#let’s ignore the fact that i accidentally drew myself right handed

[lilcatastrophe]

*lounges across your dash* hey

another meet the artist for 2024 and also my birthday ! did one for myself last year n thought why not make it an annual thing

apologies for the chicken scratch handwriting btw :’) closeups of the text + last years mta below the cut

[fridaythe13ththeseries]

Reflecting - Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ryan squatted behind the counter, hiding, waiting as Micki, Rashid and Johnny dealt with the man sent to collect Jack’s books. He wanted to leap up and over the counter, to grab the man and demand he help them free their friend from that damn mansion. Micki’s hand on his shoulder was all that stopped him from following through on his instincts.

“We almost have the books ready, we just need to find one more.” Micki said, trying very hard to sound pleasant, as if this was a normal business deal they were engaged in.

“I want them all, now.” the man said, tersely. Ryan heard the sound of a gun cocking. “Now.” the man repeated.

“Whoa, buddy, hold on!” Johnny said, moving out of Ryan’s limited range of vision. Johnny was attempting to come out from behind the counter, probably to try and disarm the man once he had an opportunity. Ryan wanted to help, but again he held his position, waiting.

“My friend, the gun will not make the book appear any quicker.” Rashid spoke, in his calming, matter-of-fact way. “Frightening us will only hamper the search for it, as we will be in fear of our safety, lest your weapon go off. Accidentally, of course.”

“Look, Sahib.” the man said, attempting to insult Rashid, yet only showcasing his own ignorance. “I don’t need a lecture on gun safety. Get the book now, or I put a slug in each of you and find it for myself. Comprende?”

“Okay, okay.” Johnny answered before Rashid had a chance. “We’ll get you the book, no worries. Just don’t get all trigger happy, man. I am going check the shelf right there behind you. And Ryan, why don’t you check the bottom shelf there.”

Ryan couldn’t see what Johnny was doing, but he quickly figured it out. The man with the gun would assume that ‘Ryan’ was Rashid, since he didn’t know his name. But Johnny was really talking to Ryan himself, telling him to look on the bottom shelf behind the counter.

Ryan carefully looked around, the light very dim where he hid. Slowly, he moved his hand over items, taking precautions to not make any noise. A phone book, some rubber galoshes, an umbrella. What could Johnny want Ryan to find, what could help them?

“No funny business.” the man said, obviously wary of Johnny and his intentions. “Keep where I can see you.”

“Okay, no problem.” Johnny answered. “Just going to check here, on this shelf. Let’s see, what am I looking for. ‘Sorcery and Magics of the Middle Ages’, huh? This isn’t it, just a book on coin collecting.”

Ryan took the hint, looking around again on the shelf before him. An old, chipped bean jar stood on the shelf below the register, a jar he himself had placed there a few years ago. He had dropped it once when they were cleaning the shop, and once it had cracked Ryan knew it couldn’t be a cursed item. So he placed it here to collect the excess pennies they gathered over time. He reached inside and felt the item Johnny had been directing him toward. He lifted it out slowly, clenching it tightly in his fist. He poised, waiting for his moment.

“Please, do be careful with your weapon.” Rashid said, crouching down, examining a shelf to play up Johnny’s ruse. The mystic looked slightly to the side, and at Ryan, still hidden behind the counter. Ryan motioned with his free hand, instructing Rashid to draw the man’s attention away from where Ryan was hidden. Rashid nodded his understanding.

Standing up quickly, Rashid shouted. “Aha! Look, I have found it at last!”

Hoping the outburst drew the gunman’s attention, Ryan leapt to his feet, quickly adjusted his aim and threw his right arm forward. The baseball he had found in the jar flew forward out of his hand and smashed into the man’s forehead.

The throw wasn’t hard enough to knock him out, but Johnny used the moment to dive into action, grabbing the arm and hand that held the gun, forcing them upward. The loud explosion of the gun firing a bullet somewhere above drew a scream from Micki.

Ryan jumped up and over the counter, quickly joining Johnny in his struggle with the still-armed gunman. As Johnny held the thug’s arm, Ryan grabbed the weapon itself, succeeding in twisting it free of the man’s grasp.

“Alright, enough. Let him go.” Ryan said, backing away from the struggling men, holding the gun up now.

Johnny pushed the man away, sending him into a display shelf of old wooden toys and trucks. The impact sent items falling to the ground, but didn’t seem to knock the wind out of their visitor. He stepped forward, ready to do battle once more.

“Hold it. That’s enough - just hold it.” Ryan said, with the gun aimed squarely at the man’s chest.

Now unarmed, the man stopped and stood still, angry eyes aimed at Ryan, hands clenched into tight fists. He wasn’t at all happy at being outsmarted by the group of antique dealers.

“Johnny,” Ryan said, not looking away from their new guest. “Go outside and see if there’s someone waiting for him or if he came alone.”

“Right.” Johnny answered, quickly jumping down the small steps and heading out the front door, the bells ringing as he exited. He was back inside just as quickly. “No, just him, if I can assume the fancy BMW out front is his. Or rather, is one of his boss Casares’ cars.”

“Well?” Ryan asked, looking at the seething errand boy before him.

The man slowly, reluctantly, nodded.

“Okay, good. Let’s walk back here” Ryan said to the man, indicating the back of the store with a nod of his head. Ryan wanted to get the man out of sight of the front of the shop. “Micki, maybe it’s best if you close up for the day? Once customer seems to be all we can handle at the moment.”

Micki didn’t answer, instead running down the small steps Johnny had just come back up. She quickly flipped the sign from ’open’ to ’closed’ and locked the shop door.

Johnny and Rashid, meanwhile, had taken it upon themselves to sit their prisoner down in the wooden desk chair, securing him to it with rope they usually kept for customers who purchased large items that were difficult to secure in their vehicles. Once he was safely tied up, the foursome reconvened at the counter, far enough to talk without being overheard but close enough to keep an eye on him.

“Now what?” Micki asked, watching Ryan place the loaded gun on the counter, pointing it away from them all. “Casares is going to be expecting him back with the books.”

“Well, I could go in his place. We know where the mansion is, after all.” Johnny offered.

Rashid shook his head. “No, they will know the difference between you and him, Johnny. They won’t let you set foot in the house, books or not. They will realize something has happened to their man.”

Ryan spoke up now. “What if we do that, but use it as a sort of diversion, to draw their attention away while the rest of us get to Jack.”

Micki suddenly snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it!” she said, smiling. “But first, we have to make sure our new friend here isn’t going to cause us any more trouble. Johnny, find his car keys and bring his car around back, near the garage. Ryan, you better bring his gun, just in case.”

“Micki, what do you have in mind?” Ryan asked first, as curious as Johnny and Rashid to know her plan.

“Wait.” she answered, grabbing their own car keys from behind the counter. “Let’s get him locked into the trunk of his car, then I’ll fill you in. We are going to get Jack back here, safe and sound.”

[iwritefandomimagines]

AARON HOTCHNER x READER: “Are you drunk?”

requested: prompt 10

masterlist

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

description: you’ve been fighting feelings for hotch for some time now, assuming he doesn’t feel the same. after witnessing office gossip and having a drink or two, hotch makes it clear you were wrong to assume that.

warnings: kissing, but nothing too explicit.

Another day of stolen glances. Another day of accidental touches when he was trying to stay away. Another day of sexual tension lingering in the air so thickly that it could be cut with only the sharpest of knives.

Aaron Hotchner was the bane of your existence, you were certain of it.

You’d been attracted to him since the day you first set foot into the BAU. He was still married to Haley, then, and you’d kept your distance because you respected that, but knew you couldn’t help your desperation to flirt with him. It helped that she knew how you felt -- she’d never liked you as a result.

When they got divorced, you supported him as best as you could. You thought about keeping your distance, not wanting to let yourself fall for him even more in a time of his vulnerability. But you couldn't let him suffer his heartbreak without knowing that, in whatever capacity, you cared.

But now that some time had passed, things had gone back to usual. In the past few weeks he seemed to avoid you entirely. You felt worried, like you’d imposed too much on his personal life and that was why he was avoiding you like the plague. 

Should you have stayed out of it?

He’d seemed incredibly grateful for your concern at the time, but what had changed? You didn’t want to ruin things, not with the man you were certain you were head over heels for.

Despite him trying his best to ignore you, the tension between you remained ever-present. Everyone seemed to notice, the girls taking it upon themselves to gossip and throw endless questions at you. They’d gone so far as to assume something had happened between you already, assuming that was why things were awkward. 

You were finishing up some paperwork, Garcia, Emily and JJ at your side as you pushed your last pile of folders to the back of your desk, “You’re telling us the absolute truth, right?” Penelope pressed, chin in her palm as she nosed at your personal life as ever. 

“Nothing happened between us, guys,” you laughed sourly, and they obviously could detect your tone, “He still loves her, I’m sure of it. It hasn’t been long, has it?”

Emily eyed you curiously, “And how do you feel about him?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how much to give away, “I suppose I’ve been lying saying I’m not even slightly attracted to him. But nothing will happen, he’s never going to feel anything for me... And he’s my boss. Besides, he’s been avoiding me for a while now...”

JJ laughed, glancing up towards Hotch’s office, “Y/N, he’s been undressing you with his eyes all week... And whenever you’re not in the office he’s asking after you, always making excuses about paperwork he needs from you.” 

You blushed, looking up and accidentally catching his eye, looking immediately back at the girls. Did he really ask after you? Of course you’d noticed that there was tension, but you assumed it was more on your part and that he was simply lonely as a result of his divorce.

“I-I don’t know guys,” you stuttered, raising to your feet and slinging your bag over your shoulder, “I’ve gotta head home anyway. I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow, okay?”

As soon as Hotch saw you stand, his eyes followed you the whole way out of the doors. He gulped, seeing the girls’ eyes trail to him and knowing that he’d been the topic of conversation prior to your exit.

He left his office, pacing over to where they sat with a stern expression on his face as ever, “Is everything okay with Y/L/N?” 

Penelope smirked, “Oh, she’s just a little pent up, I think,” she teased, debating letting the truth slip but deciding instead to just suggest, “I think you should speak to her, sir.”

Hotch just nodded, swallowing hard and heading back to his office to gather hs things and leave. 

“Oh my god, I’ve never seen Hotch leave so early... Do you think he’s really going to speak to her?” Emily whispered, and the girls all felt giddy as they hoped their friends would finally make the moves they’d wanted to for as long as they’d known them.

------

You were just falling asleep when a knock rapped at your front door.

You stumbled out of bed, hardly awake enough to realise the small slip nightdress barely covering your frame. 

You were surprised to find a slightly disheveled looking Aaron Hotchner, his tie pulled loose and his face twisted in an expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Sorry for-for turning up like this, Y/N. But I’d like to talk to you if that’s okay,” he took in your sleepy state then, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

You shrugged, “Not quite. But it’s alright, come in.”

He stumbled a little as he walked in and, considering he didn’t drink much usually you brushed it off and assumed he was just being awkward as he followed you to your couch.

“What is it, Aaron? Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “I’m sorry. For ignoring you, because it’s the last thing I wanted to do, darling. Really.” He sat beside you on the couch, closer than he’d ever usually sit, his warm breath over your face and allowing you smell the scotch on his tongue.

“Are you drunk?” 

Aaron’s hand reached up to your face, his palm cupping your jaw tentatively as his eyes searched yours for the right way to articulate his feelings to you, “I had a drink or two to make this... easier to say. You know I’m not good with talking about feelings, which is why I’ve avoided you recently.”

“What do you mean?” your breathing was ragged under his touch. Was he saying what you thought he was right now?

“I’ve got feelings for you, Y/N. Feelings stronger than I’ve admitted to myself for a long time... Everyone else could see it. Even Haley saw it, as she loved to shove in my face when filing for divorce,” he pulled your face closer to his, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips, “And when you helped me through the divorce I was so grateful but... I got scared. I was scared to let you in and admit that I felt anything for you.”

“Aaron I’ve had feelings for you since the first moment we met,” you whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his thumb as it sat just at the corner of your mouth, “I was afraid I was pushing it and that you just didn’t feel the same.”

He shook his head, “Y/N you’ve been on my mind constantly. I’ve pushed the feelings away for too long and I could see you talking to the girls earlier, when I saw them after they made it quite clear what was being discussed so I... I knew I needed to bite the bullet.”

You drew in a sharp breath as he leaned in so that your foreheads were touching. You’d never quite seen Aaron this tender and gentle, even in his heartbroken state. Shivers flew up your spine and you fought the urge to kiss him for a few moments, but he didn’t give you any more of a chance as he captured your lips in his.

The kiss was soft and didn’t last long, but the passion and longing couldn’t have been more fiery. He drew back nervously, “Sorry. Was that okay?”

“More than okay, Aaron,” you assured him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips to reassure him, “In fact, I’d quite like it if you kissed me again.”

He laughed a little, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile before he kissed you again. This time the kiss was deep, his tongue gliding along your bottom lip as you parted your lips quickly. Your hands flew around his neck as he pulled you onto his lap, panting.

When you pulled back, his brows furrowed, “I don’t want to rush this, sweetheart, but I’d like to give this a try, if that’s what you want. You and me.”

You grinned, beaming like the Cheshire Cat as he nervously looked at you.

“I’d love that, Aaron. More than anything,” your hands found the bottom of his hair, tugging slightly as you kissed him again, “You and me.”

“You and me.”

“Finally.”

Aaron didn’t leave your house that night and, for that entire weekend, it was hard to find a moment where you weren’t occupied with each other. 

After all this time, the man you’d been pining over really did feel the same.

And he more than made up for all the time spent waiting.

-----

thank u for reading! i hope this was okay... feel free to keep requests coming (especially criminal minds ones !!!) because i have so much free time to write rn hahahah <3 if you need ideas, here’s my prompt list & if you want to read more of my stuff -- here’s my masterlist!

[rengoku-loves-you]

This is such a weird request, but can you do the reader doing a break up prank on our sun, kyo? (Weird ik I just kinda wanna see how it goes XD)

(hi hun! don't worry about weird requests, this made me laugh when i read it! though it probably doesn’t show... i probably made it a bit more emotional and angsty than you were hoping, i’m sorry about that ^^; it hurt my little kyo-loving heart to make him sad tho, i almost couldn't bear it but that was the way it flowed :'D thank you so much for your request! ���️️)

kyojuro x reader (in which you make up a break-up)

warnings: miscommunication, prank (accidentally) gone too far, angst?

"i think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."

kyojuro freezes. he'd been in the middle of cleaning his sword, wiping away the remains of the demon he had slain during his last mission, when you dropped that bomb on him. you don't even have the decency to look at him, sitting across from him with your eyes closed and your legs crossed like his. practicing your breathing, supposedly.

"what do you mean by that?" he asks slowly, very sure he's heard you wrong. his hearing has always been a little faulty ever since that one disastrous mission. "you're my successor! we could hardly not see each other anymore, your training is nowhere near complete. unless one of us goes blind!" he smiles, and you blink open your eyes. you don't look as amused as he hoped you would.

"i mean we should break up," you say bluntly, and that. that slaps the tentative smile right off his face. for a long moment, it's silent.

"ah," he says, quiet. his gaze flicks away, down to his sword, and he mindlessly starts cleaning it again before his hands start to shake. he forces his lips upward again, ignoring how they tremble. "i... if that's what you truly want, i understand! i will not pressure you to change your mind! you know what you desire better than anyone!" and he doesn't say any more, scrubbing the rag over the blade over and over and over again.

"okay," you say shortly. "thank you for understanding, rengoku." he gives a single nod, and you close your eyes again. rengoku. you only called him that when he was in trouble. otherwise, it was always kyojuro or even kyo.

it stings.

it stings a lot, even more than the bite the demon had taken out of his leg during the mission. in fact, his heart hurts so bad that he doesn't even notice when his eyes start to sting as well until tears are dripping onto his sword, smearing when he tries to rub them away.

"i'm just," you start to say, and then you inhale sharply, cutting yourself off. he doesn't hear what you say next, because he sobs at the sound of your voice, and his sword falls to the ground in his haste to scrub away the shameful, selfish tears. when he feels your hands on his shoulders, he jerks away.

“i’m fine, i’m okay!” he insists loudly, dodging your touch again when your fingers brush his cheek. he’s trying so hard to keep the smile on his face that it only makes his eyes water more. “i’ll stop in a moment, i apologize for this!” his voice wobbles, and he roughly scrubs at his face for it, trying to tamp the emotions down. he isn’t even entirely sure why he’s crying like this. you’re still his successor, and you’re not so cruel as to treat him coldly even after you break up. he knows you’ll still be friends at the very least. it’s not as if you’ll really never see each other again.

but you were his first, the only one he dared to let in so deep into his heart even though he knows the risks, because he believed in you and your ability to stay alive. he believed you would succeed in becoming a pillar, flame or otherwise, and just like a moth to a flame that spark inside you drew him in. you were natural friends, slipping into dating territory without either of you having to ask.

(”dating” being a relative term, of course. neither of you have much time to indulge in silly, normal dates, so you steal kisses, stay for dinner, and spend the night when you can.)

he feels like a child again, freshly abandoned, scorched inside with grief and burned outside from the flames he recklessly practices with. only this time, the external burns are your fleeting touches as you try to calm him down, saying words his ears refuse to let him process.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he persists, hoarse now that he’s nearly cried out, and you fall quiet. his entire face feels hot, a mixture of his aggressive rubbing, the usual post-breakdown flush, and shame. you’ve given up on helping, standing worriedly at his side with your hands wringing. you watch him take shuddering breaths, somehow still with that damned grin on his face that looks nothing but painful. 

“i apologize,” kyojuro begins, because he knows all his crying did was make you feel guilty and the last thing he wants is to make you feel responsible for him and his silly emotions.

“it was a joke,” you say weakly, and he blinks, water catching on his lashes as he gazes at the wall.

“what was that?” he asks, tugging the handkerchief from his breast pocket. you open your mouth, but then he blows his nose, loud and obnoxious, and you shut it again. you wait until he folds it back up, sniffing once, before he grips his knees with his eyes so wide that if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was waiting for someone to cut his head off. “i don’t think i heard you correctly. can you repeat that?”

“it was a joke,” you say again, lamely. “i-i didn’t expect you to take it so hard, especially not that fast. i thought you were gonna act all pouty and give me those sad eyes that you get whenever i don’t share my sweet potatoes with you. then i’d say i was kidding, and we’d kiss and laugh ‘cause we’re too perfect together for that to happen. it was supposed to be funny. i’m not that good at lying, kyo.” you kneel next to him, bowing your head. “i’m sorry.” even as the silence stretches, you don’t dare look up.

“well,” he rasps, and you jolt when you feel a warm hand fall on your head, “i suppose i’m just that terrible at understanding jokes!” when you dare to lift your eyes, he’s smiling at you. genuinely this time, small and still mildly tearstained. “there’s no need to apologize! i was the one who overreacted!”

“kyojuro,” you nearly whine, because he’s only making you feel worse. “it was a mean prank in the first place, don’t you dare start apologizing to me. i’m the one who should be apologizing.” he chuckles, his hand sliding to your upper arm and tugging gently, and you immediately lean into him. he wraps his arm around your shoulders, nose pressed to the top of your head, and you loop your arms around his waist.

“if you say so! i won’t argue with you!” he brings his other arm up, and then he’s practically shuffling into your lap, squeezing you tightly. you let him, even though he’s heavy and nowhere near acceptable lap-sitting size, because you can still feel him shaking and you know he needs the comfort.

“i really am sorry,” you mumble against his shoulder, fingers toying with his belt. “i’ve never seen you cry like that.”

“i’ll forgive you,” he says, “under one condition!” you don’t hesitate to nod. right now, you’d probably do anything he asked, if only to ease the massive pit of guilt in your stomach just a little. he pulls back, hands gripping your shoulders, and gives you another smile. more of a smirk, really. then he leans close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver.

“never, ever leave me,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear when he speaks. “otherwise...” you close your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm, but force yourself to keep still. he sighs, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, his hands slowly wandering down to your sides. “otherwise, i’ll cry. i’ll cry myself to death! then you’ll really be sorry!” his fingertips dig into your sides, and you gasp and jolt at the sharp, ticklish pain.

you really should’ve known.

“kyojuro!” you halfheartedly shove at his chest, and he falls back, laughing. his voice is still a little thick, and his eyes are raw and he’s still shaking like a leaf, but he leans in and kisses you anyway. that’s all the forgiveness you two need for now.

(he tastes like salt.)

[ray-ray-writings]

Catch Me If I Fall-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp

Check out my Masterlist here

What was supposed to be a simple mining trip goes horribly wrong when Y/N doesn’t pay attention to their surroundings. 

Y/N’s POV

“Be careful” Techno warned, pressing a kiss to my forehead and then one to my lips. I couldn’t help the smile that graced my face, “Will do,” I responded softly, kissing my boyfriend once more before checking to make sure I had all I needed for my trip. Food, wood, torches, and my netherite pickaxe. 

When Techno and I had moved out of L’Manberg, a lot of his things were taken before we could pack it up, including his many stacks of diamonds. Techno had a lot to do at our new snowy home, so I offered to go mining for us. Techno was hesitant at first, but after assuring him multiple times I would be fine, he agreed and made me an enchanted netherite pickaxe that had Efficiency V, Fortune III, Unbreaking III, and Mending on it so that it would let me mine faster and wouldn’t break in the middle of my trip. 

“You have everything?” Techno asked softly. I nodded with a bright smile, “I do!” I chirped brightly. “Okay… I’ll see you in a few hours?” I hummed in confirmation, “I’ll see you in a few hours.” Techno leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against my lips, I immediately kissed back. A few moments passed before I forced myself to pull away, knowing I would never leave if I didn’t. “I love you so much” I murmured to the pink haired man. A soft blush fell on Techno’s cheeks. Techno pulled me in for a quick hug, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you too, love. More than you’ll ever know.” 

Techno released me from the hug causing me to let out a sigh. I took a few steps down into the mine before turning and waving to my boyfriend who remained at the tops of the steps. He immediately smiled softly and waved back. “Bye baby” “Bye love”. Another sigh escaped my lips as I turned back around and continued down the steps, further into the earth. 

It didn’t take me too long to get to level 12. I immediately got to work on strip mining. I hit many patches of coal, redstone, iron, and many other ores, but no diamonds. I had been down in the mine for about an hour at this point and had yet to find what I actually came down here for. Which is why I was so excited when the next piece of stone I removed opened a hole to a ravine. 

I slightly thanked whoever was above for this. This is the break I was looking for. I quickly removed the other piece of stone that blocked my path and immediately rushed into the ravine. I looked around, making sure to note where the lava was so that I didn’t accidentally walk into it or fall. I quickly decorated my opening with torches so I would be able to tell where I came from so I wouldn’t get lost. After only a few moments in the ravine, I found what I was looking for. “DIAMONDS!” I screeched in victory, rushing toward the patch embedded in the wall of the ravine. 

I quickly mined the diamonds and watched with glee as they kept going. Once I was done with the patch, I had acquired 24 diamonds. I let out an excited squeal as I moved further down the ravine to search for more. Another patch came into view and I ran up to it with excitement. I was so absorbed in my excitement of finding diamonds, that I didn’t hear the drop behind me. Maybe had I heard the telltale sizzling of the creeper that had fallen behind, I wouldn’t have taken so much damage. But I didn’t. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. The creeper had exploded, sending me forward into the stone hole I had made. My face smashed off of the hard wall and much like the creeper, my back exploded in pain. I couldn’t help the scream that escaped my lips at the blast. 

I took a few moments to take some deep breaths before slowly standing up and crawling out of the hole. My legs shook under my weight. “Oh fuck,” I breathed out, my eyes scanning the ravine. A lot of mobs had spawned. A lot of them were ignoring me, but due to the explosion, some had turned to look and found me. As fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast, I turned and limped back toward where I came from, my eyes scanning the wall for my torches. 

The sound of footsteps hitting the ground sounded behind me as mobs dropped from above to chase me. My breath quickly as I slowly began to panic. Icy hot fear ran through me as I realized one fatal thing that I had forgotten on my journey. A sword. A bow. An axe. Literally any weapon to protect myself. I forgot it. I didn’t think that I would need it… I’m so dumb sometimes. 

The groan of a zombie grew closer and closer. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder as something hit it. I let out a whimper as I turned around and found a zombie right behind me. I took a deep breath and punched the zombie as hard as I could, causing it to stumble back, giving me enough time to escape. 

My eyes caught sight of the many torches that outlined my entrance to the ravine causing me to almost cry in relief. I whimpered as I limped faster toward my safe haven, but once again, a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. This pain though caused me to scream. I looked at my shoulder and found an arrow sticking through it, almost causing me to faint. I willed the thought away, knowing that if I did faint, I was a goner and would lose a life. I gritted my teeth and threw myself in the hole I created earlier, immediately turning around to block the path with cobblestone. 

Once I knew I was safe, I allowed the tears that had built in my eyes to fall. Everything hurt so much. I had such a long walk back to the stairs out of the mine and then I would have to walk 50 blocks up and 50 blocks home. I placed down a single piece of cobble and took a seat to try and compose myself. I pulled out some of the food I had packed from my inventory. 

As I ate, my hand brushed against my nose and when I pulled it away, blood coated my hand letting me know my nose was in fact bleeding from the impact of the wall. The food helped me feel a tiny, and I really mean tiny, bit better. I mentally assessed what was happening in my shoulder before deciding it would be best to leave the arrow in my shoulder so that I wouldn’t bleed out on my way back, no matter how uncomfortable it was. I also made sure to check my inventory and was happy to find the diamonds I had mined safe in my care. I had only found about 40 but there was no way I was spending more time down here to look for more. 

After taking the time I needed to calm myself, I slowly stood up and began my long walk back to the stairs. The journey took me about an hour and a half. I had to take it really slow due to my injuries. But I made it to the stairs nonetheless. I almost cried staring up at them though. It took me another half an hour to climb the stairs that normally would have taken no longer than 10 minutes to climb. 

By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I was exhausted. I couldn’t walk anymore, but I had to. The house was about 50 blocks away. For some reason we decided to keep the mine and the house separate and now I cursed that decision. I stared at the warm house and almost sobbed at the sight. “TECHNO!” I screamed as loud as I could. The pink headed man was on the front porch doing something. At the sound of my scream the man immediately dropped what he was doing and booked it toward the mine. “Y/N!” He yelled in return.

My legs quivered as he drew closer and when he was right in front of me, they gave out completely. Techno caught me and pulled me as close as he could to his chest, keeping in mind the arrow that was poking from my shoulder. “What happened?!” He questioned in a panic, his eyes scanning over my body. “Mobs.” I whimpered, clutching his shoulders tightly. “I told you to be careful, damnit” He hissed, scooping my legs into his arms and carrying me bridal style to the house. “I was,” I whimpered. My body must have sensed that I was now in a safe place because my vision went black and I completely collapsed into Techno’s arms. 

*Small Time Skip*

My shoulder’s cold. That was the first thing I could think of when I came too. What’s on my shoulder? I let out a groan as my eyes fluttered open. I wasn’t in the mine or outside in the snow. I was in Techno and my shared bedroom. I slowly turned my head to look at my shoulder. The arrow had been removed and it was now wrapped in gauze and an ice pack sat on top of it. My throat was dry and my body ached, less than it did, but I was still sore. “Techno?” I croaked, hoping he could hear me. 

I didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open within seconds and there stood my pink headed boyfriend. “Y/N” He breathed, rushing toward the side of my bed. He leaned down and pressed a sweet and careful kiss to my lips before kneeling down beside me, clutching my hand tightly. “You scared the hell out of me,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “I’m sorry,” I whispered back. Techno let out a small sigh before kissing my hand again. “Don’t be sorry love. It’s not your fault. I should have gone with you or sent you with better protection.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes lovingly, “It’s not your fault” I playfully mocked, bringing his hand to my mouth and kissing it. Techno chuckled deeply at my statement. 

“How are you feeling?” He questioned, standing up slightly, his eyes glancing over my injuries. “Okay” I told him, “I’m a bit sore, but okay. I could use a glass of water,” I hinted. Techno chuckled and nodded, “On it,” He quickly left the room and returned with a glass of water. My boyfriend held the glass to my lips and helped me drink. Once I was done, he set the glass down on the nightstand. “Anything else?” he asked. I slowly extended my arms and made grabby hands. Techno laughed and got the hint, crawling in bed beside me. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around me, making sure that what he was doing wasn’t causing me any pain. Once he was sure I was okay, he pulled me close to his chest, pressing kisses on my head. I giggled at the feeling and allowed myself to relax in his arms. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I whispered. Techno hummed, “Anytime love. I’ll always be there for you. Just try not to scare me like that again. When you fell… I just felt my heart stop. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” I nodded slowly into his chest, “I’m glad you were there to catch me when I fell. My legs just gave out. It took me so long to get back up from the mine and I was so tired…” “I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall. Just don’t make a habit of it.” The two of us shared a laugh about that. “I promise,” I murmured, letting out a yawn. “You’re tired, you should sleep more. I’ll still be here when you wake.” Techno murmured in my ear. I let out a tired hum and nodded. “Okay… I love you” “I love you too… so much”

There you have it! I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, be sure to leave a like!!

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Hermoso

Pairings: BNHA Boys x Latinx!reader

Warnings: My very limited knowledge of both bilingual people and also the Spanish language as a whole :I Also Bakugou is back to saying a few no no words

Characters: Bakugou, Todoroki, Kaminari

A/N:

Hello! Just wanted to say thanks to @pstpstpst-kirikirikiri​​ for requesting! I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I am in fact Latina myself (mixed)! Sadly, I'm not fluent in Spanish (I mean, I can kinda understand it when it's spoken, but even then it's ehh) sooo I hope I was able to do this one well! Tell me if there are any glaring issues. I'm generally not very comfortable with doing racially / ethnically-specific readers, but I decided to give this one a go since I have a teeny bit of background in this.

Ignore how I kinda slacked on Shouto's and popped off on Bakugou's ヽ(。_°)ノ

Anyway, enjoy! Mwah!

-Sugar

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Bakugou:

● Alright, so let's say you've got a crush on Katsuki

● But who doesn't? *ahem ahem*

● He's just so handsome?? And low key kinda cute too, when he's not making his crankypants frowny face

● It gets to the point where you toy with the nickname in your head, thinking about cupping his soft cheeks in your hands and murmuring it to him. Hermoso

● Aaand then one day, it slips out. Shoot

● He kinda makes a face at you, just a little confused

● He doesn't speak Spanish, right? So you're okay, right?

● But then it happens again. And later again a third time

● Hopefully he doesn't notice your flustered state each time it happens. For all he knows, it could be casual, right?

You wandered into the common room in search of your notebook. Much to your mild annoyance, you'd forgotten to bring it back up to your room the last time you were down here. You found Bakugou sprawled out on one of the couches—a rare sighting to be honest. He usually holed up in his dorm room to be alone rather than venture out into one of the common spaces. Although it probably helped that the room was otherwise currently empty.

"Hey," you greeted him casually.

As you expected, he scarcely bothered to acknowledge you, only diverting his gaze from his phone for a second before going back to it.

You wandered around the space, checking the floor and table for your item of interest. Really it shouldn't be this difficult. The notebook wasn't in some kind of color that would have been hard to miss against the materials of the room.

Glancing at Bakugou, you weighed your options. There was a chance that someone had accidentally kicked it under one of the couches, so you should probably check there. Then again, you weren't sure whether it was worth crawling around on the floor with your butt in the air in front of your crush. Finally you gave up, sacrificing your dignity to get down on your hands and knees to check.

"The hell are you doing?" came an all-too-familiar voice from above.

"I'm looking for my notebook," you explained curtly, trying to keep your hair from getting too intimately involved with the dust on the floor. "Ugh, I don't see it anywhere," you growled, straightening. "Have you? It's light blue and it's got—"

"You mean this?" Bakugou interrupted you, pulling it out from behind his back with a smirk.

You froze, a scowl bringing your eyebrows together. So it had all been for nothing and he'd just been laughing at you the entire time! "Bakugou!"

"Oh, so it's 'Bakugou' now?" he said, teasing, still holding your notebook up.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" you asked, lunging forward to grab it from his hand.

"I thought you were calling me hermoso."

You stopped dead again, wholly unconscious of the unflattering position you were in.

Oh. Shit.

"You think I'm cute or some shit?" he went on, still smirking at you. "That's what you were saying, right? I looked it up after the second time you—"

Your skin burned with heat, wholly embarrassed he'd discovered your secret. You finally swiped the spiral-bound pages from his hand, turning to leave. It took everything in you to not hang your head with shame as you stepped back in the direction of your room.

"Oi."

Something made you halt in your tracks, even though you were tempted to ignore his call for your attention.

". . . I didn't say you had to stop."

You frowned again, confused. "What?" Turning back to him, you saw a faint flush on his cheeks. He suddenly refused to meet your eyes, staring at the corner of the coffee table.

"It's cute," he mumbled, going back to looking at his phone.

____________

Todoroki:

● Even before you had gotten with Shouto, you couldn't help but find him terribly endearing

● From his blunt and forward personality to his undeniably good looks, you knew you had it bad

● Which is what made it even sweeter when your friend finally asked if you could be just a little more

● The first time you'd spoken the term aloud, you'd had Shou resting his head on your chest, murmuring sweet nothings to him in your own mix of Japanese and Spanish. With your fingers weaving through his bi-colored hair, the boy looked as if he was about to doze off to sleep

● "What does that mean?" he asked softly out of the blue. "Hermoso?"

● You explained it to him, telling him how much he meant to you

● Shouto smiled one of his rare smiles; the one that melted your heart without fail every time

● "I like it," he murmured

● And then that was just what you called him. His favorite of your nicknames worked seamlessly into your relationship

● He liked it because it was so you. He loved your accent and loved hearing the way you spoke it to him

● He probably wouldn't freak out if you used his real name, but he's made it clear that he has a soft spot for being your hermoso

____________

Kaminari:

● Can we just appreciate for a moment how much Denki loves you?

● Mans is more of a simp for you than you are for him, just wow

● Anyway, once you explain to him what hermoso means, he is all about being called that at every opportunity

● He even calls you hermosa/hermoso back! He loves that you two have that together and he absolutely lives for it

● He'd get super pouty if you tried to call him something else. You have a thing going and he never wants to stop

"Denki," you called from your position on his bed, your head leaning upside down off the side. You thought you saw him twitch in his chair at the sound of his name, but otherwise, he didn't seem to have heard you.

"Babe," you tried again, waiting for him to turn away from his desk and face you, or at the very least make a noise in acknowledgment.

And so, frustrated, you began to playfully cycle through pretty much every nickname you could think of, keeping your voice in an odd monotone in an effort to capture his attention. "Denks. Kami. Honey. Cariño. Baby. Love of my life."

You frowned to yourself when he still refused to look at you. "Hermoso," you drew out in a whine as your final attempt.

He spun around with a grin, finally meeting your eyes. "Yeah? What is it?"

You snorted out a laugh. "I just wanted to say I love you."

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre​ @basicaegyo​ @hyunmin-1404​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​ @nabo39​ @pyrofanatic​​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @sxngwoos-ash-box​ @xoxopam4​

[nanasparadise]

“Paradise lost” Yan!Bruno x female reader

Hiya everyone! This is my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoy it 🥺

Summary: You live a pleasant and regular life as a curator in Naples, until a certain over-protective Capo turns it upside down...

TW: alcohol, drugs, stalking, cursing, noncon touching, mentions of violence and death, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any type of yandere behaviour in real life.

You were living in a paradise. Your paradise. After having moved to Italy, you were finally able to lead the life of your dreams. The city of Naples with its gentle sea breeze, the vivid streets and the ancient architecture just felt right to you. Not to mention the people; you've met some of the most supporting individuals. Your friends helped you integrate in Italy and gave you some Italian classes in order to improve your, admittedly, quite basic Italian skills. Your job as a curator in an art museum fulfilled your passion. Your small, but very cozy flat felt as if it was sculpted for you. Even after having spent nearly a year in the city, you never regretted your decision to move there. That was until you met a certain peculiar man, who would change your whole life forever.

You spent the night at the bar with Analisa and Federico, your two closest friends. The trio consisting of you were a bit tipsy, because of one too many drinks. The intoxication offered you lots of fun though, as you were constantly laughing at the slightest things. At 4 a.m., you were finally shooed out of the pub by the annoyed owner. The three of you went outside of the bar. You inhaled gladly the cool night air, which put you a bit back to your senses. Your friends, on the other hand, remained tipsy while constantly gigglying and grinning. Analisa and Federico suggested to go back to their place, where they might continue enjoying the night with some pills. You smiled at them, but declined. Drugs weren't really up your alley. 

"Aww, come on Y/N!", Analisa pouted, "it will be fun!"

"No thanks, you guys. You know how I feel about drugs", you replied patiently. 

"Should we take you home, then?", Federico asked, forehead frowned in worries, "You know it can be dangerous out here all alone with the whole mafia." 

"I'll be fine, thank you. You should be more worried for the guys with my Krav Maga skills!", you joked, trying to ease your friend's concerns, “and by the way, you two better be careful with your pills!"

After having hugged them goodbye, you parted ways with your friends. The streets of Naples were mostly quiet. In the distance, you heard fainlty some music from a club. A few stray cats roamed in the shadows, watching you with their predatory eyes. Admitteldy, it made you feel a tad uncomfortable. "Stop it", you muttered to yourself, "Don't let a few cats play tricks on you." Still captured by the felines' gaze, you accidentally stumbled over the pavement. Before you could actually hit the floor, as you anticipated, a strong hand caught your upper arm and hindered the fall. You looked up to your saviour to thank them. It was a rather unusual man. He wore a unique white suit with black spoon-like dots on it and zippers and his black hair was cut in a bob. But what you noticed the most were his deep, ocean blue eyes, which stared back at you with concern. Even though he seemed rather strange, the man's whole atmosphere drew you in. As you kept contemplating him, a sudden thought crossed your mind. "Where did he come from so quickly? I didn't see anyone in the street", you pondered. The thought made you shiver slightly. Realising that you still shamelessly stared at the man, you decided to finally speak up. 

"Thank you for catching me, I guess I had one too many", you said humoursly to him, trying to relax the tense ambience. The handsome guy offered you a smile to your relief. 

"No need to thank me, signorina", he answered cheekily. Something about him calling you "Miss" didn't feel right to you. After all, you were a grown adult and not some teenage girl. 

"No really, thank you, I could have hurt me", you insisted politely. The man still held your arm. You were eyeing uncomfortably to it, hoping he would catch the hint. Luckily, he did so and retrieved his warm hand from your body. The man cleared awkwardly his throat and continued speaking.

"Are you alright though? It is dangerous to walk at night the streets in Naples, especially for a young lady." His worry for you was quite flattering, you admitted to yourself. 

"I am fine, thanks to you", you winked at him. You could swear his cheeks turned slightly pink, but because of the darkness, you couldn't be entirely sure. 

"May I accompany you home?", the man asked, "It would ease my mind if I knew you arrived home safely." You weren't sure how to react. Sure, he was beautiful, but did you really want a stranger to know where you lived? 

"Thank you for your kind offer, but my flat isn't far away, I will be there in a minute", you replied carefully. After all, Federico was right: there were many mafiosi in Naples, maybe he was one of them? Your suspicions towards him increased. The man seemed to feel your paranoia. He flashed you a reassuring smile that would have made every woman swoon over him. 

"I understand your suspiciousness fully,” he said smoothly, "but I do think it is not necessary in this case. If I wanted to cause you any harm, I'd have it done by now. After all, this is a quiet and dark street and no one would have witnessed anything." "Fair enough", you thought. He was right. He could have easily murdered you by now if he wanted to. And there was nothing harmful about letting him follow you, right? 

"Well, if you put it that way, then sure, I'd like that", you answered with a soft smile. You shouldn't have agreed. Oh Y/N, if only you knew, you would have went with your friends. Instead, you went home, the stranger remaining by your side. "By the way, I don't think I introduced myself. My name is Y/N." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N, I am Bruno."

Slowly, the two of you became friends. Bruno turned out to be a loyal and charming man. Being the ever so polite gentleman, you didn’t have a clue about the raven-haired man’s true intentions. Oh no, you were blissfully ignorant to his advances. In fact, he knew you before that fateful night. The capo - you didn’t actually know his real job as he kept smoothly tip-toeing around it - had been chasing an enemy Stand user in the art museum where you worked when his attentive gaze had fallen on your form. You had explained patiently to an elderly couple every little detail of the Veiled Christ statue. In that moment, Bruno hadn’t known why he had stopped just to stare at you. Maybe it was the way you had treated the couple with kindness, maybe the way your eyes had lit up with passion as you had talked about the subject that fascinated you. Bruno still wasn’t sure what exactly enchanted him when it came to you. All he was aware of was the fuzzy warmth in his stomach and his racing heartbeat whenever he glanced at you. And that he would never let go of that feeling. So, the young mafioso started following you from that day on. He wouldn’t necessarily call it stalking, he just wanted to make sure that you were alright. And look where it had led him to - if he hadn’t been there to watch over you, you would have hurt yourself, which Bruno couldn’t let happen, of course. He was convinced that you needed him in your life. The following months since the Italian man had been by your side, you were in total safety. 

But you also felt ultimately caged in. You were grateful for Bruno’s friendship, but it also smothered you. Every time you were trying to go out with your friends, he would ask about every tiny detail: where were you going, who did come with you, what were you doing and so on. Eventually, he’d always join you. 

“Cara,” he would say with pleading eyes, “I only want to protect you. The world is a dark place and Naples is its hell. I don’t want to witness how anyone takes advantage of your sweet innocence.”

“Somehow he always knows when I go out with them, too”, you wondered. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that the two of you were dating. Bruno did behave like an overly jealous and possessive boyfriend. Plus, he always acted super touchy and affectionate around you: a pet name here, an arm around your shoulders there. Every time you confronted him, he would laugh it off. “I guess I am bewitched by you, tesoro.” All of this made you feel uncomfortable. Still, you didn’t want to lose your friendship. So you kept quiet most of the time. 

Until one day, you talked to Analisa and told her about it. For once, you needed some other friend than Bruno to listen to you, someone who wouldn’t act like a partner around you. Luckily, you knew for a fact that he would be gone this evening due to his mysterious profession he never mentioned to you. So, you invited Analisa over to your flat to vent. The blue-haired woman listened attentively to your lamentations. The words just spilt out of your mouth until you realised you actually started crying. Analisa held you in her arms and tried to calm you down. “Hey, Y/N, it’s fine. he’s not around”, she kept repeating. Eventually, your sobs died slowly until you were left staring at Analisa puffy-eyed. “If I allow myself to share my piece of mind,” Analisa said angrily, “he is a pezzo di merda. Who does he think he is to behave like that? You’re not his girlfriend, and even if you were, he doesn’t have the right to treat you like you are his possession. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Her furious words filtered through your brain. “She’s right”, you agreed silently. “And you know what else? I hate to see you down because of that asshole,”  Analisa continued, “But I’ve just got the perfect solution for that.” The blue-haired woman grinned as she took some small pills out of the pocket of her leather jacket. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

At first you weren’t sure about taking the hallucinogens, since you never took drugs before. But for once, just for once, you wanted to escape reality. When did your little paradise turn into hell? You thought, you valued your friendship with Bruno, but now, all you wanted to do was to run away from him. The drug slowly started to kick in as you felt your head spinning. The dizziness made you feel light, as if you were about to fly away any moment. Analisa started to giggle next to you, already high. Suddenly, you began seeing black dots around you, coming closer and closer. “Weren’t these the dots on Bruno’s suit?”, you thought anxiously. They were talking to you, calling you principessa, amore mio, stella mia and many more terms of endearment. The dots turned into hands, touching you everywhere. But you decided to not give in. Not this time. Instead, you transformed your fear into anger. You energetically pushed away all the hands until they scurried away. Your rage wasn’t quenched yet, though.Under the effect of the drug, your fury was amplified significally. You took your phone and called Bruno. You wanted to let your frustration out on him, not only on the creations of your mind of him. He picked up immediately after the first ringing. “Y/N?”, he asked, worry dripping from his voice, “Are you alright? You don’t call normally. Should I come to you? I can drop my work just-”

“Bruno,” you interrupted him abruptly, “stop it. STOP IT. I can’t take this shit anymore. You cling onto me like some lovesick puppy and I’m done. Who the fuck are you even? I hardly know your name and you behave as if we were married. Guess what, you’re not even my boyfriend.” It was quiet for an instant. At first, you thought he hung up, but then you heard a slight chuckle from the other end of the phone. “The fuck?”, you thought, “Did he now completely have lost his mind?” 

“Y/N, is that what it takes to call me? Being high?”, the Italian man replied. Another bitter laugh espaced his mouth. You weren’t sure if he knew about your current state, because of your atypical rage or simply because he seemed to know everything about you without you telling anything. “Another reason for him to leave me alone.” 

“I bet one of your lovely friends gave you a pill, didn’t they?”, Bruno continued, seemingly angry now, too, “You know how I feel about drugs, right?”

You didn’t answer, your fear suddenly coming back. The room around you started to spin more and more. 

“Right?”, Bruno growled again. 

“Y-yes”, you stuttered eventually. 

“Good. I assume you’re in your apartment. Stay there and don’t make anything stupid anymore. I’ll be there soon. Clearly, you need me even more than I thought you would.” With these words, Bruno hung up, leaving you even more confused and frightened. Your body started trembling terribly. You didn’ t know if it was because of the drug or your pitless fear. Analisa, coming back to senses again, realised your bad state and immediately rushed over to you. 

“Shit Y/N, what happened?”, she inquired, worry written in her eyes. You explained to her the situation as best as you could in your foggy condition. “Fuck, I should have never given you the drug,” Analisa replied remorsefully, “I take full responsibility. I’ll call the cops before that bastard arrives here, I don’t care if they find my drugs, we’ve gotta do-”. The woman was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. 

“Y/N?”, Bruno shouted, “I know you’re in there. Open the door please.” 

“What are we doing now?”, you cried desperately. You didn’t even know why you reacted that way. Bruno never gave you a serious reason to be scared of him, but now, after the phone call, your gut feeling told you to run away as fast as you could. 

“I’ll call them now”, Analisa replied hastily, looking for her phone. But it was too late. Bruno broke the door in, his stern gaze resting on you. “Since when was he so strong?” 

“Analisa,” the man said, not breaking eye contact with you for a single moment, “give me your phone and walk away.” 

“Are you mad?”, the blue-haired woman shouted furiously, “I’m not gonna leave Y/N alone with you after that.” 

“Give me your phone and walk away, now”, the man repeated gloomly. His eyes, normally a serene blue ocean, turned into a destructive storm. Bruno smashed his fist into the wall, leaving it with a gaping hole. “If you don’t leave immediately,” he growled, “your family will suffer great consequences. Your little sister Teresa? She will die in a tragic car accident. Your father Marco? He will die of liver failure for drinking too much. Or so will be the official reports.” You stared big-eyed at Bruno, your fear only increasing. There was no doubt now that he worked with the mafia. Analisa slowly walked past you, tears falling down her cheeks, as she softly said sorry to you. Her phone was resting on your couch. Once she was gone, you broke down completely. What was he going to do? Bruno stood now in front of you, dragging you ungently by your arm and monitoring you to your bedroom. Was he really going to…? 

“No, no, no, NO!” What first started with a whisper ended in a bloodcurdling scream. The Italian didn’t stop though, pushing you instead on your bed. He seemed to be tired of your behaviour. Bruno sighed deeply, finally speaking to you now. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to do such thing. I just want you to realise, that you behave recklessly and I can’t let you continue like this. I just want to protect you. Look at you, being high now.” He gestured elegantly at you with his slim hand. What was he talking about? Your hallucinations had stopped the minute Bruno knocked on your door. 

“I am not high anymore”, you simply replied. 

“Are you sure about that?”, the raven-haired man replied. His eyes began to glimmer darkly. Suddenly, you witnessed how your legs were zipped away. 

“What the fuck?”, you screamed desperately. What was happening? You were sure, that this wasn’t the effect of the drug, that Bruno somehow did this to your body. “What are you doing to my legs? I-I kn-o-ow that you a-are z-z-ziping them off of m-me”, you stuttered anxiously. 

“What do you mean? I can’t see such thing”, Bruno replied coolly. “As I said, you are hallucinating.” 

“I am not hallucinating, you are doing this to me! I know you do! Please, stop it. Stop it...”. Your pleads turned into ear-piercing sobs. Tears clouded your vision as you desperately tried to grasp for air. 

“Hush, cara.” Bruno was suddenly next to you on your bed, draping his arm over your shoulders and whispering in your ear. “This is all in your mind. You need to sleep now. Tomorrow, everything will be fine again. I will stay by your side and protect you.” His warm breath grazed your earshell. The man nuzzled your hair, admiring its smooth texture and lovely scent. “I will always be with you.”

Eventually, after all your crying, you did fall asleep in Bruno’s arms. The latter kept stroking your cheek, marveling your soft breathing and beautiful face. Of course he felt a tinge of guilt for having used Sticky Fingers on you. Your desperate cries as you called him for help still pained him. But you needed to learn your lesson. Bruno could tolerate a lot, but drugs weren’t on that list. He would give Analisa a quick visit to make sure she’ll never talk to you again. Or to anyone, for a matter of fact. You didn’t need such a bad influence. “Not my sweet Y/N”, he whispered in your locks. “From tomorrow on, you will live with me, where I can always protect you. Now, doesn’t that sound like paradise?”

[outr-banks]

All In || Fic

(Rafe Cameron x Reader)

requested: yes

a/n: anon, you have been served ! we need a little light hearted rafe fic, given that his character on obx is... well you know. also look at my gif !! he looks so cute i just want to cup his face with my hands and kiss him. i’d do anything to make drew smile :’)

In which babysitting during the summer didn’t totally suck. Especially, for the pining older brother.

warning: none, just fluff!

song inspired: chicken by your neighbors

(recommend listening while reading)

masterlist

-

Summer jobs, truly the worst. Maybe if you were a lifeguard or taught surf lessons to kids it would be a lot more tolerable. But you’re stuck babysitting for a wealthy kook family. It’s not as dreadful as you thought. Wheezie, the youngest of the Cameron family, is probably the most authentic one of them all. As a pogue, you grew up with a natural detest against the kooks, but she wasn’t too bad.

“Could you just let me in?” Your arms fold over one another impatiently waiting to start another day of work.

It’s been two months since you started looking after Wheezie, which means it’s been two months and every five out seven days a week you’ve been inside the Cameron’s residence. Each and every single time Rafe, her older brother, makes your time there a little bit more complicated.

“Are you going to say hi first?” He leans on the doorframe and watches you with a smug look on his face.

“Oh, so you’re one of those boys? Figured.” Your voice remains montonous and his face drops while you push right past him.

“Sup y/n.” Wheezie raises a hand for a high five.

“Sup twerp.” You high five her back.

“What are the plans for today? Are we orchestrating one of the best pranks to exist? I suggest Rafe shall be our victim.” You face Rafe and mock the same smug look he gave you seconds ago.

“Deal.” Wheezie whispers in your ear and returns with a fist bump.

Sure, there’s a natural instinct to hate the kooks, especially kooks like Rafe, but you can’t deny he’s kind of grown on you. There’s been awkward moments between you and him, and sometimes you’ll go home thinking about those same ones. The thought of possibly, dare you even say it, like him, freaks you out.

The majority of the time you spend at the Cameron’s mansion is the living room. And it is to your despair that everyone can just relax there. Rafe casually uses his time doing meaningless things just to spy on you and Wheezie. For what it is, you should be getting paid for two children.

You didn’t understand why Rafe couldn’t simply take care of his younger sister, considering he spends most his days inside the house. You can’t help wondering that it’s odd for a kook to spend their summer indoors. Let alone, indoors with a pogue.

“Hey, Z! Want to take a stroll down by the water?” You shout from the living room.

Whenever Wheezie is in her room you don’t dare to disturb her or even knock, but Ward, her dad, insists you have to take her outside to catch some rays. It’s nice to have Wheezie, or Z as you like to call her, to spend summer evenings with.

“Where we going?” Rafe pops up randomly and takes a seat next to you on the sofa couch.

You’re surprised on how close he is, and a little embarrassed that his shoulder rubbing against yours, excites you. His eyes stare at you and you can’t help but fall under it’s spell.

“I don’t remember asking you.” You manage to break the stare by rolling your eyes. The feeling of his presence near you causes your heart to flutter, and you hate it.

“Uh- what are you two dweebs doing?” Wheezie says from behind the couch. You jump to your feet startled. It feels as if you’ve been exposed.

“I-I was just telling Rafe if he would like to join us on our walk.” Your voice goes up a few octaves.

You look at Rafe and he grins at your defeat.

“Well, okay then. Just don’t be all you know, flirty.” Wheezie shakes her head in disgust and walks away.

You mentally slap yourself at your weakness under Rafe’s deceitful, good looks.

It’s a bit chilly out. The sun and it’s warmth says its goodbye as sunset begins. The outer bank winds blow through the air. Your eyes close at the peaceful sound of waves crashing.

“It’s nice right?” A quite annoying voice hums. You almost forgot Rafe was trailing behind quietly.

Your eyes squint in disturbance and your expressions fall flat, “it was.”

Wheezie had run up ahead collecting shells across the wet sand minding her own buisness, as should her brother.

“I don’t get it, why do you hate me so much?” Rafe walks alongside you and becomes silent for an answer.

“Hmm let’s see Rafe, I’m a pogue and you’re a kook. You bother my friends and now you’re bothering me too.” Out of frustration, you walk away from him.

Pulling your sweater tighter against your body for warmth as the cold and frigid air gushes through you, Rafe rushes to meet you.

“I-I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Rafe tries to speak to you, but you walk faster.

His hand grabs your arm to stop you from taking anymore steps.

An eyebrow lifts, “what?” Your arms cross while you look at Rafe who’s experiencing a difficulty mustering up any words.

“Spill it Cameron.” Your eyebrows pull in together and you sigh.

“You’re going to hate me for this.” Rafe unexpectedly grabs your face and crashes his lips into yours.

At first you don’t move, you can’t even comprehend the action, nor the feeling. But you give in, and absorb him. His tongue asks for permission to enter your mouth, and you allow it. A fiery feeling erupts in your stomach and you simply can’t ignore that in fact, you’re all in.

Rafe pulls away, leaving you wanting more of his taste and out of breath. Your lips are a bit sore and you lightly graze them with your hand, feeling his impulsive action. His eyes meet with yours and you can’t look away. You try to come up with words, but for the first time you’re left speechless.

“I-I’ve been trying to tell you that I like you, y/n. And if i’m being honest, I don’t know how I fell for you but I did. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, or tests me, I even found myself wanting to most my days at home just to see you.” His eyes won’t leave from yours. He tucks a strand of your hair that keeps blowing from the wind behind your ear. His words are music to your ears, and all you can do is smile.

“I knew this was going to happen, should’ve told Dad to have grandma babysit me.” Wheezie complains, interrupting the moment.

“I-I uh, Wheezie! Rafe was just trying help get sand out of my eye.” Nerves trace behind your voice and you step away to put distance between you and Rafe.

“Sure.” Z rolls her eyes and runs off to play with the sand.

You can’t process what just happened and it’s frustrating that you still haven’t found the words to say to the boy you’ve developed feelings for. Your footsteps make a decision for you, as they begin to move away from him.

“I want to ask you out!” Rafe shouts from behind you. He jumps in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Rafe I-I don’t know what you want me to say!” You raise your voice accidentally with a small cry.

“I want you to say yes!” His arms extend outward in desperation.

“I don’t want to lose my job. I need it Rafe.” You can’t risk losing the only good paying job out there.

“I understand, but you don’t work on weekends.” His eyes wander all around trying to catch yours.

“Please, y/n we can just try. You don’t have to say you’re all in, give me a chance. Give us a chance.” Your arms fall to your sides and tilt your head in defeat.

The idea of kook and pogue macking seriously wasn’t it, but you and Rafe macking, that does. You can’t deny what’s going on and it’d be foolish of you if you did.

“Rafe, I like you!” You exclaim. It’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and you can finally admit your forbidden feelings.

Rafe closes the distance and his lips fall into yours once again, this time slowly but all at once. He gently pulls you in closer to him, so close you can feel his heart pounding against your chest. His aroma entices you and it’s truly such a splendid experience.

His lips detach from yours, “are you free this Saturday?”

A grin creeps behind your lips, “I happen to be off of work.” Rafe rolls his eyes with a smile before placing another gentle kiss on your lips. This is something you definitely can get used to doing.

You weren’t sure what the both of you had in store for the future, but you knew you’re all in.

[levisnackajack]

The Wrath of War

Chapter Twelve

The next few days were incredibly uneventful.

Waking up early, long training sessions, cleaning, spending some time around Eren and Hange, more cleaning. It was a never-ending cycle that fatigued Eden more than any of the expeditions they were sent to. 

However, the charcoal-haired girl could never stop thinking about that blurry mess of a night. Her stomach flipped as the blood in her veins warmed up; blotches of memories snapping into her mind at random points during the days and nights. She couldn’t tell whether the moments in which she randomly woke up during that night with Levi’s arm wrapped around her tightly as he dozed off beside her were mere fragments of her imagination. 

Nonetheless, it didn’t matter because once she truly awakened in the morning; he had already moved away. Walking back towards her; Levi tossed her a water flask when the effects of the whiskey lingered at the back of her skull. 

The strangest thing of all was that everything seemed perfectly normal between the girl and the Captain. They continued on horseback and reached the headquarters just as the sun had waved its goodbyes. 

Levi had given her the reins of his horse and asked her to tend to their animals as he stalked off back to his office to note down the strangeness of this mission and report back to Commander Erwin.

No breach.

Not even one titan jumped in their way. It was truly a peculiar notion that managed to imprint in Eden’s mind as she thought over that fact. 

Yet, a week and a half later, the remnants of that night still managed to crawl back into her consciousness. 

She lay on a white bed in a lace, black dress with her hair down. Her waves were like a halo around her head. Looking up, she met her reflection in a mirror above her and she made a face, hardly able to recognize the girl staring back at her. 

Jean appeared, smiling gently down at Eden as he took her dainty fingers, lacing them with his larger ones, pinning her arm above her head. 

Eden stifled a sigh, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch as his free hand trailed over the softness of the flesh against her cheeks, her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. 

He drew a map against her skin, head leaning downwards as his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he groaned against her skin as he fervently pressed kisses down her jawline, Eden’s fingers lacing through his dirty-blond hair. He pressed his knee in between her legs and she stifled a groan, fingers flexing against his hair as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Suddenly, his kisses grew harder, his fingers grew more desperate as they locked into her hair, tucking her head to the side, allowing him more access to her exposed throat.

“Can’t stop thinking about me, can you brat?” A cold, impassive voice drawled against her skin. Eden’s hazel eyes snapped open at his voice, her lips parting as she stared up into the mirror. 

Instead of seeing Jean’s light hair gliding through her fingers, she saw Levi’s soft, raven strands of hair perfectly contrasting her pasty skin. She felt her fingertips brush against his sharp undercut as he glided his tongue against the columns of her neck and her back arched into him. 

He pulled away, grey eyes staring down at her indifferently before settling on her lips. He leaned over, his face edging closer and closer as Eden’s heart began racing, the threat of having it rip through her chest becoming very realistic.

Eden woke up with a gasp, her blood pounding in her ears as her forehead lay covered in a slick of sweat. She felt heat coiled up inside her as she squirmed uncomfortably under her sheets, her mind completely void of everything but the most real dream she had ever experienced.

She fanned her face, gasping for air as her head slammed back against the pillow. Her mind flickered to Jean...and then to Captain Levi. She groaned, hiding her face with her arm. She couldn’t bear meeting his eyes. 

Perhaps ever.

Waking up before the first raw sunlight rays, Eden dressed in her uniform and hastily went about with her morning routine. She practically tripped down the stairs when Jean sweetly greeted her from behind.

“Morning, Jean,” she began, saluting him awkwardly before mentally slamming her head against the wall. 

Wrong man. 

He laughed at her and casually threw his arm over her shoulder, walking down the stairs with her. “Eden, I know we’ve been busy and everything; but we need to talk. I feel like you’re avoiding me or something.” 

Eden’s eyes flickered around the empty foyer as she quickly thought of a response. 

“Not at all Jeanie-boy, but I do need to go,” she blurted out, stepping away from Jean when he made a face. “I need to go clean the stables today. That’s why I’m up so early, I wanted to get a head-start before the horses wake up.” 

He stared at her as though she had grown out a second head. She let out an awkward, high-pitched laugh. “Live a little- go for a stroll and I’ll catch you later.” Turning on her heels, she sprinted out of the castle, completely ignoring the way Jean watched her go with a deeply confused frown etched upon his face.

“Oh really? So, you complain when I make you clean, but then you spend the entire day here scrubbing horse shit on your own?” Levi’s voice made the girl’s eyes widen as she suppressed a groan. 

It took her a moment before she slowly turned back to face his standing form at the entrance, bored expression present, folded arms against his chest. Luckily for her, she was done and so she immediately assumed that it wouldn’t be obvious if she slid past him hurriedly.

She paced towards the exit, shrugging her shoulders comically as she looked down at her boots, hair acting like a thick curtain concealing her bright red cheeks. Her palms were sweating and it didn’t help feeling his cold glare drilling through her skull.

Right as she was about to sigh out in relief, her grabbed her by the elbow. Eden refused to make eye contact as she immediately snapped her head in the opposite direction, heart praying that her flustered face would disappear. 

“Have you got nothing snarky to say back?” He shook her by the arm, his other hand reaching to capture Eden’s chin and bring it back so he could properly scowl at her. Perhaps he was taken aback by her rosy cheeks or the way her eyes avoided his at all costs. 

Eden caught his stiff brow raise with her peripheral vision, albeit the iron grip he had against her jaw. 

“I need to go braid Connie’s hair. I mean no- he’s gonna braid Sasha's. No sorry- he’ll watch Sasha braid my hair,” Eden fumbled out and Levi’s arm still stood outstretched towards her as she stepped back. 

Eden ran as quickly as she could away from the stables, heat coiling within her gut as she felt his perplexed stare follow her every move.

The two young soldiers met after training and walked back towards the headquarters side by side. 

Jean glanced down at Eden who stared back at him, nervousness fluttering inside her. “I know we need to talk, I’m sorry it’s taking so long.” 

“I can wait,” he replied hastily, running a hand through his hair, making Eden stifle a cough. 

“No Jean, listen; I care about you a lot. But with everything going on, all the stress and shit we have to go through, I just really didn’t have enough time to think about you and I. I’m not really sure if I’m making any sense, but I just feel like I need a little more time to think things over and really stabilize myself on my own two feet.” Eden told him in a gentle tone and this time it was her turn to capture him by the wrist and halt him in his steps. 

He smirked down at her, nodding slowly as he brushed his knuckle against her cheek. “I mean, that’s fine by me. As long as you’re fine trying to keep up with me during our sparring sessions, I bet you’ll never be able to beat me.” 

She scoffed loudly, sending him an eye roll before elbowing him in the ribs. “Please. You’re just lucky I feel bad for you most of the time. I don’t want to send you back to your mother all bruised up because she’ll probably beat me.” 

They bickered for some time, laughing and hitting each other like kids coming out of high-school.

“Thank you for being someone I can truly rely on, Jeanie-boy,” Eden said to him gently before standing on her tiptoes, full lips planting a sweet, tender kiss against his cheek. 

Jean’s expression softened and he gave her the warmest smile. 

She grinned back, yet deep down- to her surprise- she did not get flustered at the intimate touch whatsoever.

That evening, she lay in Sasha’s bed whilst her infinitely-hungry friend played with her hair- styling it. Connie paced around the room angrily; talking about the cookie he had stolen from the preserved rations; only to later find out that Sasha had stolen it for him. 

“Boohoo, I wish I had your problems,” Eden rambled out, wincing when Sasha accidentally pulled on her hair a bit too tightly. 

“Oh, I see, are you too tired of having Jean crush on you? Is that it, Eden?” Connie sat on the edge of the bed, leaning towards the laying girl, his thin brows bobbing up and down. Eden kicked him off the bed with her knee, but it was too late because Connie’s words had already caught Sasha’s attention.

“He’s right you know, we saw you kissing, hehe,” Sasha cackled as she continued braiding small sections of Eden’s hair together, completely ignoring her flustered expression. 

“Don’t get me started, this isn’t even the half of it,” Eden said timidly as her two friends gasped simultaneously, urging her to go on. 

“I had a dream last night. And Captain Levi was in it,” she mumbled out and only Sasha managed to hear it at first. She laughed hard, tears pooling in her eyes as she dodged Eden’s slap aimed for her arm. 

“What?” Connie yelled irritably, cupping his ear to delineate that he did not quite understand what she had uttered under her breath. 

“I said...I had a dream and the Captain was in it,” Eden said in one breath, covering her crimson face with her palms as Sasha and Connie laughed hard. 

“I can’t- you dreamt about Captain Levi? That’s hilarious, imagine if he knew...-” 

As if on cue, said devil barged through the door- standing at the threshold with an emotionless expression on his face. 

“Sorry to interrupt your little slumber party but I wasn’t satisfied with today’s training session so you’re going out again.” He stepped to the side as Sasha and Connie sauntered past him, still giggling under their breaths. 

Eden let go of a large sigh before hopping off the bed and following her friends’ suit until Levi gently caught her by the wrist. She spun round, eyes fixing on the way he held onto her before she gingerly glanced up at him; heart palpitating faster under his sharp stare. His fingers faintly glided against the braids laced in her hair; making Eden purse her lips as another wave of blush caressed her cheeks.

“Your hair looks different, good different,” he uttered out casually, his face devoid of even the slightest bit of expression.

 Eden held onto the air in her lungs. “Thanks,” she managed to sigh out. She watched as he stiffly nodded, letting go of her wrist. His cold fingertips lingered as they brushed against hers and she began chewing on her bottom lip when he began walking off, her hand feeling empty. 

 Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast ty so much for asking me to tag u! I’m super happy ur enjoying the story so far ! <3 

As always, thanks to anyone who took the time to read and interact with my story, I appreciate all the support! xx

Here is the link to the full story in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

[earmuffstar]

glazed eyes, empty hearts

ao3 link!! Summary: Remus lay on the carpet in the Commons, drinking something inedible and trying to figure out if he could saw off his hand. OR: Remus has ways of keeping himself from full lucidity. Janus has some things to say about it. Genre: canonverse angst Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders (platonic dukeceit/demus/intruceit) Words: 1589 Additional Tags/Warnings: Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Mentions of Dismemberment, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Swearing

Remus lay on the carpet in the Commons, drinking something inedible and trying to figure out if he could saw off his hand.

He’d have to clamp his right arm down—since his left arm was stronger—and on a table, probably, for the best angle. He’d use an electric saw, to keep himself from stopping halfway through from the pain. Maybe he’d even get away with it, too: right here on the living room table in the middle of Family Game Night, or whatever the Lights were doing, he wasn't paying attention. The others normally didn’t question what Remus did, whether a product of not wanting to look too closely or because they just didn’t care, he didn’t know. It came in handy at times like this—ha, handy, he should tell that to Pappy Patouille.

“Handy!” Remus screeched. The conversation stuttered like tripping over a stone, tumbling to the pavement, skittering off a cliff and ending up squished in half by a train on criss-crossed railway tracks before resuming its pace as normal.

Remus went back to pondering his drink, now half-empty. He kind of hoped it was alcohol, although even the more potent stuff didn’t do much for him anymore. Maybe bleach, then. He took a gulp. Snapped his fingers and malathion filled the rest of the concoction to the top. Downed the glass. It didn’t taste half bad—he almost wished it tasted worse—but it made his head spin and his thoughts appropriately fuzzy, which was all he needed.

Remus stood up, bracing himself against the armrest as the room wavered, legs quivering inappropriately under his weight. The room continued their conversation—he couldn’t make out the words, not like he wanted to, he was sure it was about Disney or some other unimportant shit—as he sunk out.

The corner of Thomas’ mind which embodied Dark Creativity, forbidden thoughts, the macabre, badness, demented reason, remained perpetually in disrepair. Remus tripped over shards of glass—broken Bud Light’s?—needles, plastic orange bottles, and crashed to his knees somewhere wet, cheek brushing against bones and plywood as his eyelids drooped shut.

~~~

Remus shifted as he came to: alive, in his room, with a mind far too alert and lucid. Had he messed up with whatever he’d drunk last night—accidentally used orange juice or some shit instead of malathion? Remus growled in frustration. The easiest methods of forced mental incoherence—starvation, lack of sleep, the like—always took the longest time to take effect. If he’d paid attention last night, he would have been able to perpetuate the misery longer without this unfortunate break. He’d have to resort to more drastic measures for instant relief.

At least the blackout was nice. He normally didn’t get such an easy reprieve. When nightmares didn’t torment his sleep, the knowledge of coherence and well-restedness it offered did.

Dark Imagination always exhaled cold, stinking of rot and filth, miasma and decay. His thoughts always amplified in his domain, spinning and twisting in a way that felt good—or rather, felt terrible, which was good. Remus sank his foot into the muck, his realm unnaturally still. His creations normally drew into hiding when he came here like this—they didn’t like to see him do this. Welp. Too bad for them.

Here was a total blank slate. He could do anything. Remus’ claws itched.

It sucked how much it hurt, was the thing. The pain was delicious, and he soaked it up, reveled in it like cloth soaking blood, he needed it—but it still hurt, at the very beginning, the moment when knife hit flesh. The physical pain always hurt like hell, but the greater the pain at the beginning the longer it would keep hurting, and if at least some part of him was hurting he didn’t have to hurt a different part again to balance out the hurt in his brain.

Remus heard the footsteps only after rivulets of blood ran down his fingers.

“Remus?” The voice came soft, low, with a hint of a hiss curling the edge of their words. Remus’ blood ran cold, drip, drip, dripping onto the ground, and he grinned a false smile as he turned around—pointless, Janus always saw through him, Janus was the one person who wouldn’t brush off his antics as his simply unfortunate nature.

“Hey, welcome, Janny-Jan! Just messing around, you know me.” Remus was still far too coherent for this, brain just as awake as it had been when he’d woken up feeling nothing unnatural in his system despite the pain. Remus summoned a bottle of arsenic, aiming to chug it, when his fingers grasped empty air. Janus held the bottle away from him with one of his extra hands.

“Give it back, Jan.”

“Remus, this isn’t healthy.”

Remus cackled. The notion of “healthy” deserved that much. “Does it look like I care? Give it back.”

Janus sighed, looking resigned, and Remus knew what was going to happen before it did. That didn’t mean he didn’t struggle as six arms wrapped around him, yanking him from his domain into Janus’ room. Janus deposited him on a bed, holding him down by his arms and ignoring Remus’ pleas with practiced care.

Gloved hands met his own, stopping him every time he tried to scratch his arms, eyes, limbs. Already Remus could feel the effects of Janus’ room sink into his body, denials becoming truths as they healed his wounds, and Remus detested the comfort even as he gave in to it. Janus sat down next to him as the fight bled out of him, its absence hurting somehow more than blood and guts spilling from his wounds.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Janus said quietly, no more to Remus than to the air, but he shrugged anyway. He’d tried for far too long to rationalize his actions, formulate some sort of reasoning, some story, some grand reason why. Eventually he stopped trying, because no amount of reasoning ever stopped him. He would either do something or he wouldn’t, and that was how it worked—whatever thought that had led him to that action could have been fleeting, could have been in response to the opposite inclination, could have been anything. He’d long since given up on trying to understand his mind.

Janus should stop worrying. It wasn’t like anything would kill him, anyway.

“Well!” Remus struggled to sit up. “This has been fun, but—”

“Remus, you can’t—”

“I’m perfectly fine now, so—”

“You’re not —”

“I can’t say it’s been lovely but I should be going, got places to be—”

Janus looked about to explode, or cry, and personally Remus thought the former would be much cooler, wondered how flesh would become explosive, charred, twisted, dead. “We have to talk about this, Remus! I can’t— I can’t let you continue like this.”

Something furious and burning licked through his spine. Remus went still—still like the night, still like corpses buried six feet under the winter chill, still like death. Janus’ expression quickly smoothed over, but Remus was pleased to read fear in the pinch of his brow. “What I do,” Remus hissed, “is not up to you. I am not your charity project, and I understand perfectly well what I’m doing. You don’t get to take this away from me.”

“Remus, you—” Janus’ breath hitched. Remus didn’t— couldn’t turn to look at his face. “You can’t possibly think this is a long-term solution to your problems! ‘Oh yes, continually hurting myself will make my life better, it won’t have any lasting effects on anyone at all—’”

“I don’t want to think !” Remus screamed. He would have glared at the yellow-clad side had exhaustion not burrowed into his bones. Or maybe that was just the blood loss, or the aftereffects of the alcohol. “I don’t want to feel better, I don’t want to feel normal, or healthy, I just want to— to be numb, to be—”

He’d grown too used to incoherence to be able to deal with reality without it. The fact that the poisons gave him an excuse for being a fuck up, and that he’d have no shield, no scapegoat, no backup if he was still a fuck-up while being fully coherent. He didn’t particularly want to stop, not anymore, not for all the effort it’d take with too little payoff—but Remus knew better than to talk about his self-destructive tendencies to Self-Preservation.

Remus turned his back on Janus, though he felt his gaze tracing his spine. He wondered how long Janus was going to sit here with him—Janus knew better than to leave Remus unattended in his room.

Janus stood up abruptly, drawing Remus’ eye. He grabbed Remus by the arm again, and, to Remus' surprise, he felt the vertigo-like falling sensation of sinking back into his own room. Janus released his grip, opened his mouth, closed it again without speaking, and suddenly Remus found arms around folded him in an embrace. “We will be talking about this again,” Janus murmured, before both him and his touch disappeared as quick as it had come. Silence resounded in his wake, and Remus realized he’d been given what he’d asked for—his freedom.

Remus summoned another bottle of arsenic and drained it, relishing the way it instantly weakened his limbs, confused his thoughts. He sunk back onto his bed of corpses and plywood, gaze falling limp over his realm, wind rustling over eyes that saw no sights and ears that heard no sound.

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Satf Ulkhud

Part 9 of ‘A Deep Misunderstanding’.  Who know how many more parts are going to follow…  Link to Series Masterlist.

Thorin falls for a Dwarrowdame raised by Elves, and tries to make know his feelings, but accidentally offends her, which leads to another and another misunderstanding between the two.

Based off of @immawriteyouthings​ ‘Falling Stars’

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Estel

Word Count: 1,612

Warning(s):  Blood, minor injury.

Translation(s): Satf Ulkhud:  Step Light

Harkulul:  Enough

Gadra allâk; Mahal hefsu binhas:  Against stupidity; Mahal himself is helpless

~~~~

Why did everything have to be so complicated?  Was it too much to ask for just a simple, easy answer to just one of my questions?  

In the days following my forced chat with the Company, I tried to delicately feel out Thorin and see if I could see what everyone else supposedly saw.  

To put it simply, it wasn't easy; nor was it going well.  So far, I had found out that Thorin really didn't like me very much--no surprise there.  But even through that, I thought I saw those little hints of affection that everyone talked about.

If I looked hard enough, I could see his steely blue eyes--thikilkhagal in Khuzdul according to Balin when I asked him--soften whenever I spoke to him; and his voice would change just the tiniest bit when he spoke to me.  

There were other instances in the past that I could remember as well.  The time I had dragged him out to go stargazing and had grasped his hand within mine; a blush had sprang to his darkly bearded cheeks.  Or when he had offered to teach me Khuzdul.  

But even with all of those hints, I still couldn't bring myself to believe Balin's words.  As I studied Thorin, I grew more frustrated than before; and all that pent-up energy had to be expressed somehow.

That's why I accepted Fili and Kili's challenge to spar with them.  I figured it would be a harmless activity that wouldn't invoke any of Thorin's anger towards me.  

"Parry left, and strike!"  Kili called to his brother as he crouched on the ground a few feet away from where Fili and I were dueling fiercely.  

Fili shot Kili an annoyed glance; the split-second distraction allowing me to land a flat-edged blow to his dominant arm.  Fili yelped in pain and dropped his sword, holding his arm as he swore loudly.

"Harkulul, Kili!  You're distracting me!"  He said angrily, glaring at Kili as he gingerly rubbed the sore place.  

Kili just grinned and hopped up, dodging his muttering brother as he walked forward, swinging his sword in preparation to duel me.  "Prepare to be beaten, Miss Estel."  He laughed, and I rolled my eyes, grinning.

"I wouldn't be too sure, Kili...  Cockiness doesn't get you anywhere but in trouble."  I said wisely, darting forward only to have my jab blocked by Kili.  "As your uncle would say, gadra allâk; Mahal hefsu binhas."

My words had Kili grinning widely, shaking his head.  “Actually, that’s something Lory would say."

Within minutes, him and I were engaged in a swift flurry of jabs and parries; neither of us willing to let the other win.  I had to admit, even with his lack of experience, Kili was a better swordsman than his brother.  There was a finesse to his movements; more grace.  Perhaps it came from his interest in archery.

Sweat began to bead on my forehead, dripping down and into my eyes as I focused intensely on gaining ground on Kili.  It was only a matter of time before he would make a wrong move and I could score a hit.

"Hey, watch where--” Fili’s voice vaguely penetrated my concentration, just as I stumbled over something.  My stroke went wide to the left, leaving me open.  

Silver flashed by my face, and pain erupted across my left forearm as Kili's sword grazed my skin.  I let out a hiss of pain, dropping my sword as I brought my right hand to clamp over the shallow cut.  

Crimson oozed between my fingers as I clenched my teeth, wavering on my feet as I tried to keep the pain from overwhelming me.  It wasn't a bad wound, but the superficial ones tended to hurt the worst.

"Estel!  I'm sorry, are you alright?!"  Kili's panicked voice broke the silence, and I heard a scuffle as he and Fili gathered beside me, gentle hands prying away my fingers so that they could look at my wound.

"I'm fine, Kili.  It's superficial."  I said through clenched teeth, taking in a deep breath as Fili's calloused fingers prodded the sensitive area.  "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when you do that!"  I said quickly, and Fili drew back, his blue eyes concerned.

"Fili, Kili, what is going on here?"  Thorin's voice rumbled ominously from behind me, and I could see Kili's brown eyes widen as he gulped.  "Is everything--"  

Catching sight of the scarlet staining my hand and arm, Thorin cut himself off, hurrying to grab my arm and look at my injury.  Once he assured himself it wasn't life-threatening, he raised his dark-haired head to look at Fili and Kili.  "Which one of you did this?  I thought I would have taught you better to not gang up on people."  He said quietly, and Kili raised a trembling hand.

"It was my fault, Uncle.  I didn't mean to hurt her, but she tripped over a rock and I couldn't stop my stroke..."  He mumbled apologetically, shrinking underneath Thorin's furious stare.

"It's not his fault, Master Thorin," I began, and he shot me a look, raising an eyebrow.  But that didn't dissuade me from plowing onwards.  "I should have been watching my footing as well.  It was an accident.  Besides, it's just a superficial wound."  I tried to reassure him, pulling my arm out of his grasp, but he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Miss Estel, there is rarely such a thing as a superficial wound, and even if it is, that doesn't change the fact that Kili hurt you."  He said, and my brow furrowed with confusion.

"What difference does that make?  Kili accidentally hurt me and he apologized.  What else needs to be resolved?"  I asked, and Thorin avoided my gaze.

"Things are different in our culture, Miss Estel."  He said, dodging my question, and a quick glance at Fili and Kili told me that his words were confusing to them as well.  

"Alright, if you say so.  Now, I'm going to go get this cleaned up."  I said, glancing down at my forearm.

Without waiting for a response, I turned away to go locate my bedroll and find the spare roll of bandages that I kept there for this sort of purpose.  Once that had been taken care of, I headed off in search of Dwalin.  Perhaps he would have answers for me; after all, he was Thorin's closest friend.

Much to my relief, I quickly caught sight of him lounging at the edge of the forest, brawny forearms crossed over his equally brawny chest as he scanned the horizon.  Heading in his direction, I watched as his gaze slid over to me as I approached.

"Miss Estel," he nodded to me as I moved to stand beside him.  "Ye look as though ye need something."  

I managed a soft laugh.  "That I do, Master Dwalin.  A listening ear for my complaints."  I said, taking a deep breath as I tried to cool my rising temper.  

Dwalin turned his body towards me, raising a scarred eyebrow as he looked down at me.  "Complaints, ye say?  They wouldn't happen to be about Thorin, would they?"  He asked, and I nodded sullenly.

"Right on the bullseye, Master Dwalin.  Even after spending days observing Thorin, I still don't see what you all talk about.  Perhaps there might be some affection somewhere, but I haven't found it yet.  Although, he has made it easy to get close to him...  He hasn't seemed to have wanted to leave my side ever since I walked into that tree in the dark..."  I grumbled, and Dwalin chuckled.

"The Dwarrow has every right to be protective of ye..."  His voice trailed off as he glanced at something over my shoulder.  "I mean, the way he feels about ye--"

"No.  Don't give me that utter rubbish about his feelings for me.  I've tried my hardest to find a hint of it; of anything!  But there's nothing!"  I said, glaring at Dwalin.  " You also forget that I'm raised by Elves, Thorin can't stand Elves.  In his eyes I'm just as bad--if not worse!"  I exclaimed, ignoring the way Dwalin's gaze grew solemn.  "Ever since I said it, he's been horrible to me.  Even more so than usual!"  

Dwalin raised a hand as if to try and calm me.  "We've told ye, Lass, Thorin's trying to protect himself from getting hurt.  He just needs some time to process--"

I cut him off, breath coming in deep gasps as I struggled to hold back the tears brimming in my eyes.  "But if he really loves me, he wouldn't care about my past.  That shouldn't matter to him.  You are all blind; seeing something that isn't really there.  Perhaps he loved me once, but that all changed the moment I said I was raised by Elves."  Swallowing hard, I looked straight into Dwalin's dark amber eyes that shone with confusion over my sudden change in emotions.  "I cannot return his affections if they do not exist."  I whispered in a shaking voice.

"Miss Estel--” I didn't wait around to hear what he had to say and bolted away, brushing past the approaching Thorin and fleeing blindly into the forest as tears streamed down my face and sobs shook my body.

I ignored the familiar voice that called after me; asking what was wrong and where I was going.  Thorin was the last person I wanted near me right now.

For a moment, I thought I had found answers.  But then I realized they were only questions in disguise.  

Questions whose answers persisted at being elusive.

[bevvydraws]

If You Give Mari an Umbrella (pt. 2)

AU this series is based around 

Pt. 1

---------------------------

Lunch with a Friend 

---------------------------

“So, Marinette, are you gonna tell me what happened between you and our new resident pretty boy?” Alya asked as she slid into the seat next to Marinette, whisper-shouting so no one else would hear her. Marinette blinked tiredly at Alya, struggling to register what she was saying. It had been an exhausting week for her. 

In one week she became a superhero, failed her first superhero mission, faced her long-time bully, became enemies--and then friends--with Adrien Agreste, stood up against a literal terrorist, and promised to the entirety of Paris that her and Chat Noir would somehow stop him. After that display, her and Chat Noir had agreed to meet up on the weekend one evening to discuss how things were going to work between the two of them from now on. Needless to say, Marinette was tired. Too tired for cryptic questions from Alya, for sure. 

“What do you mean, Alya?” Marinette asked after letting out a big yawn. 

“You hated Adrien’s guts but now you two are cool? You two have been hovering around each other all week,” she rolled her eyes and gestured as if it was completely obvious what she was talking about. 

“He apologized,” Marinette said shortly, glancing away and willing the tiny blush forming on her face to go away, “We talked it out and I’m just trying to give him a chance to prove he isn’t like Chloe.” That answer seemed sufficient enough for Alya for now, who was more distracted by the blonde in question coming through the door with Nino. Marinette smiled, happy to see that Nino had taken Adrien under his wing. She’s known Nino for a long time, and knows for a fact that he’s a great person to be around Adrien. 

Marinette caught Adrien’s eye and gave him a tiny wave, using her other hand to cover her mouth while she let out another ridiculously loud yawn. Adrien somehow managed to look concerned while also trying to fight back what was obviously laughter. “You okay, Marinette?” he asked, after he successfully stopped himself from laughing. 

Letting out a tiny groan, Marinette dropped her forehead on her table and grumbled, “I’m so tired, and I didn’t have time to drink any coffee this morning. I almost overslept.” If she hadn’t been painfully aware of just how awake she really was, she might have thought that what she heard next was her dreaming. 

“Do you want to go with me to get lunch somewhere during our break? I can treat you to food and a coffee?” Adrien asked her with only a little bit of hesitance in his voice. 

Marinette’s head shot up, eyes wide and almost about to insist that he didn’t need to do that before she realized that this was Adrien making an effort to be her friend. Marinette had treated her friends to lunch before, it was what friends did. If she refused his offer, Adrien would be hurt and confused, and she couldn’t do that to him. Smiling, Marinette graciously accepted his offer. 

“Awesome!” Adrien said, visibly relieved that she accepted, “I’ll text my driver and set everything up, so don’t worry about it.” 

Marinette nodded and watched Adrien take his place in the spot in front of her, the two oblivious to the subtle (read: not subtle at all) stares they were getting from Alya and Nino. 

--------------------------------------

Adrien quickly looked up information about casual places to eat nearby. He noticed that there was a small cafe about two blocks from where the school was, and asked Nino his opinion. Nino gave his approval, and Adrien decided that it was close enough that he wouldn’t even need to bother his driver with asking for an escort. Instead, he simply sent a message letting the Gorilla know that he was going to eat lunch at the school. He felt bad lying to Gorilla like that, but he didn’t want there to be a big fuss about going out to eat with a friend. 

Happy with his plan, he excitedly waited for the break for lunch to roll around. 

After the last class they had before break, Adrien patiently waited for Marinette outside of the classroom. He did his best to ignore the quiet snickering he could hear coming from his pocket, mentally rolling his eyes at the Kwami that would no doubt give him a thorough teasing about this later. He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts, though, when Marinette walked out of the classroom. Adrien watched her wave goodbye to Alya before smiling as she walked over to him. 

“You ready?” Adrien asked her, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

“Of course! Is your driver waiting?” Marinette asked as they walked to the entrance of the school. 

“Well where I wanted to eat is close enough for us to walk to so I told him not to worry about it,” Adrien laughed awkwardly, hand rubbing at the back of his neck out of nervous habit. Marinette made a hum of acknowledgement and smiled at him. 

“Lead the way then,” Marinette teased lightly, making a grand sweeping gesture with a tiny giggle lacing her tone. 

And with that, the two made their way down the sidewalk, making idle conversation. Adrien happily tells Marinette about how much better he likes public school as opposed to homeschooling, and how happy he is to be getting along with Nino. Marinette watched with mild amusement at his enthusiasm, also feeling a bit sad that all of these things are so exciting to him. 

As they slowly strolled, the distance between the two slowly diminished until their arms were almost brushing. When Marinette’s hand accidentally grazed Adrien’s, both of them instinctively drew their hands back. Adrien looked away, feeling the blush slowly creeping across his face. He was confused. It was just her hand, and they barely touched, so why could he suddenly hear his heartbeat in his ears? He peeked at her from the corner of his eyes and noticed she was very intently inspecting the pavement as they walked. 

Before Adrien had the chance to try and cut the awkward silence though, Marinette tripped over her own feet and would have collided with the ground face-first if Adrien hadn’t quickly caught her. And that was when it was very obvious to both of them just how red the other’s face was. Quickly helping Marinette stand up straight again, he was once again wracking his brain for something to say to salvage the situation when Marinette began laughing. 

Adrien, although entirely confused as to why she was laughing, found himself laughing with her. He couldn’t help it, her laugh was so contagious and cute. When Marinette calmed down, she wiped a little tear from her eye and looked at Adrien, and he could feel his heart rate pick up again. The only thought in his mind was how startlingly pretty she was. And just as quickly as the thought entered his mind, it left because Marinette spoke. 

“That’s the second time I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you,” she said shaking her head and making a ‘go figure’ gesture. “I’m so lame.” 

Adrien vehemently shook his head, “I don’t think you’re lame at all!” he said quickly and far too loud. He winced and spoke again, this time softer, “B-Besides, my first impression I made on you really wasn’t all that impressive...” Once again his hand rubbed at the back of his neck, the blush on his face now from shame as he recalled the misunderstanding. 

Marinette slowly reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand from behind his head. Her other hand joined the first on his wrist, and she looked up at him. “I guess first impressions can be a bit misleading. But I understand you aren’t used to this kind of socializing, so I’m more than willing to be patient with you,” A grin spread on her face, “I think we’re going to be great friends! Now let’s go get some lunch, yeah?” 

The rest of the short walk to the cafe was uneventful and filled with a comfortable silence. Adrien was grateful for the silence, because it gave him a chance to calm his nerves and get ahold of himself. When they reached the cafe, he held open the door for Marinette and the two walked in. The cafe was quiet with a cozy atmosphere, and Adrien instantly loved it. 

Marinette told him what she wanted to eat and what coffee she wanted and went to find them a nice spot to sit. While Adrien stood in line, he tried to casually peek glances at her. She chose a window seat, and she was looking out at the street people-watching. A tiny smile was on her face and Adrien couldn’t help but again think that she was incredibly pretty. ‘Incredibly pretty and patient,’ Adrien thought to himself, blushing slightly again. And from what Nino had told him, she was also incredibly caring. 

Now, as naive as Adrien knew he could be, he was fully aware of what was happening right now. He knew that this was the beginning stages of a crush, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. As far as he knew, he was still a probationary friend to Marinette, and he knew he had a lot to work on. Adrien had a lot to work on and he was determined to do better and be someone that he can genuinely say he’s proud to be. So for now, he decided to push those feelings to the back of his mind and just focus on bettering himself. 

‘Well, no better way to get stronger and become a better person than by living a double life as a superhero,’ he mused to himself as he placed the order and waited off to the side to receive his order. By the time he made his way back to the table, he already had a clear goal in mind. And by the look on Marinette’s face as she saw him approach the table, he almost swore that it seemed she had come to some sort of epiphany as well. But he chose to brush it off and instead focus on enjoying a nice lunch with his adorable and slightly-awkward classmate. 

Adrien wasn’t yet used to life at public school, but with friends like Marinette and Nino around him, and endless possibilities ahead of him he couldn’t help but feel hopeful. This school year was going to be a good one, he just knew it.

[loftec]

what do u think about the new episode? because i personally fucking hate it :) i hate shameless, the only thing i care about right now is fic 😔

Same, my friend. I have been thinking about what to say or not to say about this for over a week and every time I've sat down to just type something out, I haven't been able to articulate anything. But I have so much to say, so I will try.

Now, if you (reading this, right now) are one of the lucky peeps who like this season and what it's got going for Ian and Mickey, so far... then maybe skip this rant. I honestly don't want to drag you down with my criticism. It's so ok to peacefully enjoy something without having to listen to people being crabby about the thing you love. Pax vobiscum.

That said.

(Crabby rant under cut.)

But if you're like me, kinda hurt and let down for the very last time, please stay a while. I'll tell you why I'm like this, and why I'm no longer angry, just disappointed.

Here's the thing, the first episode wasn’t any fun for me, but I quite enjoyed the second! It was the kind of low-stakes close-knit family stuff I want from a Shameless episode. Literally all they have to do to keep me happy is cram a bunch of Gallaghers into a kitchen and let them talk to each other for five minutes. I'm very easy to please. I like Sandy, I like what she does for Debbie's character. I like Tami, I like that Lip seems a lot happier. I like Liam, someone please take care of the boy. I like that Carl has a goal, and that he's all grown up. I like that Ian and Mickey are married and that they're a part of this family again. It’s a nice vibe, we’re having a party for Franny and it’s not perfect, but we learned something and we’re having fun. It’s fine.

On the whole, it’s nice. But for someone whose main priority is Ian and his significant other, it’s the same old bullshit all over again.

In seasons 1-5, I'm pretty sure Ian and Mickey only had like three conversations with each other that weren't plot relevant. But it was fine, it's en ensemble cast and Fiona, Lip and Frank got most of the A plots. Ian and Mickey had a lot of serious stuff going on, so the 5 minutes they got to do something each week had to be used dealing with all the shit they had to deal with. It's fine. This is fine. It's fine. I understand how TV works. We cut in on them in the middle of a conversation about Jean-Claude Van Damme, and I understand that they've spent the whole evening together and that they've talked about other things as well. Silly, inconsequential things, things people talk about when they like each other and want to be close and get to know each other. And when we're dropped in the middle of Ian, Mickey and Svetlana playing house in 5x1, I understand that it has been a period of time since we saw them last, and that things have changed. That they have talked about some things, and not talked about some things. And I happily played along and filled in all the gaps, I did the work; I imagined them together on a good day, on a calm evening lounging on the couch, on a lazy morning sleeping in. Quiet breakfasts, lively dinners. I imagined what they would say to each other, what they would talk about and what they still couldn't talk about. I did the work because it felt like it was worth it, because I knew that the story they were focusing on (Ian's illness and Mickey coming into his own) were worth it. That they needed every second they could get to tell the story of a mentally ill teenager and his abuse survivor boyfriend learning to love and support each other, and get better and grow up on their own terms.

I, the fool, kept thinking that one day. One day it would get better and they would get a break and the show would give them a minute, just a minute here and there, to be happy. Have a conversation that we could get in on. Have one good day for us to witness, and not just imagine.

Instead they broke them up for production reasons, for behind the scenes bullshit, for no reason at all, other than the simple fact that the show runners have never once cared about Ian and Mickey as much as we have. As much as Cam and Noel have. They had no qualms about rewriting a whole season's arc to make no sense in the last minute. They had no issues with throwing a beloved character in prison and leaving him there for a season and a half (which could have been good storytelling... if not every single Gallagher to ever get locked up had some lucky thing happen to spring them out again way before they’ve done their time). They had no problem with letting Ian say and do one thing one minute and then the exact opposite the next.

I think the thing that truly made me give up on the show at that time was the tattoo. We had such precious few things to work from when trying to understand these characters and we did our very best. We took the crumbs and we built a whole castle of cake. And one of the cornerstones, one of the first fucking things we ever knew about Mickey Milkovich, was that he could spell the name "Ian Gallagher". And if they wanted to give him a bad tattoo, they still could have. Maybe he did it himself and got it wrong because of the angle. Maybe there was a miscommunication and whoever did it on him got the name wrong. But no, they had to have him sit there and claim that he didn't know how to spell his boyfriend's name. It was so petty, so mean-spirited, such a massive fuck-you to anyone who dared to care and retain the things they'd previously told us about Mickey, I just had to stop caring about canon. I drew a line for myself around the canon I could understand as emotionally consistent, and ignored anything that landed on the other side of it. Perhaps not the best way to watch a TV show, but then I also stopped watching the show. So it worked out.

Anyway, this wasn't supposed to be about the first five seasons. But I'm obviously still bitter, and I wanted to explain why I'm well past the point of chasing after crumbs. Because it’s still the same bullshit, only now they’ve exchanged important, nuanced storylines about coming out and getting better for... I don’t know. Talking about sex and arguing about money.

Here is an incomplete list of loftec’s crumbs of disappointment, so far:

Ian and Mickey have been married for 6 (?) months, and the writers will have you believe they still have not had a conversation.

Ian is still relegated to C-plots (only now he's sometimes allowed in the background of an A plot, which is fun I guess but still not near what he deserves after all these years).

Meanwhile, Lip got two separate extended scenes detailing how he tricks his girlfriend into spending less money, in the first episode. That’s so much airtime spent on one point. In the second episode, he had a casual conversation with his baby! Ian and Mickey haven't had a casual conversation about anything since fucking never! 

Ian and Mickey have talked about sex and money, so far. Nothing else. Important things, I'm sure. But let's compare this with Lip in the same episode. Lip and Tami wake up together, they get to be sweet to each other, talk about their lives and daily routine, they have a chat about coffee and someone they know who is having a hard time, then they get into the subject of their conflict du jour. Ian and Mickey get a weird allusion to how much sex they're having (so much sex you guys, just believe and it will come true!) and then they're arguing about jobs and money. For two whole episodes. Except that one time where they got derailed and accidentally talked about monogamy instead.

Monogamy. Something they haven’t talked about before. And apparently a word Mickey doesn’t understand, or know how to spell.

And it still feels so petty, because it's just. So specific. They could have chosen any of the magnificent character traits of Mickey's that they teased us with in the first five seasons, and this is the thing they pick? And then turn into a main character trait?? Mickey can't spell. Mickey doesn't understand words. Haha ha. And I'm not purposefully misunderstanding this scene, I promise. I understand what they were trying to do. I most certainly understand what Noel acted his ass off to convey. I am not here freaking out about Mickey wanting to be with other people, or Ian saying this or doing that. I'm not worried about them cheating or getting a divorce. I'm just really disappointed that this is where we are now.

That Mickey, who we all saw through and understood to be smart and loyal, quick on his feet and quippy as anything, has been reduced to this. I'm pretty sure he's had his hand down his pants in half the scenes he's been in so far. I don't know what that means, but it's like... a choice. And I don't like this choice. They could have had an insecure conversation about monogamy and money and we could have gone on this journey with them as they struggle with their inability to communicate and I would have been all for it, if it had been written with something more, anything else, something to break through the plump humor and crass approach to this marriage that Ian spent half of the last season trying to have a conversation about! But never got to, because the writers thought it would be funnier to have Mickey punch Ian in the face and run off with some guy, rather than talk to him!

Also, I know this is getting outrageously long, but the fighting. The fighting is another thing. Who here watched that scene in 3x9 where Ian tries to get Mickey to be honest with him and Mickey kicks him in the face rather than admit he's gay, and thought, hey! Guys being guys, am I right? Who here watched that scene in 5x10 when Ian punched Mickey in the face because he didn't know how to accept care from someone who loves him and wanted to feel a feeling, and thought; oh yes, this is just how they communicate! This is fine! I know I didn't. But sure, why not. It's a choice, I guess. They're just manly men, and manly men fight with their significant others. They beat the shit out of each other, no problem. This is not something we need to have a conversation about, not at all.

This is about writing. They easily could have written Ian and Mickey’s scenes differently. They could have had incidental bits of conversation, hinting at their lives outside of this conflict they’re having. They could have been in the background of someone else’s scene, just a quick gesture of something nice that would help flesh out the bits in between. They could have conversations and storylines about pretty much anything, and still bring up the question of monogamy and Mickey’s residual insecurities about Ian’s past infidelity. They could have been subtle about it, instead of writing a clown scene where Mickey acts like a clown and Ian doesn’t remember that he’s done a lot of shit in their past that they maybe need to talk about. Because they still haven’t talked about it? NOT ONCE? THEY WERE IN THE SAME CELL FOR MONTHS! AND NOT A SINGLE CONVERSATION WAS HAD. THIS IS FINE. I’M FINE.

I get it. This is supposed to be a fun show about whacky characters. It's supposed to be outrageous, the show runners and writers are choosing these things to get a reaction. I get it, and I don't like it and if you think this means that I should stop watching the show and shut up, then I agree with you.

But also, I love these characters and this community, and I want to like this season. Our last season. I want to watch it and still hope that Ian and Mickey will get to have a conversation about nothing special, just because they like each other, before it's over.

And if not, there is always fic. And you know I will be making them talk to each other in NTW until there are no words left.

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Ten)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: blood, mentioned death, injury, gun violence

Context: The SRS have finally arrived, in time for Halloween.

A/N: This is a little bit late, but it's slightly Halloween themed, so I hope that it's still alright! Spot the reference I "accidentally" left in there😉😅

Masterlist

Eerie music plays from hidden speakers as the costumed crowd ambles by, children screaming and laughing as scare actors jump out at them, the variety of zombies, witches and mummies, not to mention vampires, too, astounding, movie characters and even some book characters making appearances around every turn, familiar and unfamiliar lines being spoken to cheerful bypassers. Painted masks and faces litter the mixed throng of people, the twinkling, orange-cast lights throwing the crevices of each visage into sharper definition, ghoulish grins becoming longer, twisted grimaces becoming even more painful, the many slashers roaming the Boardwalk now covered in a blacker blood than before, each fake knife, axe and machete lathered in the stuff. A sickly sweet odour lingers in the air as sweets and chocolate are passed around, often accompanied by a smoking joint, or sachet of some other high-class substance, the strong reek of sweat providing an unpleasant undertone as the stifling costumes heat their wearers despite the late October chill.

As a child, I used to love Halloween. There was always something enchanting about it: you could become anything, or anyone you wanted for the night, and no one would question you on your choice, or look at you oddly because everyone was doing the same. A cheery atmosphere always seemed to hang over the annual event, the leading pumpkins that glittered along the streets and the creative decorations building up the necessary excitement over the weeks before the 31st; a fun game of mine had been to run down the streets of my hometown and count every pumpkin we could see, separately, and see who had the highest tally at the end of the day. Once the winner had been decided, they'd get first dibs on the treats handed to us at each door when we later went Trick-Or-Treating, a rule which drew many arguments to the table when we eventually compiled our loot.

Now, as I watch the roaming children, all I can think of is how easy it is for the supernatural to wreck havoc on this night, given that the spiritual veil is much thinner than usual, and no one suspects anyone of the authenticity of their outfit until it's too late. On his night, the SRS always have their hands full, meaning everyone is deployed, not just the normal Hunters: the retired Soldiers still capable of fighting, Clean-Up teams and A.R.O (Aftermath Recon Operatives) Soldiers all made to help out with the bloody massacres that occur all over the country. The holiday has a morbid side that no one sees, and there's always a high body count the next morning.

Beside me, Marko pushes and shoves at people that come too close, the vampire loudly criticizing any costume made to look like his species, his "improvements" just a little too specific to be joking ones, not quite realising that I'm not listening to him. Instead, I'm scanning the crowds, looking out for the tell tale uniform and tactics used by the SRS Clean-Up teams, eyeing any suspicious person keenly until they prove to me they aren't a threat, often earning me harsh stares from their companions. The two of us look out of place in our "normal" clothing, neither of us dressing up, as we forgot that it was, in fact, the 31st, meaning a costume would've provided a good disguise in case we do come across any dangers. Even as we walk, I bite at my lip, feeling very exposed in my current state, my fists clenching at my sides as I try to stop myself from fidgeting too much, knowing that a nervous disposition is a great disadvantage in a fight, should one break out.

"Hey can we get something to eat? I kinda want some food." Marko suddenly asks me, not waiting for my reply as he pulls me over to a nearby sweet stand, the vampire excited by the prospect of buying the sugary treats.

Uneasy, I stand and turn back to the crowd, watching each face closely, my gut starting to feel odd as I notice something odd about a certain few members of the crowd. Eyes widening in realisation, I grab the back of Marko's coat and drag him away from the stand and into the alley behind it, ignoring his protests as I clap a hand over his mouth.

"Be quiet." I command him in a low voice, giving him a warning look as I slowly take my hand away from his mouth.

"What are you doing?" He hisses at me, eyes narrowed.

"They're here." I respond, looking out at the crowd as I try to figure out what to do, thinking over my options until I notice that someone has spotted us over here; someone who I've already identified.

As I watch, they start to make their way over to the stand, casually wading through the people around them as they try to look inconspicuous, though the mere sight of them makes my pulse hitch.

Thinking quickly, I grab the front of Marko's jacket and pull him closer, pressing my back to the wall as I lean closer to his face, ignoring his shocked expression.

"Kiss me, quick!" I order him, wrapping my hands around his neck as he splutters slightly.

"What?"

"Do it!" I growl, pulling him closer.

Still shocked, the vampire leans in and presses his lips to mine, carefully kissing me until I yank on his hair, silently asking him to be a little more rough, to which he responds by shoving me harder into the wall, his hands gripping my hips much tighter. Groaning slightly, I momentarily forget why we're in this situation, letting myself enjoy the rough kisses as he ravishes my mouth with his tongue, only opening my eyes again to look briefly over his shoulder at the Boardwalk, noticing that the person is no longer there. Knowing this, I let the kiss come to its natural end, before pulling away.

"Thanks..." I say, awkwardly, blushing as he reluctantly lets me go, the vampire clearly wanting more as he allows his hand to linger at my hip a little longer than necessary.

"No problem." He wipes his mouth, grinning at me as he regains his composure, "What did you need it for?"

"One of them was coming over here, and it was the first thing I could think of." I admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Right." Marko lifts an eyebrow, smirking, "How did you know it was one of them?"

I laugh, dryly, gesturing with my head for him to follow me back out into the crowd.

"Well, back in New Orleans, the head of the SRS realised one Halloween that our Soldiers need a disguise for this particular night, without being too conspicuous, so that they fit in but can also be recognised by each other. She decided that the mask of a plague doctor would be fitting. She said it works for us, because we're ridding the world of a "plague", just as they were." I roll my eyes, "Obviosuly, this makes them very easy for me to spot them, seeing as I used to dress up the same way."

"Oh, right." Marko nods, understandingly, evidently sending some mental explanation to the rest of the vampires, who are stationed around the Boardwalk.

"You can tell them apart, because they have a golden cross engraved just below the right eye on the mask, so we don't get mixed up with others." I clarify for him.

"Good to know." He frowns, "Did you say she decided? As in the head of the SRS is a girl?"

I nod, a little annoyed by the question, but knowing where he's coming from.

"Yep. Her name is Valentine Fletcher. She's the best fighter we've ever had and has the largest body count of all. Not even the Generals around the world come close to her efficiency, she's just too good. I've met her once, and she was also one of the most stuck-up princesses I've ever come across."

"I guess that's why she's the leader, then." Marko chuckles, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"Excuse me." An unfamiliar voice interrupts us, a hand placing itself firmly on my shoulder as I turn around to face the person. My heart drops as I take in the eerie black beak-shaped mask, the golden cross glittering under the right eye as they catch the lights, the cloaked figure keeping a strong grip on my arm.

"Can I help you?" I ask, getting ready to run as Marko notices the cross, too.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could come with me." The Soldier says, though the tone in her voice is much more demanding, informing me that there is, in fact, no choice.

"I'd rather not." Without a second thought, I slam my arm into her elbow, snapping it inwards as she lets out a surprised cry, allwoig me time to duck under her and and push past her, sprinting away into the crowd with Marko hot on my heels.

Five loud gunshots sound behind us, the Soldier having shot at us with a hidden gun through the crowd, screams and shouts of fear and panic suddenly tearing through the air as the atmosphere suddenly becomes too real, the bullets smashing into the ground behind the two of us terrifying the costumed Boardwalk-goers. Instantly, the crowd around us starts pushing and shoving each other, the heaving current of people now pushing us along as they scramble to get to safety, arms flailing and legs kicking as they go, slowing our progress significantly. Growling in frustration, I pull Marko to the side, intending to reach the alley again, wincing when there are two more shots behind us, though I make it to safety without a scratch. It's only when I hear Marko's laboured breathing that I realise he wasn't so lucky.

"Shit, Marko, are you going to be alright? Can you keep moving?" I ask him, being to figure out where he was shot as he starts to sway on his feet, eyes drooping closed as the pain starts to eat away at him. Grimacing, I swiftly scan the area, spotting a large bin a little way away, which I drag him over to.

"Get in there and close the lid, you'll be safe." I tell him, opening it and giving him a leg up into the reeking interior, helping him settle as quickly as I can, before I go to move again, "I'll be back."

With one last look at him, I firmly shut the lid and start running down the alley, taking as many winding corners as I can, hoping to throw them off as I start to hear pounding footsteps behind me, shouts and calls seemingly coming from everywhere as I start to breathe harder, my pulse pounding in my ears. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, giving me the speed I need to get away from my pursuer, the air rushing harshly into my throat as I turn down another backroad.

A sudden gunshot, followed by a spike of agony in the back of my knee brings me to the floor, my body crashing into a discarded car as it rolls awkwardly to a halt, groans of pain swiftly starting to leave me. Gripping at the new wound on my leg, I try to force myself upright again, only to be kicked back to the ground again by a cloaked figure, who keeps kicking until I'm cowering on the ground, blood pouring down my face. When they are finished, they reach down and force me into a standing position, half-dragging me out of the alley and to the car park conveniently placed by the mouth of the road, where a circle of similarly clad people are waiting, the forms of three kneeling people visible in the dim light of the streetlights. Pulling me over to them, my attacker throws me to the ground in the centre of the circle, manhandling me onto my knees, drawing a small cry of pain from me.

Looking around at the three kneeling people, I feel my heart stop as I instantly recognise them: David, Dwayne and Paul, the three of them bloodied and beaten, burn marks littering their faces from the holy water that was most likely used on them. Horror and guilt flood me as I see them, David's head coming up so he can make eye contact with me, his blue eyes filled with hate and anger.

"Are we all here now?" Someone asks, their voice unfamiliar to me.

"No, there is one more." A voice calls from a little way away, Marko soon being forced onto his knees beside Paul as he is dragged into the light. The vampire is pale now, dark circles appearing under his eyes as his vampiric features break through, his body trying to keep itself from shutting down as he slowly bleeds out, the bullet wounds still oozing the crimson stuff out onto his shirt.

"Ok, that's everyone, we can get started." The person speaks again, this time sounding more decisive.

"(Y/n) (Y/l/n), you have been arrested for conspiring with the enemy, and for shooting a senior officer, willingly, instead of a vampire that was held hostage. Do you accept these charges?" Someone else says, the voice somewhat familiar, though I don't remember where from.

Knowing it is pointless to resist, I lower my head to my chest and reply.

"I do."

"And you are aware of the punishments that these crimes bring upon you?"

"I am."

"And they are?"

I take a deep breath, my muscles tense as I try to ignore the pain in my body.

"Execution on the sight of capture." I recite robotically, knowing them well.

"Good, you remember some form of honour." They sneer, before addressing the rest of the gathered Soldiers, "Are there any volunteers among us who would like to carry out the deed?"

"I do." My blood runs cold at the sound of the voice, my head lifting to look up at the Hunter that has stepped forwards.

"Elijah Forsyth, you wish to perform the necessary execution of (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?" The first speaker questions, confirming the name to me even as they take off their mask.

Instantly, the cold blue eyes lock with mine, the dark-haired Hunter giving me a poisonous look as he limps over to me.

"I do."

"Then it shall be so. Do what you must."

With those words, Elijah steps over to me, drawing a gun from his belt and cocking it deliberately, maintaining eye contact as he lowers it to my forehead.

As the weapon is brought to my skin, I keep my chin up, refusing to feel bad about the actions that brought me here in the first place. Without a word, I accept the fate that will befall me.

Part Eleven

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 13

Siolo Ur Manka had lived in the Jentares system for nearly seventy years by the time their ship, still on loan from a Mandalorian named Silas, touched down on the planets soft soil. It was overrun with thick jungle, and it sang with the Force. With life, and light, in the bird songs and the ambling hum of great beasts that marched through the foliage with thick soled feet and swinging necks. 

And in it’s shadow death and darkness, beneath the undergrowth and in the fanged mouths of predators. 

Maul’s vornskr trotted behind him, their tails raised like tiny black flags. 

“Ahsoka, Ezra, Ben, keep up,” Maul warned over his shoulder. Ben, a biggest and also the most troublesome, turned his face away from a fluttering insect to chirp at Maul. Ahsoka batted his should and knocked him back in line. 

Kenobi, on Maul’s side, had his little lizard hanging from his hair. He’d named her something silly. Boba? Boga. She was tasting the air curiously while Kenobi looked around them in no small degree of wonder. If he’d never left the Temple before Bandomeer then there was no way he’d ever been to a planet with this much foliage on it. 

The air was thick and humid and Jango looked miserable where he tramped through the brush after them. 

Not that it was easy to see with his helmet in place, but Maul was getting better and better at reading his body language.

  Jango still confused him. 

For a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that even though Maul had accidentally shoved nightmare fuel memories into his skull he still wanted to adopt him into his family. He was lucky that Jango thought they were only visions of the future, and not memories of Maul’s past. 

Even if Jango knew that, would it matter? 

The people Maul had killed before still lived, for one thing, so for all intents and purposes for everyone that wasn’t him they might as well have been visions. Everything he knew was true and detailed, but insubstantial and subject to change. He’d changed Kilindi and Daleen after all. 

Maul was probably lucky that he’d been found by a Mandalorian. Anyone else would have had to many questions up front, or would have tried to force him into the life of a child. Maul would have had to kill them, and cover that up too. It would have been annoying. 

Maul kept an ear out for anything dangerous as they neared the clearing where Siolo made his home. 

Maul had been here years ago, five years in the future, and killed the old twi’lek master. He was a powerful Jedi, and deeply entrenched in the Force. Maul had only beaten him through trickery, and he could teach Kenobi that if it became necessary. 

Maul shook his head. Since when was he seriously considering teaching Kenobi anything? He’d offered, once, to help him harness his anger and turn it into a tool. But Kenobi was too Jedi already to accept it. 

A shame. He could have made a powerful Sith. 

Perhaps- 

No. 

Maul shook the thought off. He was already too attached to too many people. He’d even begun gravitating towards Jango against his will. 

He didn’t need a father, and he had years more experience than the Mandalorian did. 

All the same, there was a part of him that still was ten years old, one that Maul ignored most of the time, that wanted what he could offer. It was faint, beaten down by the Maul that inhabited a body he’d long outgrown, but the longing was there. 

They came into a clearing. 

Siolo Ur Manka was just as Maul remembered him. And elderly twi’lek with mossy green skin, his lekku were draped around his shoulders. He wore the brown robes of a jedi, and he was sitting peacefully, entrenched in his deep meditation. 

The three sentients came to a halt half the field away from him. Ezra, entranced by the thick swirls of the Force around the master, left the safety of their group and trotted over to him. Maul hissed at him, but he was ignored. Ezra’s eyes were caught by the minute twitching of one of Siolo’s lekku. 

“We should probably warn him,” Jango mused as Ezra crept closer, his chest to the ground. Maul watched him. His posture was poor, but that would come with time. His butt wiggled as he stretched himself closer and closer to the Jedi Master. 

“No need,” Maul waved his hand flippantly. 

When Ezra made to pounce he was caught in the air, gently, by the Force. Siolo opened his eyes to looked at the vornskr, who bared his tiny teeth at him and tried to growl. His tail lashed uselessly. He was much too young to properly poinson the Jedi Master. 

“I believe,” Siolo said in his Rylothian accent, “That this is yours?” 

Maul used the Force to pluck the small predator out of his grasp and bring him back to his side. 

“That was poor technique,” he chided gently. Ezra chirped at him and crawled into his shirt instead of answering. Maul didn’t fight him. Ahsoka jumped up onto his shoulder with ease and bumped her cheek against his, as if apologizing for her littermates mistake. She was undeniably Maul’s favorite. She was already scarred, and already a fighter, and she’d destroyed three mouse droids on the way to the planet. She was going to be vicious and unstoppable once she was bigger than a bread box. 

Siolo looked over his assembled audience. He gripped his cane and stood, slowly. Maul was not fooled. He may be retired, but he was still a dangerous adversary. He was one of the few beings that Maul had ever run from in his life time, even if it was for only a few days while he built his lightsaber. 

It felt strange to stand before him without it, and in fact without any conflict between them. He was not here to kill Siolo. 

It was a weird feeling, to seek someone out without the intention of taking their head off their shoulders. Maul was still getting used to it. He was no less deadly than he once had been, but he saw more use in letting people live than killing them outright. 

“Do not see every enemy as an enemy. See them instead as an ally, whether they know it or not."

Mauls cheek twitched but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge the woman’s voice. This was getting old. He was certain it had something to do with the shattered holocrons. He needed to get back to Malachor and find them again, if for no other reason than to make the random voices of unwanted advice shut up. Every time he heard someone speak to him his palm itched where the small scars were pressed into his skin. 

Siolo looked over each of them in turn. Maul could feel him mentally brushing against Maul’d shields, and when Obi Wa- Kenobi stiffened Maul was certain he felt the same thing. If Jango wasn’t wearing his helmet it might well have happened to him too. 

“I don’t get many visitors out here. Certainly none as… unique, as you are.” 

“We look for a Master for Obi Wan,” Jango touched Kenobi’s shoulder lightly and urged him forwards. Kenobi took a deep breath and squared his shoulders when he approached. Once he was close enough he bowed deeply to the older Jedi. 

“Venerated Master,” he said politely. “I am Obi Wan Kenobi, of the Coruscant temple, and the AgriCorps. “ 

“Yes, the Force tells me as much,” Siolo inclined his head. “It also tells me you have great potential. Show me your abilities, young one.” 

Kenobi perked up, bouncing up on his toes. “Yes, Master! Um, do you have a lightsaber?” 

“I have not carried one in many years,” Siolo shook his head and brushed his robes out before he rose to his full height and lifted his walking stick. “Shall I repeat myself? Show me, young one.” 

Kenobi looked dubious, but he drew his lightsaber all the same. Maul sat on a fallen tree, and Jango took up residence at his shoulder. He stayed standing, his visor fixed on the two Jedi. Kenobi hesitated before he swung at Siolo. 

The old jedi parried the blow with his walking stick, reinforced with the Force. 

It was a trick that Maul had never quite gotten right. 

“How did you know this Jettii was here?” Jango asked while Kenobi went in for another blow. 

Maul hummed. 

“I was once sent to kill him. “ 

“Yet, here he stands. And he doesn’t seem to know you.” 

Maul shot him a grin with far too many teeth. “I don’t take orders well.” 

Jango huffed a laughed just as Obi Wan was knocked to the ground. Siolo was much gentler with him than he had been with Maul, though looking at him now Maul realized that the old master had been gentle with him as well. He could have killed him, if he really wanted to. 

Even if Maul had tried to flee, Siolo could have cut him down with a single parry when he was a boy of but seventeen. It rankled his pride, but in the end that mercy had been his downfall. 

Jedi weakness. 

(Maul ignored the phantom feeling of warm arms and cooling sand and blue eyes that did not hate

He ignored the refusal to kill and two blue blades, and sharp, predator teeth held back. How much harder it was not to kill the clones on the Tribunal (Or why he listened to Tano in the first place) 

Mercy stung at him and it was so much more difficult than cruelty)  

Kenobi got up, bowed to the Master, and started again. Siolo trounced him soundly each time, and while Maul could feel Kenobi’s frustrations building, he never yelled or threw his weapon down or demanded to know why he kept losing. Maul didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. 

“Aren’t you going to go fight?” Jango asked, nodding towards Siolo. Kenobi had at least given him enough challenge that one of his lekku fell out of place. 

Maul shook his head. He knew how he compared to the Jedi Master. “We’re looking for a Master for Kenobi. As you said, I will have no other Master.” 

Jango placed his hand on Maul’s small shoulder and squeezed it. Maul looked at it, but didn’t knock it away like he might normally have. 

“No,” Jango agreed. “Never again.” 

They sat together until Kenobi had worked himself up, sweating and panting, and Siolo called for a halt to their spar. He barely looked rumpled. 

“That’s enough, young one. You fought well. Was that Cin Drallig’s style I saw?” 

Kenobi nodded quickly. “Yes, Master. He teaches all the younglings their lightsaber forms.” 

“It shows. You’ll have to practice being more adaptable than he is, but I can see your potential. Both with a lightsaber, and the Force. Here.” 

Siolo handed him a water skin, one that Kenobi drank eagerly from. Jango leaned forwards on his knees when the two Jedi started making their way over. Maul made himself stay seated, and kept his hand off of his modified blaster. Siolo’s eyes stayed on him, and Maul was reminded that the old twi’lek had once told him that others had come before he had. Siolo eyed him, but if he could sense the depths of his darkness he didn’t give it away. 

“You keep strange company, Initiate Kenobi,” Siolo mused. “A pair of Mandalorians are unusual companions for a young Jedi.” 

“I promised I’d help him find a Jedi Master,” Jango said evenly while Kenobi flushed in embarrassment. “Maul heard you lived here.” 

“You’re right,” Siolo inclined his head. “And he shows great promise as a Jedi. I have felt few so strong in the Light in recent years.” 

Kenobi sucked in a startled breath. “But, Master! I was angry in our fight,” he argued, his shoulders hunched in shame. “I was upset when you kept beating me so easily.” 

Siolo looked faintly amused. He touched Kenobi’s shoulder. “I would expect so. You’re young, and you will grow out of that if you try. I didn’t sense any true attempt to hurt me, even when you were angry.” 

“But anger leads to hate, and hate leads to the darkside!” 

“So it does,” Siolo inclined his head. “But we are Jedi, not droids. We still feel. Even the greatest of Masters is not immune to anger. The important thing is that we do not act on it, or give it control over us. Do you understand?” 

Kenobi’s brows furrowed. “I… I think so.” 

“Your Master will be able to explain it further to you.” 

Kenobi startled, confusion on his face. “But, I have no Master. That is why we came here, to you!” 

“I know,” Siolo said kindly. He squeezed Kenobi’s shoulder. “But I am too old to raise a Padawan properly. I am retired from fieldwork, and your education would be skewed if I were to try. You deserve better than an old twi’lek for your master, child.” 

“But- I’m almost thirteen,” Kenobi’s blue eyes glittered. 

“Yes?” Siolo looked confused. “I was almost fifteen when my Master took me on.” 

Kenobi gaped at him. “But thirteen is too old to be a Padawan? For human’s and species with comparable life times.” 

“Is that what they’ve decided these days?” Siolo shook his head. “I heard talk about making a cap of youngling’s ages a few decades ago, but I hadn’t known they’d made it a solid rule.”

“Why would they do something like that?” Jango asked, frowning at Siolo. 

Siolo shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you. Something about the other branches needing more members, but it seems silly to force younglings into them if they don’t want to be.” 

Jango inclined his head. “You’re sure you won’t take the boy as your student?” 

Kenobi was trying desperately to look brave and self assured, but it wasn’t working well. He looked crushed. Like each time he got his hopes up they were dashed upon the ground. 

“As I said, it wouldn't be fair to Young Kenobi for me to take him on. But there are plenty of other Masters in the order. Come, have supper with me, and I’ll see if I can’t think of a few names.” 

Siolo motioned for them to follow him to a hut that was almost completely hidden by trees. Kenobi followed first, then Maul, with Jango behind them. He was saying something into his comlink, but he was too far behind for Maul to hear exactly what it was. 

Maul stepped into a hut that felt far too warm and smelled like stew, and the galaxy turned on. 

Far off in the stars, dozens of comlink lit up with a new order. 

The Mand’alor required a Jedi, and they were to find him one. Gently. 

‘Gentle’, for Mandalorians, was a rather subjective term. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Mace was intensely grateful that Depa was sitting at his side. 

Her Padawan braid hung long down her shoulder, it’s beads glinting faintly in the dim light. It was almost time for the braid to be cut off. Depa was more than ready to be a Knight, and her trials were slated for the next week. She was busily writing on her datapad, apparently absorbed in the last of her coursework. 

Mace wasn’t fooled. 

He could tell from the faint furrowing of her brows that she was listening carefully to what was happening in the council chambers. 

They all were. 

As Mace’s padawan she had a privilege to sit in on council meetings, unless they were more high security. This meeting was troubling, to be sure, but it wasn’t an emergency meeting. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Certain of this, you are?” Master Yoda asked, his normally light voice deep with concern for their newest loss. Mace carefully let his irritation flow into the Force. It was something he had a lot of practice doing, unfortunately. Depa glanced at him curiously before she bent her head over her data pad again. It was balanced on her lap, while a few others were stacked next to the small chair that she was afforded beside his own. 

“Yes, Master,” Qui Gon Jinn’s face was smooth now, but Mace could see the faint remnants of lines etched in with grief and frustration. Mace could only imagine. He’d lost his former Padawan, fallen or otherwise, and his prospective future Padawan all in the span of a single night. “The boy had training, but not from any Jedi, and he was powerful in the Darkside. He was not half grown and he cut down Xanatos with almost no effort at all. Before the night was over he and the Mandalorian had taken Initiate Kenobi and left the planet.” 

It was sparse at best, and there were so many gaps in the story that Mace could have ridden a Bantha between them, but so too were all of Jinn’s reports. Those that didn’t involve a simple end to the story and the rest was filled with ‘I followed the Will of the Force’. 

Mace was not his biggest fan.  

“I fear that the dark child plans on corrupting Kenobi. The boy is already prone to anger and aggression.” 

That was true, but the same could have been said about Mace when he was Kenobi’s age. 

“And the Mandalorian?” Tiin asked, a deep frown on his face. 

“I could not say why he would aid in taking Initiate Kenobi,” Jinn admitted, bowing his head. 

“Perhaps it was for revenge,” Sifo Dyas offered up, his mouth turned in a grim line. “Many Mandalorians were injured during the battle on Galidraan. Perhaps the battle was not enough.” 

A grim thought. 

Mace’s stomach turned. Depa’s grip on her stylus tightened. Through their training bond Mace could feel her intense concern for the youngling. 

“Either way, I will pursue them and uncover the truth,” Jinn announced. 

The room fell quiet. Mace exchanged a look with Yaddle and Giiett. Tyvokka didn’t look any more happy about it than anyone else felt. 

“That may not be the best idea,” Poof said gently. “You are grieving, Master Jinn. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed at the temple for a time.” 

“I do not need time,” Jinn said swiftly. “Initiate Kenobi needs someone to find him, immediately, and I am the only one who knows the Mandalorian and the Darksider.” 

Eeth Koth looked to Tyvokka, who in turn shook his head. 

“You were not the boys guardian, Qui Gon. And he is not your Padawan. You are too emotionally invested in this matter,” Tyvokka said gravely. “We should send another.” 

None of them mentioned it, but everyone had heard about how devastated Kenobi had been when Jinn had refused to take him as his padawan after the show he put on at the Initiate competition a month or so earlier. Now Kenobi had fought off pirates and draigons at Jinn’s side, and he still referred to the boy as ‘Initiate’. Anyone else would have taken the boy for their padawan in a heartbeat. 

Many would have already, except… 

“Unacceptable. I will find Initiate Kenobi,” Jinn insisted. “And I will bring him back.” 

Finally, Yoda spoke again. 

“Feel that you have failed the boy, you do. Choose to pursue him, for Obi Wan’s best interest or your own redemption. Which do you seek?” 

“I cannot allow a random knight to go after them,” Jinn argued. “The Mandalorian and the dark child are more dangerous than you can imagine!” 

“According to you, the Mandalorian also fought by your side against the draigon’s.” And according to some of the miners they had contacted before Jinn gave his report, he had also helped him disable bombs set to destroy the planet. Curious that Jinn didn’t see pertinent to mention that. 

“That was to save his own life. We have no idea what a Mandalorian would do to a Force Sensative child, let alone a Jedi Initiate. We need to rescue him.” 

“You’re right,” Mace said evenly, catching Jinn’s eye. “We need to. Poof is correct. We all know that Xanatos was important to you, whatever may have happened in recent years. Stay home for the time being. Rest in your chambers, visit your friends, sit in the creche. Trust in the council to retrieve Kenobi.” 

“Have faith in your fellow Jedi, you must,” Yaddle added. Jinn drew himself up to argue before it all seemed to deflate. For just a moment his shields slipped, and the grief and guilt came rippling out to wash over the Council members. Depa gasped quietly at his side. 

“Yes, master’s.” 

Mace could count on one hand the number of times Qui Gon Jinn had actually listened to them. He could only watch the maverick Jedi bow to them and leave, his shields drawing back up around him. 

The door closed soundly behind him. 

“He really should speak to a Mind Healer,” Poof said sadly. Mace had to agree. They’d tried to get him to do as much after Xanatos first left the Order, but Yoda had advised them not to push him on the matter. 

They’d listened. 

Now, Mace wondered if that was the best idea. 

Speaking of Yoda… 

“Why was Initiate Kenobi sent to Bandomeer without an escort?” Mace asked suddenly, drawing all attention to himself. He was the youngest in the room by far, not counting Depa. “When Initiates are assigned to one of the corps they’re typically escorted by a Knight, or a Master who already belongs to them, aren’t they? So where was Initiate Kenobi’s?” 

“Going to Bandomeer as well, Qui Gon was. Look after the boy, he did,” Yoda said helpfully. 

“Yes, and that worked so well,” Koth frowned at the Grand Master. 

“Circumstances we could not have foreseen, there were,” Yoda pointed out. 

“True, this is. Yet still, more caution we should have used,” Yaddle argued. “Did this one purpose, didn’t you? To push the two together, yes?” 

Yoda’s ears drooped minutely. “A good pair, they would make. Show me, the Force did.” 

“This is why you asked that other Master’s interested in the boy not act?” Tyvokka asked with no small degree of unhappiness. The master was well known for his care of Younglings, something that his own apprentice had inherited. Somedays Mace wondered how neither of them were full time creche masters. 

Depa looked to Mace, startled. He frowned at her, but nodded once. It was true. Yoda had staked an unofficial claim on the boy. He wanted him for his own current lineage, and while Dooku was unable to take a Padawan while he had Komari Vosa, and Feemor had been undercover as a shadow until only a week ago, Qui Gon was the only one who could have done it. 

Mace let his irritation flow into the Force. 

The old Jedi’s meddling was getting out of hand. Had the Council of Reassignment even authorized Kenobi’s transfer to Bandomeer, or had Yoda gone over their heads in this scheme of his? 

“A great Jedi, Kenobi will be,” Yoda said again, tapping his walking stick on the council room floor. 

“If he returns,” Sifo Dyas said grimly. 

“We need to send someone after him quickly. In that Qui Gon was no wrong,” Koth admitted. 

“It will have to be someone who is good at laying low, and good at tracking to get close enough to the Mandalorian and the ‘dark child’ he spoke of,” T’un mused. 

“Perhaps Tholme and his new Padawan?” Omo B’ouri suggested. “Vos is one of the Kenobi’s old creche-mates.” 

“Much darkness I sense in Vos,” Yoda argued, shaking his head. 

“...Feemor,” Mace said suddenly. “He has Shadow training, he’s recovered from his last mission, and we don’t have another lined up for him yet.” 

On top of that, suggesting Feemor would get him closer to getting Yoda to agree, since Feemor was Yoda’s Grandpadawan. 

Or should be, if Qui Gon hadn’t publicly disowned him. It was one of the biggest reasons Feemor had asked to train as a Shadow, instead of continuing on his Councilor path. 

Whether Feemor was still Yoda’s Grandpadawan by rights or by sentiment, Mace’s suggestion did the trick. 

Yoda nodded, slowly. 

Good. Trying to go against Yoda as council meetings was light trying to fight the tide. The Grand Master had much sway over the rest of them. 900 years of being with the Jedi would do that. 

“Very well. Send Knight Feemor after Initiate Kenobi, we will. Retrieve our lost Initiate, we must. Learn more about this ‘dark child’ too, we shall.”

No one disagreed. Mace took a data pad from Depa and started writing up new mission orders for Feemor, as well as arranging for his funding for the mission. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a long one, but the Force was tilting around them. New shatterpoints appeared and disappeared everyday. 

Only time would tell where the future would lead. 

Mace commed Feemor to come receive his new mission.  

[blue-lions-baby]

Operation Confession (Dimitri x Reader) [Ch. 1]

hi!! so sorry for the inactivity! i’ve been super busy preparing for college n stuff, so i didn’t really have time to write anything... but like i also didn’t want to go *another* week of not posting anything so lol

i’ve been working on this fic for almost a month now and as i was approaching the 5000 words mark, i figured it would probably be best to chop it up into more.... manageable sections ^^’ please enjoy~

spoiler-free and pre-timeskip fluff!

~*~

Oh, this was perfect.

Sylvain watched in pure amusement at the scene playing out before his very eyes. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, reduced to nothing more than a blushing schoolboy antsy with the love bugs and raging hormones. He weakly disguised his chuckle with a cough when he saw yet another quill snap in the blonde’s hand, most likely in reaction to that adorable pouting face you had put up. You had absolutely no idea what type of effect and the severity of said effect you had on the prince.

Which made it all the more entertaining.

You didn’t mean to-- in fact, you weren’t even aware of the raging feelings Dimitri held towards you.

But Sylvain knew.

And you could bet your ass he was gonna do everything in his power to help his longtime friend man up and confess to the girl of his dreams.

Dimitri’s cheeks, once dusted with only a faint pink, suddenly became a hodgepodge of every shade of red when he realized that was the third quill he broke in this hour alone. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, helplessly looking to his teacher for help.

“Your Highness... Have you broken another quill?” Dedue murmured beside him, concern eminent in his voice. Dimitri looked down at the large splinter running down its side and mentally banged his head against the desk.

“It appears so... I will request a replacement from the Professor.” He muttered back, silently rising to his feet and making his way to the desk up front. He was suddenly stopped on his 4-step journey when Byleth (with a crinkle in their nose and a sigh) redirected their frazzled student to a whole box of spare quills behind the blackboard. Dimitri-- very much aware that this box filled with ludicrous amounts of quills were entirely for him-- bowed deeply to the professor, picked up the feathery thing, and hurried back to his desk.

You looked up from your work to give your eyes a break from their swimming lessons and accidentally made eye contact with the returning prince. You both paused for a split second before you flashed him a heartfelt smile; a gentle warmth kissed the surface of your cheeks and you averted your eyes back to your studies.

A resounding snap reverberated throughout the quiet classroom.

“Dimitri?”

“Y-Yes, Professor?”

“See me after class.”

“Yes, Professor...”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

While the rest of the class huddled outside the door and watched their house leader write “I will not break another quill” line after line on the blackboard, Sylvain looped an arm around your waist and winked.

“Hey, (F/N). Mind if I steal you for a bit?”

“Um... Sure.” Wary of his skirt-chasing tendencies, you were reluctantly led away from your classmates and into a more secluded part of the monastery.

“This better not be one of your tricks again, Sylvain... I already told you, I don’t like you in that way.”

“Ouch. That hurt.” Sylvain’s lips formed into an exaggerated pout and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Nah, this ain’t about me for once. It’s about a certain... someone.” He continued rather vaguely.

“A certain someone? Sylvain, are you sure this isn’t about you?”

“It’s really not, I swear.” He put his hands up in surrender and seeing him genuine for once, you decided to believe him.

“Well, before I continue, I just wanna know if you... y’know.” Sylvain’s eyebrows wriggled very suggestively and a teasing smirk splayed his features. Your heart thundered in your ear, already knowing where this was going.

“If I...?” You whispered, taut fingers knotting the fabric of your uniform.

“Like, like-like anyone?”

Sylvain wished with all his heart that he had some way to capture the look and flood of colors that quickly took hold of your face. He watched in silent amazement as your face shifted from a barely-there pink to strawberry red in a matter of seconds. Gotcha.

“W-Well, I mean--” You took a shaky step backwards and your jaw clenched so tightly you were certain you were gonna chip a tooth. “There is this guy... Wait, why am I telling you this?! It’s none of your business!”

You rammed past the tall male with enough force to almost knock him over as you promptly made your way back to where the rest of your classmates were.

Satisfied with the laughable drop in quality in Dimitri’s penmanship, Byleth finally let the poor male join his classmates outside. His fingers twitched in an unsightly fashion and his wrist throbbed and cricked with every motion he made. He let out a guttural groan, making small, crackling adjustments to his neck and shoulder. The only thing he had left to do today was train, but he’d probably just go ahead and retire to his bed, at least for a little while...

Past the sea of heads crowding around him, he saw a flash of (H/C) streak across his vision, followed shortly afterwards by a head of shaggy red. (F/N)...? What were you doing with Sylvain?

Crippling exhaustion transfigured into searing jealousy and his eyes narrowed at his childhood friend with cold suspicion. Sylvain could easily feel the scorned prince’s hard stare like a knife in the back.

Was he at all fazed? Not in the slightest.

In fact, thought Sylvain as he sidled right up next to you, he wanted to toy with Dimitri’s heart just a little bit more...  

“Excuse me everyone, but I must speak to Sylvain immediately.” He emphasized the last word sharply, gently pushing his way through the crowd. While he brushed shoulders with Ashe and waltzed around Ingrid, he spun around and ended up face-to-face with... Oh Goddess, his legs were turning into jelly.

“Dimitri...? Is something wrong?” You breathed, fumbling with your clammy digits.

“O-Oh!” Said male rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Nothing, Belov-- (F/N). Please excuse me, but it is imperative that I have a little... talk, with Sylvain.”

He left you no room for response as he quickly latched onto the toothy-grinned noble and practically dragged him away on his heels.

“What seems to be the problem, Your Highness?”

“Let us discuss the issue in my quarters.”

“Your quarters? Oh ho ho.~”

“Stop it, Sylvain. ... We’re here now.”

Dimitri watched Sylvain plop on the edge of his bed, his lips upturned in a carefree fashion. Dimitri lowered himself on his uncomfortable desk chair, his hands anxiously squeezing his kneecaps.

“So what would you like to talk about, Your Highness?”

“It’s about (F/N).” Dimitri spoke resolutely. “Sylvain... I know this will sound nothing short of mad, but--”

“Let me guess. You like (F/N).”

Dimitri’s bodily organs ceased to function; every ounce of blood in his body mutated into sharp, prickling icicles that seized his heart in a snare of terror and dread.

“I-- Wait, how--?”

“Your Highness. No offense, but pretty much everyone knows how you feel about her. You’re not exactly... subtle.”

Dimitri? Not subtle? Even after the extraordinary lengths he went through to make sure you remained ignorant of his true feelings for you? His brain filed through each and every interaction he’s had with you, combing through each word and shaky glance and awkward blush exchanged between either of you. Well, sure, he’s no master of disguise, but he wasn’t that bad... right?

While Dimitri’s thoughts remained in utter chaos, Sylvain coolly continued.

“Hey, about that lil’ act earlier... I was just messin’ with you, Your Highness. (F/N)’s a serious cutie, but I’m really not after her. I swear.” Sylvain winked. “Plus, she doesn’t even like me. She actually told me she likes--”

“WHO?!” Before Sylvain even had time to process-- well, anything-- Dimitri was on his feet rattling the poor noble to and fro, completely forgetting the crippling strength his Crest bestowed him.

“Gah! Stop it! That hurts!” Sylvain cried, trying with all his might to pry Dimitri’s iron grip from his shoulders.

Coherency finally returning, Dimitri immediately unclasped his digits from Sylvain. An expression of apologetic horror shot through his eyes as he stumbled back, back, back against his desk. The chest of both men heaved violently; raspy and hasty apologies slipped out of Dimitri’s lips while pain-stricken groans and a few obscenities raced out of Sylvain’s.  

“I’m so-... I’m so sorry, Sylvain, I-- I’m so, so sorry--”

“Augh, Goddess... You’ve got quite a grip there, Your Highness...” Sylvain chuckled weakly, feeling his skin swell and bruise.

“Allow me to fetch a healer for you!”

“N-No worries... Ugh... Just, I need to talk to you.”

“Sylvain--”

“Please. Seeing you skirt about this issue is far more painful than any bruise you could give me... But I’m not gonna lie, this one comes pretty close.”

Dimitri drew in a deep breath and settled in his desk chair, its wooden legs creaking slightly from his weight. He planted his elbows firmly by his kneecaps and rested his chin on folded hands.

“Lemme ask you a question, Your Highness. Do you truly love (F/N)?”

“Yes.” Dimitri answered unfazed, but suddenly realized the gravity of his response and drooped his eyes towards the floor.

“Then tell her!”

“I... I can’t. I’m afraid I lack the confidence to waltz up to a girl and profess my feelings to her. Especially with what happened to...” Dimitri shivered at the awkwardly painful memory and continued. “Sylvain, what if she doesn’t like me in that way? Then I’d have made a fool of myself in front of everybody. But most importantly, her...”

“Well, since she didn’t tell me exactly who she liked, there’s no surefire way to know...” Sylvain acquiesced. “But I’ve got a real good feeling about this. Trust me! If there’s one thing in the world that I can help you with, it would be something like this.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right...” Dimitri pondered, sighing in defeat. “But regardless of whether she likes me or not, I am unable to simply walk up to her and tell her my feelings. That’s...”

Dimitri trailed off, dejection glossing his pastel blues.

“I don’t deserve someone like her.” He breathed out just above a whisper. Poignancy took hold of Sylvain’s heart after hearing the sincerity in Dimitri’s voice. One look at the despondent royal was enough to tell him how much he believed those words-- how much Dimitri believed that he, a beast stained by blood and vengeance, could never have a beauty as tender and loving as you.

“Hey, come on Your Highness... It’s not fair on your part to be giving yourself so little credit.”

“Sylvain, look at me.” Dimitri cupped his throbbing head in his hands and he growled. “I am a monster. I can not drag someone as pure, lovely, and beautiful as (F/N) into...”

He paused, choosing his next words carefully.

“She deserves someone else-- someone who can bring her true happiness. Someone who’s... not me.”

Sylvain gritted his teeth from the dark and pulverizing atmosphere. Dimitri was spiraling. Further, faster into the void.

“Cheer up, Your Highness!” Sylvain bubbled half-heartedly, desperately trying to reel his friend from the abyss. “You’re a great guy! Hey. Remember when we went out to cull some bandits outta that one village? And some bad guy almost got (F/N)? You managed to swoop in just before that happened! You saved her, Deems. The look of pure adoration and gratitude in her eyes after the battle... It felt good, right?”

“I... suppose.”

“Oh! And remember when (F/N) was having a hard time grasping the concept of that battle formation the other day? Who came in, and spent the rest of their afternoon tutoring her until she could explain why you needed to send the flyers in first?”

“... I did.”

“Yup! And who’s the chivalrous, hard-working leader of the Blue Lions that everyone looks up to?”

“I am.”

“Atta boy, Your Highness! See? You’re a great guy! And the fact that you’re a prince doesn’t hurt your chances either.” Sylvain’s eyebrows danced smugly.

Dimitri’s chest rose and fell in laughter; Sylvain’s eyes lit up like a star. He managed to save him-- at least for now.

“Thank you, Sylvain. I really needed that encouragement. I... I apologize for--”

“No worries, Your Highness. ... I’m just glad I was able to help.” Sylvain clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

“Um, Sylvain...”

“Hm?”

“How do I confess to her? Properly?”

Sylvain clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’ve got a plan.”