get sloppy and he's not a fan of that. Jonathan has actually started to bump you with his head like a cat in lieu of kisses. Rare as it is, when he wants kisses he has a tendency to nuzzle into the crook of your neck or rest his head on your shoulder. He likes to be kissed on the cheek , forehead and top of his head. Most other places are covered in scars and lack the sensitivity to enjoy it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He likes to scare kids. It's not as malicious as it is with adults, he just likes to yell boo at them, smiling as they scream and giggle and run away. It's probably the most innocent he’ll act around other people. He still doesnt like them per say but he’ll tolerate them in small doses. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Scarecrow , like most rogues, is not a morning person. He doesn't sleep well and he is hella grumpy when he first wakes up. Expect to watch him shuffle around his hideout like a zombie, still wearing a quilt and his dressing gown as he complains about everything from the weather to the loud creaking of the floorboards. You should present him with food and coffee and then retreat to a safe distance until he’s fully awake, otherwise he’s liable to turn on his grumpy old man routine on you. If he's feeling particularly sore or needy, he’ll ask you to help change his bandages and dressings .

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It really depends on what he feels like in the moment. Sometimes he’ll leave you at home while he goes out to cause general mischief, sometimes he’ll bring you along as a look out. Sometimes it's a low-key night at the hideout reading and sometimes it's a caffeine fueled frenzie of experimentation and lab work with you as his trusty lab assistant.  He doesn't sleep well at night, the aches keep him up. If he were ever to actually go to bed he might find that you make a great pillow.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As much as he resents people having the upperhand with information, it's hard not for people to see his past. His scars are so easily visible, inside and out. He doesn't talk about his past unless prompted. But if you do he’ll quite happily answer all your questions; he’s not afraid of discussing it. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Jonathan is a very patient man, not just when it comes to revenge.It takes quite a lot to make him fly off the handle and he cools off again quickly. That's not to say he doesn't hold a grudge like he’s being paid for it, only that it's more of a simmering anger rather than a boiling one.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers most things about you, he has an excellent memory. But that being said he never lets on that he knows these things. He likes to hear you talk about the things that interest you, even if you've told him about it before. Watching you wax lyrical about your chosen subject makes him feel close to you. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I don't know if it's a favorite or even a positive memory but when he first woke up from surgery after croc you were lying beside him. He was understandably confused, maybe even afraid, but seeing you there brought him great comfort. He didn't know what was happening because of all the meds, but as long as you were with him he was confident things would work out for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He means well, you should always keep that in mind  before you snap at him. He brought you to the arkham knights HQ to protect you from his plans, he’s given you micro doses of fear toxin to build your resistance and by the time of arkham knight you can hardly move for the amount of guards he has following you around. He’s overbearing bordering on controlling but I think it's because he simply can't admit the thought of losing you scares him, even just a little. You aren't a rogue, you don't know Batman like they do. He just needs to keep you safe from batman, from the police and from the ugly world outside.

Given how weak he’s been viewed practically all his life, I believe he’d resent the accusation he needed protecting. deep in his mind he knows no one man is an island. He appreciates little helps even if he won't say it. He doesn't need protection per say but If nothing else, after being injected with his new toxin, he's going to need someone who’s corpus mentis in his corner for court and medical proceedings.  

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

His idea of a perfect date is you two working on your respective projects in comfortable silence, maybe a trip to the museum if he feels like the exercise. Obviously that suits some people down to the ground, myself included, but he gets that it's not for everyone. He’s probably ok with you planning the activities provided you warn him beforehand. 

Given everything he’s been planning for batman, things like important dates and even everyday tasks have a tendency to get lost in the fray. He's not doing it on purpose, He’s glad to celebrate these things with you if you remind him, He's just got his priorities in a funny order.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He shuffles his feet when he walks and is one of those people who always has conversations in doorways. You can never be sure he isn't aware of these habits and is doing them on purpose. He also used to smoke quite heavily but has since given it up due to his throat and lung issues.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It's sort of a mixed bag with him. On the one hand he knows he’s ugly, that's the point. You're MEANT to be scared looking at him, he’s leaning into it. But on the other hand his “look” is a carefully maintained visage; if it slips it might lose the intended effect. He might not be as scary to look at or worse, people might look at him in pity. It's not ordinary vanity or narcissism but yes, he is concerned with maintaining the way he looks 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The concept of feeling whole is somewhat lost on him; He’s clearly missing a few screws even in his most lucid moments. That said even in the depths of madness brought on by his toxin, he still notices your absence. Still incredibly distressed In his cell in blackgate, he can often be heard crying out to you for comfort  but is lacking the wherewithal to understand why you're not there. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Given that he has pretty extensive facial injuries, eating is pretty difficult for him. He used to really enjoy bagels and cubanos from gothams many deli’s. His favorite was a kosher deli in The Cauldron, before Joker ruined it. They’ve since rebuilt and while he can't eat many solids anymore , he still enjoys their matzo soup and smoothies. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Like most of the rogues, he absolutely can't stand bullies.He also can't stand physically aggressive people; if you're going to even TRY and intimidate him maybe you could use your words like someone with more than 2 brain cells to rub together, rare as that is in gotham. Back when he was a psychiatrist he hated people who were chronically late. Not his patients, most of the time it wasn't their fault  due to executive dysfunction or traffic, but people who kept HIM back and made HIM late were the bane of his existence. 

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Crane is a back sleeper who snores because of his damaged septum.He knows he makes a noise akin to a flip flop in a lawn mower but there is literally nothing he can do about it besides sleep on his stomach. He squirms around a lot in his sleep so even if he starts on his stomach, he’ll be on his back snoring like a dead horse in no time. The only thing that could keep him frontwise is if he were to sleep on you and have you hold him in place. 

[demigodsanswer]

Could you please do “I’ve loved you all my life.” For Chrisse?

((Wow, what is this? I wrote something? Wild. 

So I’ve had this medieval fantasy story living in my head rent free for months, and here’s a little taste of it, since I probably won’t ever get around to really writing it.

Also I took extreme liberties with the clothing (which means, no it’s not period accurate, yes, I know that, no, I don’t care). It’s a fantasy world. No need for historical accuracy. I make up the world, I make up the fashion. Do not come for me.))

~*~*~

Chris didn’t like the look of the grey clouds overhead as he rode out far past the palace grounds and into the woods. It felt good to ride quickly, unburdened from ceremonial clothes or heavy travel bags; his horse moved quickly over the ground, taking him exactly where Chris wanted to go - needed to go.

His father wanted him home. It was the first time he had heard from his father in earnest since Chris had been sent to stay as a ward in Lord Ares’s home. Chris figured that meant one of two things: someone in his family was sick, or his father expected him to get married. He hadn’t gotten any urgent news about his brothers, and there were no rumors of illness floating around, so he assumed it must be marriage.

Chris had spent the last eleven years living with Lord Ares’s family, training with them, studying with them. He could hardly remember his own fathers face. He wouldn’t consider Lord Ares anything close to a father, but he was closer to Ares’s children than his own brothers.

Well, at least one of them.

Chris got down off his horse. “Clarisse!” He called. She was a few feet away from him, shooting arrows into an old bail of hay. She looked like a half-dressed page boy, casual brown pants and a linen blouse under her corset, with nothing covering the loosely laced garment - completely indecent in most noble and common homes. Her hair was pinned to the back of her head, a complex weave of braids and ribbons that Chris had only seen untied a handful of times. Her hair was long and light brown, almost blonde. He loved when her hair was down, but she had no skill at putting it up on her own, and so it stayed up from when her handmaidens pinned it in the morning until it came down at night.

The trousers weren’t a surprise. Ares was a military leader, and he expected all of his children to train. And that included her. But this was undressed, even for her. Chris had seen her less dressed than this more than a few times, and he wondered - hoped - for a moment that she might be waiting for him. Or maybe, he realized, she was just too hot in the summer humidity. 

She turned to face him, an arrow still in the bow, but facing the ground. She didn’t blush when she saw him, just scowled and walked over to her discarded top, and pulled it back over her head. He walked over to her and rested a hand on her hip, trying to turn her around to kiss her, but she stayed planted. Chris didn’t push it.

What had started as an experimental tryst between him and her three years ago had long since transformed into a courtly romance, and then into something closer to a full-blown affair that most in the castle staff were kind enough to turn a blind eye to, for Chris’s own safety.

“No ones seen you all morning,” Chris said. “Thought you hated archery?”

She shrugged. “I needed to hit something and didn’t have a sparing partner. And if I ruin another sword by hitting it against a tree, my father will kill me.”

“You could have asked me to spar.” They had been sparing partners for eleven years. When Chris first arrived, he was too young to hold his own against her older brothers, both nearly thirty now, and too old to reasonably fight with her younger brother, still only sixteen. Ten-year-old Chris had made the perfect sparing partner for the nine-year-old Clarisse. After eleven years, they had never swapped partners, even when their fights bordered on indecent.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “I didn’t.” Chris turned away from her to tie up his horse. He heard the thunk of another arrow sinking into the hay before she spoke again. “Heard you’re getting married.”

Chris sighed. “I don’t know. My father wants me home for something.”

She nocked another arrow. “Not much else he’d want you home for.”

“Maybe he just misses me,” Chris suggested.

She looked back at him and frowned.

“For what it’s worth,” he walked up to her, “I don’t want to go back, and I don’t want to get married.”

“But you’ll do it anyway. Because it’s your job,” she let another arrow loose. Her last one, he noticed. He walked up to the hay and started to pluck them out for her.

“Maybe I won’t. Depends on the girl.” When he turned around, she was right behind him. She took the arrows out of his hand, never breaking eye contact.

She was easy to read; she’d never quite learned how to reign in her facial expressions or conceal her blush or tears. She didn’t cry often, and so it was scary when she did. He thought for a moment that she was crying now, and with his back up against the hay bail and her fist full of arrows, that would put him in a very dangerous position. But she looked up at the sky, confused by the sudden moisture on her cheek, only to be met with more of it suddenly.

The rain started as a light drizzle, but picked up quickly, before either of them could get back on their horses. They ran to the barn near by - it had been their hideout for years. They’d had old wool blankets stored away that would keep them warm until the storm passed. It wasn’t proper for them to spend so much unchaperoned time together anymore, not since Clarisse had become a woman at twelve, but no one had managed to get them to correct their behavior. 

They ran into the barn, shutting the doors behind them, both already soaked through. Loose strands of light brown hair were stuck to Clarisse’s forehead, but she quickly wiped them away.

“You can’t get married,” she told him as if either of them had control over the situation.

“Trust me, I don’t want to marry someone else.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. She was trying to look intimidating, but she mostly looked scared and unsure. “Well, then, marry me.”

Chris walked closer to her, smiling. “What?”

“Marry me instead. Don’t you love me?” She asked like she was afraid of the answer.

Chris placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her deeply. “Of course I do,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers to keep their faces close. “I’ve loved you all my life,” she laughed at his dramatic, “will your father ever allow it?”

“Of course he will,” she sounded unsure, “you’re like a son to him.”

Chris wasn’t sure any of that was true, but he kissed her again anyway. They tumbled onto the wool blanked and bed of hay, as they had done hundreds of times before. “I won’t leave you,” he said, “I promise.”

[lampmeeting]

got roundaboutly tagged by @agaricales​ :D thank youuuu! hope you don’t mind that i stole your little idea to draw myself and my shitty hair hahah :3 i almost never draw myself so this was a nice reason

Questions to get to know you a little better:

1. What do you prefer to be called name wise? Kelly’s my actual name, but I also go by Murphy and I have zero preference which you use (also shortened versions of either like Kel or Murph are also lovely) :D and it makes me giggle when people call me Lamp hehe

2. When is your birthday? Nov. 5th!

3. Where do you live? Austin, Texas

4. Three things I am doing right now? Fixing to watch Hannibal, drinking root beer, being kept company by my tiny kitty Lib

5. Four fandoms that have piqued my interest: Well, Metalocalypse of course. Hannibal is a new one I’m dipping my toe into. Don’t think I’ll do any art or fic, but I’ve been loving what I’ve seen and read so far. Detroit: Become Human was a huge one for me and I still love checking in on the fandom from time to time and getting nostalgic. Also tonight’s news activated my Mass Effect lust. Give to me all the hot aliens.

6. How has the pandemic been treating you? Uhhhhhhh yeah not great. 8)

7. Song(s) I can’t stop listening to: “Rule of Nines” by Spiritbox, her VOICE!!!!

8. Recommend a movie: Darren Aronofsky‘s The Fountain, this movie just Speaks to me like nothing else ever really has. I remember leaving the theatre feeling like I had been irreparably changed, and one of the friends I was with was like “well that was fucking stupid” and I was like hmmm :) really now :) and then like the next month we weren’t friends anymore kjgkdfgf funny how that happened

9. How old are you? 35... stick a fork in me, I’m done ;0;

10. School, university, occupation? Um none of the above? lmao covid took my job, know anyone who’s hiring at-home receptionists? dkfgdk I keep thinking I could go back to retail but we’re not in dire enough straits for that yet.

11. Do you prefer heat or cold? Cold usually but it depends. I like feeling warm but I HATE feeling hot and it’s a fine line.

12. Name one fact others may not know about you? Actually I think probably quite a few people know this, but I suck really bad at coming up with random facts about myself - I’m a wrestling nerd. Fucking love wrestling. I’ve been to dozens of shows, Raw, Smackdown, NXT, Ring of Honor a handful of times, and a few local shows because my brother’s old high school friend is a local indie wrestler. My favorite guy in the business right now is Hangman Adam Page (and yes, it’s partially because he’s fucking gorgeous)

13. Are you shy? Depends. There’s a lot of things I’m totally fine with doing and it can fool people into thinking I’m almost extroverted, but then like phone calls and knocks on the door literally break me out in a sweat and make my hands shake, and if I hang out with people I need like a week to recover, so... lmao

14. Preferred pronouns: she/her

15. Biggest pet peeves: this is an IRL thing, but I have some audio processing shit going on, and then on top of that I fucked up my hearing in my right ear a bit at a Devin Townsend show a few years back (worth it? yes) and sometimes people’s voices can sound muddled if there’s other noises happening too. So it MAKES ME REAL MAD when people who KNOW THIS ABOUT ME will just go “no never mind it’s not important” when I ask them to repeat themselves.

16. What is your favorite "dere" type? Had to look some up and oh noooooo it’s a toss-up :O

The Hinedere (ひねデレ) type refers to characters who have cynical world views, are cold-hearted, and highly arrogant. However, deep down they have a soft side that may reveal itself after their love interest breaks through. (SOUND FAMILIAR LMAO)

The Byoukidere (病気デレ) type refers to a character who is kind and gentle at heart but has a serious illness. They might be confined to a hospital bed, or just simply weak and frail. (OH NO.... ;0;)

17. Rate your life 1-10? maybe a 6? 6.5?

18. What is your main blog? @gatsbygal​ it runs on a queue right now when i remember to fill it (I’m here too often to remember it hahah, but yeah if you wanna go look thru all my old bad art go right ahead)

19. List all your side blogs and what they’re for: ABSOLUTELY NOT LMAO i will admit to having a victor zsasz-related sideblog, a blog about a long-time fic i was writing where i’d answer reader’s questions and stuff, but uhhhhhh i have a few others that get to stay secret

20. Is there anything people should know before becoming friends with you? I’ve had people tell me I seemed intimidating at first and this has to be a problem with how I present myself online because people I know IRL consider me somewhere between a cupcake and an overcooked noodle :O maybe I say too many fuckworks and use too many exclamation marks or something haahha but I swear I’m not even remotely cool

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (6/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Fic Rating: Explicit Chapter Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku Note: Thanks again for your amazing support so far! I really appreciate all of you and your comments have been making my weeks since posting <3 This fic will be going on a short hiatus...I'm not sure how long it will be but July has been shockingly busy this year and has only continued to get crazier so I need a little more time to write more of this fic 

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Beginning/Chapter One: (x) Previous Chapter: (X) TDDKBB2021 Companion Art: (X)

It’s been three days since the debriefing, and Shouto hasn’t been able to think about much else besides the weirdness of everything that happened in the meeting. Even now, standing under the scalding spray of his shower, he’s going through the motions, but his mind is in the hallway outside the conference room with Ingenium.

“I’m sorry about lying to you regarding Architect,” Ingenium had said solemnly. They’ve grown and their costumes had both changed since then, but without his helmet on, head bent to discuss something quietly, Shouto was reminded of the in-class exercises they used to do in high school. Off to the side in a hallway, as if creating a strategy. Somehow adult-Ingenium had gotten even more serious than his high school counterpart. “I know it was wrong to mislead you, but I knew he meant no harm. I knew he could help with Kou.”

“How?” Shouto had asked, but even then he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“…I’ve worked with him before,” Ingenium admitted. “I know the law, but he…he just wants to help people. And he does good hero work.”

Ingenium couldn’t say afterwards if he thought Architect would still somehow help the case. He knew he would want to, but with more people involved, and more people who knew he had been there before, it would be harder. Shouto can’t articulate exactly why, but somehow knowing he might be what brings more scrutiny towards Architect makes him feel…guilty? It’s not his fault that he didn’t know, nor is it his fault Architect is technically doing something illegal, but he feels guilty anyways.

Shouto’s phone chimes just as he steps out of the shower. Even before he checks it, he knows it’s a new text from Midoriya. While Shouto has thought of little else but the weirdness that had transpired at the debriefing for the last three days, Midoriya has acted as if it never happened. He had been quiet the rest of the day afterwards, but the next day Midoriya had picked up their text chat where they had left off as if nothing had happened. The few times Shouto tried to broach the topic of Midoriya’s behavior at the debriefing, his contacts with heroes, the vigilante Architect, anything from the debriefing, all he got was an abrupt subject change or radio silence for a few hours. After a day and a half of the back and forth, Shouto gave up pushing the subject. For now.

Shouto slings a towel around his hips and grabs his phone off the counter. There’s a new picture attached to the message. Midoriya’s scarred hand holds a large navy book out in front of the camera. The sidewalk serving as a background and the blurred edges of the image suggests he was walking somewhere as he took the picture.

I found a copy of the book!! The text underneath reads.

Shouto can’t make out any title in the picture, but he knows what book it is anyways. There was only one they had really discussed in-depth that would warrant such an excited text. It was an early study of dual quirks. Apparently, according to Midoriya, some of the information and conclusions they came to is now outdated but it is still considered one of the best introductory texts for understanding how dual quirks come about with inheritance. He had been suggesting it to Shouto practically since they had started their text conversation.

Another text comes in before Shouto can come up with a reply.

I can keep this copy in my office, if you would like to come by for it sometime.

Shouto wouldn’t mind going by the professor’s office again. It wasn’t that far out of his way, and it would be a good excuse to see him and talk to him some more – either about quirks, or whatever the hell was going on at the debriefing in an environment he can’t escape so easily. But as he mentally goes through his schedule thinking of a time he might be able to get there, it would be at least another week, if not two.

Shouto grimaces, running a hand over his face.

between normal wrk nd this new case itll be a while…

Of course I understand you’re busy! Oh unless you wanted to read it sooner

Shouto glances at the time. He still has almost two and a half hours before his next shift starts. It would be enough time. Probably. Depending on how long it takes to get Midoriya to agree. He has an idea but he knows Midoriya isn’t going to like it.

are u in musutafu now?

Yes. Of course! I could drop it off at your agency!

i was thinking just my apartment

Shouto puts his phone down to find something to wear. He doesn’t usually wear normal clothes under his uniform, but he figures he has a little while before he needs to change into it. He expects to get a flurry of messages protesting his suggestion as he finds and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, but a full three minutes pass before his phone chimes with another message. It just reads: what, lacking even Midoriya’s usual proper grammar and capitalization.

Shouto snorts. He knew he wasn’t going to like it.

im at the hospital on guard today and ill be out of the office the next few days. it would be quicker

That does set off the flurry of texts he expected the first time, Midoriya insisting that wasn’t necessary and he didn’t need to read it that quickly and a few that just said no a few times. The texts are still coming in, the notification that he’s typing still lit up on the screen, when Shouto presses the phone icon next to his name and starts a call.

The phone starts to ring. And then continues to ring for so long, Shouto thinks he’s going to go to voicemail, when Midoriya suddenly answers. There’s a shuffle on the other line for a moment.

“Entro-er, Todoro…hello?” Midoriya says.

“Hello, Midoriya,” Shouto replies.

Shouto’s simple greeting seems to knock Midoriya out of his stupor, because he immediately jumps back into his protests, picking right back up where he left off in his texts. Shouto waits until he has to stop to take a breath.

“I figured you would really frown upon me texting you my address, so I thought I’d call. Do you have something to write with?”

Midoriya sputters for a moment before he sighs. “You…yeah, go ahead.”

Shouto blinks in surprise. He really expected more of a protest than that. Still, he rattles off the address before Midoriya comes to his senses and changes his mind. Midoriya has him repeat it once, just to be sure he copied everything down correctly.

“Okay. I guess I will see you in a few minutes,” Midoriya says, sounding resigned.

Shouto almost laughs at the tone. “You don’t actually have to bring it to me if it’s any trouble. I can get it from the office eventually.”

“No, I don’t mind and it’s not that far out of the way actually,” Midoriya admits. “I’m a little concerned by your complete disregard for privacy or self-preservation but otherwise, it’s no trouble.”

“‘A lack of self-preservation and privacy’ is pretty much in my job description.”

Midoriya sighs. There’s some quiet mumbling Shouto can’t make out through the phone before Midoriya seems to give up on arguing the point for the moment and says his goodbye.

Shouto plugs his phone in by the bed to charge until he has to leave. Monarch and Momo still haven’t let go of the last time his phone died while he was on duty and he’s sure even being away from the agency for the next few days won’t save him from their ire if it happens again.

Shouto is still toweling off his hair when there’s a knock on his door. He glances at the clock on his wall, but even without the visual confirmation, he knows it has only been a few minutes since his call with Midoriya had ended. It was unlikely he found his apartment that quickly. He throws the towel over the bar in the bathroom and grabs a t-shirt on his way out of his room.

He opens the front door, expecting to see one of his neighbors in the hall. Instead, it is Midoriya staring at him from the other side of the door. He looks almost the exact same as the first time they had met with his thin, crooked wire frame glasses and oversized leather satchel hanging at his side. Though he had replaced his ill-fitting cardigan with a Froppy sweatshirt and a jean jacket over a button-up. Midoriya’s eyes scan over him quickly, pausing briefly at his middle before jumping back to his face and then to the space next to his head.

“Hello,” Midoriya manages quietly.

Shouto tugs the bottom of his shirt the rest of the way down.

“Hello. I…wasn’t expecting you to find the place so quickly,” he replies simply.

“Um, yes, it was closer than I realized too,” Midoriya finally looks him in the eye again, only to look away a moment later to bow his head. “I’m sorry, I should have announced myself somehow.”

“It’s fine, Midoriya. I’m glad you didn’t have to go too far out of your way.”

They stand in an awkward silence for a moment before they both seem to remember themselves and try to speak again.

Midoriya fumbles with the leather bag at his side, searching for the book. “Right, I’m sure you need to finish getting ready for work-” he starts to say.

At the same time, Shouto steps back, opening his door further. “Would you like to come in?”

Midoriya stares at him in surprise for a moment before his gaze jumps to something behind Shouto, brow furrowing.

“Todoroki, do you live alone?”

“Um, yes?” Shouto glances over his shoulder but doesn’t see whatever it was that Midoriya must have seen.

He turns back around, but Midoriya is still staring hard at something in the distance.

“Midoriya, what did-"

A loud crash of breaking glass cuts off the rest of Shouto’s question. Midoriya reacts a second before him, grabbing Shouto’s arm and throwing them both down the hall, away from his door as flames erupt in the apartment behind him.

They tumble to the ground. Shouto lands hard on his back as they roll for a moment, the floor below him and Midoriya landing heavily on top of him knocking the air from his lungs. One of Midoriya’s hands cushioned his head in the fall, but he pulls it back quickly as if Shouto burned him.

Midoriya quickly lifts himself up, carefully checking Shouto over. “Are you alright?”

Shouto nods, not yet ready to try speaking again. The sound of a vicious fire cracks behind them and the smell of smoke is already starting to fill the hallway. Whatever was thrown has a fast-moving fire and Shouto can feel the heat even from a few feet away.

“Will your fire alarm alert the authorities?”

Shouto pushes himself to a sitting position . “Don’t have a fire alarm,” he chokes out. They really need to move. “They go off too easily.”

Midoriya stares at him for a moment like he’s lost his mind before realization dawns. “Right your quirk would probably make that a pain. Okay, I’ll call for help. But we need to get as many people out as we can before they get here.”

Shouto climbs to his feet, using the wall to hold himself up for the moment. Everything seems to feel okay, so he doesn’t think he’s injured, just winded. Midoriya looks worried but he still scrambles to his feet a moment later.

“I can get my upstairs neighbors out,” Shouto says.

“I’ll help everyone below evacuate,” Midoriya offers before Shouto has barely finished speaking. He takes off for the stairwell, glancing back at the last second. “Be careful, Todoroki.”

Shouto stares after him for a moment, incredulous. ‘I’m the pro in this situation,’ he wants to remind Midoriya. ‘And probably marginally more fire-resistant than you.’ “You too,” is all he manages instead as the stairwell door swings shut behind Midoriya. Faintly, Shouto remembers another time he watched a civilian run head-long into trouble, but he brushes off the otherwise long-forgotten memory. It was so long ago, he’s not sure what dredged up the old memory, but dwelling on it won’t help anyone right now.

Shouto forces himself away from the door and his desire to go after the apparently reckless, mysterious, crazy-overachieving civilian he just let run into danger and heads for his closest neighbor. There are only three apartments on each floor. The one next to him has been empty for months, and usually both of the Fukudas were at work during this time of day, but he pounds on the door just to be safe, calling for them both. Smoke is finally beginning to fill the hallway and he knows it will only be another minute or two before the fire itself begins to crawl its way out of the apartment too.

Shouto breaks through the door, calling for either of the Fukudas to answer as he darts through the handful of rooms laid out in a mirror of his own familiar apartment. Satisfied that it is empty, he goes back to the hall heading for the stairs. He can feel his right side rapidly growing colder as his quirk tries to regulate his body temperature. The overheated air burns his already sore chest as he runs.

Shouto is already shouting as he reaches the next floor, hoping to alert as many of his neighbors as he can. One door opens as he throws himself down the hall, an older woman looking at him suspiciously through the crack in her door. For once he’s thankful for his unique appearance because he sees recognition dawn on her a moment later, even without his hero suit.

“A fire started on the floor below, I’m trying to evacuate everyone on this floor and the next, if you have anyone home with you, get them!”

The woman nods in understanding, throwing her door open and running back into the apartment calling for someone. Shouto goes to the next closest apartment, banging on the door and calling for anyone who might be inside. The door to the apartment next door opens and a man looks out.

“What is all the racket about? They went to their parents for the week, no one is in there.”

“The apartment is empty right now?”

The man glares at him, but Shouto pushes on before he can start an argument with him. The first woman comes out of her apartment with her grandson and a small dog in tow. “Sir, there is a fire on the floor below. We’re evacuating everyone.”

The man still looks like he wants to argue, but a moment later the sound of sirens grows louder as help arrives on the scene and that seems to be enough to convince him to cooperate. The three tenants follow him up the stairs to the last floor. Two of the three doors are already open, the tenants looking out obviously wondering what all the noise is about. The woman and her grandson greet one of the two women, immediately filling them in on what’s going on. Shouto goes to the last door.

“She’s at work,” one of the women calls to him. “She lives alone. Except for a cat.”

Shouto nods his thanks for the information. “I’ll go in to get the cat. Do either of you have a window that faces the front of the building?”

The other woman raises her hand. “I do!”

“Please take everyone into your apartment, clear a space in front of the window if necessary and I’ll be there in just a moment.” Shouto instructs. He waits just a moment to make sure everyone is complying before he forces the last door open. The cat in question makes itself known immediately, rushing to the door crying for attention before it realizes he is not their owner. The cat turns tail and darts deeper into the apartment.

Cursing, Shouto uses ice to create a small blockade in the hall that leads to the bedroom and bathroom, limiting the cat’s escape routes as he darts after it, sliding across the hardwood floor leading into the hallway. He catches himself on the wall just as the cat skids to a halt before the ice, trying to turn quickly but the floor is more slippery than its accustomed to and Shouto manages to grab it as it struggles to find its footing. He gets a few heavy scratches across his arms for his trouble, and the cat does its best to escape his hold, but he manages to get it out of the apartment. He wishes he had his tool belt on him, where he might have something that could contain the cat better, and make it easier to transport, but even if the fire-resistant fabric had lasted this long, it wasn’t worth it to try and get back into his apartment for it.

He rejoins his neighbors in the other apartment. Along with the three from the first floor, there are the two women from this floor, one of whom clutches a still-sleeping baby to her chest. From the window he can see the ambulance and two fire engines that have already arrived. And based on the sounds in the distance, the police and at least one more ambulance would not be far behind. Someone offers to take the disgruntled cat from him as he throws open the window.

Smoke is billowing from a window on a lower floor, obscuring his line of sight for a moment as the winds shift. Shouto swears under his breath, he can feel his neighbors growing anxious behind him, but he knows he needs a clear shot of the ground for this to work. It takes a few minutes for the view to clear enough for him to see a good landing place. By then a few people from the lower floors have started to evacuate, and he can see the first responders meeting them as they come out. He can’t tell from here if Midoriya is with them yet, though he has a feeling the answer is no.

Pushing his concerns aside for the moment, Shouto takes a deep breath to focus. Even after all these years of playing catch up, he still has a much better control of his right side than his left, but the overheated air is already putting a strain on his right side as it keeps his body cool. He creates an ice ramp, or perhaps more accurately a slide, from the window to the ground besides one of the fire engines. It’s as far as he dares to go to keep the slide from being too steep without also becoming too thin. He reinforces the part connected to the building and as much of the underside as he can from where he is to keep the fire from melting it down.

He turns back to his gathered neighbors. The adults gathered look unsure at best, if not down right afraid, but the young boy looks excited.

“It’ll be cold going down, but you should be perfectly safe,” Shouto promises. “Who’s first?”

Shouto helps the first woman up to the window. Once she is down safe, the woman with her baby goes, climbing up by herself first before Shouto hands the infant off to her. The young boy volunteers next before his grandmother can stop him, scrambling up to the window and then asking Shouto to hand the dog up to him. The older woman goes next, clutching the terrified cat tightly to her chest as she disappears down the slide.

Shouto waits until the older man safely reaches the bottom after her before he prepares to go down himself. Taking one last look back before he drops, he sees the smoke begin to curl around the edges of the apartment door.

 The fire chief stops Shouto first once he’s down, thanking him for his help evacuating the civilians and asking about the conditions inside. Shouto gives as much information as he can about the fire and where it started. He ignores the concerned expression the chief gives him as he explains how it began. He knows it seems like an attack, and a targeted attack at that, but he doesn’t want to focus on it just yet. Eventually, the chief figures he’s gotten as much as from Shouto as he’s going to for the moment and sends him off towards the paramedics.

Shouto dodges them for the moment, finding the neighbors he helped down first to make sure everyone actually made it down unharmed. Everyone seems okay, the baby somehow still blissfully asleep and the young boy excitedly asks Shouto if he can go down his ice slide again some other time. One of the first responders found a carrying case for the cat until they could get ahold of its actual owner. He recognizes a few of the other neighbors gathered around from the lower floors. A few have shock blankets on and one person is perched in an ambulance with a paramedic attached to an oxygen machine, but there don’t seem to be any major injuries.

Midoriya is arguing with a paramedic, insisting someone else is in more pressing need of care when Shouto finally approaches one of the ambulances.

“What’s that saying about doctors being the worst patients?” Shouto asks.

Midoriya jumps, startled by his arrival, though he quick recovers from his shock to glare at Shouto.

The paramedic throws his hands up. “Entropy, please try and talk some sense into him. This is the fourth time he’s refused care.” The paramedic turns back to Midoriya and waves a warning finger at him. “I’m running out of other patients to look at.” He warns before storming off.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Shouto asks once they’re alone. Midoriya mostly looks okay, his glasses are missing and he’s a little sooty and disheveled, but Shouto figures everyone probably looks about the same in that regard.

“Nothing,” Midoriya starts to say as someone nearby loudly clears their throat over him. Midoriya scowls. “I think I might have landed on my hand funny earlier, but it’s fine, probably just sore.”

Shouto frowns. “You should at least have someone look at it, just in case.”

Midoriya opens his mouth to argue but a ringing phone cuts him off. He fumbles with his phone for a moment, struggling to pull it out of a pocket with his opposite hand. He winces as he finally pulls it out.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s a video call.” Midoriya doesn’t elaborate anymore. He shifts around before he answers, holding the phone up at an angle that keeps his arm and the ambulance mostly out of the camera. He pastes on a bright smile. “Hi, Eri.”

“Oh Izuku, are you okay? I heard you were involved in a fire. Are you injured? What happened?” Dr. Aizawa asks in a rush, her worried face fills the screen. Red eyes move quickly, obviously taking note of Midoriya’s disheveled apperance.

“I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. We’re not sure exactly how it started yet,” he lies. “But no one was hurt.”

“Where are you? I’ll go-”

“No,” Midoriya cuts her off. “I’m fine and I’ll come by the hospital later so you can check me over yourself if you’re really that worried, but I’m fine. And I want to make sure someone is keeping an eye out for Kou.”

“You think this has to do with her?” Dr. Aizawa asks, surprised.

“I’m not sure yet, I would just feel better if I knew there was extra security around her.”

Dr. Aizawa nods. “Okay, Izuku. I’ll make sure someone has an eye on her at all times. I’ll call you later to check up on you.” She says. “And I’ll know if you don’t let the paramedics check on you so don’t even try it this time.” The call ends before Midoriya can refute her last statement.

“I’m supposed to be taking the next shift on the hospital,” Shouto realizes. “I still had another two hours before my shift began when you arrived, but I should let someone know.”

Midoriya offers Shouto his phone. Before Shouto can step away, the paramedic returns with his arms crossed.

“Ready to cooperate?”

Midoriya looks miserably over his shoulder at Shouto but lets the paramedic force him into a seat.

Shouto calls Momo on her private number.

“This is Creati.” Momo answers stiffly after a single ring.

“Momo, it’s Shouto. My phone is…I don’t have my phone right now. There was just a fire-”

“At your apartment building. I know I just got the alert. Are you okay? You were still home, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m fine. No one was injured, but they’re still putting out the fire and I’m pretty sure my apartment is gone. It started there.”

Momo takes a long time to reply. “Your quirk?” She finally asks, but she sounds like she already knows the answer.

“No. I think…It seems crazy, but…” Shouto hesitates. He lives on the third floor, but crazier things have probably happened to him. “I think someone threw something through my window to start it.”

Momo curses under her breath. “I was afraid of that. You haven’t heard from anyone else, yet, have you? There was another attack, across town. Not a fire, but a building came down. A few civilians were hurt, and…”

Shouto tries not to lose his patience with Momo as she hesitates.

Finally she sighs. “The latest report from the police just came over the radio. Mr. Smith was one of the only heroes in the area. He was severely injured while helping trapped civilians. Paramedics rushed him to the hospital a few minutes ago. No one’s sure of his status yet.”

“Fuck.” Midoriya was right. “This is about Kou. The girl from before you have to-”

“I know your schedule, Shouto.” Momo interrupts. “As soon as I got the alert I let them know you might have been targeted. Someone has already been assigned to your guard shift and they’ve added extra security to the hospital.”

Shouto feels himself relax for the first time since the fire began. If there’s one thing he can count on, it’s Momo to be on top of things. “Thank you.”

Momo replies with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Is there anything else I can do for you right now? Do you need anyone else at the scene?”

“No, everything seems pretty well in hand for now. But if you could let my mother and sister know, that would help. They’ll see it on the news eventually, but even if my phone survived the fire it will probably be a while before I can get it to contact them myself.”

“Of course, I’ll make sure they know you’re alright. Can I contact you on this number again?”

Shouto glances back at Midoriya. He’s, miraculously, still sitting in the ambulance doors letting the paramedic wrap his hand, but he also managed to call over one of the firefighters to discuss something about the attack. “Yeah, you can use this number again.”

“Let me know when you learn something more.”

“I will.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Shouto.” Momo says just before she ends the call.

Me too, Shouto thinks, looking around at all the people gathered in front of the apartment. He and Midoriya had managed to get everyone out, but if Shouto had been alone he might not have been quick enough. Hell, if he hadn’t been answering the door at just the right time, he might not have been able to save anyone at all. He would probably be right beside Mr. Smith in the hospital. I just wish it could be said for everyone.

Shouto returns to the ambulance, passing the cell back to Midoriya. Midoriya takes one look at his face and knows.

“You heard about Mr. Smith too?”

Shouto nods. “Creati already sent word to the hospital for extra security and for someone to cover my shift watching Kou.”

Midoriya cracks a small smile. Other than the one he wore to briefly pacify Dr. Aizawa, it’s the first smile Shouto thinks he’s seen from him all day. And bizarrely, it puts him at ease for a moment, lifting some of the weight of the attack.

“Remind me to send her a huge thank you gift when we finally get out of here,” Midoriya says, and even though Momo is just doing her job in her own efficient, overachiever way, he knows Midoriya is serious.

Midoriya moves over, offering the extra space for Shouto to sit down. Another paramedic almost immediately descends on them, finally checking Shouto over for shock, smoke inhalation, over-extended quirk usage, and other injuries. Other than the handful of cat scratches that they clean and bandage, he comes out with a clean bill of health. Midoriya is comparing their injuries, complaining that his “bruised wrist” didn’t need more bandaging than Shouto’s cuts, but while his tone is light, his eyes keep focusing on something in the distance, his attention obviously not on their conversation. Shouto can practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he thinks.

The fire chief eventually joins them as the fire dies down and more of the firefighters exit the building for the last time. “Thank you again, Entropy, for your help evacuating tenants before we arrived. And…Midoriya, was it?”

“Dr. Midoriya,” Shouto corrects when Midoriya simply nods. Midoriya elbows him in the side, but Shouto ignores the jab.

“Dr. Midoriya, thank you for your help as well. That was very brave of you. A number of the tenants I’ve spoken with were extremely grateful for your assistance.”

Midoriya shrugs a shoulder, as if he had truly done nothing of note. “I’m just glad I was in the right place to help, at the right time.”

“Do we know anything else about the fire yet? Or the building?” Shouto asks.

“The fire is mostly out, we just have a few more people inside checking for any hidden fires or areas that weren’t extinguished completely the first time. As for the building…it will take a little while longer to properly assess all the damage but the third floor where it started, and the second and fourth floors, took the most damage. At the very least it will be a day or two before it’s safe for the tenants to move between the floors to get their things.” The chief explains.

Shouto expected about as much, honestly he was prepared to hear worse, but it doesn’t make it easier. “Thank you for letting us know.”

The chief nods. “Of course.”

Shouto turns back to Midoriya as the chief walks away. “Can I borrow your phone one more time?”

Midoriya politely, but unnecessarily, turns away as Shouto crafts a text to Momo.

the tenants will b displaced for at least a few days. can we do smthing abt accommodations for them?

It only takes Momo a few seconds to reply.

Of course. Send me the number of people and their contact information and I’ll take care of everything.

A second text comes in almost immediately.

Will you need something too? You could always stay with me and Kyouka. Or I’m sure your mother would be happy to have you for a few days.

Shouto stares at the message for a moment. “Shit.” He hadn’t been thinking about himself. Obviously he couldn’t stay in his apartment. But he wouldn’t want to be housed anywhere near his neighbors, in case whoever attacked tried again. But that would put his friends, or family, in the same line of risk.

“What’s wrong?” Midoriya finally turns back, looking over Shouto’s shoulder. “Was there another attack?”

Shouto shakes his head. “No, sorry to worry you. Momo just reminded me I’ll need a place to stay for a while. I don’t want to risk a hotel or some public housing, if they try to attack again…”

Midoriya doesn’t need him to finish his thought before he nods in understanding. “And you don’t want to stay with your friends or family for the same reason. There’s too much of a risk they will try to target you again.”

Shouto groans, running a hand over his face. Maybe Midoriya was onto something with all his concerns about ‘privacy and self-preservation.’

“Stay with me.”

Shouto’s head shoots up. He thinks he had to have misheard, but the serious expression on Midoriya’s face suggests otherwise.

“What?”

“You can stay with me. No, you should stay with me.”

Shouto feels like he was just transported to a parallel universe. He was actually fairly confident his role as the only one to suggest ridiculous things in this newly-started relationship was already established.

“I-No. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting.”

Shouto ignores him. “I can stay in the dorms at the agency.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes. “That’s an extremely short term solution, at best. And a huge risk. If these villains have kept close enough tabs on you to find your personal apartment and attack it, it would be child’s play to figure out you were staying in your office, with a publicly available address, and target it too.”

“You would still be at risk,” Shouto says, baffled as to how Midoriya somehow managed to miss that very important fact. “The same way Momo and Kyouka or my family would be, I can’t put you in that position.”

“Todoroki,” Midoriya says, deadly serious. “You are not a very social hero. It is common knowledge who you are close enough with to consider a friend. And your family has been in the spotlight for years. Staying with any of them is an obvious and dangerous choice. I’m a nobody. No one knows me, no one knows you know me. Also my house is…private, secluded. Even if someone does eventually figure out you’re there, it will take much longer than any of the other places. Enough time that we can come up with another plan.”

Midoriya reaches over and takes the cell out of his hands. “Now, unless you have a more convincing argument, I will text…” he looks at the phone for a long moment as he trails off. Shouto has no idea how he can casually insist on Shouto staying with him and in the same breath be visibly uncomfortable texting a different hero. “I will text…Creati and tell her you have a place to stay. You should go collect everyone else’s information for her.”

Shouto stares at Midoriya in disbelief while he pointedly ignores him and struggles to craft a text to Momo. He only finally moves when Midoriya all but shoves him off the ambulance step, claiming to be unable to type while he was being watched.

“I…can’t make sense of you,” Shouto finally admits. Midoriya has baffled him basically since the moment they met and he’s beginning to think he might never fully understand him.

Midoriya looks up from his phone with a curious expression, as if surprised by Shouto’s admission, before it transforms into a smile Shouto has never seen before, but that he wants to pull from him again and again.

“I like to think that’s just a part of my charm.”

[satoruvt]

fanfic writer tag game <3

helloooo <3 thank u for tagging me @hannie-dul-set this is so cute lol

ummmm! i think i will tag. @leejuyeeon and @seokmingiggles !! and as always anyone else who wants to <33

peum ~

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

omg lets see if i can do this in order. i think the first fandom i ever wrote fanfic for was creepypasta LMAOO and then... fairy tail? then 5 seconds of summer, then maybe it 2017?? voltron legendary defender, detroit become human, monster prom and mystic messenger kind of overlapped, the arcana !!! then my hero academia, haikyuu, a Little bit of demon slayer... i think thats it lol

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

seventeen is all for rn, but i’m thinking of also writing for mha again and adding jjk!!

3. how long have you been writing?

oh wow for like... probably around 6 years? maybe 6 and a half

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

rn just tumblr, i used to post more actively on ao3 but i havent since i started writing for kpop

5. what is your favourite genre to write?

ahhh like !!! comfort fics!!! i think theres something really sweet in those unspoken feelings during moments you think you’ll never forget... the idea of being with someone and you’re just so sure they’re your favorite person, and then warmth that comes with that realization... wahh

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

oh it depends i think. for longer fics i like to plan them out, but i really wing it with like timestamps or shorter ones

7. one shot or multi-chapter?

ONE SHOTS. my god i fucking suck at multi-chapter shit LMAOO ive only done 1 series like that and it was so rough for me lol

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

hm how do i explain this... anything that makes sense? however long it takes for it to feel like the chapter/fic is summed up or completed. i used to worry about word counts a lot but now i rarely pay attention to them, both in reading and writing

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

if we’re talking about multi-chaptered, then the color of you wins at 17k !! in terms of one shots, it’s for now; forever at 9k!

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

oh boy. i think... anything from the last like. 8 months? my svt stuff for sure!! i went a while without writing in between like january-late november 2020, and i was worried that my writing would suffer a lot... it took a sec for me to get back into the groove of things but i’m feeling happier than ever with the stuff i write now. i feel like ive matured about the way i approach my own writing and ideas, and how i do everything, and my fics make me really proud. ive started writing within different aus that i hadnt touched before, or talking about different feelings or ideas, etc... i really feel like ive grown with this most recent burst lol, and i love working on them! i get so hyped up when im in the middle of writing or even planning, im just so excited to share all of it hehe

11. favorite request you've have written and why (if any?)

ah its been so long since ive worked with requests that i cant remember anything LOL

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

yes. it is comfort and content. it is the feeling of love. it is holding hands on a walk in the middle of spring and smelling flowers. it is the sound of leaves when a gust of wind blows past. it is looking into ur lovers eyes and feeling nothing but pure fondness

13. current number of wips?

fuck like somewhere around 20 probably

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

i really like repetition (specifically in sentences if that makes sense??), LOTS of unspoken things (even if i picture a fic with an established relationship, i dont say it within the fic; and especially concerning romantic feelings, i love when things go unsaid and are FELT full force), i think a lot of detailed rambling... i really like to try and describe emotions and stuff in the most abstract and obscure ways lol i feel like it makes things a little more palpable and honest

15. a quote you like from a published story

im gonna do a few. Lol. firstly this long one from pretend people can unlearn:

“Are you…” Jeonghan starts, and when you look at him, his eyes are still on the city in front of you. “Are you ever afraid that we’ll fall out of love?”

It never occurred to you that this was love. It’s not like the love you’ve experienced in the past, not even close. But maybe… maybe that’s why you never leave, why you hold yourself back from certain arguments like it might fix everything. Maybe love is the reason why Jeonghan still seems to believe in you. Why he promises he’ll be the best thing for you despite always breaking that promise.

(Is it love, a voice in your head questions, or is it longing?)

It takes you a while to respond. “I don’t know,” you end up saying, because you really don’t. Jeonghan turns his head and looks at you, and you half expect him to start an argument in the middle of night, out on the street like this. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Would that… be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan answers, just like you. His voice is soft. You want to reach for his hand just to hold it. “You’re still…”

He pauses, like he’s trying to find the right word. You let him take his time, for once, instead of accusing him of the worst. “I’m still?”

“Everything,” he tells you. He looks so sad and you reach out for him because it’s the only thing you can offer. You think the worst thing about your relationship with Jeonghan is that you will always believe him when he gets like this, just like you’ll believe him when he takes it back in the heat of a fight.

next is from like there isn’t something missing <3

But you’re crying into his chest because it’s not you, and it’s not him. Seungcheol wonders if it was always meant to be like this, if the two of you were always meant to part or if something… if something just went wrong, somewhere. A bump that did a bit more damage than either of you thought.

He tries not to think about it now. Tears fill his own eyes as he presses a kiss to your hair because he loved you. He truly did.

“I was so lucky to love you,” he murmurs, voice a cracked whisper. “I’m so happy I got the chance.”

When Seungcheol wakes up the next morning in an empty bed, he’s not surprised. But the Post-It note that’s dressed in your handwriting…

Well. It’s over.

and this last one from only for you, i will dance !!

“This will always be our own time,” he says. “We’ll meet here.”

You know. He says it every time. It never fails to make your heart soar.

“Our thirteenth month,” you say, just like every time. Chan smiles.

He kisses you so strong you feel yourself falling.

16. a quote from an unpublished story

ahh ok ill do a few here too!!! one is something ive begun writing, the other is one that i’ve just been working on planning out <3

Smoke blows past somebody else’s lips and partially obstructs Wonwoo’s view of you.

He hasn’t been to a party like this in a long time. It’s elegant, more of a gala than anything. He can’t remember who threw it or for what reason. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes, watching you make conversation with the partygoers. They all have old money to throw around, the symbolism stitched into their suit jackets and red-rimmed heels; remnants of it left on tables and in the contents of expensive cigars.

You play them like you are one of them, tell them the right things with a silver tongue. Wonwoo always watches, plays the part of an observer. It’s impressive, the way you float around the room like it’s nothing.

Wonwoo observes; Wonwoo knows things.

and the second one...

"you don't know me," you respond. your voice carries no bite, just a fact, and joshua knows this

"i want to," he says after a second. "if you'll let me."

and he's asking permission to be your friend, to be close to you, something so tender and strangely polite

it makes you feel almost sad

"don't expect too much," you say, a little teasing. joshua only smiles

17. space for you to say something to your readers

wahhh thank you all so much!!! when i first got into writing for kpop it was a lot different mostly because i think... i was writing stuff for different anime before, and i had built up a big following because of that and my works always did like, really exceptional in terms of notes and feedback and such, and getting into kpop... has been rough on that end 💀 but i appreciate your support thus far, even if it’s small... i’m still working towards a standard that i have for myself!!! so please be patient with me, thank you for the support !!

also please find it in yourself to leave lil comments or any sort of feedback... please..... PLEASE... any creator ever understands this struggle please always try to do this!!! for me and for any other creator you follow and enjoy content from <333

[ceo-of-daichi]

Characters ~ Sugawara Koushi x Fem!Reader

Summary ~ ITS YOUR BIRTHDAYYY! Suga knows you love marine animals so decides to treat you to the day at the Aquarium!

Genre ~ Fluff

Warnings ~ Literally none... unless you are scared of fish...

Word Count ~ 1.3k

A/N ~ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @bb-noya !!! Hope you like this, took me a while to write because i was so unmotivated, so i really hope it reads smooth!! You are literally such a good friend to me and i am so thankful we met here all those months ago❤️ Thank you @karasu-hoes​ and @minseoparkuniverse​ for proof reading this for me!!

IF YOU WANT TO BE ON MY TAGLIST COMMENT OR SEND ME AN ASK <3

‘[y/n]...[y/nn]’ Suga coos, as he shakes you lightly waking you up from your peaceful slumber. Groaning as the light penetrates your vision, all you can see is your boyfriend's face.

‘What is it honey?’ You question, rubbing your eyes and letting them adjust to the sun that's peeking through the curtains of your shared apartment.

‘Happy birthday!!!’ He says, smiling as he helps you sit up and rests a tray on your lap. The tray contained a plate full of pancakes, and a glass of apple juice. A bright smile made its way to your lips as you looked up at Suga lovingly.

‘You didn’t have to… this is perfect,’ After you told him how much he really didn’t have to wait on you hand and foot, and him confirming that you deserved it, you finally sunk into the pancakes and started to eat. They were so fluffy and soft, melting in your mouth. The apple juice cool and sweet as it slid down your throat. The best wake up you have had in awhile.

Once you had finished eating, Suga perked up, telling you to get out of bed and that you were going somewhere fun!

He watched as you wandered tiredly to the bathroom, really hoping you would enjoy the day he had planned. You deserved it. Always being so good to him, even if maybe he didn’t deserve it. But he was sure as hell going to make it up to you now.

Once you had finished your morning routine and changed, Suga was waiting with keys in his hand. Giving him a questioning look you followed him out to his car, getting in the passenger side. 

On the drive he has his free hand entwined in yours, fingers interlaced, chatting about anything and everything. You were so distracted by watching him as you were speaking that you didn’t even notice you had pulled into a parking lot.

‘We’re here!!’ Suga announced, awaiting your reaction as you lifted your head up to finally see the destination. The aquarium. You had to hold back a squeal as you looked at the giant shark sculpture that stood prominent on the outside of the building. 

He watched as you excitedly got out the car, Suga knew that you loved marine animals. After all it was what you were studying. The way your eyes lit up when you noticed where you were was enough to make his day there and then. Before you had even got into the place.

‘Come on Suga, what are you waiting for!’ You shout at him through the car window, eyes sparkling with excitement. He chuckled as he got out of the car and walked into the aquarium. In that short minute you had already managed to talk his ear off about the different marine organisms you were going to see.

He just nodded and let you chat, paying attention to the way your smile changed depending on the species you were talking about. Once he had paid for both your tickets, you started to wander around.

They had so many different species of fish and other marine life, stopping at almost every tank to tell Suga a fun fact. Or even just to get excited about the environment that that certain species thrived in, and how it was special. 

Throughout the afternoon Suga kept a careful eye on which species you spoke about most, and always made sure to listen to whatever you wanted to speak about. It was one of the many things he loved about you. The amount of excitement you got from the fact that starfish eat with their stomachs inside out. 

He was so in love with you it hurt. Every time you moved from species to species he noticed a new way you showed your excitement. When you were talking about the beluga whales your voice basically went up an octave, you also suddenly became a lot more bouncy. Making Suga beam with excitement with you, even though he couldn’t concentrate on what you were saying.

The minute you both got to the flatworms Suga couldn’t help but chuckle at you, after every fact you did a little clap. He finds it so adorable that you have so much passion for something. The whole experience with you was perfect in his opinion and even if he didn’t know it right now, you felt the same.

You relished the way he listened, and constantly kept his eyes on you. Even occasionally asking questions. He genuinely cared and that made your heart skip a beat just thinking about it.

Once you had thoroughly explored the aquarium, you looked through the gift store. While you were busy debating whether you could afford to spend $50 on a massive book full of facts about the ocean, Suga had decided to get you a secret little gift.

He was glad that you were unobservant when you were distracted, as being subtle wasn’t exactly his forte. 

Deciding the $50 definitely wasn’t worth it, you and Suga headed back to his car.

‘Thank you honey, i’ve had the best birthday a girl could ask for!’ You say, letting out a content sigh. 

‘Oh? You think the days over? Far from it sweetie…’ He lightly teases as he straps himself into the car. Your mind running through all the things you could possibly do now. 

Turns out Suga had reserved a table at an extremely cute restaurant that you had been dying to go to for months. However it was always fully booked. You were stunned. How did someone like you get such a good, kind, caring, considerate boyfriend like him. He was the whole package and boy were you emotional about it.

As he pulled up, your jaw hit the floor. So many thoughts running through your head, in the end you couldn’t stop the water works.

‘Suga i don’t deserve you, this is perfect…’ You managed to get out through the streams of tears that had just begun.

‘[y/n]... look at me sweetie…’ He asked, calm as ever. As you tilted your head to look him in the eye, he had a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘You do deserve me… if anything i should be the one saying that… you constantly care for me everyday whether it's the little things you do, or the big ones. Like that time I was ill and you basically carried me to bed and took care of me. This is not just a birthday gift but a thank you and an I love you.’ He said, all the while your tear flow got heavier with every word.

Leaning across the seat he hugged you tight, letting you cry against his shoulder. After about 10 minutes of you both just sat in his car, embracing each other you had finally calmed down.

‘I don’t know if this is a good time but…’ Suga chuckled as he reached to the backseat and pulled out a small bag from the aquarium. Did he buy that while you were there? You really needed to work on your observation skills.

‘Open it…’ He said softly, as he handed you the bag. As you looked inside you saw proof of why he was literally the perfect boyfriend. A small plushy of a Beluga Whale laid in the bag. You remember mentioning close to the start that they were your favourite marine animal. The fact he had remembered, blew your mind and with that you began to sob again. 

All together the best reaction Suga could have hoped for the day he had spent weeks planning with his amazing girlfriend.

Tags: @super-noya​ @stcrryskies​ @iwaxme​ @bb-noya​ @vventure​ @scorpiosanssexy​ @sugawara-sweetheart​ @watermelonsugawara​ @kageyamathegrump​ 

[fierysafrina]

Hoy que te vas | Obey Me!

Fandom: Obey Me! Rating: Teen (just in case) Word Count: 2.550 Genre: Slice of Life | Angst | Hurt Additional tags: tw: death Summary: It took you by surprise, but you couldn’t do anything about it. Notes: I honestly had no idea where I was going with this, but I suddenly felt really sad and this came out and then I got inspiration to write more. Also the title is actually from a same-titled song by a group RBD that some of you might know. It’s one of my favourite songs and while writing I thought it would be perfect for this one.

Please heed that there’s a character death.

Mammon

It was just a whisper. A whisper that, like a tug on his sleeve, tried to get him out of the room where he was. Stilling, Mammon raised his head from the manga he was reading and around, expecting to see you, but you weren’t there. How could you even be there when you left the Devildom months ago? Despite your constant calls and messages that you exchanged with everyone, it wasn’t the same.

Feeling a slight burn inside his chest, Mammon frowned. And he wasn’t the only one.

Lucifer

Just a whisper that made the oldest brother frown. He looked from the papers he was going over and up, expecting to see you sitting there on a chair, reading or playing with your phone, depending on the mood you were in. But you weren’t there. He suddenly found it hard to swallow with unbearable cold growing inside.

Something was wrong, because the pact that you had with him was slowly disappearing. But that shouldn’t be, because you still had decades before your death.

And there was something the demons forgot. Despite being a human, accidents occur daily.

You were staring at the message Satan sent you, smiling at it. It was a picture of a white cat when a bus came to a stop. You automatically raised your head to see a bus station, where a man stood. Focusing back on your phone, you were typing a reply while listening to music on your phone. You spotted the man passing you, but stopped since the seat on the other side was empty. Unconsciously, you looked his way, spotting scars on his hand that trailed up to his elbow. Pursuing lips into a thin line, you shook with your head before you looked out the window.

Going home after a full shift felt nice. Driving with the bus felt even nicer. You could finally relax already on the way, completely ignoring the traffic that you know would drive you insane if you went by a car. But with the bus? You could calm down and even take a nap if you wanted to.

A smile spread across your lips, remembering when you tried to work in Devildom. How unused and unsure you were. But with the help of the brothers, you slowly grew out of your shell. You certainly wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for them. Who knew, they could change you this much?

Satan

He was smiling as he read your reply to the picture of the cat. Looking at the cat in question, he caressed her head only to hiss when she scratched him. He frowned, because in a second she changed, her growling only growing louder each second. He retracted his hand in confusion, wondering what had gotten into her when he felt it.

It was small. Almost unnoticeable. But it was there. His heart paced up, because that shouldn’t be happening.

It was growing and disappearing at the same time.

Levi

Leviathan rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn behind his other hand. He smiled when he remembered you’ll bring a game he might find curious. He couldn’t wait until the day you visit the Devildom again.

Assassin’s Creed is the title you told him. He checked it out and found his curiosity pique the longer he was waiting for that day to come.

I���m sorry, Levi …

Your voice rang inside his head and Leviathan froze. His eyes grew wider by each second that passed until he bolted out of the room, fear spreading inside him like a wildfire. No, it couldn’t be. No, no, you couldn’t. You couldn’t. You promised him. Promised you’ll play the game with him. You can’t do that to him. You can’t tell him of a game, give his hopes up and then disappear like that.

Everything was hurting. Your eyes fluttered open as you gasped for your breath. It was sunny, so warm. Warm that it hurt more than you thought it would. There was wetness that prevented you from looking so you closed your left eye. Your focus began to disappear, everything slowly turning into blurriness until you realized that you were crying. You choked on air, chest heaving, pain only to spread and grow. You shut your eyes and broke into a sob both from pain and fear.

“P-please…” you begged.

As you slowly loosened your conscience, the last thing you heard was your name being called from somewhere far away.

Asmo

Asmodeus was humming to himself while painting his nails your favourite colour. He was smiling as he observed his work he had done only to frown when he spotted nail polish on his skin.

“How silly…” he murmured to himself as he reached for a wipe to clean only to feel sudden dread. The nail polish he was holding fell, splattering on the table and floor. But he didn’t realize it because he was suddenly pulled out of his room to a place that horrified him more than anything. He yelled your name when he spotted you, completely ignoring the surroundings.

Beel … Belphie…

The twins were resting in the attic. Beelzebub was sitting on the bed while Belphegor’s head was resting on Beelzebub’s lap, sleeping. Silence surrounds them only to be broken by a scream, a yell of their brothers. Although so far away, they could hear Leviathan and Mammon – oh Mammon. His hoarse voice that sent chills down Belphegor’s spine. It was just like that day. When they found you unmoving by his hand. When he laughed into their faces how much they cared for you.

Beelzebub was moving while Belphegor remained sitting there. The older twin disappeared from the room, leaving the youngest alone.

Belphegor stared at his hands, a sudden image of you in front of him. How your eyes showed forgiveness before the light dimmed from them.

“What was I expecting?” he murmured to himself like he expected it.

So why the hell did it hurt so much?

Accidents occur daily. It could happen to anyone. It could be you today or someone else tomorrow. You never know when it comes, when it’ll hit. You may be dissatisfied with your life, but in that moment you might wish for one more chance. Just one more to do what you couldn’t. But it’s too late. You can be young, a seven-year-old boy, or old, a grandmother in her eighties that left her family behind. You could be healthy or you could have battled with sickness, illness your whole life. Sometimes you can prevent it in time. Sometimes it happens too fast to realize that it happened. You’re in denial, you refuse to believe, to admit it happened to you. But the truth is there. The reality is there and you have to live with the consequences if you want to or not.

Death is scary because it doesn’t discriminate, but maybe once you get to know it, it might take you by surprise. You wonder what is beyond it. A new life? Do you see your life replay in front of you as you pass away? Or perhaps you’ll be reborn instead? You try to find answers, only to come up empty handed, because no one had survived it.

One day we all leave. We just don’t know when.

Now that you think about it; it’s scary, isn’t it? Not knowing what the future holds.

But if you knew of your own future would you feel better?

When you opened your eyes, you realized you were lying on the grass. Sun shone brightly high in the sky as wind blew softly. There was a presence beside you that didn't disappear and you turned to widen your eyes when you spotted two angels.

“Simeon …” you called surprised.

The said angel smiled at you as he reached out his hand. You sat up before taking it. He pulled you off the ground swiftly and it was then you realized you’re wearing white clothes. An unusual colour, but it quickly dawned on you.

“Oh…” you murmured when you remembered the bus. “Oh …” You’re not sure what to say and Simeon can’t blame you. “Am I going to hell or heaven?” you spoke instead and the way the angels’ eyes widened made your own eyes wide. “I-I mean …” you tried to come up with an excuse only to fail.

“You have fulfilled your life.” The other angel spoke and you looked at him. “There’s only one path for those.”

“Have I really?” You nervously laughed and began to meddle with your fingers – a habit that never left. “I-I mean I got a good job, I have friends, and I live comfortably … well lived …” trailing off, you narrowed your eyebrows as you began to stare at the angel. You’ve never met him before, yet you felt like you knew him. “Michael?” you murmured.

The angel smiled with a small nod. “It’s Azrael’s job to meet with souls half-way, but I wanted to meet you instead.”

You looked at Simeon, who remained silent, but he watched you closely. “What-what is that …” you began only to stop, having a hard time speaking.

“It’s alright,” Michael’s voice was soft, quiet, almost like a lullaby to your ears. “We have all the time you need.”

“W-what’s that one p-path I have?” you stuttered and looked back at Michael.

“Humans are born with certain purposes in their life.” He began slowly. “Some find them, some don’t. Sometimes many humans have one and the same purpose; find a peaceful life, loving friends and to enjoy their life. Others’ purposes are to bring people together.”

“So, y-you’re saying I full-fulfilled mine?”

“Yes,” Michael nodded. “Everything happened as it should have so you don’t have a reason to remain here any longer. Your soul is already at peace.”

“Oh…” you murmured as you lowered your head.

“It’s okay to vent.” Simeon spoke. “You can feel angry and act on it.”

Looking at him, the corners of your lips twitched into a half smile. “It’s weird, but I don’t feel … angry.” You sheepishly admitted. Scratching your neck, you tilted head to the side. “More like … I feel worried.”

“Worried?” Michael repeated, his eyes slightly wide.

“Brothers,” you whispered, thinking how worried they must be for they certainly felt the pact disappearing.

“They certainly aren’t glad for what happened.” Simeon sighed and shook his head before he looked at Michael.

“You can meet them one last time.”

You remained quiet, not daring to say anything. Narrowing your eyebrows, you wrapped arms around yourself, a shiver running down your spine. “I want to…” you whispered and before you could take those words back, the scene changed and you found yourself in the Student Council Room, standing in the middle of it like the first time.

“[Name]!” Mammon’s voice called and he ran to you, hugging you tightly.

“Mammon…” you called surprised.

Others soon followed, except for Lucifer and Belphegor, who stood there wide eyed.

“Are you okay?” Leviathan asked, while Satan was looking over for your bruises.

So many questions were spoken that Michael had to step in-between. The silence that followed was unbearable and you couldn’t handle to see those questioning gazes that were aimed at you.

“What’s…going on?” Mammon murmured, eyes focused on you. “Y-you’re okay, right?”

Forcing a smile, you reached for his hand and squeezed it tight. “I’m sorry…”

“No,” he shook his head. “No!” He turned to Lucifer, eyes begging.

Lucifer stepped forward, hand on Mammon’s shoulder. He shook his head before he looked at Michael. “Is there no way …?” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry.” Michael answered.

“There has to be!” Mammon raised his voice, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Mammon,” you called softly and the said demon looked at you. “I’ll be okay.” You smiled and wiped his tears away. “Look at you, you’re such a big baby…” you chuckled and the next moment you were embraced once again, forced to fall on your knees as Mammon took you along. He clung on your shirt, face buried in your neck as he burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” you whispered and closed your eyes. “I’m sorry to leave you behind.”

You felt another pair of arms and you didn’t need to guess twice it was Leviathan. Slowly all brothers joined, except for Lucifer, who refused to show any emotion.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when Michael said it was time to go, your heart sank. Satan, who refused to shed a tear this whole time, couldn’t hold it back anymore. And neither could Lucifer, because his eyes were glossy.

Lucifer approached you, his hands reaching for your shoulders. His eyes searched through yours for something you didn’t know. “Did it hurt?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him the truth. Not that you could remember.

“I didn’t.”

You knew it was a lie, because you remembered the position bus was in. It was thanks to Azrael you couldn’t remember the moment. And perhaps it was better that way.

Giving a small nod, Lucifer released you and stepped back, looking at Michael. “Is there really no other way?”

“You know there isn’t.” Michael answered with sadness. “If there was, we wouldn’t have lost souls that are unable to let go.” Something about the words he spoke made you even sadder. Simeon reached for your hand and squeezed it while Michael added; “They have fulfilled their purpose. It’s time they start anew.”

“Anew?” Beelzebub asked, his eyes wide and filled with hope.

“Yes,” Michael nodded, but Lucifer’s lips formed into a thin line instead.

“It’s not what ya think, Beel.” It was Mammon who spoke. Everyone looked at him while he stared directly at you. “Starting anew doesn’t mean they get born again a couple years later. Once someone fulfils their purpose, their soul is at peace. It doesn’t have any regret even if they feel like they missed somethin’. They don’t go to heaven or hell, they’re gone. Gone from this world. Nothing is left behind.”

“Their memories are.” Michael’s voice softened. “It’s how someone remains alive.”

Mammon gritted his teeth. “It’s not the same!” he raised his voice, fighting back tears.

Releasing Simeon’s hand, you ran to Mammon and hugged him tightly. “I’m content with my fate and I’ll always look after you, all of you.” Pulling away, you smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. “When you feel lonely, remember all those times we had fun together.” Caressing his cheek, your smile widened. “You really were my first, you know?”

Stepping back, you released his cheeks, but he reached for your hands, holding them. You shook your head and he reluctantly released you. Lucifer placed a hand on Mammon’s shoulder, but the latter refused to acknowledge him. You looked from one brother to another, smiling at them. All of them couldn’t hide their tears, no matter how hard they tried.

“It’s okay,” You spoke, your voice growing quieter. “You can let me go now.”

Your body began to disappear in a bright glow. One last look at Mammon and he reached out to you. You unconsciously reached back, a sudden fear of the unknown overwhelming you. It must have appeared on your face as well because Lucifer reached out as well, his expression filled with panic. Their hands passed through yours and all you could was close your eyes, all emotions leaving you.

The last thing you heard were brothers calling after you.

[hufflautia]

hI this is a tOTALLY ANONYMOUS PERSON ASKING. and i am asking u to answer everything on here😌

lmajfniasnf yall i forced menna to send me this ask and i was kinda kidding but also a bit serious but also kinda kidding- ok anwyas here we go 

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed? closed 

(2) Do You Have Freckles? no 

(3) Can You Whistle? yes

(4) Last Song You Listened To. “Needed Me” by Rihanna

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour? grayish green

(6) Relationship Status. in love with loki<3! 

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now? cold, my fingers are cold and menna knows this 

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky? no i did not, quite the opposite actually! 

(9) How Many Followers? around 650 

(10) Zodiac Sign. taurus

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour? brown

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily? yea

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower? usually 

(14) What Books Are You Reading? no book bc i have no brain cells 

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14. 

“i cannot imagine,” replied the scarecrow; “but we can go and see.” -the wonderful wizard of oz! i forgot i had that book, i got it from library for school last year but then quarantine hit and i couldn't return it bc the library closed 

(16) Favourite Anime? i barely watch anime, so i guess “Attack on Titans”, being that its one of the few animes I've watched

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of? my math teacher 

(18) Do You Collect Anything? only the souls of the innocent. also chapstick. 

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch? wontons that fucked my stomach up bc the meat was not cooked properly :D don't we love that?????????????!!!!!!

(20) Do You Dance In The Car? not rlly 

(21) Favourite Animal? dog 

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics? no 

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed? usually 11 or 12- depends on day

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now? no 

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean? pool 

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog? clandestineloki

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water? i don't care as long as its safe

(28) What Makes You Happy? my siblings, my best friends, loki, tom hiddleston

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

i saw this and thought it was a good fit but then i realized it was too calm so

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music? without

(31) Dogs Or Cats? DOGSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be? yellow 

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox. i don't care

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean? I've never swam in a lake before, so lake

(35) Do You Believe In Magic? yea

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing? gray

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue? no 

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It? depends

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You? yes 

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now? of course, loki will always be an obsession of mine bruh 

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly? nO BC IM SCARED OF BUTTERFLIES 

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People? yes:’( 

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams? of course

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes? yes 

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry. ParaNorman

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds? sunflower seeds

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be? the neighbourhood

(48) Are You A Picky Eater? kinda 

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper? eh 

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning? kinda 

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write? yes 

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud? depends on mood

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents? wrap 

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up? sleepy hallow ft foushee- deep end freestyle 

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather) winter?? 

(56) What Are You Craving Right Now? l o k i (my original answer was warmth but its basically the same thing) 

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed. 

(58) What Is Your Gender? female

(59) Coffee Or Tea? tea

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About? nope, i finished it on Friday and Saturday like a bad bitchhhhhhhhh

(61) What Is Your Sexuality? bisexual

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning? depends on day 

(63) Favourite Pokemon? squirtle i guess

(64) Favourite Social Media? insta 

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories? they're fine 

(66) Do You Get Homesick? kinda 

(67) Are You A Virgin? ill leave it up to ur imagination bitch (MENNA IM SO SORRY IM NOT CALLING U A BTICH IM JUST SAYING THAT IN GENERAL) 

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now? i forgot the name, but its white and fancy and from the same brand 

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free? hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm that is a very good question, probably the motel 

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life? AHAH depends on what u mean by “still in my life”!!!!!!! i guess technically yes, but I've already cut off those bitches in my head 😌 manifesting it into existence <3 

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters? avatar 2 

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex? i don't have one 

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now? “not you, i didn't wanna hurt you”

(74)  What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest? brown bc if i say any other color, its probably a yt person and also brown be smexy

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set? yes, yes 

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate? honey buttered biscuits 

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone? among us, maybe Minecraft 

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not? no bc i don't know how and i would call for someone else to help 

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?probably bc I'm a hermit

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network? amsifnda this is ME ur talking to 

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People? yes kinda, unless they're awkward (aHEM BREAKOUT ROOMS WITH NEW BUT AWKWARD PEOPLE-) 

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them. i used to but not anymore 

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?  i want it closed but the person i share the room with leaves it open bc they say we’re gonna fuckin suffocate if we leave it closed and i hate it bc ✨trauma✨! DONT WE LOVE TRAUMA??!?!?!?!??!?!?!? :D............

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today? i baked biscuits, i did college stuff, i showered

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed? usually mismatched pjs 

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now. chapstick, natural skincare serum, lotion, face masks

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person? day 

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc. don't have any

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

a snake chased me and it was weird as fuck

(90) Favourite Soda Drink? don't have one 

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite? people laughing, violin and piano, my friends voices, my siblings voices

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More? SWEATS

(93) How Do You Look Right Now? comfy 

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You. showering

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want? maybe an important quote? “dont trust owls” imprinted on my face

(96) Favourite YouTuber? stephanie soooooooooooooooooooooo 

[aubergineanathema]

Beneath the hillock

Part 1 - The ruin in the clearing: Preface Part 2 - Whispers in darkness Part 3 - Käsdorf and Wulvosburg Part 4 - Secrets behind stone walls Part 5 - Wind chimes and wildflowers -----

Part 6. Genovefa led Ottiline to the little dwelling in the side of the mound. She had to duck to step through the door, and feared she might need to crouch to avoid the ceiling, but was shocked to find herself stumbling down a short set of stairs. There was ample room for her to stand up straight as she reached the bottom, and she was amazed by the sight before her.

Light streamed through the ceiling from small hidden windows in the ceiling. Above her hung countless drying plants were bound with twine, and on each wall were jars and pots full of innumerable substances. She caught sight of a few things—what looked like peppercorns, some sort of small twigs, pale-colored pebbles, thistles in brine, what looked like varicolored sand—but there were so many jars in the room that there was no way she could discern them all, especially as some were made of clay, hiding their contents. A counter near the center of the room seemed to meld into the stone floor itself, and off to the side was a cot and a hearth beside it, with another small fire burning and another pot simmering above it. There was even a doorway on the far side of the room, suggesting the dwelling stretched even farther underground.

Ottiline stared around at all of this in awe.

“Come now, sit down here.” Genovefa motioned to a stool beside the counter and left for the hearth, collecting whatever was simmering there into a small goblet. 

Ottiline did as she was bid, and took the warm vessel into her hands. The a sweet smell enveloped her.  

“It’s lavender and rosemary. It will sooth your mind.” Genovefa smiled and Ottiline found herself smiling in return. She sipped the floral broth, and settled into her seat.

“Now,” Genovefa stood opposite of Ottiline at the counter and again looked her in the eyes. “Please speak freely, and tell me about this dream. Exactly as you saw it.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” Ottiline blurted out. “I told Aunt Agnise that it was, but it was real! I know it was real. I saw a demon.”

She waited for this woman to react in some adverse way, but that did not happen. Genovefa just nodded seriously, and waited for her to continue.

“I was out after dark. I snuck out after everyone had gone to bed. I heard a wolf howl, so I decided to get inside, but before I could,” Ottiline’s voice wavered slightly. “I was attacked. I ran to the chapel. It looked like, it was the height of a man. But it wasn’t a man, and it was floating there in the air! It sounded—looked like it was just, made of crows! And it had these horrible red eyes. I thought it was going to kill me.”

“But then it just....flew away.” Ottiline finished meekly, and sipped her tea.

Surely, she thought this woman would think her cursed, or possessed, or touched in the head by some other means. In Cologne, there were people, usually impoverished and on the streets—or locked away in some well-meaning relative’s attic—who spoke all the time of demons and ghosts they claimed were real. The church, too, spoke of demons all the time, and of angels, but Ottiline had never really believed any of those things. Until now.   

“Why were you out, dear there? Did you feel compelled by some force?” Genovefa asked, without skipping a beat.

“Oh? No. No, I...” Ottiline felt a sudden surge of two emotions at once. She felt very embarrassed as to the reason she had been out so late, but thus far the woman had given her no indication that anything she had said merited embarrassment. Underneath that was a growing sense of suspicion, perhaps even a hope, that this woman already knew what she had been doing out in the fields that night. So she took a deep breath, and explained. 

“Well, I got this powder from a merchant who was passing through about a week ago. He called it a ‘powder of protection,’ all the way from the shores of France. He said it would turn any fire purple, and that burning it would activate the powder’s protection in whatever area the fire was. The reason I went out was to protect the village, and the powder did turn the fire purple for a moment, so I think it worked.” She shrugged. “Maybe the reason that demon left me alone was because of that powder.”

Genovefa’s pensive expression slowly morphed into a grimace over the course of Ottiline’s explanation. She shook her head with certainty. “I’m afraid not child.” 

“Why not?” Ottiline’s brow furrowed.

“Because magic is more than some alchemist’s illusory powder.” She said evenly. “I assure you, there is more magic in that tea you’re drinking than in the charlatan’s bag of tricks. Whatever he gave you, he was more interested in persuading you to part from your money than in protecting anyone.”

“I knew it!” Ottiline stood up quickly from her stool.

“Knew what, my dear?”

“You are a witch!” Suddenly, Ottiline felt hot all over. She looked to the tea she had been drinking. What sort magic did it hold? She wondered, feeling a bit light headed.

“Of course, my dear.” Genovefa did not seem offended by the accusation. “I suppose Agnise prefers to refer to me as some old kenning woman, but the name does not change the fact that what I practice is indeed magic.”

“Finish the tea, dear. It only serves to sooth the mind.” She gestured for Ottiline to sit back down, and went to the hearth to pour herself a cup of tea as well, sipping gingerly. “If you want protection from what you saw in the village, I can provide it.”

“That’s not all I want!” Ottiline remained standing. “Please! If that really was a real demon, and you really can do magic, I want—I need to know what you know. I need to know how to do magic.”

Genovefa was paused for a long moment. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why do you need from magic?” Genovefa repeated. “What is your intention? Intention is no trifle, my dear. Intention is everything.”

Ottiline hesitated.

“Cousin Nicolaus, Uncle Steffan, Aunt Agnise, they are all I have left in the world now. I can’t let anything happen them.” Her voice trembled. “Kasdorf is all I have, and so I need to protect it. I intend to use magic to protect what I love.”

The old woman sipped her tea, and stared at Ottiline for another long moment. At long last she nodded, and went to a shelf of jars, collecting a few and setting them on the counter. She then began to circulate around the room, pulling bundles down from the ceiling.

Ottiline watched as the old woman seemed to produce all sorts of materials upon the table. Various jars of stones, wood and powders, and piles of dried plants, dyed candles and even an inkwell. Upon the hearth she removed the pot of tea, and replaced it with a small iron censer, and soon smoke began to permeate around the room,

“What—what is going on? What are you doing?” Ottiline forced herself to ask.

“A protection spell for you to take home with you. Roasting upon the fire now is thyme and rosemary. One purifies the room, and the other prevents distractions.”

Ottiline nodded mutely, as she realized she was being given a lesson. Genovefa muttered to herself something over the hearth that Ottiline could not make out, and was too stunned to ask about. She then organized various ingredients upon the table, adding them to a small glass jar in order of importance, and explaining each one.

First, an assortment of plants made their way into the jar. “Violets and lavender together create powerful protection. Chives and garlic ward off negative energy, and add power to the spell.”

Then, a powder that reminded Ottiline a bit too much of the powder she had bragged about earlier. Her cheeks reddened as Genovefa noticed this, and she smiled. “This fine salt will not make your lantern purple, but it’s purpose here is to keep the spell and the contents of this jar pure of any external ill intent.”

She then carefully deposited three small stones into the jar. “These black stones ground the spell to whichever place you decide to cast this spell—recently charged by the light of the full moon.”

Ottiline listened, in awe of this new information.

“Did you learn to read and write, growing up in Cologne?” Genovefa asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yes.” Ottiline blinked, surprised that this was a component.

Genovefa nodded. “Very good.” She handed the young woman a quill already dipped with glimmering black ink, and some small pale strips of wood. “Writing down the names of those you love can focus intention, and strengthen your spell. You can use something of theirs, or a lock of hair—but writing their names work just as well.”

These pieces of wood, too, went into the jar, and it was sealed with the wax of a dark-colored candle.

“Ottiline, remember this well: no magic is effected without a price. “ Genovefa explained softly as she sealed the jar. “The the contents of the jar, the energy from the burning herbs and candle, as well as our own energy is offered here in making this spell. When you cast it, bury it in the ground, your words will lend further strength.”

“What will I say?” Ottiline asked, feeling breathless. This was certainly a more involved process than sprinkling some powder onto a fire.

“What you say will depend on your intentions, and will affirm the purpose of the spell. Remember the ingredients and their natures, focus your intention, and remember to whom the spell is dedicated.” Genovefa retrieved from Ottiline the inkwell and quill, and with slow diligent strokes drew a symbol onto the glass. To Ottiline it looked like an M and and R, fused together as one. It resembled the symbols on some of the wind chimes outside.

“For instance, this sigil dedicates the spell to the goddess Eir.”

“A goddess?” Ottiline felt her body stiffen suddenly. “Do you have to dedicate the spell to a god?”

Genovefa paused to glance at Ottiline, and then returned to perfecting the sigil. “No, but they can help you. They can lend their strength. Eir is the goddess of healing and protection, and the more you foster a relationship with her, the stronger your protection magic can become.”

Ottiline’s eyes widened slightly, and her face set with determination. Whatever her reservations, she knew stronger was better. “Okay.”

Genovefa handed the sealed jar to Ottiline, and began to clear off her counter.

“What do I owe you for this?” Ottiline asked, holding the jar as though it might shatter. She produced from her bag a small pouch of coins.

“You will return soon, and I will show you more.” Genovefa replied simply. “My craft is not learned overnight. If you want to learn, it will take time. But that will be of more reward to me than the coins you stole from your uncle. Better to return them.”

Ottiline reddened, not knowing how Genovefa had known the origins of her meager wealth. Hastily, she bid the old woman farewell.

***

That night, Ottiline waited for everyone to be asleep. She knew the demon could well have been roaming the streets of Kasdorf, waiting for her, but she knew she needed to take that chance, and she would not be intimidated.

Still in her sleep-clothes, she slipped out into the quiet darkness, and began to walk towards the chapel. If anyone were to see her, she could claim to be sleepwalking. The chapel was the oldest and most central point in the village. The best place, she reasoned, to place a spell of protection upon the village. She kneeled at the cornerstone of the building, and began to dig.

She had thought all day about where to bury the protection spell, and had spent more than a few moments just staring at its contents, and the sigil Genovefa had drawn. Staring, and wondering, if any of this was even true. It had seemed so real in that intimate underground space in the woods, just like those red eyes had seemed real in the darkness. After the fact, they both seemed like dreams.

As she placed the jar into the hole she had dug, sigil facing upward, she took a deep breath, and wondered. How different was dedicating a spell to a goddess than to a prayer? Prayers had never helped her before. Not when she had uttered them herself, as their neighborhood had been sealed off from the rest of the city. Nor when the priest has chanted them in Latin over the feverish bodies of her dying parents.

She shook her head, as though trying to displace those memories. She pulled the dirt back over the jar roughly to hide it from view. She was willing to try.

“Oh, Eir, goddess of healing and protection.” She began, and immediately her voice faltered. “I—I don’t know if you can hear me. But if you can, please, lend me your strength. I—I have so little strength of my own. I can’t do anything, protect anyone, not even myself! Not from bandits, or frost, or the plague, or that demon that stalks in the night. I’m weak...”

As she spoke, a few tears trickled down her cheeks as she spoke, dripping into the dirt. “Take this offering of herbs and salt and stone and help me. Protect this village and the people I love. Please. Please, help me!”

She did not know how long she sat there, staring at the wet dirt. A few more drops of water fell upon the dirt, and also upon her, startling her into movement. Rain.

The wind had picked up, disheveling her hair as she stood. She felt a prickling upon the hair of her arms, as though a storm was on the approach. She looked up towards Wolvosburg, and indeed she spotted black clouds, and the flashing glow of lightening within them.

She decided it was time to go back inside, and try to sleep. -----

This has been Part 6. For more, see my Fiction Updates post.

---- If you like this or my other original work, please feel free to share with your friends (with credit of course). I would really like feedback, so don’t be shy to talk to me about it!

[maryellencarter]

excessively detailed headcanon meme from camshaft22 about Wes

What does their bedroom look like? Lots and lots and lots of extremely colorful pillows and blankets. Not a hell of a lot else. And Kettch.

Do they have any daily rituals? Um. Not particularly, I think? He’s spent his entire adult life in the military, which pretty much defines what he has to do when.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often? Yes. We know that Wes is fairly good at hand-to-hand combat. I figure he also does weight training and cardio. 

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy? Tricky question, as it often is for characters from military canons. But I’m thinking he’d either barge in and work around the other people using the kitchen, or if all the stoves/ovens/etc were busy, find a ration bar or something.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) We have pretty much nothing on this in canon. I tend to have his workspace covered in datacards and so forth, because he has that sort of ADHD vibe where your brain needs more than one screen to spread thoughts across. We do know that he has quite a good sense of smell, so he’s probably fairly cleanly in his personal life.

Eating habits and sample daily menu? Again: military. He eats what’s there to be eaten. Probably a fair amount of it, because all that muscle needs a lot of calories. I suspect during the Rebellion he helped supply the cooks by hunting for meat.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time? Good question. He’s not as hyper as Shalla; there are a couple of points in the books where we see him lying down doing nothing when he has some free time. (Once toward the beginning of Iron Fist iirc, when the three ersatz Zsinjes are discussing plans, Wes is lying on a sofa with a glass of brandy while they talk, and then when Myn goes to find him for the “you can’t look dignified” talk he finds Wes lying down in bed though he has a chair in his quarters.) He’s probably always thinking about random shit and entertaining himself.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging? I think it really depends on the context. On Adumar, we see him cutting loose and enjoying the fame and adulation, and also capes and swords. In the Wraith books, he’s more disciplined, because his quacklings need him to be, but he definitely enjoys pranks, and also setting up the sort of prank-like training methods he uses. I don’t think he really has any guilty pleasures as such, not that he would consider guilty.

Makeup? I kind of doubt he’s been in a context to encounter it much, other than Face’s stage makeup. In universes where he has, he definitely likes body glitter, and has probably experimented with using contouring techniques on his biceps.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such? You can’t be a Wraith without neuroses. He sits on them pretty effectively, but he’s a mess around the whole business with Kell’s father, and he’s fairly fatalistic about his own prospects of survival. 

Intellectual pursuits? Good damn question. We know he’s smart, good at numbers, remembers obscure training protocols. We don’t know if he reads philosophy or writes poetry or... what exactly are “intellectual pursuits” anyway?

Favorite book genre? There are a lot of these questions that we don’t especially have answers to. I mean, I know this is a headcanon meme, but a lot of them I also haven’t pondered much. I don’t think we ever see Wes reading for fun, although I speculate he reads NR training manuals in order to figure out ways to mess with his students. I’ll have to ponder on this one.

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? Wes is pansexual aromantic. He pretty much respects that everybody has different orientations, but finds romance confusing and occasionally distressing, especially when it interferes with his friendships.

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) Um. Not really? The whole Star Wars bacta thing takes care of a lot of that. I have been messing around with a completely self-indulgent little sleep apnea headcanon, because you could just wear a specialized rebreather to sleep instead of a CPAP machine. I haven’t done anything with that, though.

Biggest and smallest short term goal? At what point in the story? That’s the trouble with a shared universe that spans 44 years at least.

Biggest and smallest long term goal? Ditto.

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress? Ahahahaha yeah. XD Wes is famous, or infamous, for his unique sense of style -- although apparently there are things even he doesn’t want to wear, because Wedge was able to threaten him with letting Hobbie choose his clothes on Adumar. He likes bright colors, capes, shiny things, weaponry, and glitter.

Favorite beverage? I have no headcanon about this. Star Wars foodstuffs are difficult. 

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? Probably ways to cause minor trouble and cheer people up. Or maybe he tells himself stories.

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? Well, I decided the “Hesken’s fever” that kept him out of the first Death Star battle was space chicken pox, and that he had it as a kid but it didn’t take, because I had chicken pox twice as a kid myself.

Turn-ons? Turn-offs? Sexually, or what? I’m old enough in internet years that I’m never quite sure whether we’re using this in the sense of things that you generally like and don’t like. Also, for as much Wes smut as I’ve written (it is a lot), I don’t really feel that I can produce a list.

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? Paper airplanes, possibly decorated with dicks.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life? Honestly, Wes is pretty damn organized when it comes to squadron stuff. I feel like this could go either way -- that he’s also super organized about his personal life, or that he’s completely and utterly disorganized outside the military structure.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all? Wes Janson, Ace Statistician. XD Honestly, he could probably be good at most things, he’s a lot smarter than he acts sometimes.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today? Again, at what point in the story?

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout? These are really difficult to answer without specifying a timeframe.

What is their biggest regret? Definitely the Doran Incident.

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy? Best friend is Hobbie. Worst enemy is probably whoever Wedge is currently pointing him at. Wes doesn’t really have a lot of personal enmities.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?) Go extremely organized and make everything happen that needs to happen. 

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) Sit on his feelings until they stop bothering him.

Most prized possession? Kettch.

Thoughts on material possessions in general? He really doesn’t need much. I tend to figure he likes comfy cozy cuddly things and fancy capes, and other than that he mostly does with what the Rebellion / New Republic gives him. Hobbie probably invests his money for him (Ralltiir is a banking planet), and Wes doesn’t pay much attention to it. By the time he gets out of the military at last, he probably has a pretty fair pile.

Concept of home and family? The Fab Four are his family. I forget why, but I also decided he has some attachment to Taanab and probably goes back there to live once he musters out. The air and gravity just feel more correct there.

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?) Wes gives the impression that there’s not a thought in his head that doesn’t come out his mouth, but at the same time he has secrets he doesn’t tell anybody until he has to. So, some of each? It’s a balancing act.

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? Um. I’m not sure he has any. I mean, this is a guy who unabashedly bounces on his bed to make a point.

What makes them feel guilty? Not much. Except the Doran incident and things that remind him of it.

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making? Emotional, to the point that he’s made a principle out of it.

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? I honestly don’t know what this means. *googles* Well, I have learned a lot about tobacco lobbyists in the 1980s... ;P If I’m understanding what these mean, though, Wes is definitely not a Type A personality, and therefore is by definition a Type B personality.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained? Being around people. Having fun. Conversation. Cheering other people up.

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither? Probably neither. Sometimes he pretends to have a superiority complex as a form of goofing around, which is much more difficult to do when you actually have one of these complexes. (Compleces? Plurals are complicated.)

How misanthropic are they? Ahaha. Not very. Hobbie does all of that for him. XD

Hobbies? BEHOLD A PUNE *koff* Sorry. I don’t really know that Wes has any particular hobbies, although I suspect he can sew for purposes of making Kettch new outfits. Somebody had to make that gray Hawk-bats flightsuit.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education? Well, he definitely left school on Taanab by the time he was about eighteen at the oldest. I feel like he was probably kind of self-conscious about being a Rimworlder for a while (all three of the others are Coreworlders), and that might mix into his feelings about having left school early, if he did.

Religion? When I write Wes, he’s kind of an agnostic. It so happens that he never refers to the Force at all in the X-wing books, in any way, so I’ve riffed on that to a view that, while he’s seen Luke do things with the Force and knows it exists, he ascribes it a lot less power than the Jedi do. He sees the Force basically as a nonsentient temporally-amorphous ocean of impressions, which Jedi can use to foresee things like blaster bolts (which is useful), but when Jedi get larger and vaguer impressions about the “will of the Force”, he’s pretty sure they’re projecting. This doesn’t do too much harm when Luke does it, because Luke is a ball of sunshine who just wants what’s best for everyone, but it means that Sith and other fucked-up people have their own really dangerous views on the Force’s will. ...I may have thought this out rather a lot.

Superstitions or views on the occult? He probably has them. I’m very fond of space superstitions but I don’t think I’ve written any myself. Wes seems like the sort of guy who would laugh over ghost stories and then accidentally scare himself in the middle of the night.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds? Ummm I’m not quite sure what this means. *ponders* Nope, I’ve got nuthin’.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal? That’s also a hell of a question. Like does it mean who would they fall in love with? Are we talking that Anne of Green Gables shit about only being able to fall in love with a tall dark stranger with a melting voice?

How do they express love? Snuggling. Also annoying you into cheering up.

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like? More or less a mixed martial arts thing. We see him use some wrestling moves and spinning kicks. I suspect Shalla gave him some lessons after she joined the Wraiths, because he seems a lot more confident about his hand-to-hand abilities on Adumar than in the first Wraith Squadron book.

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? Nope. He knows he’s going to die very soon; he’s a soldier in a war with an extremely high rate of attrition. His goal is to have as much fun as possible before he goes.

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 19--Lion’s Den

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Newly a captive, Ienzo tries to learn what Xehanort wants from him, as well as his plans.

Read in on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo woke suddenly, flailing against the blankets draped over him. His breasts ached terribly and there were wet spots on his shirt; he must’ve been under for some time. He touched one, wincing.

Xehanort’s son. Strands of nothingness around his throat. Darkness.

Where was he?

He was in a small, narrow room. It was minimally furnished--the single wrought iron bed was against one corner, by a narrow window; a small, very old oak writing desk was against the other wall; a squat, two drawer dresser was next to it. The walls were painted a faint violet, adorned with a crown moulding. A cracked door opened to a tiny bathroom with a shower. Ienzo padded across to the other door and tried it; locked, of course. He reached for his magic and found it sluggish, deadened. He darted over to the window, looked outside, and his heart nearly stopped.

Ienzo knew where he was; the castle in what was once Radiant Garden. A strange, faint mist wreathed the city, vaguely sulfuric. Massive poles in the distance held floodlights, likely to defend the remaining populace against Heartless. He opened the window and tried to reach out, but a ward blocked him.

He was a captive.

Amalia.

Panic overtook him then, and he tried the door again in vain, pounding on the thick old wood. “Let me out!” No response; he suspected a muffling charm had been placed on the door.

He hadn’t realized how dependent he was on her presence, her aura until it was gone. He had to have been drugged somehow, or enchanted, for his magic to simply be sleeping like this. But he hoped more than anything that Amalia was safe back in Demyx’s arms. He found himself mouthing a fervent prayer to whatever was listening for that to be the case. He had no idea what Xehanort or his sons would do to his newborn daughter if they had her. Kill her? Mold her into a shiny tool to use? He had no idea which was worse.

The door opened, and he struggled to conceal the wetness on his shirt with his blanket. He saw a small old woman with a tray of food, water, tea, and of all things, a lily in a thin crystal vase. “Good, you’re finally awake,” she said. She had a kind smile. “You must be starved, poor thing.”

Ienzo was reeling, wondering how to react, what angle to play. Motionless, he watched her cross the room and set the tray down on the writing desk. He could physically overtake her, he knew, and bound out the open door--unless that was warded too. But how far would he reasonably get before he ran into a guard, or worse? He couldn’t defend himself from prowling Heartless without magic.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “I treated those scratches on your throat, the bruises. Just awful, in my opinion.”

“Who are…” he trailed off.

Another smile. She brushed off her skirt; she was wearing what had once been servants’ livery under Ansem’s reign, crisp, comfortable, and functional. “My name is Lydia,” she said. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me, your highness. I was once the castle librarian. You were always there, weren’t you?”

Ienzo blinked slowly; a veil of time and panic made it hard to remember. Lydia had looked much younger then, her hair brown instead of gray. She’d always been happy to give him the books that Even said were too mature for him. “I apologize, I--”

She smiled again. “I know, I haven’t aged well.” A wry laugh.

He swallowed. “Am I a… prisoner?” he asked cautiously.

“The word being used is “guest.”” She bit her lip. “I think that’s for you to determine, your highness.” She pulled the domed lid from the plate, revealing a breakfast--eggs, toast, hash browns. Ienzo struggled not to react; ever since he’d been breastfeeding, his appetite had been nearly insatiable. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes. Go on, eat.”

She left, and shut the door behind her; Ienzo heard the click of the tumblers as it locked. He approached the food warily, sniffed it. His magic could tell him if it was poisoned, or drugged--except it was dead.

The practical thing to do would be to wait out this sensation until he could sense if anything was in the food.

But the smell made him weak . He’d need food to be able to think clearly, to plan. He sipped the water timidly; it tasted normal, so did the tea. The flavor of the egg nearly brought tears to his eyes. Xehanort must’ve kept the castle’s chefs; it all was the same as he remembered.

Focus, Ienzo.

He was nearly finished when Lydia returned with a small cloth bundle. “Better?” she asked.

“...Quite.”

“Remy heard you were here and made it specially. He so rarely gets to cook the way he wants to anymore. Xeha--er. His Lordship prefers things sour, bitter.”

Specially. What did that mean? “Give him my regards,” Ienzo said in a neutral voice.

“...Of course.” She reached past him to take the tray. “I’m told someone will collect you in half an hour, if you’d like to shower and dress.”

Ienzo hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to appear like he was playing into Xehanort’s hands--but maybe he should? To find out what he could? Play innocent, naive, claim Even had been coddling him all this time.

Either way, he could not go wherever he was going covered in breastmilk. If they didn’t know about his daughter, he couldn’t risk letting them find out. Perhaps the rush of magic from her birth had been confused for a spell of his own creation. And if that were the case... why wait four weeks? To lull them into a false sense of security, he realized equally.

He showered--the water smelled vaguely like iron--and winced, his nipples twinging again as he touched them. Without magic, he couldn’t exactly strain it off into the sink or toilet, despite the relief it would give him. The soap smelled harsh, but at least it washed off the scent of the milk. He washed his stained shirt thoroughly and left it to dry on the towel rack.

The clothing he’d been left was simple, but rather formal--slacks, a neatly pressed button-up, a white sweater vest, a purple ascot. He combed his messy hair with his fingers.

And then Ienzo waited.

It didn’t take long before someone came for him. There was a gentle knock at the door, then the lock clicked open. Ienzo tried to keep his expression open, neutral, but it was difficult when he saw their face.

Xemnas. The man had the gall to smile. “Old friend,” he said, in a voice that had only deepened with age. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

Definitely medicated, Ienzo decided. “Quite. You’ll have to give your father my thanks.”

“You may do so yourself. Would you like to go for a walk?”

Ienzo smiled pleasantly. He followed Xemnas out of the open door. The man was dressed similarly smartly, in a well-tailored black suit with a red tie. He realized he was being kept in the old servants’ quarters, from before Ansem had given them the apartments; his suspicions were correct and a pair of armored guards were at both ends of the hall.

“Please do not take offense to this,” Xemnas began. “But when my brother brought you in… we were rather surprised. We were expecting…”

“A princess?” He made himself smile again. “I’m afraid that phase of my life was left behind long ago.”

“I’m sure it protected you quite well.”

“Quite.”

Xemnas paused. “No harm will come to you here,” he said. “Be sure of that.”

“That so?”

“My father seeks to earn your trust. I hope it will work in the other direction too.”

“All this talk… I have never actually had the pleasure of meeting your father.” He found himself infinitely glad of the etiquette lessons Even had given him when he was younger. Best be diplomatic for now, until he had more information.

“I’m afraid outside opinion may have tarnished your view of him.”

Ienzo had to bite his tongue. “...Perhaps.” They continued walking in silence for a while. Xemnas’s pace was sedate, even relaxed. The faint smell of sulfur was everywhere; Heartless dazedly wandered the halls, but did not come near them. “Our guards,” he explained calmly. “After all, they do not need breaks, nor they need to eat.”

“Practical,” Ienzo said, trying to swallow the horror.

The castle, to his surprise, was much the same, down to the decorations; the only thing that had been changed was all the crests, away from the violet he’d known under his father, replaced with a deep red with a large X. “The symbol “chi,”” Xemnas told him, “Though some pronounce it “key.””

“...I see.”

He saw a few human servants here and there; they paused to bow to Xemnas as he passed. All the while, Ienzo swallowed the bittersweet nostalgia that threatened to overtake him. Memories stabbed him behind the eyes--here, Braig teaching him to ride the stair bannister; hiding here from Even as he chased him for his lessons; riding Aeleus’s shoulders along this hallway on their way to the gardens. “...Is it good to be home?” Xemnas asked, cutting his gold eyes to Ienzo.

“It certainly is nostalgic.”

“It could be your home once more. Had I… my way, you’d have never been forced to leave.”

He struggled to come up with a response, anger scalding his veins. Had Xemnas kept him here, doubtless they would've used and abused his power. “It seems there was poor communication all around,” he said vaguely.

“Indeed.”

They reached the throne room at last. Ansem had hardly ever used it in his reign other than for public events; he was much more comfortable meeting dignitaries or the public in his labs, his studies. It makes us more approachable, less mythic, he’d told Ienzo. The last thing you want to do is foster a divide between yourself and your people. We are royal, but we are not superior.

Ienzo’s heart beat heavily in his chest. He tried to keep breathing steadily, aware Xemnas was watching every little twitch of his face.

A pair of guards opened the large, heavy double doors.

It was just as Ienzo remembered, yet it had been perverted, too. The high, Gothic ceilings with the stained glass, sunlight pouring through; the marble, carved and laid in the shapes of flowers, polished to a shine; the long marble columns, the mural painted on the back wall, of the gods’ first contact with what was considered Ienzo’s first ancestor. The three thrones were the same, too. The middle one, the most prominent and most ornate, was reserved for the ruler, the lesser two for their heir and their consort.

All three of these thrones were occupied, and the mural was partially covered with another large banner, but this one had a different symbol; a black and red heart with an X crossing through, its bottom flared into a strange parody of a fleur de lis.

And there they were. The youngest son who had kidnapped him; the eldest son, boredly reading a book. And Xehanort himself.

He was much older than Ienzo thought he would be, in his eighties most likely, his bald head wrinkled, the veins visible. When he stood and spread his arms in welcome, his back was slightly hunched, and his legs were spindly. He took slow, long steps towards Ienzo, and when he got closer, bowed deeply. “Might I say it is an honor to meet at last, your highness,” he began, in a low, scratchy voice that sounded like he’d gargled marbles his whole life.

“Please, call me Ienzo,” he said. He offered a polite smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Aren’t you a polite young man.” He stood back up. “Ienzo. Is that, perhaps, after the first archmage?”

“The very same.”

“Aren’t names so much more meaningful, when we can choose them?”

He nodded once. He noticed the youngest son was watching him with a wicked smirk; he was petting something. Ienzo thought at first that it may have been a black cat, but the thing lifted its head. A Heartless. A disconcertingly small Heartless. He wasn’t quite able to mask his fear. It wasn’t--not--

“Oh, did you see young Xehanort’s pet? Bring it here, would you, son?”

He obeyed. Ienzo tried to keep breathing. It had sharp, long antennae, but it seemed rather content in its master’s arms.

“My eldest made these,” Xehanort explained, giving the Heartless a stroke. “Pure shadow--and nothing else. We’re hoping to see if they develop sentience, the way our other Heartless have. You’re a man of science, aren’t you, Ienzo?”

“...Quite.”

“Darkness is not quite so evil as you’ve been taught your whole life. Rather… it is one side of a coin. That balance is crucial to all life; one can never hope to crush out all darkness.”

“Do you seek to crush the light, then?” he asked, without meaning to.

Xehanort chuckled. “Of course not,” he said. “Of course not.”

It was the repetition that put Ienzo ill-at-ease. Instead, he just nodded.

“Darkness gives power, stability, clarity . It’s never been fair that your kind has been able to utilize magic, whereas the common folk… cannot. Think of how many fewer people would die of sicknesses, injuries, starvation, dehydration, if they just had the means to… borrow power from the earth.”

“Can the darkness do that?”

“Quite, my dear prince. I’d be happy to show you. But alas, we are only new friends.” He smiled. “I want to make this world better . Your father… well meaning as he was, simply could not stop what has been brewing for years. People should be equal .”

“And magic is an equalizer?”

“ Power is an equalizer.” He paused, as thought to let that sink in.

“...I see.” Scarily, Xehanort had a point. But some bodies simply couldn’t handle magic--the entropy and energy alone could kill, or in Isa’s case, degrade. Was that worth it? Was there not another way?

“I hope you’ll come to understand what we’re doing here,” Xehanort said.

“Perhaps I will.”

---

For most of the rest of the first week, Ienzo was kept in that small room. He was allowed out once a day for a half-hour walk with Xemnas. Other than Lydia bringing Ienzo his meals three times a day… Ienzo was alone. He realized that even in their most desperate circumstances, with Even he’d never been alone . There was always someone to talk to, scheme with, fight with.

Ienzo kept trying to use his magic. For three days he flushed his meals down the toilet, hoping maybe it was some kind of drug that would wash out of his system, but nothing came of it and he was only making his own head cloudy.

His breasts still ached tremendously. He tried to squeeze the milk out, with his hands, but all he did was give himself bruises, his already too-pale flesh marking easily. The omni-present ache made him think of his daughter, the way she felt in his arms, the way she smelled. The way it felt when the three of them cuddled together, so perfect, like nothing was missing. Ienzo’s heart felt like it was on fire.

Demyx. Amalia. Their names echoed constantly in his head, and more than once he woke with tears in his eyes. Please let them be safe. Please. Please.

Ienzo could not fall apart. He couldn’t afford to. He had to keep his head on straight, to perform, to try to earn Xehanort and his sons’ trust so he could--

Could… what?

Ienzo sat up slowly. He hadn’t been sleeping well, hurting too much inside and out to get much rest. What did he plan on doing, exactly?

It came to him in a flash--the computer. If he could gain enough favor to get down to that lab, he could contact Tron, who could contact Cid, who could let the others know that he was alive and safe (relatively speaking), and that, more than anything, he had an in--even if it made him seem like a traitor.

Maybe it was time for the prince to come out of hiding.

---

He’d just fallen into an uncertain sleep, and dreamed about his daughter. Hefting her up in the air. Kissing the little pads of her feet. The joy, the love on Demyx’s face as he cared for her. When he woke his breasts were hurting more than ever, and again, milk had seeped through the thin pajamas he’d been given.

He heard the click of the lock at the door, and before he could adequately cover himself, Lydia came in with his next meal. “Oh,” she said softly, and for the first time she shut the door behind her. “You… poor dear. You’re nursing, aren’t you?”

Ienzo knew better than to lie. He could smell the milk, slightly sweet. He just pulled the blanket to his chest. One lie he could tell was that the baby had died, but as he tried to force the words past his lips, the tears ran over. “Don’t tell him.” Humiliation broke over Ienzo in a wave, along with more panic. “Please, don’t tell him.”

Lydia picked up the napkin from the breakfast tray and handed it to him. She locked eyes with him. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her dark eyes sharp and serious, and while there was complete honesty in her tone--and faint memories of her helping him in the library--Ienzo could not trust her.

He could barely eat that morning, in too much of an anxious haze. Xehanort could not know he’d had a child. He was not going to let Amalia and Demyx be doomed.

Didn’t you doom them simply by carrying her to term? An insidious voice asked in the back of his head. If you’d aborted her, she wouldn’t have ever been in any danger.

But what about the Forecast?

It took a lot of strength--almost all he had left--to clean himself up and wait to see if someone would retrieve him. Lydia came back several hours later with another tray, some cloth, and a book. The cloth wasn’t out of the ordinary--she brought him his laundered clothing--but the book was new. “Something to help with the leaking,” she said, and took the tray without another word.

Ienzo unfolded the bundle. It reminded him of a binder from years past, but thin cloth pads had been slipped into small pockets. She’d even left him some extra pads as well. He exhaled slowly and put it on. At least he no longer had to worry about this.

If he didn’t get back to her soon, the milk would dry up. Losing that connection before he was ready only made his eyes tear up further. He blinked it away. He had to be strong for her, to get through. Falling apart would only be self-indulgent. This taken care of, he picked up the book.

It was a simple volume of fairy stories, one he remembered well, one that had been taken from Ansem’s study. He sniffed the pages; old paper, leather, glue. The ribbon marked one of the pages towards the back of the book, and he flipped towards it.

Ienzo did not remember this story well. Perhaps Ansem had never let him read it, or he’d already moved on from fairy tales by then. The story was about Kingdom Hearts; that it was the gods’ paradise, and that one young god, unruly and rebellious, had gone against her parents’ wishes to visit man. She fell in love with a mortal, and when they married, their child could talk with the earth, could use that magic of the gods--Ienzo’s ancestor.

But there was more to the story than this, namely that Kingdom Hearts had thereafter been sealed to prevent more gods from giving mankind what they didn’t deserve. But the god that did the sealing was clumsy… and he dropped the key.

In a neat, firm pencil in the margins was “Keyblade.”

Suddenly the eradication of the seekers made a whole lot more sense.

Xehanort wasn’t looking to craft a Keyblade. He was looking to find one. To find one… he had to engineer a seeker or magic user, perhaps with the nothing, with the darkness…

Even’s replicas…

Ienzo’s breath caught. Of course. That was why he’d wanted them. If these “fake” bodies died from incompatible magic use, it wouldn’t be noticed--it wouldn’t matter. If they could not learn to wield Keyblades as Even had originally hypothesized… perhaps they could learn to seek those who could.

He had to get this message to them somehow.

A knock at the door. Hurriedly, Ienzo shoved it under the mattress before the lock clicked open. “Ienzo,” Xemnas said pleasantly. “My father was wondering if you might like to join us for tea.”

He swallowed. “Sounds wonderful.”