#i would like to return to my ethereal existence. thanks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simplygojo · 18 days

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For the lovely @maryhyun254, who has been the first to request something since my return to writing! (Thank you so so so much!!) also…I went a bit overboard with this one, sorry for the long wc…

I hope you enjoy!

- A Slice of Fate -

Nanami x f/reader - oneshot

Request/Inspiration: Could you please write a scenario Nanami sees the reader for the first time in his favourite bakery and has to ask for her number cuz she is the most gorgeous person he has ever seen?

Word Count: 2.4k

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Nanami Kento wasn’t one to indulge in life’s smaller pleasures often. Yet, this bakery—a quaint, unassuming place tucked away in a quiet corner of Tokyo—was his haven. The scent of freshly baked pastries, the warm glow of the sun filtering through the windows, and the hum of the early morning crowd provided him with a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of his life.

He arrived just as the bakery opened, the soft chime of the doorbell signaling his entrance. The staff greeted him with familiar smiles, already beginning to prepare his usual order without needing to ask. It was part of the routine he had come to cherish, a small but significant anchor in his hectic existence.

But today, something—or rather, someone—disrupted that routine.

You stood near the display case, your eyes scanning the selection of pastries with a quiet focus. Nanami’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you. There was an ethereal quality about you, as though the morning light was drawn to you, casting you in a warm, almost golden glow. It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated him, though that alone was enough to make any man stop and stare—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

He’d seen many attractive people in his life, but none had ever made him feel this way. You weren’t just beautiful—you were mesmerizing, as if the universe itself had conspired to create someone who embodied perfection in every way.

His gaze lingered on you longer than he intended, and before he knew it, you noticed him. When your eyes met his, a jolt of electricity surged through him, something so powerful it nearly made him lose his composure.

You offered him a polite smile, and though it was brief, it was enough to pull him closer, like a moth to a flame. He wasn’t someone who typically initiated conversations with strangers, much less asked for their numbers, but something about you made him want to break his own rules.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie as he approached you. His heart pounded harder than it ever had in any battle, but his face remained calm, betraying none of the nervousness swirling inside him.

“Excuse me,” he began, his voice deep and steady. You turned to face him fully, your eyes meeting his again, this time with a hint of curiosity. “I hope I’m not bothering you, but I couldn’t help but notice you seem a bit undecided.”

You blinked in surprise, then a small laugh escaped your lips. The sound was soft, like the first notes of a song he suddenly wanted to hear more of. “You’re not bothering me at all,” you replied, your voice gentle yet with an underlying strength. “I’m just having trouble choosing. Everything looks so good.”

Nanami allowed himself a small smile, nodding towards the display case. “If you’re unsure, I’d recommend the croissant. It’s simple, but they make it perfectly here. But if you’re in the mood for something sweeter, the Danish is an excellent choice.”

You tilted your head, considering his words for a moment before nodding. “The Danish it is, then. I’ll take your word for it.”

As you placed your order, Nanami found himself in uncharted territory. Normally, this would be where he’d return to his usual spot by the window, wait for his order, and then leave. But something about you made him want to stay, to find some excuse to keep talking to you.

Once your order was placed, you turned back to him, still smiling. “Thank you for the recommendation,” you said, your tone warm and inviting.

Nanami realized this was his chance—if he wanted to get to know you, he had to act now. “It’s no trouble,” he replied, hesitating for only a moment before continuing. “This might be a bit forward, but… would you mind if I asked for your number?”

The question hung in the air between you, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d overstepped. But then your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a blush crept up your cheeks.

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback, but not in a negative way. “I… sure, I don’t mind.”

Nanami couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his lips as you fumbled slightly with your phone, handing it to him so he could enter his number. His fingers brushed against yours briefly, and once again, that strange, electric feeling coursed through him.

He quickly entered his number and handed the phone back to you. “Thank you,” he said softly.

You smiled at him again, but before either of you could say more, a flicker of darkness caught your eye. It was a curse, small and weak, lurking near the entrance of the bakery. Instinctively, your eyes narrowed, focusing on the creature that no one else seemed to notice.

Except… Nanami noticed.

He followed your gaze, his eyes landing on the curse immediately. A frown creased his brow, and his mind began to race. You were staring directly at it. No one else in the bakery had even flinched, which meant…

He turned back to you, suspicion brewing in his eyes. “You can see it, can’t you?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. You hadn’t meant to reveal your secret, but now that it was out, there was no taking it back. You could see curses—always had been able to, ever since you were a child—but you’d never told anyone. You’d learned to live with it, to deal with the curses on your own.

But now, this man—this handsome, kind man—had figured you out in a matter of seconds.

“I… yes,” you admitted, meeting his gaze steadily. “I can see it.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to your surprise, Nanami’s expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding rather than judgment.

“I see,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. Then, louder, “You’re not alone. I can see them too.”

You blinked in surprise. You’d never met anyone else who could see curses before. This felt like a revelation, something both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

“Really?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Nanami nodded. “Yes. I’m a jujutsu sorcerer. It’s my job to exorcise curses like that one.”

You glanced back at the curse, which still lingered near the doorway, seemingly oblivious to the two of you. Then you looked back at Nanami, a new sense of connection forming between you.

“I’ve never met anyone else who could see them,” you admitted. “I always thought I was the only one.”

“You’re not,” Nanami assured you. “There are others, though we’re a small group. But seeing you here, able to see that curse… it’s not something I expected.”

You felt a warmth in your chest at his words. Despite the strangeness of the situation, you felt comfortable with him, like you could trust him. “Thank you,” you said, your voice sincere. “For not thinking I’m crazy.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that made your heart flutter. “Believe me, you’re not crazy. You’re just… different. In a good way.”

Before the moment could stretch into something more, the curse shifted, drawing both of your attention back to it. Nanami’s expression hardened slightly, his focus shifting to the task at hand. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, already moving towards the curse. “You should stay here.”

But you weren’t about to let him handle it alone. “Wait,” you called out, stepping forward. “Let me help. I may not be a sorcerer, but I’ve dealt with curses before.”

He paused, turning back to look at you. There was a hint of surprise in his eyes, followed by something else—respect. He could see the determination in your expression, and despite his initial instinct to protect you, he realized that you were more than capable of handling yourself.

“All right,” he agreed, nodding slightly. “But stay close.”

You both approached the curse, your combined presence causing it to writhe in discomfort. As it attempted to flee, Nanami moved swiftly, his hand glowing with cursed energy as he struck, exorcising it with practiced ease.

It was over in seconds, the curse dissolving into nothingness. The rest of the bakery’s patrons remained blissfully unaware of what had just transpired, continuing with their morning routines as though nothing had happened.

Nanami turned back to you, noting the calm expression on your face. You weren’t shaken or afraid—instead, you seemed… relieved. As if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you said again, this time for his assistance in taking down the curse. “It’s been a while since I’ve had help with one of those.”

He nodded, appreciating your gratitude but also aware of the implications. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” he said softly. “If you’re interested, there are others like us. I could… introduce you.”

You smiled, touched by his offer. “I’d like that,” you replied. “Maybe we could talk more about it over coffee sometime?”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “I’d like that too.”

With the curse dealt with and your conversation reaching a comfortable conclusion, Nanami realized that he had more time before he needed to head to work. Instead of rushing off, he decided to take a chance. “If you’re not in a hurry,” he began, “would you like to take a walk?”

You looked at him, pleasantly surprised by the offer. “I’d love to.”

The two of you left the bakery, stepping out into the crisp morning air. The streets were just beginning to fill with the usual hustle and bustle of the city, but walking beside Nanami, you felt a sense of calm that you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

As you strolled together, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about the bakery, your mutual love for good pastries, and eventually, your experiences with curses. Nanami listened intently, offering insights and sharing his own stories. It felt easy, comfortable, as if you’d known each other much longer than just this morning.

But just as you were beginning to relax, a familiar voice cut through the air, teasing and playful. “Nanami! What a surprise! And who’s this lovely lady?”

You both turned to see Gojo Satoru approaching, his signature sunglasses reflecting the morning light. Behind him trailed Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara, all of whom were staring at you with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

Nanami sighed deeply, already feeling the headache coming on. “Gojo,” he greeted, his tone flat. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just taking the kids out for a morning walk,” Gojo replied with a grin. He looked between you and Nanami, his smile widening as he put two and two together. “But it seems you’ve found yourself some company.”

The students looked at each other, clearly intrigued. Yuji was the first to speak up, his voice full of curiosity. “Hey, is this… a date?”

Nanami stiffened slightly, his composure faltering for just a moment. “It’s not—”

But Gojo, ever the instigator, cut him off. “Well, well, Nanami, I never knew you had it in you! And such a beautiful lady, too! What’s your secret?”

You felt your cheeks flush at Gojo’s words, but you managed to keep your composure. “We just met this morning,” you explained, trying to ease the situation. “But it’s nice to meet you all.”

Gojo wasn’t deterred. He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Ah, I see. A whirlwind romance, then?”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to maintain his patience. “Gojo, enough.”

But Gojo only laughed, clearly enjoying the situation far too much. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.” He winked at you before turning to lead the students away, but not before calling back over his shoulder, “Have fun, Nanami! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

As they walked away, you could hear Nobara scolding Yuji for his comment, while Megumi simply sighed, clearly used to Gojo’s antics.

Once they were out of earshot, Nanami let out a long sigh, finally allowing himself to relax again. He turned to you, an apologetic look in his eyes. “I’m sorry about that. He’s… difficult to deal with.”

You chuckled softly, finding the whole situation more amusing than anything else. “No need to apologize. I think it’s sweet that your friends care about you.”

Nanami looked at you, surprised by your reaction. But then, he found himself smiling again, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said, his voice softening. “For understanding.”

You continued your walk together, the encounter with Gojo and the others adding a lightheartedness to the morning that neither of you had expected. As the city came to life around you, you found yourself feeling grateful—not just for the unexpected meeting, but for the connection you’d found with someone who understood you in a way no one else ever had.

And as you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the start of something much bigger than either of you had anticipated…

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Author’s note:

Sorry for how I formatted this is!!!! But I’m pretty happy with how it turned out, I really hope you enjoyed reading this! This will be the first of many JJK one shots I write. I am currently also working on a Gojo x Reader series with probably 6-10 chapters, stay tuned :)

Please feel free to drop a request whenever you’d like!

#jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #naruto imagines #naruto #jjk oneshot

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shanastoryteller · 1 year

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happy birthday!! i would love to read something about zagreus!!!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Thanatos has seen the courtyard maintained by Queen Persephone, is well aware of the poms that liter the realm thanks to her influence, but this is something different.

"Than?" Zagreus asks nervously.

Even in Elysium the trees and fields are washed out, half there and half not, ethereal in the way of loss rather than beauty.

This is lush.

There are fields of strange fruits and vegetables growing, acres of rolling hills and forests, all of if glittering as brightly as the gemstones that litter the realm. There are people down there, working and planting, and others talking and laughing, buildings carved from stone and built from mudbricks and grown from twisting oaks.

They've stepped out onto a balcony, high enough to see for miles, and nowhere in the underworld is there this much space. It's all rooms and sections, constantly shifting, nothing allowed to just be be. Except here.

"Say something," Zagreus says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You're making me nervous."

"Where are we?" he asks. They're still in the underworld, but in none of the three levels or on the river, and that's all that should be, all that should exist. There is nothing else.

Zagreus swallows. "Um, well, it doesn't have a name exactly. Or it does, I guess. Everyone keeps calling it the Prince's Court, even though I think that's stupid."

The Prince's Court. He and Megaera had heard whispers of that. They thought it referred to Zagreus, and his growing power, and the people he kept close. Him, and Meg, and Dusa, except it turns out it had nothing to do with them at all.

"Have you lost your mind?" he demands, finally tearing his eyes away to glare at Zagreus. "Doing something like this in Hades's realm - he's going to kill you and make it stick-"

"This isn't my father's realm," he interrupts and Thanatos sputters. "No, I'm serious. Stop freaking out and focus."

"I'm not freaking out," he retorts but he grudgingly listens, if only so he can then continue yelling without interruption.

Hades's power is not limitless, as Zagreus has demonstrated so many times, but it is ever present, settling like a cloak over his domain and keeping it tightly within his grasp, not letting anything escape his attention or control.

Thanatos frowns then stretches his senses further.

It's only Zagreus.

The power he'd felt from his friend and brother and the person he loved most, something that he'd once had to press close and breathe in to feel and then later had ballooned to a comfortable presence that hung around Zagreus's shoulders.

They're standing so close now that he hadn't even thought it was strange that his power was all around them. But it's not because of that. It's because in this place, of open spaces and flourishing fruits and smiling people, it's Zagreus who holds it steady.

Not Hades.

"Why would you do this," he whispers, "why wouldn't you just challenge him for the throne if that's what you wanted?"

This is so much worse. An inevitable civil war, father against son, in a way so much bigger than their fights on the surface.

He makes a face. "Why would I want that? The underworld is depressing. And dealing with all those spirits is a lot of work. This is better. Besides, then I'd just inherit his curse, and then I'd have to work my way around it all over again. No thanks."

"What are you talking about?" he demands. "You're cursed too."

Zagreus grins, bright and happy and Thanatos can't return it because this is insane and he's insane and it's all going to end in misery. "Race you to the mountaintop."

Before Thanatos can say how ridiculous that is, a chaos rift appears behind Zagreus and he steps back and slips inside it, the rift closing before Thanatos can follow him.

Chaos is involved in this too? His grandparent, who has never take an interest in the affairs of the underworld and who has enough power to tip the scales in any direction they choose.

This just gets worse and worse.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #screamingmadvoid #hades game

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helvegen-s · 5 months

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Rage, rage | two

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she knows who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: violence, injuries, description of injuries, PTSD, bad language, again The King of Hybern...

A/N: so here it is, the second part. I really hope that you're all liking it. It's starting to settle, our protagonists are meeting and it's getting more interesting!! As always, any kind of support would be greatly appreciated! Thank you all for your time❤️

Nimue stands in the middle of her enormous room: a chamber so deep within her father's castle, it is carved directly into the mountain rock. She doesn't see natural light, hear the ocean waves, or watch birds fly.

Not that she has ever seen them. She simply knows they exist, how they sound, how they smell, because the Cauldron has told her so.

She observes her own reflection in the huge mirror on the wall. The girl she sees is truly beautiful. She possesses an ethereal beauty that seems to emanate from within her, as if she were imbued with the same magic that created her. Her long, silky hair falls in wavy cascades of silver, with flashes of light that seem to dance with every movement. Her eyes are of a hypnotic color, like the whitest of pearls, shining with ancient wisdom and fierce determination. Her skin is pale as the moon, yet it gleams with a radiant glow that seems to illuminate even the darkest night. Her figure is slender and elegant.

The reflection the mirror returns is that of an ancient, wise, powerful being.

However, she only feels like a child, surrounded by things she knows from others' words.

When her father isn't listening, Nimue asks the Palace cooks to recount to her what the world beyond the walls is like. In particular, it's the words of old Ferlan that she enjoys hearing the most: she describes the landscape beyond the cliffs on which the castle stands, the dense enchanted forests, the fertile plains where people live in beautiful villages, the beaches of black sand and cold water, the cliffs where giants were said to have once dwelled...

It's those stories that comfort Nimue's lonely heart, that shed light on her shadow-filled world.

Before she knows it, she's wandered so far in her daydreams that she doesn't even know what time it is.

That's when she feels it in the air, even before hearing it. That sweet scent that accompanies The Voice...

"You have everything in your power to be free, child," it whispers in her ear. The scent, the presence, like a smoke-shaped entity, swirls around her, caressing her cheeks and tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "No one would dare stand in your way. Once you decide, the world will bow to your will. Your father will submit to your will..."

Nimue violently shakes her head. The Voice steps back, but when she becomes still again, it clings to her skin once more.

"But father... what has he done to me?"

The Voice laughs, and Nimue feels like she's going to be sick.

"What has father done to you? You're foolish, child. Foolish. Foolish. Innocent. Foolish," it spits out word after word, and Nimue feels them like daggers.

"Father brought me into the world, father gave me life. I owe everything to father, and he asks me to fight in his name. To protect my people from those who wish us harm."

Nimue clings to her own words like a mantra.

"Father loves me..." she whispers into the air, for The Voice is no longer there with her. She wonders if it was ever really there at all, or if it was just feverish imaginings to soothe her own loneliness.

Father loves her. But she knows he's not a good person. Nimue knows what lies beyond, and she longs to see the sunlight, to see the sea, to feel the rain on her skin...

Nimue knows her father isn't a good person. But neither is she.

She knows she has to kill her father. But where will she find the courage? She only knows these four walls that surround her. What will she do when she kills him? Will the Cauldron be angry with her? What kind of child kills their own father?

She spins, and spins, and spins with the same questions for years. Since the moment she gained enough awareness in her fae body to realize that her "father" wasn't the hero of the story, and she was just another puppet in his conquest game.

The only thing she was sure of was that she wouldn't be the good one either. That she wouldn't let her father win that game.

With light steps, she leaves her room and decides to wander around the castle for a bit. Curiosity is what moves her.

In these past weeks, her father's castle has been filled with various guests of all kinds, a very diverse selection. The legions of the attor, her father's elite soldiers, the highest-ranking officials, there were even two males from Prythian and a few simple humans.

Humans. Nimue had been smelling them for weeks in every corner of the castle. That stale stench that seeped into her pores.

She wondered what reasons the King would have to bring humans into the cleanliness of his castle, but as always, even if she asked, the answer would be the same: politics is not Nimue's concern. Nimue only fights, fights, fights.

However, today the hallways were surprisingly empty. Empty of humans, attor, and even the guards.

Where was everyone?

And it was right at that moment, in that desolate and gloomy hallway, that Nimue noticed the silence.

There were guards all over the castle. Magical guards isolating something, someone. There was something blocking her senses, and no matter how much she extended her magical perception, she couldn't feel the Cauldron.

The Cauldron.

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized she was alone without the presence of the Cauldron. If until then she had felt lonely, she realized it was nothing compared to the pressure she felt in her chest.

What was happening?

She began to run, like a lost child in an enchanted forest.

While she had never seen the Cauldron after she emerged, she had always lived with its constant presence in the castle. She knew it was there, it comforted her, it kept her company. Sometimes she even believed that The Voice she heard was the Cauldron itself, seeking to keep her company.

She kept running, and running, and running, not knowing where to. As she turned a corner, she felt the need to grip the white stone wall so tightly that she felt a nail break.

What was that pain in her chest? By the Mother, she had never experienced an arrow to the heart, but she imagined that's how it must feel. What was happening to her?

As soon as she caught her breath, she continued running somewhere, with that throbbing pain between her ribs.

And she heard it:

My creature, my sweet creature.

She stopped abruptly, all senses alert and panting like a racehorse.

Come, princess. I have gifts for you. Follow my voice, sweet girl.

Nimue almost sobbed. That voice, sweet, like a mother's... The Cauldron was calling her.

She finally saw it clearly: she knew which doors to open, which stairs to climb, which corners to turn. She saw it so clearly that for a moment she was blinded by all that power that the Cauldron emanated.

"I'm coming!" she cried, desperate.

She knew which door it was behind, and when she opened it, the wave of power that greeted her completely stunned her.

And then she began to process her surroundings: in the throne room, there were all the guards, all the creatures that formed her father's court. All surrounding a truly grotesque scene.

Nimue put on the intimidating mask she had practiced so much, while her gaze danced from figure to figure: an Ilyrian (an Ilyrian male, she hadn't seen any!) lying on the floor, its black and powerful wings now nothing more than torn limbs and patches of skin. A little further away, another Ilyrian male (by the Mother, two in one day!), this one with an arrow lodged in his chest and kneeling in a pool of his own blood, next to him a beautiful blonde female with tears streaming down her face.

She kept looking, there was everything in that room. When everyone recognized her presence and turned to look at her, she felt as if time stood still as she advanced, making her way among the guards' armors. With her head held high and her curious gaze, she tried to calm her own nerves and continued observing.

There were humans there, those women her father had once called queens. Queens of what? Also that hateful Jurian, with whom she had coincided a couple of times, enough to decide he was nothing but trash. And two females...

Her gaze returned to the group beyond, where behind the Ilyrian she found a pair of fae, and unwittingly she recognized him, his darkness.

Rhysand.

She frowned and continued walking towards her father, circling the whole scene while feeling all eyes on her, following her graceful movements.

Come, child. And look at the gift, look at it...

And she set her eyes on the Cauldron.

She forgot about that phantom arrow lodged in her chest, and stopped next to her father, her gaze fixed on the Cauldron.

She felt her father's accusatory gaze on her, but putting that aside, he spoke:

"You arrive at the perfect moment, my dear daughter," and after those words, she felt as if everyone in the room breathed again after her untimely interruption.

What the hell was going on there? What was the High Lord Rhysand doing in her castle? Who were those accompanying him?

"You arrive at the perfect moment to witness the miracle of the Cauldron. To witness the demonstration these humans will perform for it..."

Her father continued speaking, but Nimue completely ignored him. She just stood there, next to the King of Hybern, and analyzed the whole situation.

The two fae males who had been hanging around her house for weeks, the blonde and the redhead, bound by her father's magic. Weren't they allies? Why was her father imprisoning them?

A little further away, the two guards holding one of the two human girls began pushing her towards the Cauldron.

She heard screams, pleas, denials from all sides. The King spoke, the human Queens, the fae female next to Rhysand, some of them shouting at each other.

But Nimue only had eyes for the poor human they were pushing towards the Cauldron.

What were they going to…?

And as if she were a feather, they lifted her above the edge of the Cauldron and submerged her in a single motion, plunging her until she lost sight of her.

Nimue felt pure terror. Memories that weren't hers flooded her.

Skin dissolving, bones breaking, desperate screams.

She screamed into the air, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that escaped her chest. Her father stopped her by pulling on the leash, even before she had thought of throwing herself towards the poor girl.

Rage, rage, rage, rage, rage.

Everything that happened afterward was like a blink.

The Cauldron spat the girl onto the flagstones as if she were a fish out of water.

Look, child. I have given you a sister. I have created a sister for you.

Nimue breathed so fast she thought she was going to faint.

The people present were saying things, shouting, crying, laughing.

The other human fought tooth and nail against the guards, her screams piercing Nimue's eardrums, who only let herself be infected by the rage of that poor human.

Her rage. Rage. Rage.

The rage that boiled in every nerve of her being. It bubbled at the tips of her fingers, beneath her skin, in her eyes, everywhere.

If she opened her mouth, she felt like her own rage would burst forth in torrents, like a river after the snows.

Her rage was going to burst out, all over her father.

The second human kept fighting. Nimue never imagined the human spirit could be so untamed.

And the hand of that woman pointing at her father made something change in the air.

Nimue felt her leash loosen, felt her father getting a little nervous.

And she saw the moment.

She saw the weakness in the air, the King's doubt.

And she embraced it.

The second human emerged from the Cauldron, transformed into something.

And Nimue exploded.

A beam of white light burst from her chest, throwing her father backward. The King's head hit one of the columns, and everyone present in the room recoiled at such a wave of power.

What rage. What immense rage. It consumed her inside, burned her. So much, so much rage.

She raised an arm and pointed at her father, feeling how, again, energy rose from her feet to the tips of her fingers. She struck the King again with all that rage.

"You're a monster!" she shouted. She shouted it again and again, while feeling that with every pulse of power she directed towards him, she was gradually breaking down his shields.

However, the King of Hybern laughed, kneeling on the flagstones and trying to regain his composure. A venomous, disgusting laugh that made bile rise in Nimue's mouth.

In a last attempt to take control of the situation, Nimue raised a shield in the center of the room, around the Cauldron. In two agile leaps, she positioned herself next to Rhysand.

"Show me a place," she demanded. Rhysand clung to the brunette female beside him, tears streaming down his face. His gaze jumped from Nimue to the Ilyrian males, from the Ilyrian males to the new fae females, and back to Nimue. "Tell me a place and I'll get you out of here! Quickly, show me!" the princess demanded again.

The guards pounded Nimue's white shield again and again, and behind her, she felt the King of Hybern standing up.

Her gaze met Rhysand's again, and the male, trembling, took Nimue's hand.

"To Velaris," he managed to whisper.

Nimue didn't know how, but as soon as she heard the name, she knew exactly where it was, what it was. She chose whom to take: the two Ilyrian males, the beautiful blonde fae female, the two girls who had been submerged in the Cauldron, the female clinging to Rhysand, and finally Rhysand himself, whose hand Nimue held when she let her magic transport her and everyone else away from there. Away from Hybern. Away from her home.

To Velaris.

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading

If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! Thank you for your support 🥰

#azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #cassian #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you

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romaritimeharbor · 4 months

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HYDRANGEAS, CH. 1. — In which Tokito [Name] is invited to join the Corps.

— series synopsis. Hydrangeas, in some cultures, have been known to symbolize apology. The Hashira Tokito [Name] has many things to apologize for, indeed.

— trigger & content warnings. minor blood.

— pairings & notes. tokito muichiro, tokito yuichiro, ubuyashiki amane, ubuyashiki kagaya, rengoku kyojuro, & reader. reader is 11 in this chapter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). 10k words.

— author's thoughts. hydrangeas is also posted on ao3!

Snap. Snap. Snap.

The repeated sound of splitting and snapping wood fibers, of an axe tearing through the middle of logs, was among one of the few sounds filling the air—the chirping of distant birds, the soft rustle of the breeze through blades of grass and leaves… it was quite serene, in a way. The young one responsible for cutting up spare firewood huffed, wiping away a little bit of sweat that collected at their brow before continuing; their muscles did not throb or ache, and they were quite used to completing household chores that demanded strength or endurance, but that didn’t change the fact that their task could indeed be a laborious one.

A series of quieter snaps and the soft crunching of grass underneath the weight of someone’s footsteps drew their attention, and they stopped, turning around to face the direction that the noises had come from.

Briefly, they had thought that their family had returned—they weren’t expecting any visitors, but they were expecting their father, mother, and little brothers to return sometime soon. However, they quickly realized that such a thing simply was not possible; had that been the case, there would have been four pairs of footsteps, but they could only discern two.

Furthermore, when they turned around, they did not see any trace of their family. Instead, a light-haired woman and another person clad in what they guessed to be some kind of uniform stood a comfortable distance away from them., and… was that a blade? It was sheathed, and the uniform-wearing stranger did not seem keen on drawing it, but still!

Their heart picked up speed for two reasons. One, that person had a weapon; anyone with any sense of danger would be concerned if someone armed approached them unexpectedly. Two, it was… kind of cool, actually. They knew better than to exclaim and gush about how cool that sword looked and ask about where the person had gotten it or what it was used for—was this person a martial artist? A samurai? Though, they thought that samurais no longer existed… then a shinobi, maybe? Or a former samurai?

…Right. No. They knew better than to ask. These people were strangers. Even if that woman was practically ethereal, carrying herself with such beauty and grace that they really would not have doubted her if she said she was nobility, and that person had a very cool sword… they were still strangers.

Of course, that didn’t mean that they needed to be unnecessarily harsh or rude. The people did not seem to have ill-intent, anyway; if they did, something surely would have happened by now.

“Hello,” they greeted kindly, offering the two a polite smile as they set their axe down next to the pile of chopped wood. “Are you lost, miss? I can take you to the nearby village, if so.”

“No,” she replied. “Thank you, young one, but we are not lost.”

“Oh? Um… then…”

It was as if she had read their mind, going on to answer their unspoken question:

“I have come to find you.”

“Me?” A variety of emotions flashed across their features—fear, disconcertment, unease—before finally settling on cautious curiosity. “Why?”

Her professional, cool disposition did not falter at all. “You are the descendant of a great swordsman,” she vaguely explained, her tone smooth and almost soothing, in a way. “My duty, the purpose of my visit, is to ask if you would like to join the Demon Slayer Corps and carry on the legacy that he left behind.”

“I… I am?”

“Yes.”

“I…” they trailed off, head almost spinning at the information she relayed to them and its implications, but with how earnest her expression seemed… it was hard to think that she was lying. That would explain the swordsman at her side (who had yet to say a single word and seemed to be largely on guard, constantly surveying the area for threats, ready to strike at a moment’s notice; perhaps this woman was not nobility, but she must have been important in one way or another to have such a stoic, attentive bodyguard).

Demon Slayers—they did not doubt their existence. After all, their father often spoke of them, but it seemed so impossible. So fictional, like the kinds of stories and tales that one might tell a child to help them fall asleep.

Yet, standing before them was a mysterious woman asking if they wanted to join them.

“...I thought Demon Slayers were just fictional. Like— like the stories you tell little kids.”

The uniform-clad person beside her made a noise at that. It sounded like a laugh. They were being laughed at.

“Most people do,” she said, nodding, and the person next to her straightened up again; it was as if that person realized that maybe they shouldn’t have laughed, since it was a common misconception. “Demon Slayers are not recognized by the government. Therefore, save for the people who are already Demon Slayers and their families, most people do not believe in demons.” She stopped, but then clarified: “...But they are real, and they are an active threat.”

“Um, would you like to have tea?” Nervously, they wrung their hands together. “I’m sorry, I… it’s a lot to take in at once, and I don’t want to force you to stand for as long as it takes to explain it to me. I think that would make me a rude host. So, um, would you like to have tea with me, miss?”

"Very well."

With a kind smile that seemed to waver and tremble a little bit under the intensity of the gaze of her bodyguard, they approached the woman, gingerly taking one of her hands in theirs and leading her along the path paved by frequent usage. She seemed surprised, eyes widening and calm expression faltering somewhat.

…But then, her lips twitched upwards into the ghost of an adorning smile at the sheer innocence of their actions as she allowed herself to be led along, the Demon Slayer following close behind.

“Oh!” They stopped, turning around to face her. “I’m so sorry, miss, I never asked for your name.”

“That is quite alright,” she reassured, the diplomacy in her demeanor seeming to soften quite significantly as she looked down at them. “My name is Ubuyashiki Amane.”

“I suppose I probably don’t have to introduce myself to you…”

“No, you do not. It is a pleasure to meet you, Tokito [Name].”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

“Should I call you Lady Amane?” they wondered softly as their calloused hands carefully poured the tea into three cups—one for them, one for Amane, and one for the Demon Slayer. The person seemed surprised as they handed one cup to them, offering a quiet ‘thank you’ in response. “Or, um, Lady Ubuyashiki?”

“Most of the Corps’ children would call me Lady Amane,” she explained, “but you do not have to, since it is just us. You may call me Mrs. Ubuyashiki or even Mrs. Amane if you wish. Truthfully, even in front of others, you may still address me a bit less formally. It is only a display of respect, and we do not demand respect from our children. It is completely up to you if you wish to refer to me formally or informally.”

A timid smile graced their face as they gazed down at the cup clutched between their two hands. “Mrs. Ubuyashiki… if I am a descendant of a swordsman, does that mean my little brothers are as well? And one of my parents?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Amane confirmed, “but neither my husband nor I could ask young children to make the same commitment that we are asking of you. Furthermore, we also cannot ask a father to leave his home—his wife and his children—to fight in a war that defies nature, such as this one.”

She raised the cup to her lips, basking in and appreciating both the warmth and flavor of the tea. It was a very much welcomed courtesy after her journey to find them.

Silence descended upon the group for a short moment.

Their little brothers, the twins… they were only four. She was indeed correct; they barely knew right from wrong at that age. It was far too young, and to ask their father to abandon his wife and little children would be deeply insensitive. She was right.

Perhaps…

Perhaps they really were the only viable candidate among their family at the moment.

Before they could speak, Amane did.

“Please understand that this is your choice,” she said. “We will not hold it against you if you say no. It is a difficult burden to bear. There are not many people who are suited for it, and there is no shame in being unsuited to carry such a weight on your shoulders.”

“I understand,” they reassured, gnawing on the corner of their lip thoughtfully. “If… If I were to join the Demon Slayer Corps, what would that mean? What would happen?”

Amane hummed thoughtfully. It was a valid question, and one that she had to answer very wisely.

“If you were to join the Corps,” she began, “it would mean that you lose the promise of a tomorrow.”

“I don’t think anyone is promised a tomorrow,” they cut in. “I mean, there is no way of knowing if we’ll really wake up tomorrow morning, is there? That’s why you have to cherish the moment while you’re in it, and be kind without reservation.”

“...You’re right, little one. No-one who walks this world is promised a tomorrow. The members of the Corps have a very special understanding of this. If you join, you must understand that you could die at any given time, but it seems you already know this.”

“My father taught me that. We don’t live very long, so we should make the most of it.”

She smiled. They could not help but mirror it.

“He was right.” She then continued, “Given that you understand this idea, I do not feel the need to emphasize it any longer. You asked what would happen, what it would mean to join… it would mean joining a war. You are welcome to leave at any time, but most do not. Many spend their entire lives fighting off demons to keep other people safe.”

“I would be protecting others.”

“Yes.”

“So…” They met her gaze; there was a kind of wisdom in their young eyes, and it astounded her a bit. “Even though I would be leaving my family for who knows how long, I would get to protect them. To lower the chance that a demon might wander into our home and… and unjustly end our lives. If I joined the Corps, we wouldn’t be defenseless…”

Demons were an invisible threat—a threat that they did not know existed, but one that they were now acutely aware of, and one that they would not be able to forget now that it had been revealed to them.

“Yes.”

“I could protect innocent lives.”

“You could, indeed, but there is another thing you must be aware of: to join the Corps, you must train for and then survive a week-long event on a demon-infested mountain. Many people train for at least two years before this event, but some… well, some train for a much shorter amount of time and still survive. It will depend on you and your specific abilities.”

"I see," they murmured softly, allowing the information to sink in. They stared into the swirling green tea in their cup.

They were only eleven, soon to turn twelve. Were they capable of making this kind of decision? Were they allowed to? Was this okay? What might their father say, when they inevitably discuss the entirety of their encounter with Amane with him?

…

They didn’t know. They couldn’t be sure, but their heart was set—they wanted to do this. Protecting people, they and their father both believed, was a noble endeavor; he always encouraged them to be kind and selfless, and… it was indeed true that they mostly wanted to protect their family from a threat that otherwise could not be fended off. Nonetheless, they would still protect strangers.

They would get to protect everyone.

At their extended silence, Amane spoke up, "I understand if this is jarring and sudden—"

“No— I mean, it is,” they managed to chuckle a bit as they gazed at her. “It’s okay, though, because if I become a Demon Slayer, I can protect people. I can protect my family so that no demon ever gets the chance to hurt them, right?”

Amane was quiet for a second. Then, she offered the smallest yet sweetest smile. "Yes, that’s right."

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

The golden afternoon light bathed their face in its gentle warmth.

Shortly following Amane’s departure, they had returned to chopping wood, though the encounter never did leave their head. Truthfully, for the following hours, it was all they could think about; the repetitive nature of their task did not make it any easier not to focus on what had happened.

However, what did make it easy to forget about (at least, for the moment) was the sound of small, excited footsteps heading in their direction. They smiled to themselves, setting the axe down before turning around.

“[Name]! [Name], look!” the brighter of the twins, Muichiro, exclaimed as he ran up to them, stumbling cutely to a stop before thrusting his arm outwards and up towards them. In it, a little flower was clasped. “It’s for you!”

Amusedly trailing behind the boy were both parents and his slightly older brother, whose hand was held only somewhat securely in his mother’s. They waved with a bright smile at their parents before turning their attention back to their brother and kneeling down. “Aw,” they cooed. “Thank you Mui. That’s really sweet.”

“Yuichiro has one too, but he’s too shy to give it to you,” the boy commented as he gently, gingerly placed the flower behind their ear.

“Oh?” they replied, a teasing lilt in their voice as they curiously shifted their gaze from the youngest twin to the eldest. Yuichiro puffed out his slightly flushed cheeks with childish irritation that they had to actively restrain themselves from cooing at. “Is that so?”

“Don’t say that, Muichiro,” Yuichiro huffed, shaking his hand free of his mother’s grip and reluctantly shuffling over to them. “Here,” he murmured, tucking his flower behind their other ear.

They stared. Yuichiro knew instantly that he was in trouble. ‘Trouble,’ of course, meaning nothing serious—only that they were going to relentlessly tease him until the event became overshadowed by other tease-worthy occurrences.

“You know, that’s cute,” they teased, hands reaching out and gently patting each of their heads, “you guys are the cutest.”

Their parents only smiled at the interaction.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

“Papa,” they murmured quietly from their place a few feet behind him where they were sitting on a vacant stump, fidgeting with their sleeves as they thought about how to proceed—how to bring up what had happened earlier in the day. The rhythmic snapping of wood that they had grown so used to came to a halt as the man smiled, his warm eyes turning to his oldest child.

The light of the afternoon had long since sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky an ombre of blues as it got darker, shadows enveloping the world in the sun’s absence. Their father’s voice was gentle, considerate of their blatant anxiety, as he asked, “What is it?”

“You know the stories about Demon Slayers you tell me sometimes?” they wondered, gaze directed downwards as an inexplicable sense of guilt began to settle in their gut. It was as if they were doing something wrong, as if the direction that the conversation would inevitably go in was somehow punishable. He walked over to them, kneeling in front of where they were sitting. “Are— are they true..?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t tell you lies,” he laughed, reaching out to ruffle their hair. For a brief moment, the gesture seemed to calm their racing heart and trembling palms ever so slightly, but the anxiety came back just as soon as it had gone. “Why the sudden interest?”

Their stomach twisted.

…But really, they had no way out of it now—the truth was going to come out one way or another, and if they tried to back out, it would look suspicious.

They always told him when something was bothering them. This ‘something’ should have been no different, but it was.

“Um, when you all were out today…” they trailed off, now picking at the skin around their nails. Their father’s gentle but calloused—equally calloused as their own, if not more so—hands cupped theirs the second they began to do so. It was as if he was softly discouraging them from doing something that could be potentially harmful. Of course, the gentle discouragement would never be enough to fully put a stop to the habit, but it was good enough for the time being.

“Go on. What is on your mind?”

“When you all were out today,” they continued, taking a deep breath to soothe themselves, “a woman visited. She was nice. Her name was Ubuyashiki Amane. She explained to me that I had descended from a swordsman.”

“That’s true,” their father confirmed, thumbs rubbing along their knuckles. “Somewhere on my side of the family, I believe, there was a great swordsman.”

“Right.” They nodded. “She didn’t say what side, but… that’s what she told me. She’s the wife of the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, and she asked me if I would join them.”

“...Well, do you want to?”

“Yes…” Ashamed heat built up underneath their skin, and they only managed to squeak out a quiet ‘I’m sorry.’

“No, no,” he immediately insisted, gripping his child’s hands with more purpose now. “Don’t be sorry. Just answer me this, okay? Do you understand the implications of that?”

They could only nod. It was far too hard to speak under the weight of guilt and shame and embarrassment creeping around their neck and onto their chest.

“You are no weak child.” He smiled again. “I have to be honest, [Name]. I would rather that you didn’t join them, but I also know that you would make a fine swordsman.”

“You— you think so?”

“I’m certain of it.”

A calm, reassuring silence descended. They were exceedingly aware of the ambient sounds of the night—the distant hum of insects, the—now much colder—breeze still weaving its way through the grass and leaves…

“I know it’s dangerous,” they whispered, “but I want to be able to save people, papa. I want to be able to save you and mama and— and Mui and Yui—”

“Shh. I know, little one. The last thing I want is to see you get hurt,” he said, now caressing their face with his hands and bringing his forehead to theirs, “but that is a beautiful want. I raised you this way, so this comes as no surprise to me. Will she be returning?”

“She said she would come back in three days.”

He then withdrew, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head. “Then… I suppose I’ll have to let you go in three days.”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

That night, the only thing they could hear was the pounding of rain on the roof and the roaring of rain throughout the night.

A soft sigh left their lips, head resting against one of the walls of their small, cozy room. Despite the powerful sense of safety their little room induced, sleep failed to find them. No matter how hard they tried, they simply could not fall asleep. Was it anxiety? Was it the stress of the day, of the decision they made? Was it the knowledge that in three days, they’d be leaving? They didn’t know. They couldn’t be sure.

Again, they sighed. Their eyelids closed as they listened to the repetitive tapping of the rain.

Over the rain, they just barely managed to catch the sound of their door sliding open, but they did manage to catch it. Their tired eyes opened. Upon seeing the boy in the doorway, they smiled.

“Hi, Yui.”

It most certainly was not the first time one of the twins ran to their room late at night; shockingly, however, it was usually the oldest who would run to them. Muichiro was notorious for being a heavy sleeper, and he generally didn’t have nightmares, nor did thunderstorms wake him up. Yuichiro, however, slept far more lightly and was prone to waking up in the middle of the night. He disliked bothering his parents and would typically be the one to comfort Muichiro if he couldn’t sleep, so who did the older of the twins end up running to when he had trouble sleeping?

His older sibling, of course. They would not have it any other way.

“I guess the thunder’s just a bit too loud for you tonight,” they mused, just loud enough to be heard over the storm but not loud enough to potentially wake up anyone else. Yuichiro trembled, chewing on his bottom lip; even in the dark, they could still see the gloss of unshed tears in his eyes. “C’mere,” they murmured, opening their arms invitingly. “Guess mama and papa are asleep if you’re running to me, huh? And I’ll bet Mui is too, the heavy sleeper he is.”

Yuichiro nodded quickly, shuffling over to them. They lifted up their blanket, readjusting it over his head when he crawled onto their futon. The way the blanket draped over his head and body almost made it look as if he was wearing a cloak of sorts—the thought made them giggle.

When loud thunder suddenly struck, the boom! resonating all throughout the area, he squeaked, burying his face in their torso. They hummed, leaning back against the wall. "It’s okay to be scared," they murmured now that he was close enough to hear. Soothingly, their fingers toyed with his long hair. "I’m here. I’m watching over you. You’re safe, alright?"

Though he would likely not admit it out loud, their words soothed the fear building in his little body. He finally relaxed against their chest.

Soon enough, he'd fallen asleep like that. It was easy to tell; the frantic, panicked breaths had become steady and slow, and he would no longer give any indication of having heard whatever they were saying to him. After some time of sitting there with him, they found that his light weight against their chest was aiding with their own sleeplessness. Eventually, they too managed to fall asleep.

The next morning consisted much of their parents cooing over how cute the two were.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Three days passed peacefully without incident.

Just as Amane had promised, she returned on the morning of the fourth day, again with a Demon Slayer at her side. They weren’t sure if it was the same one, but they supposed that didn’t really matter much.

“Shall we take this conversation outside?” their mother suggested, to which they nodded… but they did not fail to notice their little brothers’ intense stares boring into the back of their skull from their hiding place behind one of the other doors, and it seemed that their mother also noticed.

“I’ll tell them to wait in here, mama.”

She smiled, thanking her child before stepping outside with her husband and Amane. Only when the front door had shut did they turn around, meeting their brothers’ gazes with equal intensity, making them squeak in unison.

“Psst. Come here, you two.”

Defeatedly, the twins waddled out. Muichiro was lightly clutching Yuichiro’s sleeve. Perhaps it was because of the presence of an unfamiliar woman? Muichiro was shy. He always had been—Yuichiro was the calmer one, in that respect. Muichiro was friendly, having waved timidly in Amane’s direction when she entered, but he was still shy. Their father was always trying to encourage him to be bolder, but that was easier said than done. It was often in his moments of anxiety, such as the current one, that he clung onto his twin brother, so… they supposed that could be why.

No. That was most definitely why.

They kneeled down to the height of their little siblings. “Listen, I’m going away for some time, okay?”

Muichiro’s reaction was instant—little mint eyes widened as he immediately reached forward, now tugging on their sleeve with a pouty expression. “No,” he whined. “[Name] can’t leave…”

“I’m not leaving forever!” they quickly clarified, at which the younger twin seemed to calm down somewhat. “I’ll visit as much as I can, and I’ll send lots of letters and presents, okay?”

They knew very well that they could not promise many visits, though… they would try their best. Hopefully, that would be enough for their brothers.

Yuichiro, too, pouted, shooting them a childishly cute glare as he—rather weakly; he was just far too little to do any real damage—punched their arm. “You better,” he huffed.

“Of course,” they reassured. “I can’t disappoint my little brothers, now can I?”

Both boys shook their heads, as if to agree and say, ‘No, you can’t.’ Though, they were not oblivious, and they took notice of the generally downcast demeanors the two bore. Well… if their mother wasn’t here, wasn’t looking, then… they grinned a mischievous smile, reaching into the clothes draped over their body and pulled out two pieces of candy. Their clothes, particularly the folds and the sleeves, were exceptional places to store bribery material.

The two children seemed to brighten up almost instantly at the sight of the sweets in their open palm (though, the brightening was less obvious on Yuichiro’s face, but they could tell that his mood did indeed improve, if only a little). Each took one from their palm, and they leaned forward to press kisses to each of their foreheads.

“Don’t tell mama, okay?”

“[Name],” Yuichiro whined in protest, his face twisting in dramatic disgust. Muichiro only giggled at his brother’s annoyance. “Gross.”

“Oh, hush,” they replied. “It’s not gross.”

“Yeah, it is,” the older of the twins insisted, sticking his tongue out at them, to which they playfully rolled their eyes. “Bleh.”

“Hey, you’re going to miss my ‘gross’ affection when I’m not at home all the time to give it to you,” they laughed as they stood up. “I’m going to head outside now, okay? Me, mama, and papa are just going to talk to that nice lady, so wait in here for us.”

When the twins finally nodded, their reluctance not completely erased but placated for the moment, they finally slid open the front door and stepped out of the house.

“Good morning, Lady Amane,” they greeted with a little smile as they closed the door behind them before walking over to said woman, who was in conversation with their parents. A small smile graced her elegant features once her eyes landed on them.

“Hello, child.”

A hand belonging to none other than their father found its way onto their head, ruffling their locks of hair, before falling back to his side. “So, they’ll have a safe place to stay while training, and you won’t let them go to… ah, forgive me—the Final Selection, was it called?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “and please, do not worry. We would not permit a child under our care to partake in the selection unless they were fully prepared to do so. Furthermore, we would be more than happy to host them at our home on the days that they do not return home.”

Though their mother was reluctant—far more so than their father—she sighed, wringing her hands together before her arms settled back down at her sides. “Well… very well, then.” Her cool, mint-toned eyes shifted downwards to them. They stared back up at her, wide-eyed and anticipating her response. Her nimble fingers gently raked through their hair, stroking over the top of her oldest child’s head and down to just below their ear, before settling on cupping their face. “You have to promise to write to us often and come to visit when you can, okay?”

“Yes! I will, mama, I promise.”

“Then… you may go. Be careful, love, and save lots of people, too.”

“I will!”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Truth be told, they did not own much. There wasn’t much of anything they needed to take with them—even clothes were not necessary, since Amane said that the Corps would cover it.

Following the conversation, after giving hugs and—much to Yuichiro’s absolute despair—kisses, they left alongside the woman.

“The journey back will be long,” Amane began, tilting her face in their direction to speak directly to them. They couldn’t help but admire the way her pale locks framed her face, tickling her cheeks and truly reinforcing the noble image of her that they had created in their head. “Therefore, we will spend the night at the current Flame Hashira’s manor. Demons are at their most active at nighttime, as they cannot survive exposure to direct sunlight, so we should avoid traveling after sundown as diligently as possible.”

“Hashira?”

“Ah. You have not yet learned of our ranking system… it seems I neglected to explain that detail. I am sorry, little one.”

“No, no!” They waved their hands frantically as they went on to reassure her: “Please don’t apologize to me! It’s okay! I’m sure there’s lots of things you couldn’t possibly have had the time to explain to me in the short conversations we’ve had! It’s not your fault!”

“Shall I explain now, then?” Briefly, she turned to face the accompanying Demon Slayer. “How long is the trip to Lord Rengoku’s estate?”

Immediately, the person straightened up, giving her their complete attention. “Yes, Lady Amane! The walk will be about three hours!”

“Then,” she began, turning back to face them with what seemed to be her usual serenity, “we do have time, if you would like to hear the explanation of the ranking system as we walk. It will also be explained to you at the end of the Final Selection, but you needn’t wait until then if you would like to know in advance.”

“If you wouldn’t mind”--they offered her a timid smile, almost embarrassed to ask such a thing of her, even though she was the one who extended the offer in the first place—”I would like to hear about it. Since— since we have the time. If you don’t mind. Um. I said that already, didn’t I..?”

She mirrored their smile, except hers reflected great grace and calmness that theirs certainly lacked (at least, that it lacked in that moment; something about their situation felt exceedingly surreal, as if they could not believe that it was actually happening, so it was quite difficult to maintain a steady expression and tone).

“Very well. At the very bottom are Mizunotos…”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Amane’s explanation, naturally, did not last the full three hours it took to reach the estate.

Really, it only took about thirty minutes. They did, however, ask a multitude of questions that extended the length of the discussion for quite some time. The conversation drifted between topics—she did not have any children yet, they learned, though she did express the desire to have a few; they wondered if she felt at all compelled to, or if she simply wanted to be a mother… it wasn’t their place to make any kind of assumptions, so they did not dare to ask such a question—for some time, before settling into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the walk.

By the time they reached the open gate of the house, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.

“Good afternoon, Lord Rengoku.”

A man stood tall slightly in front of the gateway, white haori dipped in the tones of flames blowing in the breeze alongside his matching hair (really, all they could possibly think when they looked at him was flames). Beside him stood a boy practically identical to him.

Oh, that had to be his son. They genuinely could not fathom another explanation.

“Lady Amane,” the older man greeted, his sharp gaze briefly flicking in their direction and making them squeak at its intensity, “welcome. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

“It went smoothly. Thank you for your concern.” She then reached out, placing a gentle hand on their upper back. They instinctively straightened up somewhat, now completely under the scrutiny of that intense-eyed man and his intense-eyed son. “This is Tokito [Name], one living descendant of the first swordsman to use Breathing Styles, Tsugikuni Yoriichi.”

“I see.”

“It— It’s nice to meet you, sir!” they exclaimed, voice wavering slightly under the weight of their sudden shyness, bowing at the waist level.

Silence.

Then, a gruff snort—a chuckle—from the older man. A tough hand settled on their head and ruffled their locks. “Hey, kid. I am Rengoku Shinjuro, the Demon Slayer Corps’ Flame Hashira. Stand up straight. You know how to use a sword?”

“I don’t, sir,” they replied, straightening their body once again and beginning to pick at the skin around their nails.

(This time, their father was not there to gently stop them. It was too soon to be growing homesick, but suddenly, a little bit of sadness settled in their gut. They could only hope that it did not show on their face.)

“Well, now’s as good a time as any to start learning.” He turned his attention to his son. “Kyojuro—”

“Yes, father!”

Oh. They winced. That boy was surely going to blow their eardrums out if he kept talking like that, but at the very least, his enthusiasm made them feel a bit better.

“--why don’t you go ahead and teach them the basics of swordsmanship?”

He beamed at the idea; they almost had to squint at the sheer brightness his face shone with. “Yes, father!”

Kyojuro looked at them with a grin, his shoulders squared and proud as he extended one of his hands to them. “I am Rengoku Kyojuro!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Rengoku, I’m— ah?!” they cut themselves off with a yelp as, the very second they placed their hand in his, he darted off beyond the gates and into the estate’s grounds, effectively dragging them along with him. They barely even had time to spare Amane a glance.

Then, he suddenly stopped, causing them to stumble into his back with a small ‘oof!’

“Ow.”

“Sorry!” he apologized, glancing around the open space, as if searching for something. His gaze landed on a weapon rack, and his face immediately brightened again as he walked over to it. Two wooden swords, among a variety of other weapons, rested there. He picked up both. Then, with only a quick ‘Catch!’ as a warning, he tossed one in their direction.

Deft hands caught it by the handle.

Having spent much of their childhood chopping wood, they knew not to catch or grab any tools by the blade unless completely necessary.

(When Muichiro was two, a visitor to their home left one hatchet in an extremely poor place. When it fell down, it may have very well split the poor boy’s face in half…

…If not for their stopping it with their hand, that is. He did end up with a little bit of blood on his face, but they were just thankful that it wasn’t his; their wound meant nothing as long as he was okay. The scar, even two years later, would still stare back at them if they were to open their right hand and look for it—a huge slit across their palm that could have very easily affected their grip strength permanently. It served as a reminder of the stupid things they would do to protect their little brothers.

Their current endeavor was also kind of stupid, now that they thought about it.)

Technically, the wooden sword had no blade. It was more about the principle than the actual situation; they should never get into the habit of grabbing a wooden sword by its “blade,” lest that habit end up getting them hurt when they start using real swords with real blades.

Kyojuro seemed delighted at their handling of the practice sword, too.

“Okay!” he exclaimed. “Your first lesson is on how to hold the sword correctly! And the proper stance!”

“The correct stance…” they echoed quietly.

“Yes. When you stand, your feet should be shoulder’s width apart,” Kyojuro explained. Subconsciously, they adjusted their stance when he explained. He seemed to have calmed down somewhat by then, the volume of his voice having lowered quite considerably as he settled into his explanation. He approached them, gently and carefully tapping the back of their locked knees with his practice sword. “Also, don’t lock your knees”

“Right.”

“If you lock your knees, it makes it easier for people to knock you off balance. Sometimes it also can lead to injuries or make it easier for you to be injured, so keep them slightly bent at all times. There might be exceptions later down the line, but that’s just the general rule.”

The younger child stepped back, raising his hand to his chin thoughtfully as he picked apart their stance for any significant errors or anything that needed to be corrected. When he found nothing, he nodded firmly, his bright smile returning to replace the thoughtful expression on his face.

“Onto holding the sword, then!”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

By the time Kyojuro had gone over all the basics that he felt were necessary, the sun had long since set, leaving the moon in its wake to bathe the Earth below in its soothing, cool light. The boy with the fiery hair had insisted on sparring with them.

‘Just a little!’ he had said. ‘I won’t push you too hard!’

…They shot said boy a playful glare as their chest heaved, the wooden sword helping to support some of their weight as they caught their breath. They were careful to not put too much weight on the sword, though—oh, they’d feel terrible if they somehow broke or chipped it, no matter how unlikely that scenario actually was.

(Amane had mentioned on the journey to the Flame Estate that Hashira are paid as much as they want, so they were fairly certain that Shinjuro would easily be able to afford a replacement without even causing so much as a dent in his savings. Still… they were a guest. To just waltz into someone’s home and recklessly break their belongings would be utterly unforgivable!

…Even if that wouldn’t have even been close to what would have happened.)

Kyojuro laughed boisterously at the look they gave him. “You’re strong, Tokito!”

“Thanks… so are you. Ahh… my arms hurt…”

He didn’t reply for a moment—if he was looking at something, they couldn’t really tell, as their head was tilted down while they tried to catch their breath and slow their racing heartbeat.

“Oh!” he suddenly gasped, grabbing their hand and running over to one of the entrances to the house. “Hello, mother! This is Tokito [Name]!”

Between the shock of being suddenly dragged along again and the panting from sparring with him, it took them a minute to raise their head. When they did, however, they were greeted with the sight of a dark-haired, red-eyed woman (she looked concerningly pale, they noted, but did not ask about something so potentially personal) with a boy identical to Kyojuro and his father clutching her sleeve shyly. He didn’t dare to meet their gaze, no matter how gentle they may have looked.

“You have a brother?” they asked Kyojuro, smiling kindly at the little boy when he made a small noise of surprise at being indirectly addressed.

Before the older son could respond, the woman did. “Yes,” she said. “This is Rengoku Senjuro, and I am Rengoku Ruka.”

The lady of the house.

“Ah, I’m— I’m so sorry for not addressing you first, Lady Rengoku!” they quickly apologized. “It’s just that I have—”

She raised a hand, and they stopped.

“Please. Mrs. Rengoku is perfectly fine,” she softly assured. “Continue, little one.”

“Ah… of course, Mrs. Rengoku.” Heat rushed to their cheeks, and they reached up to shyly scratch the back of their neck. “I have little brothers that are probably around his age, and one of them is really shy. It just made me think of him, so I wanted to address Senjuro gently instead of pretending he wasn’t there. All kids are different, but… I think that maybe it helps to establish kindness first and foremost.”

The ghost of a smile graced her lips at that. “It is to protect them that you’ve decided to join the Corps, yes?”

“Yes, miss. That is a big part of why,” they started, “but I also want to protect a lot of other people, too. My dad always told me I should.”

She nodded. Something unidentifiable flashed across her face for a moment, but just as fast as it had arrived, it left. All they could discern was that it was not necessarily negative. She then began to speak again.

“Thank you for being Kyojuro’s friend. I hope Senjuro will also be friends with you one day.”

The little boy buried his face in his mother’s side at that.

Somehow—though they were sure it should not have been possible—Kyojuro’s face brightened immeasurably, as if it wasn’t bright enough already. He had yet to let go of their hand.

“Oh— oh, of course!” No friendship had really been ‘formally established,’ in that he never explicitly asked if they wanted to be friends with him, but they didn’t mind much. “No, I really should be thanking him… he’s technically my first friend within the Corps, or my first friend who is associated with the Corps. It makes the idea of beginning my training before the Final Selection seem a lot less intimidating.”

“That is good, then.” Her gaze shifted between the two of them. She looked as if she were contemplating something, as if whatever she planned to say next had to be considered carefully. Then, she finally murmured, “Protect one another out there, alright?”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Morning had come quickly after the conversation with Ruka. They had been fed, clothed, and given a room to stay in. Once the sun had risen and they greeted the Hashira, they tried to return the nightclothes, but Shinjuro had simply brushed it off, telling them that they should keep the set. Following that, Amane had departed with them and her Demon Slayer guard, though not before they said their goodbyes to Kyojuro.

The remainder of the walk—about four hours—was completed in peaceful silence.

As they approached, finally approached, their destination, an overwhelming but not unpleasant scent filled their senses.

“Wisteria?”

“It wards off demons.”

“I see…” they murmured, awestruck at the sheer amount of wisteria trees surrounding the estate, the vines draping down and creating what could only possibly be described as an ethereal barrier between the outside world and the important family that lived within.

Upon pushing past the flower barrier, their eyes widened somewhat.

"This," Amane began, "is the Demon Slayer Corps' headquarters. My husband and I live here. You are welcome to stay here until after the Final Selection, when you begin missions."

“Are…” They trailed off, eyes flicking around the astonishing expanse of the home and admiring its beauty. Their attention was also drawn to the masked Demon Slayers scurrying around; unlike regular Slayers, these did not bear weapons. Other Demon Slayers, they also noted, seemed to always be unmasked, but these...

“They’re the Kakushi,” Amane’s guard said. They blinked—once, twice. That was the first time that they’d heard that person speak a whole sentence. Ignoring their bewilderment, the guard went on: “You could think of them as a cleanup and medical crew. They’re usually the people who have no swordsmanship skills, but still wanted to help our cause in some way.”

“Ah.”

“Right. Well, then…” The Slayer stepped forward and bowed to Amane. “I will be taking my leave, Lady Amane! I pray for your continued safety!”

“Very well.” Amane nodded. “Thank you for escorting us safely.”

“Of course!”

With that, the person was off, and they were reminded of what they were initially going to ask.

“Um… are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here, Lady Amane? I wouldn’t want to be a bother. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Worry not,” she reassured. “It is no imposition. Come along. The master would like to meet you."

With graceful, practiced strides, she began walking again, and they were quick to stumble after her. They followed along closely as she entered the home (though not before removing her shoes, and they swiftly followed her motion), peering curiously down different hallways as they walked.

Already, they could foresee themselves getting lost… and probably more than once. The halls weren’t particularly difficult to navigate—there were just an astonishing amount of them that branched off, leading to different rooms and sometimes even additional hallways. It was dizzying, in a way.

They couldn’t linger on those thoughts for too long, though, as Amane slowed to a stop in front of one particular room. Her gentle hands slid the door open, and she motioned for them to go inside.

“Go ahead. Master is waiting.”

“You’re not coming?”

She smiled. The gesture alone immensely reassured them, easing whatever irrational concerns they had fabricated in their mind. “No, young one. I also have my own responsibilities to take care of, but worry not. Whatever it is that you are expecting, whatever you have envisioned that is causing you such fear, I assure you that the boy in that room will be nothing like it.”

Boy?

Nonetheless, they nodded, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ to her before stepping inside. She slid the door closed once they did.

Beyond the threshold of the door, they spotted him for the first time—a dark-haired boy barely any older than they were, sitting with his legs tucked underneath himself on one side of a short table. The other side was vacant, presumably a seat for anyone he needed to speak to. Their breath hitched.

He really was a boy. If they had to guess, they would say he was maybe twelve or thirteen; he was virtually their age. It made them fleetingly wonder how he could sit there and look so graceful. When the weight of leading the entire Corps through what could only be described as a war, how could he look so at peace? They dared not ask. Maybe they were too afraid to, or perhaps they really didn’t want to know.

His attention shifted to them, and he smiled.

They would be nervous to be under his scrutiny, but… it really didn’t feel like he was scrutinizing them—only gazing over their nervous form. It was then that they took notice of the sickly purple threatening to creep down his face from his hairline, which was another thing they were not keen on asking about, whether that be because they did not want to come off as impolite or because they knew that the answer may not be pleasant.

“Come. Have a seat,” he beckoned gently, tone making their head spin at its utter softness.

They snapped out of their daze, timidly shuffling over to the table and gingerly situating themselves on the side opposite to him. Embarrassed heat flooded their cheeks at the simple thought alone that their first impression might have gone poorly. They stood there like a child awaiting instruction! They tried not to think too deeply about that, lest they grow overcome by the wish to melt into the floor and disappear. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” he reassured. “My name is Ubuyashiki Kagaya. You may address me in whatever manner that you feel most comfortable, but most of the Corps’ children call me me Master. It is a pleasure to meet you, [Name].”

“Y— You as well,” they somehow managed to stutter out, feeling a bit lighter every time he spoke to them.

Carefully, with motions surely just as practiced as—if not more so than—Amane, he rose to his feet. “Walk with me. Any questions you may have, I would be more than happy to answer.”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Questions, questions.

They certainly had many. How did the Corps come to be? They had heard Lady Amane mention breathing styles—what exactly were they? Each question was answered in full with kind patience. Kagaya truly was more than happy to engage them as he brought them around the estate grounds. They’d even gotten answers to questions they were previously afraid to ask without even needing to work up the courage to ask them. Every single detail about the Corps was covered thoroughly, and the knowledge they attained was beyond reassuring. Things no longer seemed so intimidating.

Of course, the idea of going head-to-head in combat with a demon whose strength undoubtedly exceeded theirs as a human was… certainly unsettling. It was still intimidating, but at the very least, they now fully understood the expectations in place for them and all other Demon Slayers.

Coming to a halt in front of a door, Kagaya turned to them. “This is the room in which you will be staying. It is quite barren at this time, but you are wholly encouraged to decorate it to your tastes.”

The walk continued after that. Down another hallway, turning another few corners… and then, he stopped again, this time sliding the door he had stopped in front of open.

Warm, gentle rays of sunlight seeped into the room through a crack in another door opposite to where they were standing. If they had to make a guess, they would say that it led out into the little courtyard garden in the middle of the house. Shelves lined the inside of the room, filled to the brim with stacks of books on a vast variety of topics. A small table sat in an otherwise vacant space between two of the bookcases.

“In this room, you will find books on quite possibly anything you could imagine,” Kagaya began, watching with a gentle, adorning smile as they cautiously stepped into the room, as if they feared causing even the smallest bit of damage or disturbance. “In particular, you should be able to find a record of nearly every breathing style to exist, even the unique ones that were personally tailored to suit their creator’s needs. Spend as much time as you would like in here. Find a breathing style that resonates with you, and then come find either myself or Amane.”

They nodded fervently, quickly spinning around to face him and bowing. “I will. Thank you.”

“Also,” he started once more, “do not be shy to explore the expanse of the estate’s land. You will be spending some time here, so please do familiarize yourself with the layout.”

“Yes, I will,” they replied, standing up straight once again. “Thank you again.”

With that, he nodded at them, the soft smile on his lips still remaining as he slid the door shut, before—presumably—leaving.

A gentle, thoughtful hum rose in their throat as they stepped closer to one of the shelves. Mindful fingertips trailed along the spines of each book, reading the labels as they went along. It just so happened that this shelf was one of what they assumed would be many with some books about breathing styles.

Kagaya’s explanation was thorough. From it, they had come to understand the five fundamental Breathing Styles—Water, Flame, Wind, Stone, and Thunder. Then, the derivatives, such as Flower, Insect, and Mist. Their options were plentiful and certainly not limited, which they supposed was a good thing, but it was also… overwhelming. Insanely so. How were they meant to know which Breathing Style would be the best for them, for their body?

…Maybe they should ask Kagaya.

Though, that could wait until later. For now, the very least they could do was research—the only way they’d know what Breath Style to pursue would be by investigating the demands of each one.

Of course, their combat style was hardly even their main focus; first and foremost, they would need to focus on getting stronger. However, it was never a bad idea to prepare in advance, and the leader of the Corps must have thought the same; otherwise, they couldn’t possibly imagine why he might lead them here and leave them to their devices.

A soft sigh left through their nose, thoughts drifting back to the family they left behind. It really was too soon to grow homesick, and yet…

They were utterly powerless to stop sick feeling from clawing at their throat and sinking into their skin.

They hadn’t thought too deeply about it before, but from here on out, they saw themselves being exceedingly busy. Too busy to visit as often as they would like to, at least. They could only see it getting worse one they were actually an active member of the Corps. Would they have time to see their parents? To see their brothers? The thought that their family may one day perceive their joining the Corps as abandonment made their stomach twist, as if someone shoved a knife into them.

…But there was nothing to be done about that at the moment. No amount of regret could change the decision they made, and really, could they say they regretted it? They didn’t think so. What they did regret, however, was how distant their home was from the Ubuyashiki Estate. Seven hours… it was quite the distance.

They sighed again, shaking those thoughts off before they could spiral again as they delicately plucked one book out of its spot.

Its contents were about the most basic of Breathing Styles—Water Breathing.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

What had once been light yellow midday light peeking through the crack of the door was now golden, late afternoon light that crawled further into the space than it did before as the sun crept downwards.

Sleepily, their hand toyed with the edge of one paper page, the other hand being used to prop up their chin as they fought desperately to keep their heavy eyelids open. Lazy eyes sluggishly scanned the words hand-written on the page, barely comprehending what was written—something about the proper positioning of each foot for the specific form that they were reading about, which was… actually, they weren’t even sure anymore. What Breathing Style was this book even about? Their head hurt.

Two other books were neatly stacked off to the side.

It had taken quite a few hours of walking to get from the Flame Estate to the Ubuyashiki Estate. Although they were well-used to physical exertion—one impact of growing up among a family of woodcutters—walking for hours on end was tiring, especially for someone so young. Though, it was hardly the physical exertion that made them tired, but that paired with the mental exhaustion caused by studying several different books for multiple hours was certainly enough to make them sleepy.

"I see you’ve taken interest in Mist Breathing," a calm voice, harboring just the slightest twinge of amusement, spoke up, scaring them into awareness.

Oh, right. Mist Breathing. That’s what the book in front of them was about.

Their eyes snapped fully open, body jolting into an upright position. Once they swiftly twisted their body to look at the source of the voice, they calmed down somewhat, although their face did flood with embarrassed warmth again. “Master…"

A light chuckle resonated through the room. He paced over to the table, situating himself at the other end. “We, unfortunately, do not have any active trainers for Mist Breathing.” His gaze shifted to the other two books. “Ah, Water Breathing and Flower Breathing. While we also lack a trainer for the latter, we do have one for the former, if that is something you would be interested in.”

They perked up suddenly at the discussion of Breathing Styles. Blinking away the growing sleep in their eyes, they dared to finally, properly meet his gaze.

“Oh, actually… how do you know what Breathing Style to pursue? I just… I’m kind of having trouble deciding. It all feels so overwhelming.”

“It is normal to feel that way,” Kagaya assured, “but the truth is that there is no way to simply know.”

“Ah…”

Then, he hummed thoughtfully. “Your ancestor, Tsugikuni Yoriichi, was the creator of Breathing Styles and used the most powerful one of them all, Sun Breathing.”

An unspoken question danced on their lips. They did not need to voice it; Kagaya seemed to know what they might ask, and so, he went on to answer.

“We have very little information about it.”

“Ah. That’s a shame, then.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, nodding. “...If you wanted to pursue it, though, I would not be opposed to doing further research into it.”

Their face brightened up almost instantly. Still, they did not immediately take his offer.

“Are you sure?” they wondered, going to pick at the skin around their nails once again. It was almost guaranteed that their fingertips would be raw within the next few days if they kept it up. “I would not want to ask something so… I don’t know. Something so demanding of you and your time, knowing how busy you are.”

A smile adorned his features, and his eyes crinkled somewhat with something they couldn’t quite discern. It almost seemed to be fondness, or something extremely similar.

“I am quite sure. I would not have extended the offer to you otherwise. I will look into Sun Breathing, but for now, I would advise picking an alternative.”

“Well…” they mused, gaze flicking back down to the open book in front of them. “...In that case, I think I’d like to teach myself Mist Breathing. I am not the type of person to shy away from a challenge.”

Kagaya nodded. "Very well, then. Despite being unable to perform Breathing Styles myself, I have had the immense honor of witnessing many talented swordsmen execute them. As such, I will be able to offer you corrections on your stance, though I am afraid I will not be able to do much else in the way of assisting your training.”

They nodded, listening attentively despite their tiredness.

Truly, it was an honor that he was so willing to help at all; he very well could have left them completely on their own to figure it out, and yet, here he was, expressing regret over being unable to help them in some other way.

"Another important aspect of training for the Final Selection is developing an exercise routine alongside practicing your chosen Breath Style. Your exercise routine should take precedence. The goal is to increase skills such as endurance, speed, and strength," the young leader explained further. Noticing their tired expression, he chuckled. "That is something to handle tomorrow, though. You should rest; your journey was not a short one, after all."

All they could do was offer a timid, astonished nod. The boy then rose to his feet and they quickly followed suit, picking up the three books on the table as they did. With focused caution despite the exhaustion permeating their bones, they put the first two back on the shelves.

"You can borrow the Mist Breathing book," Kagaya said before they could put it away. "It will be a good reference for you to have.”

"Are you sure?" they questioned, holding the last book in their hands. The care with which they held it was almost laughable, though not in a mocking manner—laughable in that their nervousness was simply endearing. It spoke volumes about the way that they were raised. "Is... is that really okay?"

"Of course. Now, come along. You can begin training tomorrow once you have adequately rested."

reblogs with comments or tags > likes. @soleillunne.

#✧— aphe's creations.#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic demon slayer x reader #platonic kny x reader #platonic kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic kny #platonic demon slayer #platonic kimetsu no yaiba #✧— series: hydrangeas.

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vera-deville · 1 year

Note

Hi! Could you please write Luka Couffaine x fem. reader who has trouble talking about their feelings? Writes him letters, love poems or plays the drums for him because it's easier for her to show her feelings like that? Sorry for my English it is not my first language.

02/28/2023 - 03/29/2023

Pairing: Luka Couffaine x Reader

Word Count: 867

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of!

Gender: AFAB

In which Luka has a significant other who has a hard time expressing her feelings.

Luka Couffaine absolutely adored Y/N. The girl had captured his heart, mind, and soul, and he had no trouble expressing it. However, the same could not be said the other way around.

Other people labeled Y/N as someone cold and uncaring, but only a select few knew of her true nature - she simply could not express herself in the ways others would. And Luka understood completely.

Y/N had a small group of friends (most of whom had never even met each other, but knew the existence of). She wasn't one to stick to one particular friend group after all. A good friend was a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

And two of her very good friends were Juleka and Rose. Originally, Y/N had only Juleka (since she went to the same school as Luka), but quickly became acquainted with Rose as well. And for that, Y/N thanked whatever lucky stars she had.

The whole process of confessing to Luka was already gut-wrenchingly terrifying, seeing as she had no idea how to go about it, whether Luka would return her affections (even though Juleka said he would), and if she was actually dateable material.

But after the confession, a lot of her worries were put to rest. Luka was the sweetest boyfriend she could have asked for, and she was extremely grateful for having met him.

Luka was someone who was fairly affectionate (not like some of the couples she's seen walking in Paris being overly lovey-dovey), but he also never shied away from letting her know what was on his mind.

If there was a particular moment where Y/N was caught up doing something and was quite focused on it (such as homework), Luka would find himself simply staring at the girl, absolutely in awe of the work of art he had the honor of calling his girlfriend. (Yes, he's tried sneaking some photos of her when she wasn't looking).

And when he was caught, Y/N would ask, "what're you staring at?"

Only to be met with, "just caught up in the ethereal masterpiece in front me."

To which Y/N would feel her face heat up and a warm sort of buzz envelope her whole being. She'd become a little flustered and brush off his oh so charming and teasing self, but looking at him once more, she realizes every time that Luka wasn't teasing at that moment. He meant every word.

So when others meet her and find out she's in a relationship with Luka, they wonder how on Earth the relationship works. Luka was pretty well known and well-liked. But Y/N wasn't like that. She stayed to herself for the most part, and she'd never initiate any sort of PDA with her boyfriend.

And some of these people would take to whispering about this behind (or so they thought) Y/N's back.

She'd feel bad about it, but not to the point where she'd find herself spiraling down a rabbit hole of self-hate and whatnot. But that didn't stop her from wanting to improve. And what better way to improve than by asking two of her best friends?

"Aww, it's so cute that you want to be more lovey-dovey with Luka!" Rose gushed. Juleka had a slight smile on her face, finding the situation slightly humorous. The involved parties were her brother and one of her closest friends. How could she not be entertained? Especially when said close friend was going on a tirade vaguely reminiscent of Marinette's tirades about Adrien.

Rose suggested making a perfume for Luka, and Y/N thought that it was such a good idea that she'd probably do that for his birthday. "What if you write him a letter?" Juleka asked. Pondering over the idea, Y/N decided that it indeed was a good idea.

But what to write?

And so some amount of days passed, and Y/N finally ended up finishing her letter to Luka. It wasn't anything elegant or pretty or anything of the sort. It was goofy, filled with her typical sarcasm, and most importantly, it was heartfelt. Now, the only thing left was to actually give the letter to Luka.

Which was still quite hard surprisingly.

Y/N assumed that once the letter was finished, she'd just hand it over to the turquoise-haired boy and bada-bing bada-boom, romance!

Apparently it doesn't work like that.

Apparently you pour your heart out into the letter, but then you feel nervous to actually give the letter to your oh so accepting boyfriend.

But somehow Y/N pushed down her anxiety and gave the letter to Luka when they sat down after getting their ice cream. Opening it, Luka's face gradually morphed into one of extreme joy (and if Y/N didn't know any better, smugness), before he pressed a chaste kiss onto Y/N's cheek.

And from that day onwards, Y/N would (every once in a while) gift Luka letters, love poems, and even play the drums for him as means of physically showing her affection for him. It was their own little dynamic and some may have found it odd, but to them, it was perfect.

Author's Note: Once again, I'm really sorry for taking so long to complete this fic. I hope you enjoy it (if not, feel free to request again, since I honestly don't feel like I did my very best with this one).

I'm still in the middle of trying to find a specific fic format to stick to. I've tried looking at a bunch of other fanfic writers' profiles and the format they use to write their fics, but I'm still not 100% sure if what I'm doing right now is what I want to continue doing.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #miraculous ladybug oneshots #mlb oneshots #miraculous ladybug fluff #mlb fluff #fluff #romance #cute #love letters #luka couffaine #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #luka couffaine x reader #luka x reader #reader #y/n #vera deville #the marchioness

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kingconia · 1 year

Note

I saw the Neuvillete one and I come bearing a different Fontaine Character!

So how would the following react to an MC with personality traits of Navia?

Rook Hunt (Romantic)

Idia Shroud (Platonic)

Professor Trein or Professor Crewel (Mentor) (Your choice as to which professor to write)

Please and thank you!

ROOK HUNT, IDIA SHROUD AND PROFESSOR TREIN WITH FEM!MC, WHO IS LIKE NAVIA FROM GENSHIN IMPACT

Rook Hunt; romantic. 💜

— I have a feeling him and you will be a lot like Navia and Clorinde dynamic, but slightly a more teasing one;

— You play your own very strange little games, in which Rook follows you everywhere, trying to stay unnoticed, and you suddenly disappear from his view as soon as he relaxes, leaving funny notes and roses after yourself. Moriarty meets Moriarty;

— You find a common tongue quite quickly, and it is not only about french! You both are undeniably loud, cheerful, strange in eyes of others, and, oh! You like unsightly hats!

— I feel like students feel strangely uncomfortable around both of you as you speak nonsense—for others it seems this way, at least—or genuinely act very unhinged. And your flirting? It the worst!

•

”Y/n, l'amour de ma vie, where are you?” Rook hums thoughtfully, narrowed eyes scanning the bedroom where he just heard your voice a few minutes ago. ”Y/n?”

But the room is empty now, and the only thing that catches his attention is one of your fancy hats being left on the bedside. Clearly, intentionally.

Rook wastes no time in raising it in the air. As he expects, there is a note and a breathtaking violet rose under it, just waiting to be found by him.

’Catch me if you can, mon petit gâteau!~

P.S: I found this ethereal little thing this morning, when I was having my daily walk with Riddle R. It was obscured by others, more pompous ones, shyly peeking out from the bush. Others was blind to it, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from this flower. It reminded me of you, and so I painted it violet to this resemblance being even more obvious.

— With love from the one, who would poison you, if you were by husband.’

A laugh that escapes his lips is ever cheerful as Rook swirls the rose between his fingers, noticing only now that to addition to everything it is thornless; a clear evidence of the work of yours.

Quickly, he takes off his hat, leaving it behind, putting yours on his head instead.

”Well-well, Y/n... The one, who would drink your poison if he was your husband, is coming. Beware.”

Ah! What a perfect match you are!

Idia Shroud; platonic. 💙

— I genuinely believe he doesn't understand how such a loud and extraverted person, managed to befriend him. But you did, somehow, so congratulations? Or condolences. He is not sure, who suffers the most out of two of you, yet.

— I also feel like you intentionally pretended to needing him for some work or project, just to get closer and befriend him, but Idia thinks it was an accidental, lmao;

— He is so happy, when you tell him, that though you never played games before, you are willing to learn how to play his videogames, so he wouldn't feel so lonely;

— And in return for your kindness, Idia agrees to spend time with you on your weekly shopping sessions! Ah, sweet summer child... If he only knew!

•

Idia groans, hiding his face in his palms as he hears your quiet musings behind the door of the changing cabin. It is some silly french song, but in given circumstances, it is a lot like a dead march for him.

When you first told him about shopping sessions, Idia seemed surprised why would anyone waste time on something like this, when online shops literally existed. But, nevertheless, he tagged along with you. Because he is a good friend.

And at first, everything seemed fine. Yes, of course, you chose a very questionable and flushy clothes that looked as if someone pressed a ’random character design’ button, but... At least, you was quick! A few minutes here and there, and you finished with each shop effortlessly.

Until you saw a shop with hats. That is where everything started to crumble.

You spent fifty minutes only on staring at different hats, touching and checking their material, and carefully analysing every part of it as if it was a peace of art. And then, you spent even more on trying them on by one one, with different bought outfits from before! And it is not even going to end soon!

”So,” you ask, while opening the door of your cabin. ”How does it look, Idia?”

He has no idea! All of these hats look similar to him: too bright, too much, too pointy. What are you, a witch from nineties?!

”Cool,” he answers, offering you an awkward smile, not willing to he honest in this one.

You sigh.

”I don't kno-ow... Something is off.”

You have been telling the same thing over and over again. At this time, Idia wants to say that your style is off in general.

”Everything is very cool, I don't know.” He repeats, shrugging.

Please, let it work, please—

”Let me try another one,” you click your tongue, before disappearing again.

Idia wishes he could die.

Ah, the things he is doing for his best friend...

Professor Train; mentorship. 🤎

— He is a proud father of a few daughters canonically, so as soon as he sees you as one, you are instantly becoming his favourite student off all the time;

— But truth to be told, you really make his life as a teacher easy. It is often that students ignore his subject, calling it boring and the most uninteresting one, so when you start to ask him questions during the lessons, considering the topic of it, he is pleasantly surprised;

— And, oh, Lucifer loves you! When this cat jumps off his arms, to hide on your lap, professor Trein is absolutely... Shocked. That is unusual for his cat, but it is undeniable now: you are a trusted face;

— You are such a diligent and quiet student on his lessons that he is genuinely surprised, when he overhears that you had been a real troublemaker on other lessons! What do you mean Crewel hates you for criticism of his looks? Had you really broke your broom on Vargas's lesson?..

•

Mozus realises that it is you, who knocks on his door, when Lucifer starts meowing quietly, trying to catch his attention by scratching the fabric of his pants.

”Yes, Y/n?” He calls for you, allowing himself to take a quick break of checking everyone's homework.

You peek from the opened door, eyes slightly wide.

”How did you...”

But the question never leaves your lips, and instead you march in with a big pile of old books in your hands.

”Good morning, professor Trein!”

He gestures you to come closer with his hand, that is not busy with stroking the cat's fur. As you do, he examines you again, remembering his conversation with headmaster Crowley he had this morning.

It is so hard to believe that he described you as ’a smart, yet worthy of getting expelled’ student! Professor Trein can't understand how would anyone say something so deceiving about you.

”Good morning. How can I help you?”

You put books in front of him with a loud thud, gasping for air, clearly tired of carrying it around. Smiling widely, you gesture at them.

”Professor Trein, do you remember how you said that it is unclear what happened in the history Shaftlands between 13th century, after the revolution?” He nods, and you puff out your chest proudly. ”I called my uncle, and look at what I found in our family library! Here it is, the secret information!”

It is his turn to look astonished now. Had you really gone for all these troubles because of the small note he muttered near the end of his lesson?

”So, I brought it to you, thinking that you will be interested, maybe?”

...No, there is no actual way someone sees you as a rude girl! You are the best students he had in centuries. He actually will leave this working place if someone ever tries to get you expelled.

”...Ah, thank you. That is very nice of you.”

You lean closer automatically, and he pats you head as a reward; a very common thing you bribe out of him for good studies.

Lucifer uses this opportunity to jump on you as you laugh, catching the cat hastily, clearly being ready for such an unexpected attack.

Mozus smiles shortly, watching you dancing around the class with Lucifer in your hands, and then, checks the books on his table again.

...Ah, perhaps, being a teacher is not that bad, after all.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #mozus trein #professor trein

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dangerousduckcloud · 2 months

Text

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“I feel bad, now.” That most certainly was not what Dick was expecting, brows furrowed and blinking. “What for?” “I tried to stab you… Or well, wanted to.”

Chapter 10 < > Chapter 12

Masterlist

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

If anyone else would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

You were scared, to say the least. The higher you went, the colder you got, specially with your clothes half-soaked due to the rain, your fingers freezing from leaving them inside a cloud as if it were a lake for too long.

Superman —Clark, he said you could call him Clark— was carrying you in his arms, granting you the freedom to extend your arm as much as you wanted without the risk of falling (that didn’t stop the need to tightly grasp his cape with your other hand). Your teeth were clacking, your body trembling, and even though Clark had asked you if you wanted to go back to the warmth of the manor, you declined, not regretting your decision for a second once the sun started to set.

Angelic was the only word you could describe the sight in front of you. Ethereal too, maybe. You now understand why heaven was always pictured to be above the clouds.

With nothing to hinder your gaze, you could see in its entirety how the golden rays shone above you, lighting up the dark, thick clouds, doing its best to traverse through the thick fog to reach the city. The light engulfed the two of you, covering you in a golden blanket that warmed your body.

Never in your life could you imagine the world could look so beautiful, never thought how hideous humanity’s existence erased the preciousness’ of nature with disgusting smog, never ending buildings, and garish billboards.

Once Clark had decided your cold clothes were too much for your body, he flew back down to the manor. Out in the garden, three figures patiently waited for your return, an open umbrella left to dry, discarded next to a bench, the rain gone for the moment.

Right after your feet landed on the grass, Alfred draped the comfiest, warmest blanket over your shoulders, quietly thanking the ever-prepared butler.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Tim said in lieu of a greeting —A Tim who should still be sleeping.

“Yeah.” Was the only thing you could say, with a beaming smile, not still out of your stupor. You felt like those two characters on that old tv show you used to watch, too stunned to speak after riding an impressive roller coaster, with the difference that you’d been higher than any human being could without the need of a plane.

“Thank you for the favor, Uncle Clark.”

“My pleasure, Dick. It was nice to meet you, Jane, but I must go home now. And don’t worry, we’ll get you home soon.”

You smiled despite the pang in your chest, thanking him once again for the extraordinary experience. You were feeling less and less hopeful every time someone reminded you of your situation, sensing they were trying to convince themselves they could do it, rather than admit the truth.

“Where’s Jason?” You asked once inside, taking off your shoes as to not dirty up the polished floors with mud.

“He went back to his place.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment with an extremely fake sneeze. “I better go take a shower before dinner, lest I catch a cold.”

Dropping the blanket on your bed, you left your damp clothes on the hamper, a hiss escaping you when the hot stream of water hit your skin, reddening your back, not getting under the running water again until the temperature was to your liking.

Why were you disappointed every time Jason left the manor? Yes, you were aware of the ‘small’ crush you had on his character, on the portrayal people had of him, but not on him per se. He wasn’t the sweet, romantic, hopelessly in love person people made him ought to be in their stories, the short time you’d spend around him revealing, in fact, he was somewhat of an asshole, someone who was stuck in an immature mentality who dealt with their issues angrily and violently.

And wasn’t that what’d happened to him?

Cutting off the water flow, you changed into, finally, your own sleep wear, the lavender detergent Alfred uses invading your nose. You were brushing your hair in front of the mirror, attempting to get rid of all the knots that would form no matter how many hair products you used, when a knock on your door was heard, raising your voice to invite whoever was on the other side of the door.

“Hey, Jane, can I come in?”

The student in you was battling so hard to not automatically imitate all your old English teachers with ‘it’s ‘may’ I’, but you weren’t sure if Dick was familiar with that experience, so you replied with a simple “Yeah, sure.”

He sat down at the end of the bed, a small, white box in his hands. “So, did you like flying?”

“Absolutely.” You replied with a big smile, looking at him through the mirror. You’d given up on untangling your hair, content with getting most of them, and were now putting it in a ponytail. “I simply… I don’t think there’s words to put it, I felt as if I’d become an angel, bested with a sight not many were privy to. Thank you so much for making it possible.”

“I still remember the first time Uncle Clark too me flying, I’d been Robin for a year already, I believe, but I’d only met him a handful of times, Bruce wasn’t with the League yet, so there wasn’t much reason for them to meet.” There was a fond smile on his face, remembering his childhood, a chuckle from something he remembered. “Bruce tried so hard to hide it, but he was horrified, putting his arms around me as soon as we got back, as if to try and stop me from going flying again. I swear if he knew Clark had let me stand on his palms and do pirouettes, he would have a heart attack.”

“What was it like? To be a child vigilante.”

“It was the best thing that could’ve happen to eleven-year-old me. There was nothing better than to be soaring in the sky, helping those who couldn’t defend themselves, feeling the cold wind all around me, the adrenaline pumping through my veins with every goon we fought.” With every word, his tone got more and more enthusiastic, gesticulating every sentence. “And… I’ve never said this to anyone, but the fame almost got to me for a second, with all my classmates babbling about me, about how awesome it was to be Batman’s partner, to work with him and the Justice League. I wanted to be recognized, you know? To tell them right there and then it was me who was going out weekend’s nights fighting the Rogues.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I wanted to, but I knew nothing good could come out of that; the city would take me away from my family, and Bruce would be heavily judged and sentenced. Everyone loves child vigilantes until they know who is under the mask. Praising one day, pointing with their fingers the next one.”

“Why do I feel another ‘but’ is coming?” You were facing him now, leaning against the dresser with your arms crossed.

“But…” He said, elongating the ‘u’, his melancholic energy turning into a guilty one, painful memories resurfacing. “As much as I loved it, and have so many great memories, with all my siblings… Well, I know understand why Bruce was so adamant about me going out in the beginning. Especially after Jason… I rarely spent time in the manor when he was Robin, only coming to pick him up to hang up maybe once or twice a month. I always wanted a little brother, and to have him taken away so suddenly like that… I didn’t want to get close to Tim, fearing the same would happen, but I think I hurt him more by being cold towards a kid that didn’t deserve it… Sometimes I wonder if my stubbornness and desire for revenge for my parents was the point of no return to the unfortunate events that led to all the sorrow we’ve suffered.”

“You can’t blame yourself for something you had no control over, Dick. The only one here at fault is the Joker.” You moved from the dresser, sitting down next to him on the bed. He winced at hearing that name, telling yourself you would never mention it again in the future in front the Wayne’s.

Dick nodded, sniffling and inattentively rotating the box in his hand. “Well, I—” He chuckled. “I didn’t come here to damper the night. This is for you.” He handed you the box, the seal already cut. “Alfred mentioned he wanted to buy you a phone but didn’t have time to do so with… And I assumed you wouldn’t want to go back to the mall —or the city— any time soon. I already saved all our numbers, so that you can keep in touch with Steph and Dami once they go back to school next week. I know being cooped in here all day must be so boring, so I hope it can help make the days go faster.

The phone was the most recent model, a couple of apps pre-installed, eight contacts saved on your phone, your eyes lingering on Jason’s name.

“I feel bad, now.”

That most certainly was not what Dick was expecting, brows furrowed and blinking.

“What for?”

“I tried to stab you… Or well, wanted to.”

He opened his mouth, whatever he wanted to say dying before the words could leave his lips. “Now, why would you do that?”

“I was scared!” You stood up, walking to your nightstand and pulling out the forgotten scalpel, handing it to Dick. “It was when I still thought you were a bunch of kidnappers… If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to stab you anymore.”

“Gee, that’s a relief.” Dick’s shoulders shook with mirth. “Thanks for thrusting us and giving this back.”

“Yeah, now I know your family is crazy, but for a whole different reason.” Silence befell you, Dick nodding at the accurate description of his siblings. You felt different now that you didn’t have the scalpel anymore. You felt light, free, the heavy burden of distress lifting of your shoulders. By handing it, you were giving away your only way to defend yourself, and thus, you were finally letting go any doubts you could have about them. “Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you… Can you really take me back home?”

“We’re working on it, Jane.”

You hummed, noticing he’d changed his always optimistic response to a very vague one.

———

Both you and Cass had spent most of the next morning goofing off with the phone’s camera filters, using the goofiest one’s you could find. That was until you had to hide from a furious Damian, searching for you to delete the photo you took of him with bunny ears and nose.

“That’s not fair!” You half whispered, half shouted from behind a couch. “I can’t climb that high!”

Cass smiled widely from over the rafters in the ceiling, hiding herself in the shadows when the hurrying steps were getting closer and closer. You tried to blend in yourself with the couch, calming your breathy giggles.

“Cain! Jane!” Damian hollered. “I will behead you if you do not delete that picture at this instant!”

Your muffled titter turned into full on cackling when Damian jumped from over the couch, doing his best to grab your phone, which you were holding on to for dear life. For being ten, the kid was strong.

“I surrender!” You screamed; your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. “I surrender!”

“Delete that photo, now.” Damian glowered, and you did, pulling out your phone and tilting the screen slightly for him to see you open the gallery and deleting the picture. “Tt. This better not happen again.”

Only until he left did Cass jumped from the rafters.

“Traitor.” You crossed your arms, playfully sticking out your tongue to her, to which she simply hugged you.

———

Your life had turned an eternal summer vacation. You had no responsibilities to fulfill, no school, no job, no chores, you would simply wake up and exist, sometimes helping out Alfred in the garden.

Contrary to all beliefs, it wasn’t the blessing most thought it would be, neither Cass nor Tim could spend time with you anymore, a grisly trafficking case appearing in the city a couple nights ago. Since Cass was completely committed to the mission, she was down on the cave most of the time, starting her patrol earlier than usual.

During the mornings, Tim was forced to go to W.E as the CEO now that Bruce was ‘unavailable’ with a ‘family matter’, and working down on the cave as well when he was home.

As much as you thought you’d broken down Damian’s cold demeanor, he’d reverted to his usual spoiled brat attitude, doubling it up now that school started the next day, deciding that if he was forced to be miserable, he was going to make everyone miserable.

Dick was out of planet on an emergency with the Justice League, stepping into Bruce’s place. And you hadn’t seen much of Steph since the day of the attack, she’d only visited the manor once on a bat related incident, but also preoccupied with high school.

There were not many people who could make the clock move forward, and so, you were forced —really— to one and your last resort, the black, taunting text conversation the thing you’d been contemplating more than anything this past two days, the ‘online’ status rarely lighting up throughout the day (no, you were not stalking him, you were simply getting informed), the white and gray predetermined icon annoying (was that because he didn’t have a photo, or he simply didn’t have you saved on his phone?).

What could you say? ‘Hi’ was too bland, ‘Hey, this is Jane’ was too-business like for your liking. A selfie? Nah, too narcissistic.

But it gave you an idea, searching your gallery for one of the thousand photos you’d taken with Cass, the both of you with digital bat stickers all over your face. In a brave, but truly stupid moment of courage, you hit send, hastily locking your phone and tossing it onto your bed, the device getting lost in your mess of blankets and pillows.

Fuck, what had you done? Your heart was racing a thousand beats per minute, feeling it bump into your chest, chiding yourself for being so stupid, what if he didn’t reply? Would it be worse if he left you on read, or to find out you were such an irksome he wouldn’t even open your messages? But if he replied? What would he say? React with an emoji? How could you continue the conversation after that? What if the asked you to delete his number? Did you still have time to delete the text? But he would still have the notification and— ding.

The chime stopped your spiraling thoughts. Should you open it? Wait? Destroy your phone? Pretend you meant to send it to Cass? Come on now, whatever he sent can’t be that bad.

| I have a cute sister.

The message read. Well, it certainly wasn’t the end of the world.

| And your sister has a cute friend;)

You sent back, feeling bold at receiving a positive reply.

| I don’t think I’ve met her. I only know two of them and one is annoying… The other one is a blonde obsessed with the color purple.

Despite being called annoying, there was a smile on your face.

| I’ve met the first one, she’s quite lovely and funny.

| Really? Maybe I should take her out on a date.

| Maybe you should.

There truly was something wrong with Gotham’s water if you were so boldly flirting with him, flirting with an effing crime lord, all those chemicals spilled onto it changing your very DNA.

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fatuifucker · 2 years

Note

Scaramouche just caressing your face and running a hand through your hair as you sleep, the sound of your soft snores and slow breathing the only noise heard.

He admires you as if you’re the grandest thing he’s ever seen, which you are. Nothing in Teyvat could rival your splendor. You never fail to take his breath away, and you look so peaceful when you sleep.

He chuckles softly once he feels your legs wrap around his, snuggling closer to him. He presses soft kisses on the top of your head, just holding you gently as his eyelids start to droop.

I hope this little drabble helps you feel better! Sorry if this was a bit late D:

a/n: tysm for writing this! I sort of wrote something inspired by it but kitsune au bc it's my guilty pleasure :)

reader is gn!

@edenialucas, @fluffyganyu, @nejibot, @lovediluc, @yumixxn, @teallapril, @midnxght-sweet-time, @barbatosfavouritenun

A fox burdened by pain, hardened by anguish, a pitiful existence that has been incinerated to dust, leaving nothing but just the mere traces of what was once a dignified familiar, now just a hollow shell clinging onto whatever meaning they had left. Smiles — sincere, serene smiles — are a rarity even on your mystical features, even for your closest confidant to witness. There was a time long ago where he would slaughter any and all foes that dare lift a finger against you, deliver priceless treasures to your feet after treacherous journeys; anything and everything to see a genuine smile.

“Thank you, Kunikuzushi. I’m really happy.” You once said, examining the gem he gifted you with a blank expression. “I’m sorry, I can’t convey my gratitude to its full extent. But I really am happy for everything you’ve done. So you don’t need to do all this for my sake. I feel lighter just by being at your side.”

To what most would interpret as an insincere remark, he nodded with complete understanding. After all, he too is burdened by pain. How many blissful smiles did he wear in his lifetimes? How many blissful smiles did he wear in this lifetime? The number seems too insignificant to remember. Which is why he understands. Even if you aren’t able to give him a beaming smile, your gentle candescent light is more than enough.

Quiet snores fill the serene silence in the room as Scaramouche’s hand cards through your hair, occasionally brushing the back of his palm against your soft face and rubbing his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. He watches as your chest rises and falls, your ethereal face displaying a peaceful expression; as if all the misery in this world vanished to leave behind a perfect utopia behind your ears. You’re exquisite. Like perfection incarnate. If there was a God of Beauty in Teyvat, the divine title would have fallen onto you. A whine escapes your lips when he shifts his body. Lids still shut, your hands reach out to hold him while your legs wraps around his midriff.

“You’re so clingy.”

Although he forces an irate tone, a smile sneaks its way to the Balladeer’s lips. He returns your hold, cradling you like he would cradle the electro gnosis. The way he would cradle his heart. Piercing indigos soften at the sound of a giggle. Your tails swish behind you as you lean into the harbinger. They wrap around him like a sentient blanket, the fur tickling him a bit.

“Scara…”

For just a little longer, Scaramouche allows himself to admire the smile on you lips — a rare, genuine smile — before he follows you to the realm of unconsciousness.

Maybe in the morning, he’ll ask you what you dreamed about.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #kunikuzushi

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cdragons · 9 months

Text

Revenant

Summary: Kol Mikaelson's soul manages to leave and travel while he still remains daggered in his coffin. While he wanders around and bitches about his life, he meets an unexpected friend. Warning(s): VERY HEAVY crack fic, technical crossover of fandoms, weird shit, Kol is a horny-ass gremlin, Druig & Kaety are obsessed with each other, Kol has a thing for witches bc he got mommy issues, Klaus is a bitch

Note: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it! This fic came from an idea that I shared with @ethereal-athalia, and it is VERY much a crack fic. I don't have any plans in continuing this idea, but I wanted to write it out as a Christmas gift to @ethereal-athalia for how much of a good friend she's been to me. I never would have been able to do any of my fics without her in my corner. I own only my Hecate!OC. I do not own either Druig from Eternals, or Kol from TVD franchise. Also, Druig still very much exists in this fic and world bc I physically CANNOT write Kaety without Druig. Stay safe and hope that your upcoming year brings you all good health and happiness!

Kol hated being dead. Truly dead. Dead in a way that he couldn’t move or speak or live.

At least when he turned as a gift Mother Dearest he could still walk, even if he couldn’t use the arcane anymore. But of course, he would still always find his way back to witches and their magic. He couldn’t help it if he exuded that charm that made him so irresistible.

Gods, just remembering how pathetically sex-deprived his physical form was currently almost made him weep. He couldn’t wait until the moment he got that fucking silver dagger out of his chest. Nik was going to get it when he finally got out.

Sure, he may have crossed a line when he stated that Nik had a pair of buttocks flatter than a sheet of paper. But was he the one that gave his brother such lacking assets? No. That fault lied entirely with their mother and his biological father, thank you very much.

But alas, here his soul was, walking in a forest in the middle of some mosquito-flooded country.

At the very least, his gorgeous body was safe from the onslaught of bug bites and sweltering humidity. Only in the fucking Amazon did winter feel like summer.

Kol audibly groaned once more at the thought of his immaculate figure rotting away thanks to Nik. He couldn’t bear to think about how his illustrious fair skin being that dull grayish hue from being confined by death. At least when Bekah got daggered, Nik had the decency to make sure that her body remained stored in proper conditions and carefully encased in magic to prevent any harm coming to her. He had no guarantee. No, such love and devotion only went to ‘Lijah and Bekah when it came to Nik.

Story of his life: always an outsider, even with his own fucking siblings. Gods, he wanted nothing more than have his powers return to him. At least with magic by his side he’d finally be able to show Nik he wasn’t the only one with threats, he’d show him, he’d –

“Well, well, well,” came a new voice, “aren’t you a strange sight?”

Kol immediately turned his head to locate the mindless idiot that dared to interrupt his thoughts. Did humans devolve so pathetically that they no longer understood that when they see a soul wandering alone, that soul would likely be uninterested in any attempts of conversation? But looking at the individual who spoke to him, he was shocked beyond himself to witness such a devastatingly gorgeous woman before him. She had dark almond-shaped eyes and tall with legs that went on for miles. And her thick and illustrious raven waves practically flowed down the middle of her back like a black waterfall.

Dare he say it, this woman was almost as beautiful than him.

But regardless of how pleasing her outward appearance may be, she still would not be spared from his fury.

Pity, he would have loved to wrap those legs around his waist if he were actually here.

The corners of the woman’s lips went upward, and the cupid’s bow of her mouth was slightly pursed as she smirked, making her lips look plumper and more bitable than how they had right to be in the Original’s opinion. It was only a few seconds before the succubus burst out laughing. Her entire body arched with her back as she simply couldn’t contain herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said once he began to calm down, “but I’m afraid that I happen to be very happily married. In fact, I have been for the past near seven thousand years.” After making a quick glance up and down Kol’s near transparent form, she continued with a cat-like grin. “And I highly doubt someone as woefully young as you could satisfy a woman like me.”

Oh, now he was offended. Not being able to satisfy– did this woman have any idea who she was talking to? The list of names of men and women that swore they only believed in Heaven when Kol fucked them was so long that it would wrap the Earth twice. And she better believe than each time was more than consensual – they were begging him very enthusiastically to say the least. Who was this lady to assume –

Wait, did she say seven thousand years?

As if she could hear his thoughts, all the woman did was smiled before extending her hand.

“I think I’d like it very much if you and I became friends.”

Extending his own, Kol was surprised to see that his hand didn’t just pass through like it normally would for most physical objects. He could actually grasp her hand and feel the warmth passing through it. For the first time in…forever, Kol felt warmth flooding through him. He stared into her eyes, wondering how on Earth someone could live for seven thousand years. Even if she had the gift of mediumship, his presence was too well-hidden for even the most gifted and powerful medium to sense him.

Kol had to know more of her. He’d go mad if he didn’t.

“What are you exactly?” he carefully asked.

He could sense that this person was a being of extreme power. In the top of her finger, she likely contained far more power than Nik could possibly imagine, even in his wildest dreams. It seemed that being an invisible soul floating in the wind had its perks after all. If he was alive, walking and about, he’d never come across this marvel of a woman.

“I’d prefer if you began that question with ‘who’ than ‘what,’ but I suppose that matters little in this situation. My name is Kaetlyn, I prefer Kaet for my friends, but you may know me better as-”

“Hekate,” he whispered in awe, “Goddess of Magic. Titaness Mother of Witches and Monsters.”

“Surprised in a good way I hope?” Kaet asked with one brow raised.

“More or less, but I did imagine you about 30 feet taller with the night sky for skin and two more heads.”

“Well,” she softly chuckled, “I hope I didn’t disappoint you with my appearance. Now I’ll forgive you just this once for interrupting me. But only if you allow me to take you to my home.”

“Oh?” Kol asked, a salacious grin spreading across his face. Now things were getting interesting.

“Save it Kol Mikaelson-” ordered the ancient goddess as she raised her hand to her face as she pointed at him in warning- “I am taking you to the village that I run with my husband. So, I suggest that you keep your hands to yourself because he has a nasty little habit of being showing exactly how off-limits I am to youngsters such as yourself.”

“I never told you my-”

“You were once a witch, and I am the mother of magic. All witches and their magic came from me, including you.”

It really was so unfair how good she looked while talking over him. Oh well, he might as well play along. Finally, something interesting was happening in his life.

“So, who is this husband of yours, darling? And how can you be so sure that your husband could be a threat to me? You know who I am, what I became. What makes you so sure that once I enter your village, I won’t use my ghostly ways to end him.”

When Kol finished, he immediately felt a shift in the air. It was as if the sun had disappeared and the jungle went silent. It seemed that the animals that served as their audience went dead silent as if they were in anticipation for his end. The kind and amiable mirth of the chthonic witch shifted to dangerous and cold.

Kol had lived for over 700 years and after everything he done and witnessed, he had never felt such chill run down his spine.

“Listen well,” she began – her tone laced with the power and authority that came from someone of her position, “I won’t try to humor you with answering that ridiculous question, nor do I intend to let you presume that my kindness can be mistaken for naivety. My husband is one with abilities as ancient and powerful as mine. If you truly knew what he was capable of, you’d be far more terrified of him than you ever were of your father. That being said, if you ever try to threaten my husband or even think about go so far to joke about it again, I promise you that I can produce torture and incite fear that would make the devil weep in pity for you.”

Oh fuck, even as a ghost, Kol should not have been as aroused by her threats as he was in that moment.

But soon the tension dissipated and warmth from the sun returned to pass through him once more.

“Now that we have that matter cleared up, we really should get going. The sun’s about to set and you never know what or who would be lurking at night.”

With that being the final word, The Good Lady of the Night and Shadows turned around and made her way back to where he presumed to be the location of her home village. And what else could he do but follow her by how the slight sway of her hips seemed to beckon him.

Threats and chills mixed a beautiful witch with magic more ancient than time itself, Kol couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive.

Authors' Note: And when Kol enters the village, he tries to flirt with Kaet in front of Druig like a dumbass, and his soul gets a major ass-whooping.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @klauslove, @carolineforbae, @misssophiachase

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3pirouette · 21 days

Text

Fic: Timeless (1/1)

Title: Timeless

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: Loki Season 2 (especially Episode 6), MCU through Endgame, Several of my own Steggy Fic

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3/Tumblr Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: for @behindthelabels for Steggymas2023/Steggy Week 2024 Day 5 “Inspired by”! Hauhet spends her days languishing in the Decoding and Intelligence office at the TVA, but when things start to unravel into chaos, she finds she, too, had a normal life on the timestream as one Agent Peggy Carter.

AN: Inspired by the Taylor Swift song Timeless (Which is irrevocably Steggy) and Season 2 of Loki and the character of Oroborus. This was put on the back burner once I found out Behindthelabels actually HADN’T watched Loki season 2 and would understand none of this. I wrote her another fic, and said she’d get this as the non-returnable stocking stuffer she never asked for. Almost a year late, but, here you go! Thanks @steggyfanevents

Also, I decided to be REALLY self indulgent and reference a bunch of my own fic as AUs. I tried to include some of my "Greatest hits."

I highly recommend either listening to this song or looking up the lyrics before reading the story. From a random lyrics website: "The song is ultimately about a love so powerful that it would still come to fruition even under circumstances that made it close to impossible to exist."

Hauhet- Egyptian goddess of infinity

Tenses jump back and forth between past and present on purpose. I hope it’s not too jarring, but I felt it would be an interesting way to portray that everything is happening all at once and yet over and over again…

Also see notes at the end of the fic…

~*~

Read below or HERE on AO3

~*~

It was, in a word, chaos. Time was branching, and without the branches being snipped, she didn’t know what would happen.

That wasn’t her department, though. The little sign that said “Decoding and Intelligence” on her door kept her separated from the rest of the TVA and though she felt the need to jump into the fray, there was also a deep fear that she’d done that before and it had come to no good.

That she’d suffered great loss.

Some days, her little isolated office of books and codes felt like home. People so rarely needed her or visited her, but when she was needed to decode messages or break complicated cyphers, Hauhet knew she was appreciated.

Yet, sometimes, her little office felt like a prison.

If she thought too long, she couldn’t remember, exactly, how long she’d been there. She couldn’t remember when or how she’d gotten her job. She couldn’t quite remember what her home even looked like. But those thoughts vanished like the ether, quickly replaced with the urge to update her codex or rearrange her shelves of gadgets. The impetus to think never really left her though, and she spent most of her time alone feeling unsettled, like she was meant for more.

She just knew she had to be ready, available, for when a time agent would come to her, needing help. Those were the times she felt like she was doing what she was meant to do: breaking cyphers, deciphering codes, solving mysteries. They never let her outside of the TVA, never took her with them on site, but she felt just a hint of value inside her.

She had so much more to give. She knew that. She just didn’t know how to tell anyone else.

Not that anyone asked, anyway.

But the chaos outside of her door today stirred something deep inside her, and within a few minutes she hacked her data pad, listening to the conversations of those agents floors and floors away, discussing things that shocked her.

They had been people. People in the time stream.

She wasn’t just a worker at the TVA. She had been someone before that. She’d had a life and a family and she had had something so important that felt just out of reach to her into the annals of her mind. If she closed her eyes and concentrated she saw smart clothes in army green and bright blue and fiery red. High heels and dramatic hats.

Red, white, and blue Stars and Stripes that made her heart flutter.

All she ever wore was drab TVA khaki with her sensible sneakers and her hair in a tight knot at the top of her head. With a sudden burst of longing that had to be from something real, she missed the feel of soft silk on her legs and the powerful sound of high heels clicking on tile floors.

There was a smile.

She missed a smile.

If she closed her eyes she could see it: bright teeth that were straight, but not too straight, soft pink lips, a little hint of a quirk on one side so genuine she could feel her heart melt.

She’d had someone.

Hauhet stood and paced her little room, running her hands over the bookshelves lined with thick tomes, new and old, chewing at her lip as she tried to get the nervous energy out of her body.

It was a loss and a gift all at the same time: she’d had another life, but she didn’t know if she could find it or get back to it.

Did she even want to?

What if… what if that life wasn’t as exciting as this one? What if she’d contributed even less? She picked up her Data pad, rolling it over and over in her hands. There was only one way to find out.

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. It took longer than she liked, but eventually she had her data pad wired into her computer.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and watched…

~*~

“Well, what do you think?” Steve turns in a circle in the empty living room, pointing at the stairs to the second floor. “Three rooms and a full bathroom up there, half bath, kitchen, a den, and a living room here. Plenty of space downstairs in the basement for a washer and a dryer and a home office…” He shrugs, smiling.

Peggy sighs, bouncing Mandy in her arms. “You don’t think it’s too big?” The baby giggles, reaching out her arms for Steve. Peggy passes her over before wandering away into the kitchen. “It just seems like a lot…”

”It is,” he quickly agrees. “It’s more than I ever had, that’s for sure.” He steps over to her, looking out the window over the sink, past the back porch and into the green expanse of the back yard.

“More than I’ve had as well,” Peggy mutters, turning back to him. She taps her fingers on the stove before walking a slow circle in the kitchen, eyes roaming over every surface. “I’m used to barracks and hot plates now.”

Steve nods, his hand running over the downy hairs on Mandy’s head as she snuggles into his shoulder. “Yeah, well, there’s room to spread out,” he says gently, looking up with warmth in his eyes, “Room to grow.”

Peggy pauses, thinking about all the things they’ve said to one another, all the promises they’ve made, and for once, there’s about to be peace in their lives with little else to do but think about the future. The ring on her left hand is still new, and she turns it with her fingers anxiously.

There will be time to think about growing.

“It’ll be tight,” she starts, turning pragmatic as she moves past him and towards the front door, “on our pays.”

He follows, a bright spring in his step as he knows she’s made her decision. “I’m pretty sure they’re keeping us on the payroll, Peg.” He smiles at Mandy, bouncing her in his arms as he follows her out the front door.

“And there’s going to be plenty of work to do to keep it up: mowing, gardening, taking out the trash…” she pauses, tilting her head as if she’s just thought about it. “We’re going to have to do our own grocery shopping. Cooking.”

”I’m sure Jarvis will take pity on us once in a while,” Steve chuckles. He joins her on the front step, closing the front door behind him and looking it over before turning back to her. “So?”

Peggy turns, still serious, looking at the door and all it represents. “What do you think, darling?” She reaches over and tickles Mandy under the chin. “Ready to have your own room? Leave the little government apartment we’ve called our own for a few months now?”

Mandy’s squeal and giggle are a resounding positive.

“Alright then, darling, we’re all in agreement,” Peggy smiles up at Steve. “We’re going to be homeowners.” She leans up, kissing him quickly, but stopping him when he starts to speak again. “We’re not getting dog.”

~*~

Loop 1

Hauhet stood and paced her little room, running her hands over the bookshelves lined with thick tomes, new and old, chewing at her lip as she tried to get the nervous energy out of her body.

It was a loss and a gift all at the same time: she’d had another life, but she didn’t know if she could find it or get back to it.

Did she even want to?

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. It took her less time than it should have to wire her data pad to the computer, she was surprised at how easy it seemed.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and watched…

~*~

The music swelled, and Peggy couldn’t quite stop the welling of emotion in her chest.

“I promise I’ll write ya,” Steve says loudly, loud enough that his voice carries all the way to the back of the empty auditorium.

“And I’ll write you, every day,” she answers under the hot stage lights in her best American accent, stepping forward and putting her hand on his arm. “Just promise you’ll come home to me.”

He looks at her, stares at her for longer than he should, before saying his next line. “Hitler himself couldn’t stop me from coming home to you, Betty.” There’s a lilt in his voice she’s never heard before, a catch before he says her character’s name.

The music swells again, and when the lights go out and they hurry off stage, she can’t quite seem to catch her breath.

“You okay?” Steve asks as soon as they’re off stage, the lights raising again and filling the wings with warmth as the girls take center stage to sing.

Peggy turns back to him, nodding and forcing her breath to even out. “It just…”

”Seemed almost real, right?” he nods, pulling her deeper into the wing and out of the way of the stage hands setting up the next scene change. He almost crowds her into the corner in his effort to give her some privacy while she composes herself.

Peggy nods at him, wiping away tears that aren’t quite shed from the lash line of her eyes, the dark black stage eyeliner coming off on her fingers. “I almost lost you once, Steve, and I will not go through that again.”

He leans down, taking her into his arms and letting her melt into him. “You won’t have to, Peg. I promise.”

”You don’t know that, you just can’t-“

”You won’t, I-“

”I hate to break this up,” Angie’s voice, full of her own thick emotion, floods over them, “because I’m sure you could use a minute.” She sniffs, wiping at her own stage make up carefully to lift the tears away. “I mean, you got me crying, too!” She reaches over and pulls Peggy from Steve’s arms gently, “But if we don’t move our asses we’re gonna miss the quick change again and you heard him- if he has to stop the show we’re gonna be here all night and I do not have another 15 hour rehearsal in me!”

Steve watches Peggy go, his arms feeling empty as Angie hurries her away to the little dressing screen they have set up for her.

He felt it, too. Maybe it is the music, or the costumes. Maybe between the lights and the costumes, the backdrops and the speakers, it makes it feel like hyper reality. But whatever it is, something is different. It isn’t hypothetical anymore. She’d almost lost him once already, and as soon as they’re done here he’ll be on the front sooner rather than later, and she’ll be there, too, in just as much danger.

And yet, his arms feel empty without her.

He doesn’t want to write letters.

He doesn’t want to go months without seeing her.

He doesn’t want to go to bed one single night without her next to him.

It is an amazing feeling, swelling in the sadness that had just filled him from their little, poorly written scene.

He loves her, and he knows now he isn’t letting go.

~*~

Loop 114

Hauhet stood and paced her little room, running her hands over the bookshelves lined with thick tomes, new and old, chewing at her lip as she tried to get the nervous energy out of her body. This felt like it had happened before.

Could that be?

Could time have repeated? Here? In the TVA?

It was a loss and a gift all at the same time: she’d had another life, but she didn’t know if she could find it or get back to it.

Did she even want to?

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. The ease with which she was able to connect her data pad to her computer, something she’d never done before, told her that time was indeed not running correctly.

It didn’t much matter right now, though.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

The rain pounded the top of her canvas tent, the little light she had flickered in and out as the storm raged. She couldn’t seem to get dry in her little tent, but then again, nothing had been dry in days.

It felt like the war had come to a stand still. Both sides were trying to fight trench foot and keep people warm and alive. They didn’t have time to fight one another. Hydra seemed farther and farther away every day that kept her in camp and away from the front.

Instead, all Peggy could do was pull out her little nub of a pencil and write. Again.

Not that Steve minded. She was sure he didn’t, just like she didn’t mind any time she got a letter from him back in New York. She opened the little tin box she used to keep her paper dry and ran her fingers over the little picture of Steve she kept taped to the top. He’d obviously posed for it, had someone else snap it and gotten it developed just to send to her. It was the only thing she really cared about keeping dry, that and his letters.

She ran her fingers over them, filled with stories from home and all the things he wanted to do with her once the war was over, all the things he wanted to say to her in person but would have to suffice in the written word.

They were an ocean part, with only the vaguest of promises between them, but she knew, deep in her heart, that the frail boned man would be her destiny. She’d known the first time he’d smiled at her.

She pulled out his last letter and started reading. It still astounded her that he liked her, that a smart, interesting, funny man like him could find something in her. She’d always been told she was too bold, too brash, for men to like her. All her life her mother had tried to get her to play a part to attract a suitor, and now, after Erskine’s experiment, she knew she wasn’t what most men would find attractive.

Steve? Steve looked at her with love in his eyes and it astounded her every time.

She read about the war effort and his experiments with Stark, his art projects and how much he hated watching the kid in the neighborhood have to go without birthday cakes because of rationing.

She read his letters over and over again until she could recite them by heart. Some days, deep in a foxhole or shivering in the rain while she waited to raid a Hydra strong hold, reciting his words in her head were all that gave her hope.

She loved him, and she was pretty sure he loved her.

She just needed to put an end to this damn war, and then she’d be able to show him just how much.

~*~

Loop 872

She’d lived it before.

The emotions weren’t new. They were old and worn in, even if she couldn’t remember ever feeling them before.

She picked up her Data pad, rolling it over and over in her hands. There was only one way to find out.

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. In seconds the interface was working.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

“Skinny Bastard,” Phillips mutters, shaking his head as he enters.

Steve laughs, climbing down the ladder and out of the rafters of the stage. “You’re gonna have to stop calling me that one day.” He holds his hand out once his feet are on the ground, smiling when Phillips shakes it firmly.

Phillips works hard to hide his smile. “You’re a day late.”

”Don’t go blamin’ him!” Angie’s voice carries through the empty auditorium. The building is almost unrecognizable to what it was a few years ago when they put on their first show. She weaves her way through the rows of seats, carrying garment bags of gowns in her arms. “All this one’s fault!

“Now that’s just-“ Bucky’s words fall away as he sees Phillips’ stern look. “sir. Yes sir, I was just-“

”Dawdling? Like always?” He holds his stare for a moment, watching the way the poor man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows before shaking his head and laughing. “I’m not your commanding officer anymore, Barnes.”

”No,” he responds, moving into he room with his arms full of stacked crates, “But you do put us up for the whole winter while put together a new show so I figure I should still, ya know.”

Steve pulls the crates from Bucky’s hands, stopping his rambling. “Go get the rest of it, will ya?”

”Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, dropping his head and heading out to Phillips’ amusement.

Phillips follows Steve to where he drops the crates by the edge of the stage. “So what’s the big to-do? Ana’s been looking like the cat that swallowed the cream and won’t give any of us a damn hint.”

Steve smiles to himself as he starts to unpack the stage lights from he crates. “Peggy won’t be in the show this year.”

Phillips watches him carefully. “I’d ask if there was trouble in paradise, but you’re still wearing your ring, and you’ve got that stupid, suspicious as hell smile on your face that I don’t like.” He leans back on the edge of the stage, watching as Angie weaves through the seats to head back out and help Barnes with unpacking the rest of the truck. “You let that wife of yours get a better offer from a club in the city?”

Peggy’s voice rings out from the wings. “Oh no, I promise you, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

He looks over, but can’t see her in the dark. “Well then, what’s the damn secret?”

Peggy moves out, less graceful and less lithe than she was last time she was on this stage, hindered this time by the way her rounded belly leads the way. She lets her hand run over it, her dress tightening for just a moment so Phillips can see it. “Not much of a secret anymore, I’m afraid.”

”Skinny Bastard knocked you up!” he can’t help the smile that slides along his face. He claps Steve on the shoulder. “Congratulations, you two!”

Peggy waddles over to the edge of the stage, letting Steve gently lift her down. “I’m afraid I had to tell someone. Looks like our little one may be making an appearance before we’re done for the season. She’s helped me find a local midwife.”

”Good, good,” Phillips mutters, watching the way Steve absentmindedly stokes her lower back as he inventories his crate, the way her hand smooths over the rounded bump of her stomach. “Makes sense why he wouldn’t put you in the show.”

”Absolutely does not,” Peggy bites out, eyes narrowing.

“Does too,” both men reply at the same time.

She huffs, but doesn’t make a quip back. This is an old fight, and one she doesn’t want to rekindle now.

“Jarvis!” Phillips calls, and the mana pops his head in the auditorium comically fast.

“Yes, sir!”

”Did you know Carter was pregnant?”

”I believe she goes by Mrs. Rogers now, but yes, Ana had let it slip that-“

”Well, why in the hell are you still standing here? We have work to do!” Phillips stars moving away, despite Steve and Peggy’s protests. “we’ve got to make sure that cabin’s draft free, and that their hot water heater’s been checked and re-checked. Get that midwife on the phone for me, she’ll be staying here until that baby’s born. And another…”

His voice fades as he and Jarvis disappear from the room into he main part of the inn.

“I told you,” Peggy mutters, leaning back on the edge of the stage. “He’s going to make an insufferably big deal of this.”

”Of course he is!” Barnes pipes in, carrying another set of crates in. “In my opinion, Steve is being way too cavalier about my godson being born.”

“Or goddaughter,” Angie cuts him off quickly. “And he’s just being sensible, aren't you, Steve?”

”I’m trying,” he sighs, turning to Peggy. “I really think you should have stayed in the City. I could be back as soon as you go into labor and-“

”Absolutely, under no circumstances, will you miss the birth of our child because of show.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “Especially one you won’t let me in.” She softens, taking his hand and settling it over her belly where he can feel the soft kicks. “This is a family act, Rogers. Get used to it.”

”Yes, Ma’am.”

~*~

Loop 2,467

She didn’t think about it anymore, just let her body run on instinct. She’d been here before, she’d done these things before.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

“Damnnit, Rogers, run faster!”

Steve pumps his legs, jostling Peggy on his shoulder. “I’m running for two here, Jones!” He calls back as they move through the cavern, the walls shaking and collapsing around them.

“Care would be appreciated!” Peggey called from over his shoulder where he was carrying her, her arms and legs still tied tight to her sides, a high pitched squeal leaving her throat as Steve narrowly jumped away from a tumbling boulder.

“Speed might be better!” Jones called, hysteria creeping into his voice, jumping over a crack that appeared in the ground in front of them.

Steve took the same widening crack, now nearly a full chasm, easily as dirt and pebbles started to fall from the ceiling.

“Is this standard Hydra?” Jones called, slowing and climbing over a pile of rubble that stood between them and the exit.

Steve took Indy’s hand, keeping one arm around Peggy and letting his friend boost him up and help him navigate the rubble. “Not really, no,” he replied loudly, never missing a step as the path cleared out in front of them once they were over. “But then again, I’m not that surprised, either.”

”Implosion or explosion?” Peggy asked, looking up at Jones from over Steve’s shoulder as he took the lead, using his nearly photographic memory to wind them back through the shaking catacombs.

“Could be either,” Jones huffed, trying to keep up, “but I’m betting implosion. Easier to set this low in the ground.”

”Either one is bad,” Steve bit out, moving faster.

Peggy dropped her head, unable to hold on with her hands still tied to her sides. “Bit of an understatement, darling.”

”Are we having a chat?” Indy bit out sarcastically, overtaking Steve again as the dying sunset shone through the small entrance of the cave. “I’d like to get as far away from the bomb as possible, please!”

Jones shimmied out of the small hole, then reached his arms back in, carefully grabbing Peggy around the hips as Steve set her down and wiggled her through the opening. Jones had her in his arms, though a little less gracefully than Steve, and was running as soon as her feet left the ground.

“Steve!”

”Steve will be fine,” Indy puffed out, breathless as he moved across the empty desert terrain. “He’ll be better than us if he’s close.”

”Won’t be close,” Steve called out, just a step behind, “Let’s move!”

He reached out, pulling Peggy from Jones’s arms and both men pushed their legs even farther and harder.

They felt the explosion before they heard it, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Indy and Steve tumbled to the ground, both men wrapping themselves around Peggy as they tumbled, working to keep one another safe.

They skidded to a halt just in time to turn and look at the small mountain they had just been under crumble in on itself, spewing dirt and sand into the air. When the cloud settled and the ground stopped shaking, when they could blink their eyes open again and when the dry coughing from the dust-laden air stopped, there was only a crater filled with rubble where there had once been a secret Hydra base.

“Implosion,” Indy muttered, humming. “Told ya.”

Steve sat back, pulling his helmet and gloves off, wiping at his face where stark lines of dirt streaked where his helmet hadn’t covered. “Told ya It’d be bad.”

Indy pulled his hat off his head, hitting it to get the dust dislodged. “Well of course it was going to be bad, Rogers, it was a self-destruct.”

”Hydra doesn’t always-“

”Well of course they always-“

Peggy huffed, lifting both feet and slamming them back down in the dirt, getting the attention of the men as they talked over one another as they let off the adrenaline of the last few hours. “I’d get up and leave you two to your bickering,” she started, wiggling in place as the ropes that tied her together were still laced across her chest and down around her legs, “but I seem to be having some trouble. Care to help?”

She raised her eyebrow at them, waiting as they both stared at her, jaws hanging open.

“Well?” She asked again, wiggling her hands at her side when they still didn’t move. “Untie me!”

Indy leaned back, smiling. “You know, you're the one who ran off and got captured. Seems it’s in our best interest to keep you from running off again, don’t you think, Steve?”

Peggy huffed, but Steve shrugged, sitting back. “I think slowing her down a little bit isn’t a bad idea.”

”You wouldn’t dare!” Peggy bit out, starting to get truly incensed.

Steve shrugged as he and Indy stood, wiping the dust off themselves. “I could use to know where you are for a bit, Peg.” He smiled in a way that was usually cheeky and charming, but only served to increase her ire. He reached down, even as she started squirming, and hoisted her over his shoulder again.

“You put me down and let me out of this right now!” She wiggled, but didn’t fight against his tight grip too much as he started walking back the mile and a half to the jeep in step with Jones.

“You heard him, Peg,” Indy said, his voice full of smug teasing. “We gotta know where you are.”

Peggy lifted her head, throwing Indy a harsh look before she flopped back down. “Don’t think I won’t forget this,” she muttered.

“Don’t think I’m gonna forget you scaring the shit outta me,” Steve replied, “by intentionally getting yourself captured.”

”Language!” Indy interjected with a smile.

“Well, it worked,” Peggy muttered, her fight gone. “Hydra’s lost another base and we have a lead on Schmidt.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but she felt more than heard his grumble.

After a few quiet minutes, Peggy finally spoke again. “Well, joke’s on you, darling, I’m getting a lovely break back here, with a lovely view, and you’re doing the work for both of us.”

Indy laughed next to them. “If you want to leave her here, Rogers, I won't tell anyone.”

”Nah,” Steve responded, gently tightening his hold on her as the Jeep came into view, “I’ve grown a little attached.”

~*~

Loop 12,356

Hauhet could hardly breathe. She couldn’t remember anything, not really, little foggy memories and ideas of lives before this, of painted nurseries and undercooked hams and missions in snowy communist countries.

All of those half formed memories seemed much, much more real than her time at the TVA, than whatever illusion of a life she had here.

With a deep breath, she input the search into the data pad and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

“Steve! You’ve come back!”

He takes her hand, holding tightly from the side of the bed.

“Yeah, Peg, I’m here.”

She could feel the emotion welling up in her chest as she tried to sit up, but he just smiled down at her, leaning forward and helping her sit. Always the gentleman.

“Easy, Peg,” he whispers, his voice thick with his own emotion.

“How?” She whispers, reaching up and running her hand over his cheek. She pauses, looking at the dissonance between their skin: his as young as the last time she saw him, and hers, withered and wrinkled with a lifetime lived.

He lifts her hand from his cheek, holding it in both of his as he sits on the side of her bed, smiling sweetly. “It’s a long story for another day.”

She can’t help but be maudlin, can’t help but say all the things she’s thinking. “I missed you every day, my darling.”

His eyes flutter shut, chin falling to his chest. “I-“

”Don’t apologize,” she whispers, “I came to terms with what you did long ago.” He looks up at her, and this time, his eyes are filled with tears. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you, didn’t miss you, every day.”

He swallows, hard, and threads his fingers in with hers. “Didn’t mean to stand you up for our date,” he croaks out, fighting to force a smile.

Peggy smiles up at him, holding his hand tighter in hers. “You’re here now. you always were just a little late, weren’t you?”

~*~

Loop 300,465

She doesn't think, she just does. Hauhet has learned to trust her intuition in her time with the TVA, but something screams in her that she’s simply remembering now. Something screams to her that this was a skill she had before.

This was something she’d done without thought.

Agent.

Even the seconds it takes for her to connect the Data pad seem too long.

She needs to know…

~*~

“Peggy, this is my choice.”

Peggy holds the microphone tight in her hand. She wants to say something, anything, but no words come to her, nothing swells but the feeling of loss, bigger than anything she’s felt in a long time.

His voice comes through the line, tinny and resigned. “Peggy, I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

”All right,” She takes a deep breath, desperate to hold on to whatever time she has left with him, uncaring of who is still in the room, uncaring of the tears running down her face. “A week next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

”You got it.” His voice is tight, strained. But not afraid.

Never afraid.

Steve has never, for one moment, been afraid of what he’s thought he’s had to do since she’s known him, even when he was small and skinny and jumping on grenades.

”Eight o’clock on the dot,” she continued, trying to take some of his bravery, trying to steal some of his damn assuredness, “don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

”You know I still don’t know how to dance,” he rushes out, his voice starting to shake. She pretends it’s just the shaking of the plane.

She can’t help but smile, can’t help but think maybe… maybe… if there is a God in this world, he won’t let this good man die on her today. “I’ll show you how,” she rushes out, hoping he can hear how much she needs him, how much she wants him to survive this in her voice. “Just be there.”

His voice is raising. It’s not much, but she can tell it’s there. Nervousness. “We’ll have the band play something slow.” The ship shakes over the line, the sound of shivering metal something she’s heard before in transmissions just before disaster strikes. “I’d hate to step on your-“

The static, a low rumble in the room, is deafening.

“Steve?” She pleads across the line. “Steve?”

She’s lost him.

She can only pray, as the tears fall, that there’s still a chance to find him.

~*~

Loop 1,475,692

Hauhet sits heavy on the floor of her office.

No, not Hauhet. Peggy Carter.

Agent Peggy Carter.

She’d had a life once.

The memories flood into her, stronger than whatever force is being used to keep her complacent. This day has happened over and over. She sees herself, sitting at that desk, over and over. Hundreds of times. Millions of times.

More than any sane person could handle, she’s sure, if they could remember.

But she does remember now. Because she met him in every single branch. Every single universe. Every single timeline.

Steve Rogers.

And no matter when or how they met, it felt like home.

She could feel him, sitting in her heart, like a beacon. She had her own Steve. There was a man with that little boyish lopsided smile and the courage of a lion out there somewhere, waiting for her.

And she’d been languishing in this pace for millennia, doing the tedious desk work she’d fought so hard to get away from all of her life.

She hadn’t found her Steve yet, she knew that. None of the branches, none of the stories she had seen so far gave her anything more than a longing.

She’d feel it when she found him, when she found her timeline and her world. She knew it.

And as long as this day kept repeating, she’d find him. She’d find their life together.

They made each other better. Even in the timeliness when they lost one another, even in the timelines when there was only a short period of time left together, they made one another better.

They were timeless, finding one another again over and over, no matter what the world looked like, no matter when their souls showed up.

Even if he was gone in her timeline, she wanted to be a place where he was, where he had been and she could find and recover and languish in the memories.

She was ready to give up this drab, rote existence.

Saving the universe meant nothing in here. Saving it from out there? With her heels and her gun and the love of her life?

Well, that was something that had real value, and Peggy was going to stop at nothing to find it.

Without even thinking she let her hands fly over the wires, connecting her Data pad to the computer.

She was going to find him, and she was going to get back to him.

~*~

End A/N:

While we have our MCU Steggy and What If…? Steggy, I couldn’t HELP but throw in my favorite Steggys in there from my own fic. (Yes, it’s a little *cough*lot*cough* self indulgent) They’re all Extra Scenes that don’t show up in the main fic and they’re inspired by the lyrics to Timeless. In order that they show up in the story:

1- Nobody’s Baby (Two lovers laughin’ on the porch of their first house)

2-The Captain and the Missus (On a Crowded Street in 1944 and you were headed off to fight in the war)

3-What if…? (I would have read your love letters every single night)

4- A Red, White, and Blue Christmas (Which brought me back to the the first time I saw you Time stood still)

5-Interested Parties Series (Indiana Jones Crossover) (Down the block there’s an antique shop)

6- Captain America: The Winter Soldier (Time breaks down your mind and body, don’t you let it touch your soul)

7- Captain America: The First Avenger (Story of a romance Torn Apart by Fate)

#Steggyweek24 #Steggy Fic #3p's fic #alternate universe #Totally indulgent fic that uses my other FIC as AUs #A Red White and blue Christmas shows up #as does Nobody's Baby #And Indiana Jones #This story is BONKERS and I love it #It may also be the only fic I post this year we'll see

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ventingfanfics · 2 years

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OMG I LOVED YOUR PLAYER SHURI X READER FIC THANK YOU FOR WRITING IT!! would you make a part 2 please? maybe some fluff?? maybe the reader is shy cause she has never been in a relationship before ?

Thank you bby, love the request, hope you enjoy!

Tag list: @shinsousliya @tchhairbandhere

First part

Don't Wanna be a Player No More Part 2

Shuri waited until you were out of ear shot and completely out of the cafe. She leaned forward, eyeing Riri who sat across from her. “Aye, whatever you have Y/N doing today, cancel it. I’m taking her somewhere.”

“Well, alright then, boss.” Riri and M’Baku exchanged playful intrigued expressions.

“Missing work for a date? That’s new,” M’Baku said before dipping his carrot into the container of ranch. Riri gave a long high-pitch hum in agreement.

Shuri waved a hand dismissively. “It won’t matter. Y/N is always ahead of the game.”

“That she is.” Riri was in the middle of chopping her steak. “Don’t be distracting my girl.”

“Your girl?”

Riri addressed an amused M’Baku. “You see her? Getting territorial already. I said what I said.”

“Oh, please, Y/N has herself together,” Shuri said, albeit trying not to smile. This was a habit whenever you were mentioned. She wasn’t very good at hiding it. “When others are trying to court someone it’s respected and considered romantic, but when I do it it’s a distraction. How is that fair?”

M’Baku shook his head, partly amazed. “Wow. When the player gets whipped—hey!” His gaze turned into a glare when Shuri snatched a carrot from his plate.

As you returned to the cafe, you found Shuri and M’Baku getting into it while Riri was enjoying her lunch unbothered. You noticed she had changed her seat and you couldn’t blame her because you wouldn’t want commotion—whether it was playful or not—to surround you as you were eating.

“Put me down, old man!” Shuri said as M’Baku had her over his shoulder.

“Why is she acting like she’s not Black Panther?” Riri asked herself. Your laughter pulled her attention and she smiled. “Hey Y/N, you’re back.”

M’Baku put down Shuri and seated himself again. “Don’t mind us, Y/N.”

Shuri seemed a little embarrassed. She was blushing and barely looking at you, which was new because her eyes normally stayed on you. “How—how did your call with Nakia go?”

“Good, she just wanted to touch base about the project. Oh, and she’s looking to send over another referral that she wants me to train.”

“Look at you!” Riri called proudly.

You grinned. “Thanks, love.”

Suddenly you felt yourself being pulled into Shuri’s arms as she hugged you close. “You’ve been beasting since you’ve been here. We’re lucky to have you.”

You could have melted in her embrace and her words were like a caress. “Awww, Shuri. Well, when you have a supportive team, it helps.”

Shuri laughed some, piquing your curiosity. She moved some of hair from her eyes, your own gaze tracking the movement. “I just think it’s adorable how you can’t take compliments without giving them back.”

You giggled lightly, understanding her observation. It was also appealing that she was paying attention to you even when you couldn’t see it. “I mean, if the shoe fits.”

“They’re cute,” Riri glanced at M’Baku with a pout.

“Agreed.”

“We would be cute together. Don’t you agree?” said Shuri, her smile widening as she noticed the warmth show in your features. She glanced at her kimoyo beads, checking them before she lightly touched your arm. “Lunch is technically over, but I want to show you something.”

It was a no brainer to accept this invitation.

“Does Riri know?” You looked at the genius.

Shuri chuckled. “Yes, she does. I spoke with her.”

You smiled. “Okay. Lead the way, my queen.”

Garden paradise seemed to accurately describe the location you now inhabited. The skies were a beautiful purple mixed with blues and surrounded by ethereal greenery. It looked too good to be real, like these kinds of things only existed in paintings.

“Wow. This is otherworldly….” You spoke your mind.

Shuri smiled. “Yeah, a part from its beauty, it’s a good place to come and re-ground myself.”

You stared at her, taking in this information. Your thought drifting towards Wakanda’s very own, the late T’Challa. Like many, you had mourned his passing, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how it had impacted—and still impacted his loved ones. And then on top of it, Queen Ramonda had transitioned.

“By the way, I’m so sorry…for your losses…” You said carefully. Until now you hadn’t been able to give your condolences directly. It felt like you’d be remiss to not do so when you had the chance.

Her smile was small and she inhaled and exhaled. “I appreciate it, Y/N.”

You waited to see if she’d add anything more. Either way, you already planned to tell her your next statement. “If you ever want to talk, vent, or anything, I’m here.”

She had an unreadable expression on her face now but the warmth in her eyes was unmissable. Truthfully, she sensed this about you. You seemed like the type she could come to about anything. Thinking this made her smile to herself. “I do want to talk, while you’re here. Tell me about your family.” She tapped your hip and started walking.

You spent three hours just talking, further getting to know each other. Shuri even told you about the heart-shaped herb.

The next morning before you left for work, you received a delivery. Whatever it was must have been clothing because of how it was secured in thick coverage. You attempted to take it but was unprepared for its weight.

“No worries, miss, we are bringing it in,” The delivery man said with a kind smile. His co-worker brought in the rolling hanger and then the outfit was hung up on it.

“Who is this from?” You asked.

“The Queen.”

You wished each other a good rest of the day and then you unveiled the unexpected gift. Your lips fell ajar at what was revealed to you. A gorgeous evening gown. There was a note attached.

Neatly written it read:

Entle Y/N,

I hope you will join me for one of my network’s business launch.

Yours,

Shuri

P.S: Use the card.

Card? What card? Upon looking around you noticed it on the bottom of the clothing rack. Your eyes enlarged at the very generous amount (imagine.)

Realizing you were going to be late for work, you hurried out the door, giving Shuri a call.

“Shuri!” You said when she answered.

“Yes, my love!” She matched your tone.

“You sent me that dress and gift card?”

“I sure did. How’d I do?”

“The dress…Bast, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen! I’ve never owned anything like it before.”

“Well, it is yours to keep. Especially made for you.”

“So you did design this?”

She hummed in the affirmative. “Now, I didn’t know what kind of jewelry you prefer, so I’m leaving that up to you.”

“Shuri, this is so kind. I will be sure to repay—“

“I’m sorry, what? The line’s breaking up…”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Doesn’t matter what you say, I am repaying you.”

“Nonsense. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“But Shuri—“

“But, nothing. Seeing you wear it is payment enough."

Your shopping experience was going well what with excellent customer service, but like some things in life, it took a turn. As your time lengthened at the stores, you noticed some females staring at you. Some wore blank or curious expressions while others seemed hostile. You could only guess that it was related to Shuri.

People were beginning to talk, noticing that the Queen held you in high regard. Naturally, this would come with some tension. You’d seen as much from the times you’d gone to the club with Shuri and how some of the women had reacted to you.

As long as they didn’t try you, all would be okay.

You went to another merchant and cleared your head, taking an interest in some of the pieces. They had an even better selection. But this time, you decided to find something for Shuri. You took comfort in that, wanting to do something nice for her. But then you got distracted by a not so-whispered conversation.

“Is that her?”

“Yeah, that’s her…”

“She’s cute…”

“Yeah, she alright.”

Then there was a male voice, “She’s pretty. Just gives off innocence.”

“That’s what I’m saying! The queen needs someone who can handle her.”

The earrings you’d been looking at fell to the floor. The merchant went to pick it up as you had turned around to look a small group of friends who already had their eyes glue to you.

You raised an eyebrow at the two girls and one guy. “Can I help you?”

One of the girls was visibly amused. “Are you dating the Queen?”

“Who wants to know?”

“So, that’s a yes.”

“Can you call her?” The guy asked with a dopey smile.

“Maybe if you show some respect, I will.” You held eye contact just a little longer before facing forward again.

“Here you go miss, I gave you new pair,” said the merchant.

For the first time, you weren’t jazzed up to see Shuri. Even when you’d been avoiding her those weeks, you’d still liked being able to see and hear her. However, solitude was what you were seeking at this time.

But you wouldn’t turn her away, especially not after the gift she’d given you.

“My favorite girl.” Her face was brightened when she saw you. You almost felt better from her greeting and hug.

You offered her the dinner you’d made, which she gladly accepted. You smiled softly, watching her eat in your kitchen nook. If she hated your cooking, she was a good actress because she was chowing down merrily.

“Are you just gonna stare at me or talk to me?” She teased.

Your shoulders shook in humor. “I’m in a staring mood right now.”

“I see.” She wiped her mouth with the cloth you’d provided her. “Speaking of staring, have you tried on the dress yet?” You could see the excitement in her eyes.

“No, but even if I had, something tells me you would want me to do it again.”

You could tell she was a little taken aback but she chuckled. “That is right.” She licked her lips. “Did you get the jewelry?”

Your smile faded and you quietly nodded.

She tilted her head a bit, eyeing you curiously. “Okay. How did that go?”

You furrowed your eyebrows wondering if she knew. It wouldn’t surprise you.

“I did get the jewelry, which, by the way, thank you.”

Now, Shuri definitely knew something was off. It was all in your body language and tone. She caged you in by where you leaned against the counter. You looked into her gentle yet probing eyes.

“Usana…” She frowned in concern.

You sighed softly and traced her hand tat. “It was good, until some people started noticing me. I guess some people know we’re seeing each other.” You intertwined your hands with hers, hoping to calm her as you felt the stirrings of a storm.

“How foolish of me, I should have protection for you. Don’t worry, next time and every time after that, you will. Did someone bother you?”

“No,” You shook your head, immediately wanting to dispel such a notion. Shuri’s eyes were becoming wild now. “Nope, nothing of the sort. Just some cattiness.”

“Cattiness?”

You smiled lightly. “Yeah, you know. It’s to be expected.” She waited for you to expound. “Just some immature comments about whether or not I’m cute and me not being able to handle you.” You chewed on your inner cheek, hating that your tone was becoming watery.

Shuri released your hands, backing up. “What? Where was this?”

“One of the stores—“

“Which store?”

“I don’t even remember, but the store is not the issue, it was the patrons.” You chuckled. “And get this, this is the funny part. One of them had the nerve to ask if I could call you.”

Shuri rolled her eyes. “Believe me, if I spoke to them, I wouldn’t be kind.”

“It’s fine, though. No one tried to hurt me.”

“Doesn’t matter. You did not deserve any of that.” She sighed, pulling at her short curls a little. “I knew something was wrong.”

You looked at her inquisitively. “Hm?”

“I just felt something wasn’t right, but I dismissed it.” She tensed her jaw, visibly going through a self-loathing. “This will NOT happen again. I can assure you.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, swaying her. “Like I said, I know there’s gonna be haters…I just hope you don’t feel the way they do.” You could feel Shuri releasing you again, a frown etched on her features. “Sssh, let me finish. They mentioned that I seem innocent and that you need someone who can handle—“

“That is the dumbest shit I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “But, what if they are right? I don’t have a lot of experience in certain departments…maybe you would rather someone who knows what to do—“

“Y/N!” she interjected firmly. “Stop the madness. I don’t care if you’ve never been kissed, everything we do together is a first for the both of us—it doesn’t matter who or what was before. This is about the memories we create together. Do you hear me?”

Between her words, conviction, passion, and frustration on your behalf, your heart fluttered and so did your sex. “You’re right.”

“People will talk reckless when they are jealous. Fuck them.”

There were a few times you would have liked to have kissed Shuri. Right now, that desire was at an all-time high.

“I’m gonna try on the dress,” You said, tearing your eyes away from her mouth. “And you can help me choose the jewelry. I also got some stuff for you.”

You turned to leave the kitchen first but were smoothly stopped. Pulling you to her and holding your lower back, Shuri planted a kiss on you that was full of life and love.

#shuri fanfiction #shuri fanfic #shuri x y/n #shuri x you #shuri imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic writer #marvel fanfic club #black panther imagine #wakanda forever fanfiction #shuri udaku #shuri udaku x reader

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tamurilofrivendell · 2 years

Text

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 28

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27]

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan @rebleforkicks @yjrevolution @majahu @honey-wine @accio-boys @achromaticerebus @solomonssimp @tired-ass-show-girl @dreamlessnight @daddy-long-legolas @sleepyamygdala @coopsgirl @penguinlovestowrite @midsommar-nights @whore-of-many-hot-men

Thranduil led you through the winding halls and back towards the West Wing. You no longer felt any apprehension at seeing that crimson curtain at the bottom of the stairs. You easily stepped past as he moved it aside and followed him up into the queen’s chambers. There was a sort of reverence within you as you walked with Thranduil past that portrait of the queen and down the corridor. She was gone but she was everywhere and your heart hurt for Thranduil and Legolas, for their loss of such an important figure in their lives.

“I really don’t understand.” You said as you followed him through to a room you hadn’t seen before. He didn’t stop, striding towards the back of the room where a curtain fell down. Pulling it back, he revealed a hidden doorway. Surprised, you stepped through after him and looked around.

Thranduil had led you into a room that looked as though it had been cut into pure stone. So used to a different sort of look within the rooms of these halls, you stopped for a moment and just took it in. The room had a slightly ethereal light to it and, as your attention came back to Thranduil, you noticed the small pool of water that he was now standing beside. He was watching you but his eyes looked a little sad. He didn’t say so but he hadn’t set foot in here for many years... more years than you would have been able to imagine if he had given you a number.

“What is this?” You asked, stepping over to him, glancing from the water to his face.

Thranduil cast his gaze over the pool, watching the flowers floating on the glass-like water. “This.” He sighed softly. “Is my wife’s mirror. If you wish, you have only to touch the water and it will show you your father.”

You blinked in amazement. “It will?” You took a hesitant little step towards the pool, tilting your gaze down to the water. It was still and clear and had a beauty about it you wouldn’t have expected from water, of all things.

“Perhaps it can help to settle your heart for this night.” He watched you with a soft frown, wishing there was a little more he could do here and now to help with how much you very clearly longed to see your father. Thranduil had missed your pining somehow, almost forgetting about your father entire existence, his attention having been more focused on the effect you had been having on him... on his heart.

“I can arrange, tomorrow, for you to send him a letter.” He continued after a beat, making you look up at him with slightly wide eyes. “If you would like.” Thranduil cleared his throat. “My messenger could wait for him to pen his own response, even..."

You blinked at him, a little astounded by his words, unable to prevent the corners of your lips pulling up into a smile even if you’d wanted to. “Really?” You were already turning away from the mirror and stepping towards him before he could respond. He nodded, about to give you an answer but found himself completely taken off guard a moment later as you threw your arms around him. “Oh, thank you!”

Thranduil didn’t say anything but he returned the gesture with a soft smile, his arms slowly moving around you. His eyes closed briefly as he focused on the feeling of you in his arms. Reluctantly, he slowly pulled back, looking down at you. “Would you like to look into the mirror?” He asked.

You looked over at the pool again, thoughtful for a long moment, before you nodded. “Yes.”

Thranduil turned his gaze back towards the water, moving to sit down upon the stone next to the pool. “All you need to do is place your palm out upon the water.” He explained. “Tell the mirror what it is you wish to see... and it shall show you.” Thranduil glanced at you as you moved to join him, sitting down next to him on the stone border of the water. “It will show your father to you as he is right at this very moment.”

You fixed your stare upon the mirror, gazing into the water as you slowly moved your hand out over the surface. It was crystal clear and yet you could see no bottom. You realised that the ethereal look of the room appeared to be emanating from the pool itself, making it obvious this was no regular water.

Lowering your hand further down until it touched the cool water, you felt a little nervous though you weren’t entirely sure why. It felt like you were continually being introduced to things that were so far beyond your understanding and comprehension and you were not sure you would ever get used to such... magic.

“Show... me my father.” You said as your fingers disturbed the surface, feeling a little silly, as if you were talking to yourself but you didn’t have too much time to dwell upon any embarrassment as the water began to change before your eyes. A flickering began, so slight at first that you were unsure whether your eyesight was simply failing you. It continued on, an image gradually coming into view.

What you saw was not even remotely close to what you had expected. You had assumed your father would be unhappy with you taking his place here, sad that you were not with him, and feeling guilty with the belief that you were in danger here, a poor prisoner of a cruel elvish king. What you did not expect was to see him huddled in the corner of a dirty locked room, his cough clearly returning with a vengeance. He looked almost as bad as he had when you had gotten him released from Thranduil’s halls!

With a gasp, you jerked your hand away from the water, rising very suddenly to your feet. You stumbled and lost your balance as you stepped back, your foot missing the little step down from the ledge. Thranduil was up in an instant, taking hold of your waist to steady you. He was frowning down at you as he lifted a hand to your face, gently cupping your cheek to calm your frantic gaze and make you look at him.

“Look at me.” The command was gentle. “What did you see?” He asked softly, his thumb absentmindedly caressing your cheek.

“He--he’s in trouble..” You breathed out, shaking your head. “They... they’ve locked him up! Why... why would they do that?! I--I... I don’t... Thranduil, what am I--”

“Shh... listen... listen to me...” Thranduil stared down at you in mild panic. He had seen you angry. He had seen you sad. He had seen you confused. He had seen you scared. However, he had not yet seen you in such a state of distress as this and the sight was making him feel quite helpless. Your eyes were wide and there were tears shining in them that tugged at his heart.

Before he could even fully comprehend what he was doing, Thranduil found himself leaning closer.

Whatever thoughts that had been swirling and tangling around in your mind instantly ceased as, seemingly out of nowhere, Thranduil’s mouth had descended upon yours.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, was sweet and tender. His thumb continued to softly skim across your cheek as you subconsciously tilted your head up a little, practically melting into him.

Thranduil found himself smiling just slightly into the kiss, amused at how quickly you seemed to have forgotten your worry with one touch of his lips.

Pulling away, he looked back at you again, studying your face as your eyes fluttered open and focused back on him. He was pleased to see that some of your earlier panic had been swept away. However, as much as he would like to delve into what had just occurred here between the two of you, Thranduil decided that the most pressing matter at hand was your father. He knew that you would not be able to focus on anything else and he did not wish to leave you in despair over somebody you loved. Not when something could be done about it.

You were far too stunned to really say anything for a few long moments, thoughts jumping from concern over your father and his bizarre imprisonment and the dizzying high from Thranduil’s surprise kiss.

“What am I meant to do?” You managed after a minute, voice just above a whisper.

Thranduil stood staring back at you with conflicting emotions flickering across his expression. Confusion, longing, and unease were all vying for attention. "Come.” He eventually said, softly, reaching down to take your hand in his and quickly leading you from the chamber. He glanced back once over his shoulder before he stepped out - he did not plan to come in here again.

Thranduil led you through the West Wing and back down the stairs. “I will take you to him.” He said, letting go of your hand as he strode on ahead. “And then... I set you free, you may go where you wish.”

You stopped moving altogether then, staring at him. “What did you say?” Your question went unanswered as Thranduil kept moving, not looking back. Part of him felt that if he did, his heart may break because despite what had just happened and despite the events that had already led you both here, he still could not be certain whether you would return with him or not, and he did not want to see the answer in your eyes. He wasn’t ready.

“Feren!” Thranduil boomed, catching sight of the guard as he was rushing through the halls in their direction. “Ready Mahtar, I shall be depart--”

“My King, there is no time!” Feren cut him off, completely ignoring the brief flash of irritation that flashed across Thranduil’s face. “The humans!” He continued, not giving Thranduil any time to admonish him. “They are coming!”

“What are you talking about?” Thranduil frowned, irritation forgotten as he glanced from Feren towards the direction of the entrance to the kingdom where he had come from, and back again.

Feren shook his head, looking past his king, his gaze fixing upon you standing like a shadow behind him. Thranduil’s frown deepened as he followed Feren’s gaze to you, the words that came next forming a hard knot in his stomach. “They are coming for the girl.”

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #lotr x reader #beauty and the beast

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lokisprettygirl · 11 months

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Okay I finally watched the episode and I have several feelings so here we go...

If you haven't watched the show, stop reading. (Though I hope you have blocked the spoilers tag, if not it's your own fault..don't come at me)

Am I dying every second thinking about him being alone there for eternity? Obviously 😭

But am i stupid or delusional enough to think he won't make a comeback in the next Avengers movie? No.

I don't think those people can fight kang without loki, they would at some point need his help because he's literally the most powerful god out there now.

Coming back to the episode there's not much I cared about, I probably wouldn't have blinked if ob, b15 or Casey would have died..didn't care about them at all if I was being honest and it's not the character's fault.

As much I hated the ship (because god forbid two male characters are friends in any show these days because they have to be lovers otherwise it's homophobia.. remember when bromance existed? Good times)

Mobius had a good character development that began in season 5 and continued this season unlike Sylvie who started as such a badly written selfish character that the only way they could have fixed it this season was to completely sideline her, which thankfully they did. The smirk and smile at the end even knowing that she may never get to see Loki again? (Yeah just die already).

Hopefully I'll never have to see her again.

Coming back to Loki (my precious baby love) i know his arc ended on a bittersweet note (that smile at the end just warmed my heart like never before) and it's more bitter for me than sweet because I can't handle the thought of him being so lonely because this is not what he wanted or deserved but then I think about Loki who died via strangulation and I'm like fuck everything, this is definitely much better than that ending.

Personally I think with time he's going to grow and learn to control this new power (or he could just clone himself and use him in a way? Idk Marvel can do anything) but I can feel it in my bones that this is not the end of him (unless ofcourse Tom is done with him and won't return for future projects)

That being said, Loki is alive and sure he is alone at the moment but he's a hero now, he has more than redeemed himself and he can finally forgive himself for everything that he didn't do right, perhaps this is what he needed to find that sense of purpose he has been looking for all his life. Hopefully he'd see himself as the god that he always was.

A man that was always ridiculed for his selfishness and narcissism chose to save the multiverse by sacrificing his freedom, by giving up his own free will. He chose everything he didn't want, a throne and what seemed like eternal solitude (but hopefully not)..a man of actions indeed. His arc reminds me of Tony in a way and that's beautiful.

Wherever you go, it's just death, destruction, the literal ends of worlds!

Uhhhhhuh? Look what my boy just did for the whole fucking multiverse.

I'm just trying to see the silver lining here that he's alive and he's the moment..he's everything, he literally became the most powerful being to ever exist in mcu and that gives me hope for him…he'd come back. Kang's arc started with him and they'd need him when the time comes. If not I got my fanfiction powers 🤣 (He deserves to find the sort of love that would stay by his side even if he's all that person would ever get)

Thank God they changed the writers this season and fixed somewhat of the mess they had made of this majestic, ethereal god last time.

Overall yeah my heart is breaking for him but look at him..he's the moment, he's the king of the multiverse, he's everything.

#loki my precious baby buttons #anti sylvie #loki spoilers #loki who remains #loki spoiler #my baby will find love and happiness..i know he will #if Thor could see him now

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crypt-tids · 1 year

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A Gift Unto the King

Visitors

Aoife tightened the last of the laces on the back of Carmilla’s burgundy gown. The morning sun shimmered against the silky fabric, casting an ethereal, glowing halo around her. A golden circlet rested on her head, nearly hidden amongst her mop of curls. She smelled faintly of lavender flowers, and Aoife found herself overcome by the calming scent.

“Is that too tight, Your Highness?” Aoife finally asked, pulling herself out of her momentary daze.

“That’s quite fine, thank you.” Carmilla replied, her voice soft, but melancholic.

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” Aoife spoke timidly, slowly moving to face the new queen, ensuring not to make eye contact with her.

“No.” She sighed. “Nothing that can be changed, anyways.”

“Well, if you need anything-” Aoife started, before Carmilla’s hand gently lifted her chin so their eyes would meet.

“You may look at me when you speak.” Carmilla spoke firmly, with a gentle smile.

Immediately, Aoife’s face flushed bright red as she watched Carmilla’s dark brown eyes study her. Within the glassy darkness of them existed an abyss of warmth that held an unfamiliarity to her. Never in her life had she ever felt so consumed by another person. To be in the presence of a creature so pure of spirit felt like being engulfed by a blinding light, glimmering across a sandy white beach. It was a feeling so overwhelming, she found it difficult to focus properly.

Carmilla giggled lightly, brushing a stray ginger ringlet out of Aoife’s face, which made her blush harder.

“My apologies, dear Aoife. You’ll get used to my energy with time.” Carmilla caressed the young woman’s face, kindly. “Humans can be such delicate things.”

Aoife nodded, her heart skipping a beat. The warmth of Carmilla’s gentle touch encapsulated her with an emotion she had never felt before, one she wasn’t sure she could even possibly understand, much less be able to explain.

Then, Carmilla’s smile faded as she brushed aside the fiery curls covering her neck, exposing the fresh bite scars that the king had left there. Delicate fingers traced over the slightly raised puncture marks, sending shivers down Aoife’s spine. Her memories of that night were heavily clouded, but the pain still rested vividly at the forefront of her mind.

“How did you come to possess such dreadful scars?” The light Carmilla had so generously shown before, now slowly fading into a distant memory, replaced by sadness and concern.

“The king had fallen ill, Your Majesty.” Aoife swallowed hard, her voice lined with a faint tremor. “I… I wanted to help.”

“You’re too generous for your own good.” Carmilla replied, her voice stern, but gentle, finally dropping her hand from Aoife’s neck, allowing the ginger ringlets to return to their natural resting place.

Aoife bit her lip nervously. She’d never seen generosity as a detriment, in any context, and she desperately needed to be helpful—to be useful. Above all else, she needed the validation of having some purpose in this world, even if it was solely to serve the needs of others. Something that would take away the stained history of her ancestry, to make some sort of amends for her own sake.

The king had never been anything but incredibly kind to her, and she never once felt unsafe with him. Though, deep in her soul, she couldn’t help but feel that his decision to assign her to Carmilla’s side was one clouded by his own guilt. A decision that would ensure their paths wouldn’t cross so frequently. Even though she’d never blamed him for what happened, she knew that forgiving him would never be enough to ease the guilt that ripped at his heart.

“I… I don’t believe that to be true, Your Highness.” Aoife finally spoke, with mild trepidation. “I think… I would rather give too much, than not at all.”

“Even if the cost of that gift was your own life?” Carmilla pried, raising an inquisitive brow.

Aoife swallowed hard, her hazel eyes breaking away from the queen’s.

“My life isn’t so valuable, Your Highness.”

Carmilla’s eyes widened as she found herself hopelessly staring down at the young, ginger haired woman. Aoife’s energy had shifted to a place no longer centered. There was a depth of darkness residing within her that Carmilla couldn’t quite place. It felt like a deep well of her own making, that she’d spent years dutifully covering with a wooden shield, but that shield had now fallen away.

“Why is it that you believe such a thing?” Carmilla lifted Aoife’s chin, holding it firmly in place so that she couldn’t hope to turn away.

Just as Aoife was about to open her mouth to speak, there was a knock at the door, quickly drawing the pair’s attention.

“Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty,” a man’s voice spoke from the other side of the door, “but King Kai’en and Queen Yanna of Elvenwood have arrived.”

“Thank you, please inform them I will be along shortly.” Carmilla replied, sighing as she returned her gaze to the young maid. “We’ll table this conversation for now, but do not think that I will forget it.”

Aoife nodded, as Carmilla gave her hand a light squeeze. Gently, the queen’s fingers trailed against the back of her hand as she released it, sending soft shivers up her arm. She gave Aoife a kind smile, before exiting the room, leaving the young woman standing alone in her chambers.

The ride had been nothing short of tedious and Lucas found his ass aching something fierce. His entire body was sore and tired, and the warmth of the midday sun seemed to only exacerbate his exhaustion. Remus, on the other hand, seemed to be taking their journey in a much stronger stride.

“How’re you holding up?” Remus asked with a grin.

“Could use a snack, if I’m being honest.” Lucas sighed, as his stomach promptly reminded him of the ever growing hunger pangs.

“Don’t you have some jerky left?”

“No,” Lucas pouted, “I ate the last of it this morning.” Slowly, he pulled his gaze over to his companion, giving him his best puppy dog eyes—something years of turning into a dog beast had made him surprisingly good at. “Maybe you could-”

“Nope.” Remus cut him off. “I only have one piece left, it’s not my fault you didn’t pack enough.”

Lucas sighed. Even having packed everything he had in the house, he had severely underestimated the depth of his appetite. That, coupled with the unexpectedly long mission, forced him to ration a lot more than he would’ve liked. But, all things considered, he’d done well to make it this far, with only a few hours left until they reached the city. Still, the rumbling growl of his stomach was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable.

Noticing the twist of Lucas’s face and the faint grumble emanating from him, Remus sighed and dropped his shoulders.

“We’ll be coming up on Riverbend soon, someone there might have a bit of food we can buy off of them.”

“Thanks.” Lucas nodded, a tinge of guilt in his voice.

Remus nodded back, reaching into the pouch on his saddlebag and pulling out a small slab of jerky, messily wrapped in some waxed cloth.

“Here.” Remus said, tossing the package to Lucas.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You need it more than I do.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna die if I don’t eat right now.” Lucas said, just as his stomach let out another gurgling growl, certainly loud enough for Remus to hear, and probably anyone within a one mile radius.

Remus let out a small snicker as Lucas’s face flushed hot with embarrassment.

“Just eat it so I don’t have to listen to your stomach growl all the way to Riverbend.”

Lucas unwrapped the waxed cloth, and pulled the salt cured meat from it, taking a bite. The salt was bitter on his tongue, but it was a flavor he’d grown accustomed to over the years. He’d much prefer to eat something a bit fresher—two weeks was a long time to go with your main source of sustenance being jerky—but, anything to quell the rumbling in his stomach was certainly good enough for him at the moment.

Shortly after polishing off that last of his generously gifted snack, they came to the edge of the forest, opening into a vast expanse of rolling farmland, littered with modest cottages. Golden sun shimmered across the green pastures and wheat fields, the gentle breeze washing over them in soothing waves. Small herds of sheep graciously grazed upon the luscious grass, their soft baas adding to the calming chirps of the birds nesting in the trees. A small creek babbled through the middle of the quaint farming village, connecting to a slightly larger river, softly curving around its outer edge.

As Lucas was about to tug his horse’s reins towards the town, Remus stopped him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something odd, and upon further inspection, he was able to discern with moderate certainty—and ample confusion—what it was he was seeing.

“What is it?” Lucas asked, no yet seeing what Remus had.

“Shh-” Remus raised a finger to his lips, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Get off of your horse.”

Lucas did as he was told, as gently as he could manage, a crept around the front of Epona, still tightly clinging to her reins. His eyes scanned the village, before settling on a small cottage, not far from their position, and three men in Honterran attire, rapidly approaching it. Squinting his eyes, he watched as the men knocked on the door. The door slowly creaked open, and a dark haired man popped his head out, gave the outside world a quick glance over, before hurriedly rushing the Honterran soldiers inside, firmly shutting the door behind them.

“What the fuck are Honterrans doing here?” Lucas asked, giving his companion a wary look.

“More importantly, why did it seem like they weren’t exactly unexpected guests?” Remus added.

“We could go ask.” Lucas smirked, playfully.

“Something tells me they might have a few more questions for you than we do for them, if I’m being honest.” Remus replied, unamused.

Lucas pressed his lips together, the playful spark quickly fading from his face. Thanks to Remus, he’d now become unequivocally aware of how bloody useless he really was. Even being faced with the unique opportunity to capture Honterran soldiers, to finally have an insight into the goings on of Castle Honterra, his pregnancy forced him to stand aside and let them go. Remus didn’t seem quite as bothered by that fact as Lucas was, but even if he had been, he probably wouldn’t let on to it for Lucas’s sake.

“We’ll wait until those bastards clear out of town.” Remus finished, snapping Lucas away from his thoughts.

“Mm-” Lucas nodded, giving Epona a couple of gentle pets on the neck. “Hopefully, whatever business they’re up to doesn’t take too long.” He grumbled.

“Still thinking about food?” Remus asked with a wry smile.

“You try growing a person.”

“Fair enough.” Remus laughed through his nose.

Together, they quietly waited, each keeping careful watch over the cottage. Eventually, Lucas grew weary of standing, and decided to take a quick rest on the dirt path. His back felt stiff and achy, so he leaned back to lay flat on the ground, letting out a sigh, as relief washed over his body.

Remus gave him a quick glance, noting the gentle swell of his belly slightly protruding from his otherwise built physique. Lucas’s hands came to rest on the bump, as the corners of his lips upturned into a small smile. In that moment, Lucas looked completely at peace, with a calm, glowing aura extending outward in a sort of intoxicating happiness Remus had never recalled seeing before. In all the years he’d known Lucas, he’d never seen the man this filled with unadulterated joy. The anxiety of it all had clouded his true feelings so heavily, that no one would ever know what truly rested in his soul. But now, with Remus, there was no need to hide. He could just be happy, despite the inevitable hardships, and rising tensions of the world. Within him grew something so precious, and new, and so immensely loved, that Remus felt somehow unworthy of witnessing it.

Lucas peeked an eye up at his friend, catching him with a softened stare.

“What?” Lucas smiled, his brows slightly upturned.

Remus smiled back, shaking his head.

“Nothing.” He returned his gaze to the small cottage, keeping a watchful eye over it, while Lucas rested.

Vin hurried into the courtyard, hastily tugging at the collar of his shirt. He’d been dreading this day from the moment Carmilla stepped foot onto the palace grounds, but still, it was an inevitability he certainly couldn’t stall any longer, no matter how much he wished to.

“Please excuse my delayed arrival. I had a few matters to attend to.” Vin bowed towards the elven royals, which they rigidly returned.

“Punctuality is a valued trait amongst royals.” Kai'en’s voice was flat and cutting in a way that made Vin cringe.

Yanna cleared her throat, gently nudging her husband’s side, giving him a sturdy glare.

“Excuse my husband, it’s been a long journey.” Yanna attempted to smooth out the tension still radiating from the elven king at her side.

It was becoming increasingly clearer to Vin that no party in the courtyard was thrilled to be there, least of all, Carmilla, who made sure to keep as much distance between herself and her parents as was reasonably acceptable. There was a tinge of embarrassment on her face, or perhaps it was just a general unease. Vin wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. Either way, she looked less than okay with anything happening at the moment.

“Your home is quite lovely.” Yanna continued, breaking the awkward silence. “And Valkevilla has such charm.”

“Thank you,” Vin nodded, “my father took great pride in Valkevilla, and this castle was no exception.” He smiled, pleasantly consumed for a moment by memories of his father, before snapping himself back to his current company.

Yanna returned a smile that seemed a bit more forced than she’d intended to let on, however, Kai’en’s face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual scowl, his body emanating an arrogance that Yanna felt obligated to overcompensate for. Vin swiftly deduced that the queen may have been the more diplomatic of the two, as Kai'en appeared to carry his emotions quite unapologetically. Even though Vin appreciated the queen’s efforts, the transparency of them left him feeling more hollow than if she hadn’t tried at all.

“Father, I believe you and King Vincent have some matters to discuss, no?” Carmilla finally piped up, hoping to nudge this unpleasantly tense visit along.

“Yes, my dear, I believe you’re right.” Kai'en smiled at his daughter briefly, before returning his gaze to Vin. “Shall we, then?”

“Of course.” Vin nodded. “Please, follow me.”

With that, the kings wandered off towards the Solar, leaving their queens in the courtyard. Yanna let out an exasperated sigh, the tension finally leaving her body. She turned to her daughter and shook her head, giving her a half-hearted smile.

“I love your father, but his bedside manner is absolutely atrocious.” She laughed.

“I swear, you could cut the tension with a knife.” Carmilla replied, not finding as much humor in it as her mother had. It certainly seemed that her father had no interest in hiding his distaste for Valkevilla’s monarchy, which left Carmilla incredibly uneasy.

Yanna turned her body to face her daughter, grabbing her hands lightly. She gave her a quick study, and smiled warmly.

“I’ve missed you so much, darling.” She reached up to brush a stray coil aside. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

“I haven’t been gone long enough for you to forget what I look like.” Carmilla replied, flatly.

“Then forgive an old woman and her failing memory.” Yanna giggled. “Now-” She looped her arm around Carmilla’s, “why don’t you show me around the castle, hm?”

Vin and Kai'en stood on opposite sides of the solid wooden table, staring down at the old map draped across it. Chess pieces were scattered about at various points in the areas marked ‘Valkevilla’ and ‘Honterra’. Pawns lined the northern border, knights and bishops firmly stationed in various Valkevillan villages. The king pieces rested upon their respective castles, the dark mirroring the light.

“I’ve already sent some of my soldiers to the surrounding towns and villages for extra protection. The outskirts have evacuation orders, of course, but it’s a slow path. And we don’t have nearly enough ships to accommodate the amount of people we need to move, and there are no guarantees that our allied nations will have enough resources to support them until the war ends.” Vin stated with an exasperated sigh.

“In that case, it’s very likely that Castle Valkevilla will have to become the stronghold for your people.” Kai'en said, stroking his chin, eyes fixed on the map.

Vin shook his head, pressing his lips together in disapproval.

“I doubt they’ll be any safer here.” Vin countered. “King Wilfred won’t rest until this castle falls, that much I can be sure of. Bringing them here would only put them in harm’s way.”

“Your people are already in harm’s way.” Kai'en replied, leaning over to point at the drawing of Castle Valkevilla on the map. “Look here,” he let out a light groan, “the castle is far enough south that Honterran soldiers should never be able to even make it to the city walls. Provided, your soldiers are adequately stationed, of course.” He quickly added. “And even if they did, the castle is the most fortified building in Valkevilla. All you have to do is lock the doors.”

Vin nodded, his brows furrowing slightly as he contemplated what the older man had said. It was a fair assessment, even if the thought made him uneasy. Castle Valkevilla was built closer to the sea, putting a sizable distance between it and Honterra’s borders, and its walls were heavily reinforced. And with Honterra being a slightly smaller country, it was certainly possible that none of its soldiers would make it far enough into Valkevilla to even see the castle, much less initiate an attack on it. Still, it was a heavy risk he wasn’t quite settled on taking.

“I’ll use the castle as a last resort,” Vin sighed, “but I still want as many people out of Valkevilla as possible.”

Kai’en nodded, huffing through his nose, his finger frustratedly tapping the wooden table.

“Very well.” He grumbled. “How is recruitment going?”

“As well as I could expect. We’ve nearly tripled our numbers, however, most of them are farmers and fishermen. It’ll take a lot of effort to prepare them for battle in such a short period of time, and with most of my best soldiers on missions, our training resources are limited.” Vin leaned against the table, clenching his jaw, the frustration of his current predicament weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“Training won’t be an issue.” Kai’en crossed his arms assertively. “Elvenwood has plenty of proficient warriors. I will send orders to my best men upon my return.” He continued. “And from what I’ve seen, your weapons and armor stores are incredibly insufficient, so I’ll be sure to send along what I can spare.”

The elven king’s condescending tone made Vin wince, however, Kai'en wasn’t incorrect in his analysis, so he chose to let it go, instead nodding, choosing to be grateful for the help.

“Now, Honterra isn’t a large kingdom, but it does span quite a decent length across the entirety of your northern border, and about half of mine.” Kai'en leaned over, running his finger along the bold line indicating their countries’ borders. “Our best course of action would be to heavily guard the full length of the northern border.”

“Correct,” Vin agreed, “and with it being mostly woodlands to the north, our soldiers should have plenty of cover. However,” He bobbed his head to the side, “on the off chance that they come to a similar conclusion as us, they may attempt an attack by sea. Honterra does have one decently sized port, and that would give them access to our western,” Vin pointed to Valkevilla’s western port, before sliding his finger downwards, “and our southern borders.” He lightly tapped the image of Castle Valkevilla. “Which would then put the castle at greater risk, as well as leave a large opening into Elvenwood.”

“It certainly does pose a lot of open ground to cover.” Kai'en sighed, crossing his arms tightly.

“I’m open to any suggestions. I doubt we’ll have the man-power to cover the full length of both of our country’s borders.” Vin anxiously tapped his finger on the table.

“There is one option, but I doubt you’ll like it.”

“Try me.” Vin lifted his gaze, staring up at the elven king.

“Instead of defense,” Kai’en waved his hand as he mused for a moment, “you launch the first attack.”

Vin snapped up, eyes wide, with eyebrows scrunched. His body immediately tensed at the notion, and he felt his beaten heart skip in a way that made him instantly nauseous.

“That would be insane. It would be suicide.” Vin retorted.

“It’s a risk.” Kai'en admitted. “However, Castle Honterra is only a short distance from the border. Our men would have far less terrain to traverse than they’d have coming here, which already gives us an advantage.”

“You’re suggesting we storm an enemy castle that we have absolutely no functional knowledge of.” Vin’s crimson eyes bored into the elf’s. “For all we know, Wilfred could have the place armed to the teeth, and we’d be completely in the dark.” His voice was harsh around the edges, but he did his best to hide it. Though, the rigidity of his body seemed to betray his bluff.

“I thought your kind was used to the dark.” Kai'en smirked, staring down at the vampire.

Vin clenched his jaw, which Kai'en noticed, and took a silent pride in. It almost felt as if the elf had been itching to insult him, and finally found an opportunity. The way Kai’en had carried himself was nothing short of the most despicable display of cock measuring Vin had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. But, as much as Vin wanted to rip him apart, he wouldn’t let himself. Not when so much was at stake.

“Unless you can provide me explicit information on the layout and inner workings of Castle Honterra, it’s off the table.” Vin growled through clenched teeth, trying to calm himself for the sake of diplomacy.

“Whether I can or can’t isn’t much up for debate, is it?”

“What are you getting at?” Vin asked, beyond unamused, and very much looking forward to the point at which this unbearable encounter would end.

“If you want to win this war, you’ll have to be more aggressive with your tactics. A king sitting on his ass, waiting for someone else to make the first move, isn’t a king worth following.” Kai'en turned his back, and paced over to the window. “This entire kingdom was a gift from your father. A heavy gift, but a gift nonetheless, and if you do not have the strength to do what is necessary to protect it, then I will not allow my men to die for your cause.”

Vin’s body went rigid, rage building in his chest. Unconsciously, his fist clenched, hard enough for his long nails to leave marks on his palm.

“I will not send my men into a battle they will lose.” Vin’s heart pounded in his ears as he tried to control the angered tremor in his voice.

“Then you will lose everything!” Kai'en shot back, swiveling to meet Vin’s frustrated gaze. Taking a moment to readjust his coat, he calmed his tone. “In war, you will win, and you will lose. Be it land or men, you will be faced with those losses. The best course of action is to minimize what is lost.”

Vin shakily exhaled through his nose, directing his attention back towards the map, where he found himself blankly staring at the chess pieces, his eyes finally fixating on the white knight. His knight—Lucas. He’d desperately tried to avoid unnecessary conflict, the lives of his people depended on that right now. However, the day was rapidly approaching that avoiding conflict would no longer be an option. People were already going missing. People were already dying. How long would those people, who had lost so much, be willing to wait for Vin’s orders? Even though he too was one of those people, the thought of more being taken from him gripped tightly around his stomach to the point of near perpetual illness. It put a fear in his heart that he’d never felt before. What if one of those losses was Lucas? How valuable could winning this war truly be to him if that was the price he’d have to pay to do it?

“Minimize the loss...” Vin whispered to himself, trailing away into his thoughts.

“It’s the only way.” Kai'en continued, flatly, seemingly ignoring the young vampire’s absence.

Minimize the loss.

Carmilla and Yanna walked amongst the carefully manicured gardens surrounding the grounds. With the season soon coming to an end, many of the plants had already begun setting seed to carry on into the new year. The last of the vibrant blooms would become a distant memory before too long, save, of course, for the healer’s garden, enchanted with magic to grow year round.

“The gardens are quite lovely.” Yanna spoke, drawing a deep breath of the floral air. “The rest of it isn’t much, but I’m sure you can fix it in time.” She affectionately shook Carmilla’s arm.

“What’s wrong with it?” Carmilla asked, studying her mother’s expression closely.

“Well,” she started, taking a quick glance around, “it’s just a bit… rigid.” She tapped her chin lightly, trying to think of a way to properly phrase her statement in a way that wasn’t outright insulting. “Trying to exist in a place like this, so disconnected from what you’re used to, I fear it may be a bit draining for you.”

Carmilla pressed her lips together, turning away from her mother. It was odd, she thought, that her opinion of Valkevilla could change so much in such a short period of time. The shock of being somewhere unfamiliar was always taxing, however, Castle Valkevilla welcomed her with open arms—even if those arms were hesitant at first. Sure, there weren’t shimmering waterfalls, or elegant archways carved of fine marble, adorned with thriving ivy vines, but Valkevilla was her home now, and she’d embraced it, with all of its individuality.

“I don’t think I’d like to change it.” She finally spoke, her voice light, but confident.

“But it’s so… cold.” Yanna expressed, her brows furrowed slightly. “Surely a place like this could never feel like home.” She firmly pressed her lips together, scrunching her face with mild disgust, as she glanced at the castle’s architecture.

“You only believe that because it isn’t your home.” Carmilla corrected her.

“It isn’t really yours either.” Yanna frowned.

“Isn’t it?” Carmilla returned, calmly, facing her mother with darkened eyes. “Father sent me here to lay claim to Valkevilla, did he not?”

“Well-”

“Did he not?” The young queen pressed.

Yanna sighed, turning her gaze away from her daughter.

“That was his main motivation, yes.” Yanna finally replied, lightly brushing her fingers along a peony bush, gently caressing one of its pale yellow flowers.

Carmilla huffed through her nose, tightly clasping her hands in front of her, eyes following a fluttering butterfly as it leaped from flower to flower. Sunlight glittered off of its vibrant yellow wings into a glowing halo, perfectly encapsulating it in the genuine beauty of existence. Slowly, she extended her hand towards the insect, channeling a calming energy through it, silently beckoning it to her. After a moment, the butterfly lifted away from the flower and flitted to her outstretched hand, softly landing on her fingers. Gently, she pulled the butterfly closer, giving it half a smile.

“I know father only sees Valkevilla as a place to reclaim in the name of the elves that have long since fallen in its name, but he needs to accept that this land is no longer ours. And even if Valkevilla falls in this war, I will not rebuild it to honor the elves, but to honor the curse-borns, and humans, that call this land home.” Carmilla gently placed the butterfly onto a flower. “So many centuries have passed, that even the eldest of us do not remember the world before. But there are people alive here, now, that remember this as their home. I’m here to protect that for their sake, as that is the duty of the queen.”

Then, Yanna said something Carmilla hadn’t expected. Words she’d never heard come from the mouths of either her mother, or her father. Words she’d desperately longed to hear, but had accepted that she never would.

“I’m proud of you.” Yanna smiled kindly, brushing her fingers through Carmilla’s curls. Her daughter had grown so much, had accepted every challenge with stride, and was now growing into something new and unexpected. Carmilla’s aura had changed, as though she was no longer hiding behind a façade, but instead, had embraced herself and her opinions as something to be valued. Something to stand for.

Carmilla’s gaze shot up, staring wide-eyed into her mother’s golden brown eyes. A gentle breeze lightly blew through Yanna’s long, curly hair, as time seemed to stand still. Carmilla wasn’t sure she’d heard it correctly at first, but her mother’s smile held as a firm confirmation. Slowly, Yanna moved her hand to caress her daughter’s slightly flushed cheek.

“Never lose that spark in your soul.” Yanna’s expression warmed. “Valkevilla needs it, and so will your children.”

Carmilla swallowed hard, eyes fluttering as she fought against her emotions, tears threatening to spill. Yanna giggled softly, as she noticed her daughter’s chin beginning to quiver.

“Oh darling,” she spoke in a motherly tone Carmilla could only recall from her childhood, “already such a mess.” She brushed a stray tear aside. “You always felt things so deeply, but you kept those feelings locked away for so long. Perhaps your father and I are to blame for that.” Yanna’s tone fell.

Carmilla sighed, and bit her lower lip.

“I spent my entire life doing as I was told, just to make you and father proud. So that I could be seen as something more than just a princess.” Carmilla paused briefly to collect herself. “My brothers never had to try so hard, so why did I?” She asked, her voice cracking at the end, but still holding together.

Yanna shook her head, and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, softly stroking the back of her head. Carmilla hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her arms around her mother.

“I know it wasn’t fair to you.” Yanna sighed. “And sometimes parents make mistakes, and we don’t understand the gravity of them until the consequences of them manifest. But, despite it all, you’ve managed to come out of it alright.” She pulled away, still tightly gripping Carmilla’s arms, giving her a playful smile. “And being married to a king isn’t so bad, eh?”

“We will not be marrying.” Carmilla corrected, her voice still slightly uneven, which took Yanna by surprise.

“I’m sorry?” Her smile began to fade, as her brows furrowed with confusion.

“We’ve decided not to wed.”

“I don’t understand…” Her eyes darted back and forth as she attempted to process this new information. “The foundation of our agreement is based on your union. Without it, how will-”

“Our agreement was based upon an heir, not a marriage.” Carmilla cut Yanna off.

“This is a risky political move, you understand? Elvenwood could lose everything.” Yanna pressed, her tone serious, and saturated with worry and disapproval.

“At this point, I am Elvenwood’s only investment and I have deemed this to be the more favorable option.” Carmilla spoke firmly, regaining her confidence. “This was a decision the king and I came to together, and I’d appreciate your support, however, I do not require it.”

“Are you sure you trust King Vincent enough to risk Elvenwood’s position in this agreement?”

“Father trusted him enough to place me in his care. He trusted him enough to impregnate me.” Carmilla glared at her mother, who’s face had now fallen into shock. “So, now I must ask, if King Vincent is so untrustworthy, how little does father care for me?

Remus lightly kicked Lucas’s foot, waking him from his unplanned doze. He yawned, and pushed himself up onto his elbow, taking a quick glance around. Judging by the sun, not much time had passed, however, Lucas seemed to certainly make the most of that time by sleeping incredibly hard.

“Honterrans are leaving.” Remus said flatly, his voice low as to not alert the enemy soldiers to their presence.

Remus extended a hand to help Lucas up, which Lucas graciously took, even if he felt a bit embarrassed by Remus’s coddling. Once on his feet, he brushed the dirt from his clothes, and stretched his back.

The Honterran soldiers had nearly made it to the edge of the town by the time Lucas had gotten a good look at them. Remus kept a close eye on them, waiting for them to disappear over the hill. As soon as they vanished from sight, Remus grabbed the reins on his horse, and began tugging him down the path towards the village.

“Why don’t we go say hi?”

Lucas nodded, grabbed Epona’s reins, and followed Remus down the hill.

#a gift unto the king #knight au #mpreg #male pregnancy #belly kink #werewolf #oc #vampire #elf #tum kink

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