#placed upon their chests that they aren’t strong enough to lift alone… they don’t dare to lift even when the tears fall and arms are wrapped

[rosaacicularis]

do you really think we're going to stop you

no… you’re not…. because all of you make them so sad….. they’re my little sillies </3 they are supposed to be happy… :(

[whump-a-la-mode]

Could we pretty please get a villain whumpee in a straightjacket?

Oh I had so many ideas for this one, so I hope you like what I came up with! It’s a bit of a different kind of whump, but I hope it’s still good :3

CW//Dehumanization, baby talk, medical settings, straightjackets, medical malpractice

Villain hardly got to see the outside of the building.

Nearly as soon as the vehicle sped up to its front, they were trundled from its interior, feet stumbling to asphalt for a moment before the privilege of walking was taken from them-- their body swept up in a pair of strong arms.

They hated being carried. No, there was not enough strength in that word. They detested it. Loathed it. Those weren’t enough either. No, they felt that, if they were to encapsulate their sheer fury at the situation with language, they would need to begin digging in dictionaries of obscure Kanji.

But there was no time for that, because they were being carried right now.

Usually, Villain would have struggled. Writhed and squirmed until they were dropped to the floor. Or thrown. Whichever happened quicker.

Yet, unfortunately, at that very moment, there was no time for that either. No. At the moment, there were much more acutely focused on an emotion other than rage. One that went by the name of terror.

Every villain knew of the Metropolis Rehabilitation Center for Extraordinary Cases. After all, they were the extraordinary cases.

But no one ever thought they would see the thing in person. Much less be carried into it by Hero, of all the noble, goody two shoed assholes.

It was a gargantuan structure-- towering blocks of concrete, stacked upon each other, and covered with shimmering white tile, bright enough to blind anyone who dared to look upon it directly. There was one thing worse than that tile, surface dancing like freshly fallen snow.

The only thing worse than the Center’s exterior was its front door. The pair of them, in fact, glass and steel. That fact was terrifying in and of itself. Being close enough to those doors to examine them was a fate no villain expected to ever have to face.

The second time that Villain began to thrash, there was no fury in it. Nothing was locked around their body, not a chain or cuff in sight, but Hero’s grip was more than enough to turn the menace of the city into the much larger equivalent of a kitten, held by the scruff of its neck.

“Let me go! I don’t want to go!” Their thoughts flew from their mouth as freely as their panicked voice. “T-The prison! Wouldn’t that be much better?”

“Come on.”

The villain shivered at the soft voice, a second quiver shaking their spine when a hand stroked its way through their sweat-soaked hair.

“They’ll love you here.” Hero’s voice curled, coaxing a frightened dog. “I’m sure you’re be their new favorite.”

There wasn’t an ounce of perceptible mockery in the tone. As though a hero genuinely gave the slightest shit. As if they weren’t taking them to the place half-drunken villains told horror stories about, only to be accused of fabrication. ‘It can’t possibly be that bad.’

But everyone knew, everyone knew full well, that there was no falsehood in those stories.

They didn’t want to be a favorite. They were a villain! Even as they approached the double doors, Villain could not help but fantasize about the 10 foot high walls of the Metropolis Villainous Correctional Facility, topped with their electrified barbed wire.

It would be horrible, certainly, but it wouldn’t be the Center!

Yet, with a tinny bell, the hellish building’s entrance swung open.

Inside, the Metropolis Rehabilitation Center for Extraordinary Cases smelled like flowers. The particular scent was unrecognizable-- neither rose nor marigold, lavender or coral-bell. Yet, the aroma was overwhelming.

Villain’s struggling turned to thrashing.

The walls were blue. A light, baby blue, with a sickeningly joyful air about it. Abstract paintings and plaques hung along hallways and lobby walls, marked by tacky statements of motivation.

‘Mistakes are proof that you are trying.’

‘Make it happen!’

‘I can and I will.’

The captive villain felt sick. Their straining was useless, not gaining them an inch of freedom even as it cost them feet of dignity. Not that they expected to keep hold of that for long.

The lobby itself was bright, disgustingly colorful. The walls were lined with chairs painted in blinding technicolor, while the front desk itself danced with decals of butterflies and birds.

“Let me go!” Another screech tore itself from their throat.

A receptionist, lab-coat the color of a summer sunflower, looked up with a warm smile.

“I see our newest friend is here.” They chirped. “I’ll call up our welcoming party.”

“No need!”

From one of various, straight hallways, clattering footsteps sounded. Two lab coats, dyed in that same sickening, jaundiced color, ran forward at a jog. Shame forgotten, Villain buried their face in Hero’s chest. Anything to not have to see the doctors. Anything.

“Oh, what a cutie!” One of the lab coats exclaimed. “Aren’t they a sweetheart?”

“Oh, Villain, you’re going to have so much fun here.” A second voice smiled.

“I’m sure they are.” Hero’s hand stroked once more through their hair, though it did nothing to aid their incessant trembling. “Come on, bud, there’s no reason to be scared.”

“I fucking hate you!”

Three voices turned to roaring laughter.

“Come on, they’ve even brought you something.”

“Yeah.” One of the doctors chirped. “It’s a nice jacket, to keep you warm. We don’t want you getting cold.” Their tone switched on its head, from high-pitched to clinical, as they whispered: “Put them down, please.”

Gently, Villain felt themself lowered to the floor. In an instant, they were kicking out, struggling, straining, screaming and screeching. Their attempts to get to their feet, however, were thwarted by firm hands on their shoulders and a leg across their own.

They didn’t need to see the jacket to know what it was. As soon as the canvas touched their skin, they knew. Yet, it was a three on one. No amount of hysterics could stop the sleeves from slipping onto their arms, compressing their hands against the sewn-shut ends. Leather rubbed against metal buckles, canvas ribbing against itself, as, with terrifying speed, the jacket was applied.

The straightjacket.

It was far too taut, tight enough that, in their hyperventilation, Villain felt that it made them unable to breathe.

“Take it off!” They wailed. They noticed only then that the garment around them now was dyed the same color as the walls-- that unnerving, baby blue.

“Shh, shh, it’s just a jacket, buddy.” The hand in their hair was unfamiliar and nerve-wracking.

They had their legs, still. Only half of them pulled in terrible, suffocating tightness. Fury focused, Villain kicked out, desperate to get their legs under them.

They had no chance.

And, of course, their last ounce of dignity had to be wrought from them.

Villain’s shoes had been lost hours ago, though they couldn’t remember the exact scenario. Perhaps during the fight, perhaps afterwards, when they were thrown into the car and harnessed to its restraints.

It didn’t matter. To the doctors, so it seemed, all that mattered was that they could stand. And, to them, that was a problem.

They looked like socks, and, going on, they felt to be as such. Yet, as Villain at last got their feet under them, they realized otherwise. The bottom of the garments seemed to be formed in such a way that, when they tried to stand, their legs shook with the effort of simply retaining their balance. The curves and form of their feet, countered by fabric and plush.

“W-What the- What did you-” Villain gasped.

“Oh, those are just your wobblers, honey.” One of the lab coats smiled. “See? They make you wobble!”

“I’m gonna fall, you piece of shit!”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear.” Another voice, followed by a pair of arms, braced against their back. “You won’t fall. We’re here to help.”

“I don’t want your help!”

“This one’s funny.” The voice came with a smile. “Come on, then.”

Another pair of arms, practically lifting them. Their legs felt to be singed by lapping flames from the strain upon their muscles alone.

“We have a room all set up for you! And once you get your medicine, you’ll feel so much better.”

“So, so much better.”

It was with hysterical shrieks, rapidly weakening, that the patient that had once been Villain was helped down the hallway.

They would never again see the outside of the building. The nice doctors would make sure of that!

[shatterinseconds]

Garrison 

KL Month day 16

“What are you doing in my spot!?” Lance practically yells to the entire desert. He places his hands on his hips and taps his foot against the roof.

The person whips around, eyes wide before they settle into a predictable glare, revealing them to be none other than Keith Kogane--which Lance knew immediately upon seeing his stupid hair when he climbed out of the roof hatch. “Your spot?” Keith replies in an even tone, holding his arms out wide. “I don’t see a name anywhere.”

“I claimed it on the first day of class.”

“You can’t claim the entire roof,” Keith scoffs, strong enough that his bangs lift a little off his face before flopping down again.

“I didn’t say the entire roof,” Lance stresses, scowling and pointing right at Keith, who just blinks, unconcerned. “I said that specific spot where you’ve decided to park your stupid butt.”

This particular building sits on the outskirts of the Garrison complex, one that's really only reserved for storing all sorts of supplies from school textbooks to space suits. It's the only building that fully faces the desert and gives a great uninterrupted view of the sky, and the one that is too far away for the teachers to consistently check to make sure students aren’t breaking curfew. 

Lance got the tip from his sister Veronica and has camped out on the roof on clear nights like this ever since he was thirteen. He’s only had a few close calls sneaking back into his dorm. And now Keith is here to ruin that amazing track record--god forbid he tells Shiro or some other important person.  

The top half of Keith’s uniform is unzipped, bunching around his waist and revealing infuriatingly well-toned arms and shoulders under the dark tank top. Even his mullet doesn't look terrible when brushed with the fading hues of the sunset. He looks good, ok? He looks really fucking nice, and Lance sets his jaw because why. How are people allowed to look that hot at sixteen? It should be illegal and Keith should be locked up for daring to be that attractive. And then Lance can have his spot back.

Keith’s gaze rests on Lance’s face but nothing really slips through his emotionless expression. Nothing that seems to indicate a realization that he just openly challenged his one and only rival. One leg is tucked near his chest while the other hangs over the side of the building, swinging back and forth. “You’re Taylor, right? Cargo pilot?” Keith asks, eyeing him up and down. 

Lance sucks in a sharp breath as he sits down next to Keith. He furiously shakes his head, so hard he might just snap his own neck by accident. “Noo, nope, hell no. It’s Lance. L-a-n-c-e. We’ve been in the same gen-ed classes for years. How do you not know my name? I know yours.” 

Who the hell is Taylor anyways? Does Keith have another rival? Lance thought they had something special, even if they never talked before, or at least not held a conversation as long as this one. 

Keith rolls his eyes. “My mistake.”

Lance continues on without taking a breath. “You’re Keith Kogane, Mr. hotshot fighter pilot. Who apparently feels like he’s grand enough to steal other people’s spots.” 

“Look, this is the best place to watch the sunset and stargaze. I’m sorry I interrupted your moping time or whatever.” Standing, Keith slides his hands into his pockets. With a quick nod of concession towards Lance, Keith says, “I’ll go.”

“No wait.” Lance grabs onto Keith's wrist. His skin is warm, almost inhumanly, seeping into Lance’s fingertips and through his veins, and Keith stares down at Lance's hand. “You don’t have to go.” Finally following Keith’s gaze, Lance winces, quickly releasing Keith like he just got burned, and he shoves his hands underneath his armpits instead. His hands are traitors and can’t be trusted anymore. Stupid hands and stupid Keith. Everything is always his fault. Staring at the ground, Lance mumbles, “It can get boring up here alone… sometimes. Company might be fun.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his head, Lance scowls again. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“No, I think you have to.” Keith squats to match Lance's height, grinning all the while. Lance didn’t even know that Keith’s lips could do something other than scowl, not that Lance thinks about Keith’s lips at all. It’s just a simple observation. His hair curls around his jawline and it kinda makes him look pretty--another observation. “Can’t have you biting my head off again if you decide to change your mind.”

Lance scrunches his nose. “Fine. Stay, asshole.”

“You’re such a gentleman.” Keith huffs a quick laugh before he stands again and Lance has to look up up up. “But I actually have to meet up with Shiro and Adam. So maybe another night?” Keith shrugs, suddenly a little shy now, kicking at the roof with the toe of his boot. “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tomorrow. I’m fine with breaking curfew if you are.” His gaze struggles to focus on Lance, eyes often flickering to the stars.

“Y-yeah,” Lance stutters while nodding, almost robotically. “I’d like that.” 

But part of him is peeved at the situation, though he’s not sure if he’s angry at the fact that Keith set him up to admit he’s fine with company or that Keith’s not actually staying. Either way, flush colors his cheeks. Keith seems to accept it as a satisfactory answer, and not knowing what else to say, ends up leaving, sharply turning on his heels.  

Instead of watching Keith leave, Lance shifts his gaze to the long expanse of the desert. As his brain begins to run through the previous conversation, something clicks. He snaps his head around. “Wait, did you just ask me out on a--” but the hatch closes before Lance can finish “--date?” Met with the only the nighttime sounds of the desert, Lance buries his face in his hands, tugging on his hair, and screams. “Oh my god.”

[ahlis-xiv]

journal 50.4

G’raha sat alone, semi-hunched over a piece of parchment as he worked. Although he did not show it, the drafting he ambitiously began was nothing short of a place between fascinating and downright tediousness. The solution to tempering that nestled within his mind and finding a proper way to convey it into some sort of physicality that others could understand took time and a level of focus that brought him back to his Studium days.

He did not mind the effort, really, yet part of him couldn’t help but feel he could be applying himself to something else...namely figuring out why his dear friend decided to depart in such a hurry without so much as a word.

G’raha sighed, and scratched out part of the formulae he attempted to use as a proper proof. It wasn’t correct or, rather, not good enough, and he knew it: it almost felt like he had to somehow invent a whole new notation and he was second guessing every attempt. That, he knew, was as strong a sign as any that he needed a break.

Abandoning his work for the more welcoming sight above Mor Dhona proper, he took to his usual perch and leaned over the ledge to watch the activity below. Ever since he arrived there—since waking up, really—G’raha found the habit of people-watching a welcome one when it came to clearing his head. It had also been an old habit as well from his time as the Exarch. It was difficult at times to not be reminded of it when he went there to be alone--not that it troubled him, but rather his thoughts inevitably wandered to those he had to let go. To old friends and, naturally, to her.

What would Lyna think, he wondered. Of everything? Despite assurances, both given and told to own self, he knew it was a question not quite answerable. He was unfettered, free—free to live the life he wished. A second chance. Yet something gnawed away at his heart that only grew in the wake of what occurred in Ala Mhigo. And the Warrior of Light was nowhere in sight.

He didn’t wish to admit it, but that this point most of all prickled his thoughts. She had been wounded in the confrontation: not severely but enough to warrant considerable healing, namely for her arms. She berated herself for not properly handling the situation, that it was foolish to not deal with Fandaniel and his summoning there and then somehow. When the dust settled with wounds seen to and mended, she slipped away and out of his reach.

G’raha’s hands clasped together in front of him, fretting as his anxiety swelled. Ahlis said many things in the aftermath at the menagerie; much of which he knew was said in a fury he rarely witnessed. He also knew he ought to not dwell on it, as it was not directed towards him—but it felt personal, watching the anger and the walls that suddenly erected around her, forbidding his approach. Surely she knew, she must’ve known that he cared—that they all cared? G’raha understood what it meant to seek solace, to lick one’s wounds after a poor bout in battle, yet to shut him out? Why?

He huffed a frustrated growl, and pouted to himself. This is not about you, G’raha, his more sensible self spoke in his mind. It did little to help when he knew naught what to do with his...feelings, with no soul to utter them to. For the moment, all he had in certainty, was himself.

Looking above to the darkening sky, stars were beginning to sparkle in the deep blue, the gloom weak and unable to hinder their shine. He hoped that wherever Ahlis was, and however she felt, that her safety was sure and her healing swift.

---

Ahlis suddenly grasped the pillow within her bare arms as a sneeze escaped her nose and immediately regretted it.

“Bless you, dearest,” Aymeric spoke above her, his hands gently working her back’s aches and pains into a soothing massage.

“Augh, no,” she said, voice muffled by soft cotton where she shoved her face into it. The great debate of whether she should lift her head up or not kept her in place, lest she reveal a potentially not-so-graceful mess. “I think I ruined it.”

Wordlessly and only with a soft chuckle of amusement Aymeric rose to retrieve a handkerchief as if reading her mind in her current discomfort. When he returned Ahlis was already sitting up, the pillow still pressed to her face. He did not know how to assure her that there were far worse things that could ruin one’s bedding, but seeing the flushed look upon her face while she cleaned herself as discretely as possible encouraged him to say nothing.

“Are you feeling better?” Aymeric asked, once she seemed satisfied to show herself, the pillow and handkerchief no longer covering her face.

“Yes, thank you,” Ahlis spoke, relief entering her voice. “I am sorry, about this, though.” Her hands still held onto the pillow until he reached for it himself, lightly tossing it aside and back onto the bed.

“It is of no consequence. My home is yours, including the aforementioned pillow.”

That made Ahlis laugh, as he hoped it would, and Aymeric took this moment to join her again, sitting side by side upon the edge of the bed. It was useless however to ignore the wrappings around both her palms and forearms, both of which had been kept out of sight when lying on her stomach. Catching his glancing eyes, Ahlis took that moment to adjust her bandages.

“The pain is mostly gone. Now it’s just itching,” she spoke, more annoyed than in any sort of true discomfort. “New skin takes some getting used to and breaking in, imagine that.”

“May I see it?” Aymeric asked after a moment’s pause, his voice careful in its near-whisper like intensity.

For a second, she hesitated. Unraveling them didn’t hurt much anymore, so when she did reveal the newly healed burns that rested beneath she didn’t hold back in extending her arm in front of him. If only her heart that thumped heavily in her chest agreed! Nerves, however troublesome they proved to be, would do little in assuaging his concern.

“There you are,” Ahlis said with an exuberance she hoped sounded sure and confident. “It’s not so terrible now, aye?”

It was not her intent to fool him, rather, it was better than the ire she felt deep within at how it happened, and better still than to appear caught off-guard or foolish to have been struck at all by such an injury. It had been a mistake, one that could’ve gone even more horribly wrong in an instant if not for…

“Oh, Ahlis...”

Her thoughts stopped, everything stopped. She was helpless as she watched the shock that touched his eyes turn to despair, to pain that flowed into the tenderness that came with his touch as he cradled her wrist to his cheek. There was a knot of scarred tissue just below where his lips met her skin; the first kiss was given there, then another just above it towards her palm.

Such sensations, intensified against her freshly healed wounds, rendered her voice frozen within her throat. It was almost too much; she released a heavy, shaky breath that gave him pause, and Aymeric turned to look upon her so intensely, so painfully, she dared think she might cry herself.

“It’s fine,” she found herself saying, finally, unsure if it truly was after all.

---

Later, long after they had gone to bed, she would wake to see the stars out in the beyond just outside the window, the silhouette of spires cutting across the dark. A rare, clear night in the city. Gripped by the sight, she stole herself away to find a place to write...

Evenings have proven to be the best, and only time, to write clear-headed these days. As if I do not need sleep.

The itching has finally subsided enough to carry on without thinking about it and now I can finally sit for half a bell to write while at the same time not wishing to scratch my skin off. I’ve had lacerations, all manners of bruising and concussive injuries. I’ve even been shot at! But note to self: never get fucking burned like that again.

I’m going to kill that bastard with his own medicine, and I will enjoy it

[there is a drawing here of a figure in a robe with a sword skewering it all the way through, who is also on fire]

The healing has progressed as it will, and I trust Krile and Alphinaud’s hands more than any other—although granted my sourness over it all could have been a little less scathing, I guess.

But what can I say, a lot of bullshite has been happening these days. I’m getting a mite bit enraged that these Ascian arseholes aren’t leaving me alone, and yet I am not entirely surprised. It’s not over until it is over.

gods when will that be never ah ha ha ha

In the meantime I have made good on my own promises to make my own self comfortable as best I can, heal as best I am able, and spending what time I can in Ishgard. The others are probably wondering when I’ll return to the Stones but until G’raha outlines our approach on implementing proper protocol on the tempering solution I honestly don’t want to hear about anything else. Alisaie should be helping, I am sure, as is Alphinaud too I think. It’ll be fine! And fast too.

I mean I would help more too but I don’t have a crazy as all hells academic background as they do seven hells I’d love me a curriculum found in the Studium within those stupid halls and their even stupider “zero involvement” stance on bloody everything

share your goddamn science you twits

I am far more tired than I thought. But! I am also finally able to think about the impending reconnaissance we’re bound to have soon once Thancred and Urianger return.

if something happens with them I swear to ever loving shite I am going to boot them back to the First with my fist

Without my Stupid! Arms! Annoying me!

OH is that little

[the writing stops here with an ink blot, as if the pen was dropped and left there, the smeared and distinct shape of a cat’s paw crossing part of the page]

[readerinsertfanfiction]

hii I was wondering, if it’s not too much, could you write a little something that’s like childhood best friends to lovers with Naruto? I’m such a sucker for those. Being friends with him since the beginning even though everyone hated him, & just him being confused on why you’re friends with him and it leads to a confession?🥺. Thank youuu🧡🖤

Ooh, it has been a loooong while since I wrote anything for Naruto, I feel. Let’s see what I can cook up for ya! 

Fandom: Naruto

Character: Naruto Uzumaki 

The kyuubi attack had left many orphans, both young and old, including you. Within one night you found yourself all alone in this world before you had even a consciousness in which you could realise the loss you had faced and properly mourn it. A loss you hadn’t even realised you had, nor any understanding of what had happened for you to lose everything that you were supposed to be born and grow with. And with the village in ruins the adults were too preoccupied to cumber over yet another orphan. You, along with many others, were left to your own devices and that was a bitterness you could understand.

“These adults are stupid,” you had exclaimed one day after that the hokage had visited you once more. Barely of any age you had to fight and you had to grow faster than any child in the village who did keep their parents. “Thinking they can pick on us just because we have no adults to spit on them,” you continued your complaints as you turned towards a certain blond, a young boy who was just like you, an orphan.

“Is that why you spat on him?” the boy had questioned, eyes wide and a little dirty. It was just another day for him, where he was cursed and glared at, pushed and ignored for whatever reason other than that he had no parents.

“That was nothing compared to what I was about to do! If only I wasn’t held back,” you exclaimed with a scoff before turning to the boy.

“Those adults should feel bad for bullying us kids. But we gotta stick together as well. After all, there is no one else who will stick up for us.”

The statement rang true as you offered your hand to the other. A peer, one of the many, but for some reason that you couldn’t comprehend, even more rejected than you and your lot were.

“What’s the name?” you question the boy and once more stark blue eyes and whiskers on the face looked up at you, a suspicious glare on his face first before he mumbled:

“Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki.”

And to this you flashed a grin, grabbing hold of his hand as you shook it wildly, just as you had seen people greet each other. How you had seen friends bump into each other.

“Well, Naruto, let’s be friends!”

The exclamation rang true and it did so for years, with the two of you doing everything together. Mischief, pranks, growing up in general. Even attending the academy was done together, but where Naruto was held back by some unseen force you had managed to move on, soon making yourself a known name, a talent to behold, a figure to look up to.

It left Naruto with a bitter distaste, for the two of you always had been together, always had been equals and now you suddenly were not. But he never let it show, encouraging you to pursue the path the both of you had chosen.

“I will wait for you to catch up!” you had promised and Naruto only flashed a grin back;

“Don’t wait too long, or I might actually pass you by!” he had said, sparkling that bright and optimistic aura of his, never beaten down by a failure it seemed. How you admired his determination and strength for that, for you knew that you weren’t half as strong if it wasn’t for his stubbornness at your side.

“Still a genin?” you smirk as you welcomed your old friend back into the village. The years had passed and the two of you had grown into teens, fine teens that were allowed to be proud of their accomplishments.

“Just you watch, I will catch up soon and be a chunin like you!” the male exclaimed, bright and cheery, always encouraging and never with a cloud on his mind. Confident as ever, despite all the setbacks he had faced, despite the horrible truths he had to learn about himself and the village. You as well were aware of them by now.

You laughed, hands on your hips as you let your head fall back into your neck. A precious friend he was indeed. The same old Naruto, with or without that monster within him that had taken away so much, but given you even more.

“I’m a jounin by now,” you revealed, expecting Naruto’s eyes to grow wide as sausages as his lips would fall agape like a fish. You were waiting for his surprise, just as you were expecting him to congratulate you with that same old cheer.

There was silence instead, and when you peeled open an eye you found that your best friend was looking down at the ground, his fist balling up before he finally lifted his face with a forced grin.

“I really can’t beat ya, eh?” he sighed instead and you instantly knew there was something amiss.

“Naruto…”

“Haha, what else could I have expected from you, my role model?” the male continued and you felt a stab in your chest, wondering why he was referring to you as an example instead of a friend, for were you not?

“I will have to work extra hard to live up to your standards, or else I fear you won’t be hanging out with me anymore,” he continued to exclaim and yet again you felt a stab to your chest, wondering why Naruto spoke so distantly.

“Because we’re friends?” you tried, brows furrowing to which Naruto scratched his face, not really sure what you meant it seemed before he sighed.

“Hey, now that you’re a jounin you get access to all these super secret files, right? Maybe you can look into Sasuke’s file for me?”

You felt your heart break at the mention of that male’s name. The one that had so quickly surpassed you as a friend. The one that Naruto had thrown himself into entirely and devoted so much of his time to. The one that seemed to have pushed you out of his life so completely.

“If I were in Sasuke’s place, would you have been as desperate?” you suddenly find yourself questioning the blond who freezes at your tone. This time his eyes did grow wide and his mouth fell open agape, like you had hoped it would do when you would reveal your new rank to him.

“There is no need to save you from evil. How could you ever be as dumb as that Sasuke?” Naruto exclaims instead, earning a grit from your teeth as you clench your fists. You were being unfair, you knew that, but it hurt all the same.

“Perhaps I should, because all you ever talk about is Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke. What about us? Aren’t we friends? I was your friend before he was,” you spit out the vitriol that is building up within your lungs, but you regret the words immediately as you see Naruto’s expression fall, hurt in the same way you were.

“Whatever, I had hoped you would value me more,” you ended the conversation and left.

That this was the way you guys parted left a bad taste. Nonetheless, the both of you were of the stubborn kind and neither wanted to approach the other to speak of the hurts within their hearts. You missed him, but you didn’t dare to admit your fault, didn’t want to face your shame.

When the Akatsuki attacked the village you once more made another realisation. One that you should have realised so much sooner, but that your anger and your bitterness had prevented you from realising. When your friend, the bestest you had, was thrown up into the air by the crowd, hailed a hero despite his low rank and his former image, finally earning his place in the village. It was then that you realised that, as Naruto shared his magic and his warmth with the people around him, that you had lost him.

“Hey,” you greeted him one late night. You had gone home early that day, on purpose, so that you could wait at the window for your friend to appear. The same window that you guys shared, for neither of you had ever moved despite life looking up.

“Hey,” came the greeting back from a boy that had grown into a fine male, a hero like he had always imagined himself to be. Naruto had been late to get back that night, what with the village now occupying him.

“Congratulations,” you spoke, and to this Naruto seemed confused, not really understanding what he was being congratulated for. “Congratulations for surpassing me,” you clarified and to this Naruto’s eyes drooped a little, an understanding settling in.

“Listen I--”

You cut him off, hand rising as you shrug your shoulders, trying to find your words.

“I shouldn’t have made you choose between Sasuke and me. I know we both hold a different meaning in your life,” you start, eyes downcast as you remember the words ‘role model’ and ‘example’. When you had become such you weren��t sure, but it still bit.

“I never thought of myself as better than you, or someone you needed to surpass,” you smile, knowing that it took you long enough to realise what your feelings were and that it was better to let it out now, now that your friendship seemed to have grown to a natural end. “You were my best friend, still are,” you trail off as you gather your courage to continue.

“And also the person I like the best in this rotten world.”

You knew that after his ascension to legendary heroes that Naruto had received the attention of many. Even more had fallen for him, as there was a daily and steady string of confessors each day that wished to share and convey their feelings to him. You just hoped that none of them were as dear as you had once been, that you still held an edge because of your longstanding friendship.

The silence that followed after was even more suffocating than the silence you had shared before, clear blue eyes focussed upon you, confused and conflicted, and could you blame him for that?

“I,” the male started, letting the words sink in. How familiar you were to that expression of his when Naruto was truly and really trying to progress something.

“I think you are also the best in this world!” he exclaimed loudly and you scoff out a laugh, nearly ramming your head into the side of your window as you try not to launch yourself into a drum against the wall.

Somewhere you had expected this answer to come from him. Dear as Naruto was, he simply wasn’t the brightest, but definitely the dearest. You were fine with giving him the time and room needed to realise what you really meant. There was time after all, you weren’t planning on leaving him alone after all. 

[dindjarindiaries]

19

character: Din Djarin

prompt: Blurting out a confession of love

warnings: a sprinkle of angst, soft!din always needs a warning, flustered!din too

rating: G

masterlist

There aren’t many times when you get annoyed with Din. Over the past year or so of traveling with him and watching over the child, you’ve been able to gain his trust—and vice versa. You know it wasn’t easy for him to reveal his identity to you and he knows it wasn’t easy for you to leave behind everything you knew in favor of running around with him. You’ve learned all his tics and he’s studied yours, learning how to deal with each other in practically any circumstance. It keeps things clear, which makes things safer for the child and for the both of you.

But now, there’s a new thing in Din’s behavior that’s driving you crazy: hesitance.

Din’s never been one to talk much and it’s never bothered you. At times, the silence starts to drive you crazy, but the child is a sufficient distraction when his coos and laughter fills the quiet Razor Crest. Lately, though, it sounds as if Din hesitates before he says anything at all, drawing in a breath you can barely make out from his modulator and sounding as if he’s swallowing air before he says anything. Many times, his hand will lift and stop in mid-air, and then he’ll place it back down wherever it was before.

It wouldn’t annoy you if you weren’t the only person he’s doing this to.

With the child, all is normal. You often watch as Din puts the child to bed or feeds him, his actions smooth and decisive. Then, when you make your way over, it’s almost as if he has to observe the entirety of the ship behind his visor before he speaks even a word to you. It makes you fear that you’ve only backtracked in your companionship and that you’ve somehow lost Din’s trust.

The day your annoyance starts to turn into fear, you finally decide to confront Din about it. Your hands are wringing and your head’s spinning and you have no idea why you’re so nervous to talk to the man you’ve worked alongside for so long, now. You’re just afraid that your fears will be confirmed, and the safety and comfort you’ve grown to known in this tiny crew of the Crest will be at risk. Maybe you let yourself get too comfortable and close—you’d tried to swallow the feeling you’d grown for your armored companion, but they always came back to bite.

Hopefully, you can keep them tucked away now, or else it might jeopardize your ability to stay with him at all.

You catch Din when he’s just put the child to rest on what used to be his old cot, heading up to the cockpit after to launch you into hyperspace. You let out a deep breath as you follow him up, taking a seat in the co-pilot’s chair and waiting until you’ve made the jump. As soon as the blue light begins to reflect off the beskar that sits so familiarly yet—in this moment—eerily in front of you, you dare to speak.

“Hey, uh, Din?” you begin, relieved that you can keep your voice even as you see his helmet turn ever so slightly in your direction. “Can I talk to you?”

Din fully turns around in his chair at that, his gloved hands gripping the armrests more tightly than you’d like to observe. “Yes.” There’s a pause, and that’s when he does it again. There’s a catch in his modulator and you know he’s hesitating to go on. Thankfully, this time, he does. “You don’t... have to ask.”

You give him a nod. “That’s good to know.” With a light sigh, you decide to just get it out, wanting to avoid the sting of embarrassment as quickly as possible. “Listen, Din, I just wanted to know if I said something that hurt you.” Din tilts his helmet at that, which makes your rambling increase as you elaborate. “Because you just—you hesitate a lot around me, now, and I wasn’t sure if I might’ve said something that made you lose your trust in me. It feels like you can’t... I don’t know, be yourself around me anymore, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Din’s hands tighten even more against the chair as he props himself up to sit with a straight posture. “No. No, uh, you didn’t—you didn’t say anything wrong.” But even these words sound unsure coming through his modulator.

“Are you sure?” Your brow furrows together in concern. “You can tell me the truth, Din.” Upon saying that, you pause, believing that you’ve had a small revelation. “Is it your name? I can go back to using Mando if you want.”

Din’s helmet shakes almost immediately after. “No. It’s fine—you’re fine. I mean...” Din draws another hesitant breath, “... you know. You’re... don’t worry.”

With the presence of more uncertainty in his tone and a lack of answers, you find your frustration growing. “Then what is it?” You know your voice has come out sounding sharper than it should, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. “There has to be something. You can tell me anything.”

Din continues to freeze in place. “I know. I just... it’s—there’s nothing to worry about.”

Evidently, he’s hiding something from you, and you feel the full flame of betrayal fill you as you rise from the chair rapidly. “I know you’re lying to me, Mandalorian.” The way you say the word is bitter, and its sharp edge leaves a chill that runs down your own spine. “Just because you’re hidden in so much armor doesn’t mean I can’t read you. I’ve been your companion for so long, and you can’t even tell me why you’re so reluctant to talk to me or even look at me?”

Din slowly stands from his chair and takes a slow step towards you. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what, Din?” Your eyes are narrowed as you look at him, your frustration growing when all you get in response is the black void of his visor. “Are you just tired of me? Will you toss me aside like you did with your partners back before you were a hunter?”

The next step Din takes is firmer upon hearing your words. “No, cyar’ika, it’s not—I swear, it’s nothing like that.”

“You haven’t even told me what that means yet!” You’re exclaiming the words now, and you know you should keep your voice low for the baby who sleeps below you, but you can’t bring yourself to think of him right now. “How can I believe you truly trust me when you won’t let me in all the way, after all this time?” You cross your arms and stare out into hyperspace, your own fears and frustrations taking over you now. “Maybe it’d be best if you dropped me off at our next planet. I think I’m just making you uneasy, now, and I’d never want to—.”

“I’m in love with you.”

The words rasp so suddenly and urgently from his modulator that it takes the breath straight out of your lungs, and you quickly turn your head back to face him again. He’s taken another step so that he’s just one away from you, and you watch as his cuirass heaves in uncertain breaths.

Oh. That could explain why he’s been so hesitant.

You know it can’t be easy for Din to experience feelings like this, since he’s used to being so alone in this galaxy. It all starts to fall into place. You can understand why he’d hesitated in speaking, because he likely kept trying to tell you without messing it up. You can understand why his hands had lifted and fallen back down, because he likely wanted to reach for your hand or stroke your face but stopped himself out of fear. You can understand why he so often found himself at a loss for words around you, because he likely felt as if he couldn’t make coherent thoughts whenever he saw you.

These thoughts and more hit you all at once and you stand there for a long moment as you take it all in, never looking away from his visor. Once you see the anxiously shifting of his weight from foot-to-foot, you realize you still haven’t spoken, and you decide to finally alleviate him of his anxieties. “Really?”

Din offers a nod along with a step forward. He only hesitates for a short second before he starts to reach a gloved hand up. “Truly.” His voice is low, but it’s certain, as true as the touch he presses upon your cheek as you stare up at him. “And deeply.” Din stops for a moment, and you can practically hear the swallow he takes before he goes on. “I just... didn’t know how to say it, without feeling like a fool.”

“You were afraid?” Your question sounds almost more like a statement as one of your hands covers the gloved one that’s on your face. Din inhales for a moment before he nods again. Your expression softens as you start to smile at him. “There’s no need, Din. Like I said before, you can tell me anything.” You pause as you lift his hand from your face, keeping a grip on it as your thumb catches the cuff of his sleeve. You can hear him inhale sharply again as you pull the material down just enough to see a sliver of his skin, and without breaking contact with his visor, you press a light and affectionate kiss there. “If you had, I would’ve been able to tell you that I’m in love with you, too.”

You watch as Din’s visor breaks away from your gaze to look at your touch still dancing along his wrist. Slowly, he slides his hand through your grip until his gloved palm meets yours, his fingers weaving through yours as if they’ve been made to fit together in such a way. Your smile grows as you look to his visor again, still seeing him observing your intimate touch. He takes a breath, but there’s no hesitation this time. “Sweetheart.”

You raise an eyebrow, despite the way your cheeks start to burn. “Hmm?”

“That’s what it means.” Din’s visor finally looks from your hands to your eyes. “Cyar’ika.”

Your heart softens as you take the single step left between you, feeling the cool texture of his beskar against your chest. “You mean, you’ve been calling me such an endearment for almost half our time spent together?”

Din gives you a nod, and you practically feel your heart fly out of your chest as you stare up at him in awe. Strong affection sweeps through you in a wave, threatening to drown you completely—especially once you hear Din beginning to speak again. “Will you...” he trails off, sounding as if he’s either too shy or embarrassed to finish the sentence as he takes the hand that’s entwined with his and draws it around his side.

You smile wide up at him. “Hold you?” you finish for him. When Din responds with a half a nod, you don’t hesitate to wrap your other arm around his middle as well, resting your cheek against his cuirass as you feel his arms do the same to you in a manner so gentle you nearly forget he’s a warrior. “You don’t ever have to ask for that, Din.”

You receive no words in response, but that’s not necessary as you feel one of his gloved hands move up to secure the back of your head against the place on his chest, saying much more than either he or you could’ve as you bask in the feelings he’s finally revealed to you.

permanent tag list: @mikahid @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann​ @nettyklecan​ @javier-djarin

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

A Talk Under the Stars

@megatraven and @catlovingwitch and @aallotarenunelma (just in case you'd like to read my writing, sorry if not).

This is an Alex x MC fic!! I saw a post of Meg's talking about Alex and how fate is confusing for them since they're a demigod. I saw that and was like, "hmmm...angst idea....". And I'm finally writing it!! I hope you both enjoy it :). MC is 7 in this fic and Alex is 12. I wanted it to maybe be teenagers for both but decided against it. The age mention isn't necessarily important but MC is described as young and I wanted to make it clear how old she is.

I wanted fluff and anxiety and being a teen causes anxiety (for Alex), so here we go!

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Today was a day that Alex couldn't wait for. On certain days, their mother would let MC come over and see them. They were usually busy with the other divine beings on Olympus or following their mother, but today was a day they could see MC.

Sure, it sounds weird to be so excited to see one person, but they truly were happy. MC was young and adored everything about Olympus and them, so seeing her was always a treat. She would always ask questions, point at everything shiny, want to touch everything, and just be with them. They loved it.

However, that happiness was dimmed with another emotion. It was one they couldn't describe, one they still didn't know how to handle. They tried to push it away today, but they couldn't. Every time they looked at any person or even object relating to Olympus and it's history, it made their mind focus back on their issue.

They were a demigod surrounded by Gods. Surrounded by some God's who looked down upon humans and treated demigods different. Their mother treated them like she treated all of her children. She was fair with them and made sure that they knew they were amazing, strong, and deserved to be here, but sometimes they thought differently. Sometimes they thought that they didn't deserve to be on Olympus, or thought that maybe their mother was trying to lie to them. They didn't know why they thought like this, but they did. And they hated it.

But they put on a smile and tried to push those feelings away as they saw MC running towards them. They were in their estate and MC and her mother finally arrived. They were ready to spend their day together.

.

MC and Alex were now laying in the grass, looking up at the night sky. They were laying on their backs next to each other and holding hands. They spent the whole day together, and with their mothers, and were relaxing before they had to say goodbye. They were in Aphrodite's backyard and talking while looking at the beautiful sky. Alex was telling funny stories and MC was sharing her own. But when it went silent, MC could see the sadness on their face.

"Alex," MC said in a soft voice. Her voice that was usually loud with excitement was now dimmed with worry.

They looked over at her and hummed in response.

"Something's wrong. You look...upset."

They sighed and smiled at her fondly. "Oh. I'm alright. Just a little tired." They tried to push the topic away, but that didn't work with her. It never seemed to. She always somehow knew something was wrong.

"No, you're not. You were just excited, but now your smile is gone and you just...don't look happy." She struggled to explain what she saw, but she knew they understood. They knew they weren't hiding anything well.

They looked back up at the sky and thought things through. They always tried to put their thoughts and doubts into actual words when talking with others, but they never worked. They never came out right and they never felt better. Well, never felt truly better. But, they wanted to try again. Maybe MC could understand them.

"I'm just thinking about how I'm different."

"How you're different?" She asked slowly with confusion.

"Yeah. I'm not a full blooded God. I'm only half."

"I know that. But why are you thinking about it?" She asked curiously, not knowing that it was a very difficult question to answer.

They went silent again as they thought their words through. "It's because it makes me different." They knew that didn't make sense, but that was the way they could express it.

MC let out a hum and thought as well. She looked back up at the stars, hoping they would give her an answer, but she had to think of her own. "There's nothing wrong with being different, Alex," is what she decided on. And it was what she really thought.

They laughed softly and shook their head. "But it's not a good different. It's a different that people look down upon. A difference that makes me feel left out."

MC gasped softly and squeezed their hand tightly. "Alex! Who's making you feel left out? Can I yell at them?" Her voice was high with slight anger and she felt truly upset about that. About the idea of them feeling left out and hurt.

They laughed and looked back over at her to see her already looking at them. She had a pout on her face and looked angry while also looking worried. It made her look cute and they gave her a sweet smile.

"No. I don't think punching someone could solve this issue. It's been going on for too long. Even before my time."

"Well, what is it? Maybe I can help." She smiled at them and it put them at slight ease.

"Demigods are treated differently. Most of the time, they are seen as below everyone else. It's not necessarily that we aren't accepted, it's just that...we're not good enough. It's why Zeus keeps putting Hercules through many trails."

"Ugh," MC said at the mention of Zeus. "I'm tired of hearing about Zeus. He makes me tired, and I don't even see him!"

Alex laughed and it brought their spirits up a bit. "Well, yeah. He makes everyone tired sometimes. Thankfully, I don't deal with him much."

"But what else is bothering you? There's got to be something else!" She was curious about everything, and now she wanted to know more about Alex. She knew many things, but she didn't seem to know much about what's really going on.

They looked back up at the stars, once again. Looking at them made it easier for them to talk. "Do you want to know a secret?"

MC gasped with excitement and nodded vigorously.

"You're a human, and one thing about being human is that you get to choose your own fate. You're not bound by anything. You have free will and can decide anything you want."

MC's eyes widened and she looked happy. "That's really cool to know." Then she remember why they were telling her this. "Why does it make you sad?"

"The God's have fate. They are bound by it. I don't know if they can change it, but they are bound. But I'm half. What does that mean for me? Am I bound to something that I can never change? Am I doomed?" Their questions kept coming out of them and their fear began to come back. Fate wasn't the only thing bothering them, but that one topic truly did bug them.

"Maybe it's in the middle."

Their eyebrows furrowed with confusion and they looked back over at her. She was looking at the stars as well with a small smile. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you do have a fate. Maybe you are bound. But...maybe it's a loose string. Like on a sweater. A loose string is there and you can either leave it alone or cut it off. Maybe you are bound by a string and can either let it take its course, or cut it off and make your own fate." She looked over at them when she was done and laughed when she saw the look on their face. They looked confused, but also like they had a revelation.

Like they finally realized something.

And then they looked down at their intertwined hands and felt worry. Worry for them, but also for her. "But what if I ruin it?" They whispered this and felt scared. They were scared something bad could happen if they dared to tempt fate at all.

"You could never ruin it. As long as you have faith and hope, you can do anything!" Her voice was excited and they knew she believed in them. But they still couldn't believe in themselves.

"But-".

"Alex. Let me ask you some questions."

They nodded and let her take the lead this time. Maybe her being excited would take their mind off of things.

However, she wouldn't let this topic go. She wouldn't let things end without them feeling comfortable.

She lifted her hand above her and she made them do the same. "Look at our hands together. Tell me what's different."

They did as told and looked at their hands. "Yours is smaller than mine."

She nodded and hummed. "Exactly. But is there any other difference you see?"

"No."

"Now, imagine your moms hand. Is there any difference?"

"No."

"Exactly! Now how about our hearts?" She grabbed their hand and placed it against her chest and she placed hers against theirs. After a few moments, they both felt the others heart beat. They were both calm and almost had the same rhythm. "Is there any difference here?"

They shook their head with a smile as they looked at her.

She moved their hands to be intertwined again and resting in-between them. "Exactly! And other than our physical appearances, we have more things in common. We have hearts, we have faces, we have the same body functions, we have voices, we can move, and almost everything is the same! So how could we really be different from each other?"

They thought about what she meant. They were practically the same. The only thing different was the blood in their veins. They had Aphrodite's blood in their veins. They were her child, had a sliver of her powers, and were divine. But...when they thought about it, they weren't that different from humans. Even Aphrodite wasn't different. Neither were the others.

"Everyone here may have powers, but if you take that away, what do you have left? You have someone like me."

"Are you comparing yourself to a God?" They smirked at her and she nodded with excitement.

"Yes! You may see a difference, but I do not. Maybe I'm too young to see it, but I don't see one. If humans can live the same way as the Gods, then we're not truly different. And so you're not different from a God." She said this with authority and as if she was right, and Alex loved it. She was young, yet believed what she thought was right.

They both looked back up at the stars and everything MC said made their heart feel better. They knew she didn't understand everything, but maybe she understood more things than they did. She experienced life above and on the surface. She witnessed how divine and mortals lived, and she didn't see a difference. Her eyes saw a person equally in both places.

But Alex was taught to see differences. They were told there was a difference, that there was a huge difference. But being with MC right now made them think that maybe there isn't one. Maybe their strength is the only difference. Maybe everyone is different while also being truly the same. That thought made them feel better, and they were more grateful that they had someone like MC by their side. And they intended to keep her there, no matter what fate or differences there were between them.

And that other feeling inside of them was growing. It was always around and it grew bigger each time they saw MC, and they wonder what it is. They think they'll know what it is once they get older, or that's what they hope.

And they sure did, but not in the way they wanted.

.

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Their back felt uncomfortable as they sat in the infirmary chair. They were staring at MC as she laid in the bed. She hit her head very hard from Deukalions attack, and their heart felt heavy. Everything felt hard and it hurt to breathe for a few moments. She was alive and that was the biggest relief, but the fact that something worse could've happened kept plaquing their mind.

They think this is their fault, that all of this happened because of their own desires, and they remember what MC told them under the stars all those years ago.

"You compared yourself to a God, MC. But...you're not a God," they whispered out. Their hand was clutching the golden heart they always wore and it was just a reminder of their differences. "You can't take a God's strength away, so there will always be a difference between us."

They both grew up and that conversation kept appearing in their mind these days. She wanted to be right, but she wasn't. There is a difference between Gods and mortals. There always would be. Especially, their fates. MC had free will, and Alex still doesn't know what they have. But they do know what full blooded God's have. They have a fate, and any human that is roped into it it is already set up for doom.

They felt their eyes water at that thought. At the mere thought that they could've just ruined her life because of their blood, because of their connection to Olympus. It hurt, and they were lost. They didn't know what to do, they didn't know how to protect her, they didn't know what to do.

But they did know something, or they believe they knew it. They believed that they knew the ending of this. They read many greek tales and they even experienced one along MC. They knew what happens to humans roped into a divine fate, and they wouldn't let her end up being another victim.

Not now. Not ever.

So, even if it hurt them, they hoped they could change her fate for her. Even if it meant destroying their own fate that they dreamed of.

.

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SOOO!!! THIS!! Wasn't as good as I kind of wanted it. I wanted MC to make Alex realize that there isn't a different between mortal and divine. Or at least make it seem that kid MC believed it and maybe make Alex believe it. But ended it with Alex realizing no. There is a difference. And by the ending of destroying their own fate, I meant that they destroyed the idea of being with her by ending things.

Like they could either be with her and end up a tragedy in the end, or save her by destroying their dream of being with her. Destroying their own fate that they wanted to build. I love sad Alex and I hope this was good and made some kind of sense :')).

AND!! When I said that they experienced their own tale, I meant that they both experienced MC's mother's death and how she was involved romantically with Aphrodite and how she ended up dead. She was roped into a divines fate and ended up as a tragedy :'). So I hope y'all enjoyed this! There is some proofreading, but if something is wrong then my bad!

[buferfliz]

Absinthe

This is the hard stuff, super strong, and will have you drunk after just one if you’re not careful.

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Dirty Talk, Alcohol Consumption, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, One tiny death threat

You take a sip of the green liquid and you feel the burn of it as you swallow it down. Damn this shit is strong, you think. “Come with me, you can bring the drink with you.” A voice to your left says. You turn your head to the side and see an average looking guy. “Who are you?” You question the man. “That doesn’t matter. Now come with me.” He says. “Why would I do that?” You respond. “Please. Please just come with me. The boss wants to meet you. He sent you that drink.” He says with a pleading tone.

At the mention of the boss, you feel your heartrate pick up. Whose attention had you attracted? You feel a mixture of nervousness and excitement as you nod and follow the man, taking a sip of the drink in your hand. Your escort leads you over to one of the VIP areas you had passed by earlier. So there is someone at least a little important in one of these areas, you think to yourself as you are led around a partition and into the area proper.

You look around briefly taking another sip of your drink as your throat feels parched from anticipation and nerves. Your gaze comes to rest on the couch after taking in your surroundings. Your eyes widen and your breath hitches when you see who this ‘boss’ was that wanted to meet you.

“Well damn, you look even better up close, princess.” The man says with a cocky smirk.

Sitting on the couch in front of you is none other than one of the most notorious villains in the city if not the country. Katsuki Bakugo, King Explosion Murder, and he lived up to his villain name. You just stare at him unable to speak. Shit I wanted a villain but not one this lethal, what the fuck am I going to do now? You think even as you feel your excitement build. He’s so dangerous but so hot. I should be scared shitless but I’m not. Nervous yes but scared no. Maybe I have some kind of death wish but this is giving me such a rush. You give him a coy smile before downing the remainder of your drink like a shot. The man from earlier takes your empty glass and leaves you alone with his ‘boss.’

Bakugo leans back into the couch as he rakes his eyes over your body. “Did you want another drink? You seem to like the hard stuff.” He says to you. “No thank you.” You reply politely. One drink was more than enough with how strong that stuff is, you think as you feel the alcohol begin to work on you. It causes you to feel confident enough to say, “And I like all kinds of stuff.” The statement coming out more flirtatiously than you had originally intended. “Is that right?” He smirks at you again. “So do I, but I prefer hard and fast.” He says suggestively.

You blush a bit at his words and avert your gaze. Bakugo laughs to himself, enjoying your reaction. “You know who I am, right?” He asks. You nod. “Of course I know who you are. King Explosion Murder, Katsuki Bakugo.” You say as you return your gaze to him, feeling bolder from the effects of the alcohol. ”Good. Remember that because I’ll have you screaming it later.” He states arrogantly. “Now why don’t you give me a little show, princess? I saw you dancing earlier. Show me what you can do.”

You begin dancing for him, seductively moving your body to the music as he watches you with a lust filled stare. You run your hands over your body sensuously as you continue to move to the music, eyes locked on the man before you. “Yeah that’s it princess, I like the way you move. Now why don’t you show me more of that sexy body of yours.” You smirk as you saunter over to him completely caught up in the excitement and your arousal. You turn around in front of him and show him your back. “A little help please.” You say sweetly as you shoot him a flirty look over your shoulder. Bakugo smirks. “Sure thing, babe.” He says as he pulls your zipper down. You push your dress down by bending over right in front of him. He smiles as you bend over giving him an up close view of your ass which he promptly slaps. You let out a squeak at the sting.

You stand up and face him as he runs his hands over your ass. “No bra? Aren’t you a dirty girl? It’s almost like you were hoping for something like this to happen. So were you?” He says amusedly. “And what if I said I was?” You ask in a teasing tone. Bakugo licks his lips. “Then I’d say it’s your lucky night.” He tells you with a predatory glint to his eyes. Moving his hands to your hips, he pulls you down. You straddle his lap and begin moving your hips against him, still following the beat of the music. You let out an involuntary groan as your heated core brushes up against his clothed erection.

“Heh, you like the way my hard cock feels against that hot pussy of yours?” Bakugo says as he grinds up into you causing you to groan again. He smirks at your reaction. “Yeah I know you fucking like it, you dirty girl.” He brings his hands up to your bare chest and begins to fondle your soft breasts. “These are some sweet tits you got. I wonder if they taste as sweet as they look.” He smiles wickedly before descending upon you. As he continues to squeeze with his hands, he brings his mouth to one of your breasts and flicks your hardened nipple with his tongue. You let out a mewl of pleasure as he swirls his tongue around your stiff bud and sucks it into his mouth. You take in a sharp breath of air as you feel him take your sensitive peak into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it.

“Ahh Katsuki,” you breathe out as you weave your hand into his pale blond locks. You continue to grind against him, feeling yourself becoming wetter by the moment. Bakugo releases your nipple from his mouth with a soft pop and grins up at you when he hears your whimper of protest. “Yeah, keep grinding on that cock princess. I can feel how fucking wet you are for me. Your juices are dripping down those sexy thighs and soon my cum will be too.” He says with a devilish smirk before pulling your face to his and crashing his lips against yours. You let out a moan and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, an urgent intense kiss of teeth and tongues as he battles you for dominance.

You fist your hand into his hair more forcefully tugging on the strands as your other hand slips under the clingy material of his shirt. You run your hand over the hard toned muscles there, lightly grazing your fingernails against his skin as you trace each one. He lets out a groan at the feel of you tugging his hair and the way your nails feel against him. He clutches onto your plush ass pulling you even closer into him as you continue to grind. You start pulling at his shirt trying to rid him of the offending garment. He briefly breaks the kiss to pull his shirt off and throw it to the side before recapturing your soft lips in another passion filled kiss.

Your hand travels down until you reach the impressive bulge of Bakugo’s pants. You begin to palm it as he lets out a deep moan. Undoing his pants, you free his hard cock from its confines as it slaps against his toned stomach. You gaze down at it as he starts attacking your neck with his mouth. Determined to leave his mark on your flesh, he begins sucking and biting at the tender skin. You take his cock in your hand and give it a few slow pumps as you spread the pre around the head with your thumb.

“You like my cock, princess? Why don’t you suck it for me?” he smugly says before returning to his assault on your neck. You give him a few more strokes with your hand. “No, I don’t think I will.” You tell him with a smirk, earning you a hard bite to your neck from him. You yelp at the sudden pain. His ruby eyes glint dangerously as he meets your gaze and causes a shiver to go up your spine. “You do know that I could just kill you, right?” He says in a threatening manner. You let out a little laugh unable to help yourself, clearly he was a man no one dared challenge. You knew you should be scared, that was no empty threat, but you just couldn’t seem to bring yourself to do so.

“I know you could and I know I should be scared but I’m not. I’ve never liked how boring my life is and this is the most excitement I’ve ever had. You’re so hot and so dangerous and I’m loving every minute of it. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. And besides…” You lean in and purr into his ear, “I’d rather have you deep inside of me. My pussy is aching to feel your fat cock stretch it out.” You bite his earlobe.

Bakugo lets out a little chuckle. “You’re either really brave or really stupid. Either way I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight, you dirty bitch.” He smirks once again as he slaps your ass hard. With a growl, he tears your panties from your body. “You wanted my fat cock, princess. Now come and get it.” You smirk back at him as you lift yourself up and lining his cock up with your entrance, you impale yourself on him.  Both of you let out a deep moan as he bottoms out inside you, stuffing you full.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Bakugo exclaims before moaning again at the feeling of your walls gripping him. You place your hands on his shoulders as he grips your hips and you start to ride him, slow at first before picking up the pace. The feeling on his cock inside of you is unlike anything you had previously experienced. You’d never felt so full before and he stretched you out so perfectly. You move your hands behind you bracing them on Bakugo’s muscular thighs as you throw your head back in pleasure, increasing your pace. The change in angle allows him to hit your sweet spot with every thrust of his cock as you continue to ride him.

“Oh fuck yes Katsuki,” you whine as your pleasure surges. Feeling the walls of your pussy begin to flutter around his cock causes Bakugo to meet each of your thrusts with rough ones of his own. “Fucckk, so good. Fuck princess, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to cum so hard and so deep inside this pussy of yours. I’m going to fill you up with so much of my cum that you’re going to feel it swirling around inside of you.” He tells you with a cocky grin.

With a grunt he digs his fingers into your hips, hard enough to bruise, as he takes control and begins slamming into you at an animalistic pace chasing his release. It only takes you a couple of those wild thrusts to be sent over the edge. “FUCCCKKK, OH GOD, KATSUKIII!” You scream out, just as he had promised you would earlier, as your orgasm rocks through your body and your walls begin milking his cock for everything he has. With a few more rough thrusts and the feeling of your pussy clamping down hard, Bakugo unloads rope after rope of his hot seed deep inside your womb causing you to feel fuller after each one. “FUCK, FUCK, FUUCCKK!” He shouts out with a beastly growl as he fills you up.

You collapse against him, cheeks flushed with your arms around his neck and his around your waist as you both try to catch your breath, his cock still buried inside you. “How was that? Best you’ve ever had, I bet.” He says arrogantly. “It might have been.” You say in a teasing tone as you look at him and smile. “Well I guess I’ll just have to show you again.” He states with a devious smirk. You let out a gasp when you feel him hardening again inside of you. “Again?” You ask with surprise.

“Hell yes. I’m nowhere near done with you babe and I won’t be anytime soon. You belong to me now, my dirty little princess. You’ll never be bored again.” He tells you with a grin before crashing his lips to yours once again.

[ianite-simp]

take it upon yourself pt. 1

"So you've made your decision." A voice hummed low in his head. A familiar voice, a god Jordan knew all too well. 

"Decision?" Faint bewilderment rang clear in his own words. Had he really? Had he really pledged himself to a god? As far as he knew, he hadn't yet. The necessity wasn't there, not for him. To tie himself to one would be a waste, it would destroy any balance in the realm. He couldn't add to the chaos, no, he had to fix it.

But Dianite had treated him kindly. The god had offered him a place, offered him power. He knew the god was waiting for him. But how could he accept? “What do you mean?”

A whiff of brimstone and sulfur drifted by, a soft touch of an invisible hand brushed his cheek. There was no response.

~

Silken bonds tied the hands of his lady. Smooth, glistening fabric bound the delicate wrists together, rendering her helpless. Pure white against soft skin. So delicate, so innocent How could they be hurting her? 

They were so unsuspecting.

With trembling fingers Jordan undid those bonds. Fingers trembling with an adrenaline that flooded his nerves, washed away his senses. The weeks of praying and waiting, of working and searching, they had led to this moment. Carefully, ever so carefully, he untied the last knot. The silk fluttered to the ground, forgotten, as he saw the damage it had done.

Skin rubbed raw, flushed and irritated. Brown eyes met purple, concern met exhaustion, an apology met acceptance. Had he only been there sooner, had they only figured it out earlier - perhaps some of the pain could have been prevented. Perhaps something could have been done.

He had never suspected that the bonds that held Ianite had harmed her. They were too gentle, too pure. But only on the outside were they so. That which was hidden away wore on the goddess, bit by bit. 

The adrenaline that had only moments ago filled him with anticipation threatened to explode out of him, escape through every pore. His own hands were shaking, shaking, shaking. The sheer sense of powerlessness, of failure, it consumed him. He hadn't done enough.

~

"She's gone, isn't she?"

"In this world, at least."

They stood a little ways apart from the others, debris crashing down around them as they hurriedly spoke.

"She'll be waiting for you in another place, Captain. And so will I." Strong, warm hands folded over his own. Just for a moment they held tight, a promise flashing across the deep red eyes that held his own.

"But I didn't save her. Didn't… didn't I fail her?" It was softly spoken. Any louder and his voice would have failed him. It would have cracked, would have given away the splinters in his own facade of stability.

With a soft squeeze, the god pulled his hands away. "But you helped to save me, Captain. Don't forget that."

~

Don’t forget that.

The darkness of the void surrounded him, encompassing his entirety. Whispering static filled his ears, fried his nerves. Stasis hadn’t set in yet, and he was so alone. He held his hands before his eyes, studying the weather worn skin. Fingers curled inwards with nothing to hold onto.

Don’t forget that.

How could he forget it? How could he forget those eyes, the depths that pulled him in ever closer? How could he forget the sight of her graceful statue crumbling into nothing? How could he forget the coarse skin, so gentle against his own? How could he forget his failure of her? How could he forget his promise to him? How could they still wait for him?

Don’t forget that.

His head fell forward against his chest, eyes screwed shut to block out the never ending dark. Nausea swept over him in waves that slowly grew in size. Something about the discomforting power of the void seemed stronger than ever. If only stasis would come to him.

Don’t forget that.

~

“You know Captain, it is lonely being a god with no follower.”

“That’s a lie.” He replied bluntly. Avoiding the Dianite's eyes. Avoiding the topic. Avoiding the implied question. Avoiding the guilt. Because if he turned and faced it, gods it would hurt him. A god imprisoned, a new force arising - things were dissolving too quickly for him to repair. How could he bring balance alone, with only his goddess at his side? He just wanted help.

He was being offered the irresistible, because it was just that. He was being offered an escape. But to turn his back on his lady was unimaginable, impossible. No, he just had to put the guilt and the worry aside. He just had to work through it. Because he could work through it. He just had to.

Besides, why would the god say such a thing? He knew that he knew the zombie was only pretending to be loyal to Ianite. So why would he bother to lie? It didn’t seem right. He had spoken with too much sincerity for his liking. A god had to have a champion, right? So how could he pretend otherwise? It didn’t add up at all, and he knew he’d be able to work that out. What was his angle?

~

“It’s just a business deal.” He said hotly, his temper flaring. What was the issue the others saw? Why was it a problem to speak with another god?

Tom and Karl's laughter and teasing fueled his rising frustration. Why couldn’t they just understand? He was trying to fix things, yet all they did was to hold him back. He was shaking, he knew, but the pure anger he felt had to escape somehow. “I stand for my god, alright? I’m with my lady until the end. Say what you want, I’m not turning my back on her. I can talk to another god, okay? It’s not a big deal, so stop making it one.”

Silence met his outburst. The conversation took a quick turn, but the anger didn’t fade. No, it was still there, broiling and bubbling just under his skin. How dare they? How dare they laugh and make assumptions about him? All he was trying to do was make things better, make them balanced. He caught a glimpse of his hands, knuckles white from being clenched tightly. Tingling from a lack of circulation.

His muscles relaxed slightly as he heard the god’s familiar voice again, a low purr. “I’ll consider your offer.”

“Thanks, m’lord.” He mumbled instinctively. The words were out before he even knew it. But he didn’t try to ignore it, brush past it. It was just a formality, right? No real meaning behind it. The rush of heat in his veins meant nothing. The acrid scent of wood smoke and brimstone meant nothing.

Just a formality.

~

"Captain." Ianite's voice was so gentle. It always had been. "Do you have the stone?" Her gaze was searching, earnest. He pulled his eyes away, directing them towards the floor deferentially. At least, that's what he told himself. It had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn't bear to see the disappointment in her eyes. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, only responding with a small shake of his head.

"I see." She let out a long sigh. Disappointed, definitely, but… She stood from her simple throne, touching a slender finger to his cheek. Her touch was so different from his. The other god had skin that almost burned against his own, but hers was cool. Both soothing in their own way.

He mentally flicked the thoughts away, as distracting and unwelcome as gnats. "I won't say I understand why, Captain, but I will try to." Her words were a reprimand, despite the well meant intentions guiding them. She was too kind, too confident in him. 

"I'm sorry my lady, I tried but…" His voice trailed off, his head falling heavily against his chest.

"It'll be fine." She shifted her hand to lift his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. Forcing him to see the comforting smile, the spark of mischief already dancing again. Reminding him again that he hadn't failed this one. Yet. "If you ever should have the opportunity of getting it again, I would recommend you use whatever means are necessary, mhm?"

"Of course m'lady."

"Good." She stepped back, beckoning for him to rise from where he still knelt. "Leave it in my temple, should you get it. You know where. I'll be waiting for you."

~

Whatever means are necessary, he repeated. Whatever it would take. The balance it would help bring would be worth it. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Preserve the balance, protect his goddess.

She was looking weaker, she had said it herself. The stone would help her somehow. Surely any deal the other god would want to make in exchange for it would be worth it. He knew he had a few things the god wanted, the sword perhaps, or maybe the wand. He hated to give them up, but it was for a good reason, right? It was important.

Whatever means are necessary.

~

Dianite seemed amused by his approach. “Persistent, aren’t you?”

It was rhetorical, but he still nodded. “I know you want what I have.”

There was a curious glint in the god’s eyes, as he studied him. It put him on edge, told him he had something up his sleeve. Nothing new in that, thought. “Very well. I’ll give you the stone.”

“In exchange for the items?”

“No. Consider it… a gesture of goodwill.” The god smiled, an almost coy look on his face. That look definitely meant he wasn’t up to anything good.

“Uh huh, sure.” He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes as he met the god’s gaze head on. “What’ll it really cost?”

“Your loyalty?”

He was already shaking his head resolutely the moment the words left the god’s mouth. “Hah, nope. I’m loyal to my lady, sorry.”

“Hmm.” The god hummed softly, tilting his head playfully. “Are you now? Well,” he let out a dramatic sigh, “I see how it is, I guess. Don’t worry, I fully support that decision.”

Jordan was taken aback by the sudden shift in the god’s tone. “Wait, what? Weren’t you literally just trying to convince me to join your team?” 

“I don’t need to convince you of anything. I know you’ll see the truth of the matter soon enough, my boy.” Dianite reached a hand out to ruffle his hair. It caught him off guard, leaving him unable to duck aside to avoid it. The touch sent a strange shock through his body, running through his nerves like an electric current. It was… it was like the first time he communicated with his lady. It had the same raw, potent energy to it. His eyes met the god’s, confusion and alarm written clearly across his features. A satisfied, almost smug look met him.

“So would you still like the stone?”

Whatever means are necessary.

His eyes fluttered shut for a long moment, unsure of whether he was dreading or eager to respond. He knew what his answer would be. To refuse would be to go against his word to his lady. He had to accept.

“Yes, I would,” he took a small breath of air to steady himself, “my lord.”

He took the stone in a surprisingly steady hand, tucking it into a pocket for safe keeping. He didn’t catch the small wisps of green smoke that curled around his hand as he did so. He was too distracted by the strong scent of wood smoke and brimstone.

~

The overworld smelled of rain soaked soil, a salty ocean breeze, sweet wheat growing in the field. The End smelled of a crisp morning, the static in the air before a storm, and the musty scent of dried lavender and thyme. The Nether smelled of smoldering brimstone, crackling fires, and sulfurous smoke.

The smell of each dimension clung to the champions of the respective gods, faint yet always present. They quickly became accustomed to the distinctive scents, grew capable of recognizing each other by them alone.

Jordan didn't notice at first, the new odors that clung to his possessions. It was only when Karl made an off hand comment, something about how Tom must've been hanging out around his place recently. He laughed it off in the moment, joking about how he couldn't get the zombie off his island. But he couldn't help taking small whiffs of his armor, his clothes, the contents of his chests. There was something off about it, a familiar smell mingling with the old. An uncomfortably familiar smell.

But it couldn't mean anything, could it?

next →

[henshengs]

hunger games au, part 7

previous parts

--

It’s not until he enters the vast and echoing Training Hall that Meng Yao really begins to understand what he has gotten himself into.

And isn’t that ridiculous? He’s traveled hundreds of miles, been physically transformed, been beaten, been humiliated, and yet none of that has been particularly new to him, and so, perhaps, he’s been able to lie to himself that he knows what he is up against, that he has survived all of it before.

Unlike the other parts of Nightless City that Meng Yao has seen thus far, the Training Hall has very little gold in its interior, only dark black pillars soaring up to a distant vaulted ceiling. The material has a sheen to it, akin to volcanic rock.

Gleaming among all that darkness are silver racks of weapons.

Swords. Sabers. Whips.

They are made to stand in a line while a red-robed man recites the rules of the Training Hall. No fighting with another competitor. No injuring another competitor. No damaging the equipment.

The gentry children are eyeing up the weapons with excitement on their faces. The Wens have outlawed possession of blades in the sectors, but unofficially everyone cultivates with swords and sabers anyway. These might not be the gentry children’s own swords, but even Meng Yao can feel they still vibrate with some degree of spiritual power.

When Meng Yao first joined the Nie sect as an outer disciple, he’d been foolish enough to ask when he’d be trained to use a blade. He’d gotten a cuff on the ear for it. His promotion by Nie Mingjue had been an honor and a high privilege, but his new duties kept him far too busy to spend any time learning cultivation, even if any of the Nie masters had been interested in teaching him. There are a few exercises he knows, and he’s diligently practised them over the past few years, building up a golden core droplet by droplet, but the only time he’s touched an edged weapon are the few times he’s lifted Baxia out of or back into its prison of a case. His golden core may not even be strong enough to control a sword, let alone a saber. If these children get their hands on weapons, inside the arena, they will have an incredible advantage over him.

And how many of them do you think have ever killed another human being? he reminds himself, as he has been reminding himself ever since the Reaping. They’ll be slow, at least the first time.

But they’ll learn fast.

He feels a shiver running down his spine, and hooks his hands behind his back to hold himself still.

Past the racks of weapons are different training stations. The largest one looks to be demonstrating the drawing and usage of paper talismans, and most of the competitors flock to this one, as talismans can be used without a golden core.

The male Yunmeng tribute pulls an elegant black bow off of the weapons rack, slinging its matching quiver over his shoulder. “Shijie, why don’t you make a pretty target for me?” Meng Yao hears him suggest to the female tribute. “Like a kite!”

“There’s no wind in here, A-xian,” Jiang Yanli says, but she’s laughing as she says it.

Jin Zixun is sliding a shining sword from the rack and moving into various martial exercises, like the ones Meng Yao sees the Nie disciples do in the Unclean Realm courtyard every morning. A Lanling mentor in flowing golden robes stands by him and makes comments. Luo Qingyang has abandoned her martial brother, heading across the room to a station that Meng Yao would guess has something to do with natural remedies, judging by the number of flowers and leaves laid out upon the surface of the table. Wang Lingjiao, Meng Yao notices, picks a flail from the rack without even trying for a sword. At least she’s aware of her limitations.

Throughout the room, small objects like jeweled insects buzz and float, going higher or lower, approaching competitors and then zooming back from them. Cameras, getting their close ups.

Near to Meng Yao, neither of the Lans have moved at all.

Meng Yao doesn’t move either, not yet. He takes a few steps to the side, letting the competitors behind him move past, and lets his eyes pass over the hall. There are guards by the weapons racks, and at intervals along the walls. They wear the same red uniforms as the guards in the Transformation Pavilion, and the same gold masks.

A suspicion has been growing in Meng Yao’s mind, about the silent, stiff guards, but it’s not something he can currently prove or disprove.

Thirty or so feet above the floor of the training hall, the walls turn to glass, revealing an arcade around the edge of the hall, filled with tables and cushion, refreshments, even a musician or two. People sit or stroll along behind the glass, looking down at the children below. At the zoo exhibits. People wearing what looks like very expensive clothing. Meng Yao only lets his gaze flicker over them for a moment, before looking back down, into the shadows further down the hall. He sees a familiar silhouette. Nie-zongzhu. His eyes return to Lan Xichen, curious if the Lan heir has noticed Nie Mingjue yet. Lan Xichen is standing straight and still. There’s something infinitely fascinating to Meng Yao about the line of his neck from his slightly angled head down to the open triangle of his robe. About the way the bright gold lights of the hall are reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to have noticed that Nie Mingjue is here. He’s looking at Lan Wangji; and Lan Wangji is looking at Wei Wuxian.

Meng Yao bows, though he knows Lan Xichen won’t see it, and slips away, walking quickly across the polished echoing floor, heart pounding in his ears for no good reason, for a hundred good reasons. The hall is so large, each echoing footstep reverberates, and the grandness of it thrills him a little, and intimidates him much more. He dares another glance up at the spectators. Members of the Competition Committee wear gold and white robes of office, he knows that from the propaganda documentaries; many of them are here, but there is also a profusion of other colors, rich merchants or socialites who’ve paid well for a ticket to the show. He spots a tall, spiked golden guan- Wen Chao. There doesn’t seem to be a woman with him, so perhaps he’s thrown aside his latest arm candy.

A suspicion strikes him and he glances back behind him at the weapons racks, at Wang Lingjiao and her flail. She’s making desultory attacks on a mannequin, but her eyes keep moving up, to the spectators, and her movements seem designed more to show off different angles of her body than to make a solid hit on her target. Her red and white robes swoop low enough on the chest that he knows there must be significant tape holding the fabric in place.

Well. That makes sense. It isn’t as though she has any other viable options. Everyone knows the Competition Manager is scandalously fond of younger women. And her strategy must be enjoying some degree of success already, for her to be accepted into the main alliance. He’d admire her effectiveness if it wasn’t suddenly one of the greatest threats to him living out the month.

He looks away from her quickly, before she can notice his attention, and hones in on Nie Mingjue like an arrow. A hundred feet, eighty, sixty. He can’t see any visible bruises on Nie Mingjue, any signs of damage. Zonghui is next to him. They’re standing by the hunting station, and she has a long spear in her hands.

Forty feet, and Nie Mingjue sees him, a fierce light coming into his eyes, and it sets something in Meng Yao burning, makes him want to close the distance between them at a run and throw himself into Nie Mingjue’s arms. He slows his walking speed, instead. Lets Nie Mingjue be the one to rush towards him. Watches Nie Mingjue struggle to still himself, when he gets within a few feet of Meng Yao.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue says. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Meng Yao says, smiling at him, “please don’t concern yourself.” He can hear the buzzing of a beetle-like camera nearby, and bows, using the motion to bring himself closer, to murmur, just loud enough for the camera to hear, “Lan Xichen is by the weapons racks.”

And with his arms above his head he doesn’t have to see Nie Mingjue’s face. By the time he straightens Nie Mingjue has already turned. He is holding himself still, with the face of a man tormented.

Meng Yao’s back is to the nearby camera, but there will be others. There will be footage that the editors will review, after Meng Yao says what he plans to say at the first interview session this afternoon.

“Walk with me,” Meng Yao says, “I can bring you to him.”

Nie Mingjue looks at Zonghui. She bows as best she can while holding the spear. “I will practice until Sect Leader returns,” she says.

It’s all the permission Nie Mingjue needs.

They walk, both scanning the room for the sight of blue and white. “You weren’t there when I woke up,” Meng Yao says, quietly. “I was concerned.”

“I’ve been told,” Nie Mingjue says, voice tight with anger, “that due to my behavior last night, I am not permitted to socialize with competitors outside of my duties as a mentor.”

“I see,” Meng Yao says. The Lans aren’t where he left them. He turns slightly. There they are- sitting on the floor, backs against one of the hall’s wide support pillars. Both managing to look calm and serene and entirely above the events around them, like immortals cultivating on a mountaintop. Seeing Lan Xichen at a new angle is yet another revelation for Meng Yao. His eyes are distracted by the fall of silken dark hair down an angular shoulder, but his ears hear Nie Mingjue take a sharp breath. Hear him say, “Xichen.”

The two of them have been seen- the Lans are rising gracefully and then bending into bows. Nie Mingjue takes a long stride forward to catch Lan Xichen’s forearms and pause his motion. The way Lan Xichen did for Meng Yao, only half an hour ago. They stop moving, both of them, and just look into each others’ faces.

“Excuse me,” Meng Yao says softly, and smiles, and bows, and turns away, into the path of a buzzing camera, and lets the smile drop sharply from his lips, lets his face twist into a mask of displeasure.

The benefit of knowing exactly what needs to show on his face is that whatever he is actually feeling is entirely irrelevant.

[ardentmuse]

Hello love!!!! I'm so excited for this celebration and all the fics top come out of it. Could I get 16 and 48 with my love, Eggsy? I feel like his hugs would feel really safe and comforting,,,not like I've thought about it when ive had a bad day or anything. Definitely not... okay I definitely have. A lot. I just love him a lot. ANYWAYS Congratulations and I hope you and the family are all doing well ❤❤❤

Gawain and the Galahads

Kingsman - Eggsy x Hart!Reader

16. Ugh, of course your hugs are amazing.48. I’m going to hug you because I love you. And because you feel just as alone as I do.

Wordcount: 1.6k 

Warnings: talk of death, talk of depression and grief

Masterlist

A/N: He’s got the perfect build to give good hugs too. Something about the arms to shoulders proportions. You’d just be engulfed and have just the right amount of space to make his shoulder a pillow. I like this image. ☺ Also hi! We’re doing great and I hope you are, too! I am making my own gifs for these so they all fit with the stories. I hope you enjoy them!

Fourteen months had passed since you watched the image from your father’s glasses turn black. Fourteen months since the silence filled the room, the air between you and Merlin so thick with unspoken anguish that it practically pushed you out the door. You didn’t have a conscious thought the entire time you wandered the streets of London, when you snapped your glasses into as many pieces as you fingers could manage and tossed them in the Thames, the length of your journey across the ocean to the United States, the two months you spent painstakingly tracking down every lead on the ground in Kentucky, or the year you spent wandering the vastness of the American west trying to piece together the parts of yourself that died along with Harry Hart.

No, you hadn’t really had a conscious thought in all that time until this moment; here, in a bar in Santa Fe in the early afternoon, with Eggsy – the only man you ventured you ever loved more than your father – standing before you in the suit and tie of a true Kingsman, the cloud of your brain lifted for the first time and somehow the only thing you realized you’d been missing out on was pain.

“Nice suit,” you said over your drink, not bearing to look into those soft eyes, ones that might call you out on how you simply ran away – a coward in a world full of heroes.

“And nice glasses,” you added with a swirl of your straw. “Hey, Merlin.”

The bar was mostly empty, but Eggsy’s eyes still shifted around carefully in concern at your casual tone. You remembered when your gaze was trained for such things. But that you seemed so far away.

“Do you know how long I’ve been searchin’ for ya?”

“Given Kingsman resources, I’d say… um, three hours?” you asked as you lifted an eyebrow in teasing question. His nose flaired at you, like he didn’t expect your snark to still be so directed at him after all your time apart. But he liked it. The smile he was clearly trying to hide was his dead giveaway.

“What? Three and a half?”

Eggsy spit out a laugh. He paused. But now with the floodgates open, he laughed full and earnest, moving himself to lean on the bar beside you.

“About three days,” Eggsy confirmed. “Though I searched for weeks on my own before Merlin made me stop. He said you’d had left a trace if you had wanted me to find you. That I should respect your wishes.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know if it was true, but it felt nice to think someone, especially Eggsy, cared enough to look.

You took a big swig of your drink to try to shove down the butterflies threatening to rise at the thought of Eggsy’s care and now his close proximity.

“So what happened three days ago?” you asked, realizing there had to be a reason Eggsy was here, disrupting your grieving. “Did Arthur lose his favorite umbrella? Or perhaps Roxy couldn’t –“

“We found your dad.”

Eggsy’s hand upon your arm had paused your rambling. His eyes locked on yours in a way that was so serious, so sincere, that you realized he had been hurting just the same as you. He knew your defenses. The weeks he had spent training beside you, and the whirlwind romance that had come along with it, were enough for him to realize you were two peas in a pod. He hid his emotions behind charm, flirtation, and occasionally anger and you behind snark, levity, and just a hint of pragmatism. But this Eggsy, this Eggsy was seeing you, seeing the raw, unrepaired part of your soul and matching it with his own – no sweet pet names, no winks, no grazes of his hand down your side. This was Eggsy, a person – vulnerable, real and scared – begging you to show yourself.

You felt the tears prickling at your eyes but swallowed them away.

“If this is a weird way of requesting my attendance at a funeral, I don’t think—“

“He’s alive,” Eggsy said as he moved his hand up to your wrist, holding you in place. “Harry’s alive, Gawain, and—“

“Don’t call me that!” you practically screamed, ripping your arm from his grip and almost falling off the barstool. You were standing now, backing away from the man in front of you with careful pacing. All the sadness that had been building in you caught fire, rage consuming you internally, burning at your throat. “How dare you come here and tell me lies, Eggsy! What sort of sick trick is this?”

Eggsy was charging you before you could put up your defenses. A year out of the field meant Eggsy could overpower you instantly. You expected to be tackled, maybe a tranquilizer dart pushed into your neck – after all, Eggsy was clearly the enemy now – but that wasn’t what happened.

He flicked his glasses off his face, moved swiftly around your shoulder and, from behind, slid them down your forehead and upon your nose. The familiar weight upon your ears felt nice somehow and the graining pixels across your vision comforting.

You had expected stats on the side, some notes from Merlin or a couple of Eggsy’s vitals but the thing that took up your entire vision was a live feed of some sort, a simple room with a cot for a bed and a sink along the edge, like a cage more than a suite. But upon the bed, with a sketchpad on his lap like you remembered for when you were a kid, sat your dad, his brown hair a muss and his left eye donning an eye patch.

But it was dad. It was most certainly dad.

No words left your mouth. Tears just began rolling down your face at the sight of him moving, safe, existing somewhere in the world. You weren’t a lone Hart in the world any longer.

You felt Eggsy’s hands come around your shoulders and you ripped yourself away. These emotions, they were all too much at once, and Eggsy was simply overwhelming. You only then, as Eggsy slowly blocked the view, realized that the few other patrons were staring.

“I’m going to hug you, Y/N,” Eggsy said slowly, his hands up like approaching an animal. “I’m going to hug you because I love you. And because you feel just as alone as I do.”

And when you didn’t protest, Eggsy’s arms scooped you up against his chest, curling his strong forearms around your shoulders and pulling your head flush against the crock of his neck. The hug was tight and warm, soft and strong all at once, and in that moment you realized it had been fourteen months since another human had truly touched you.

“But we aren’t alone, love. We have each other. We always have. And now we have Harry. And, sweetheart, he needs you. More than you know.”

Eggsy’s hands ran the length of your back, soft circles into your spine and soon you were melting against you, your tears coming out in earnest now that you finally felt safe. You almost didn’t want to close your eyes and lose the sight of your father but you had to. You had to let yourself into this moment, to reconnect with Eggsy, a man who loved you still despite your fleeing, a man whose touch was home when you had only known wandering.

As you sniffled a little against the soft cotton of his jacket, you felt your spirit returning to your limbs. You were shedding the zombie that was your flesh all this long year, all thanks to Eggsy’s perfect embrace.

“Ugh, of course your hugs are amazing,” you whispered into his neck, not willing yourself to let go.

Eggsy just laughed against your scalp.

“And there’s my Gawain back,” he said with a quick kiss to the skin already pressed against his lips.

His words hit your brain weird. You were once Gawain but were you still? Could you simply put back on the clothes and simply be that person once again? You were rusty but you were you, and you had Eggsy to guide you every step of the way.

With renewed resolve, you pulled yourself away from his shoulder. You straightened your spine and you shoulders, trying the ‘gentleman’ in you out once more. You were stiff but in some ways it felt like riding a bicycle, all coming back just by committing to get on.

“Whatever Galahad needs, I’ll do it.”

Something like tears shined in Eggsy’s eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was pride or joy. He grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers in a gesture that felt right, even after so long apart.

“That Galahad,” Eggsy said with a nod to his glasses still on your face, “and this Galahad,” he added as he stepped closer to you, toe to toe, and began to run the backs of his fingers, down the side of your cheek, “both need you.”

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @eiensteiner, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @madamcadaver. @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites

[bubblyani]

Excuses

(Reggie Kray x Reader)

A Reggie Kray One Shot

Rating: Mature (18+)

Anon Request -Hello! I was wondering if I could request something w/ Reggie Kray. I was hoping you could do something where the reader is basically best friends with Ron but has been secretly dating Reggie for a while and after some time Ron gets curious as to why they both disappear from time to time and kind of walks in on them making out or something then after that day Ron always pokes fun at their relationship whenever he can? You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to but thank you if you do😊💙

Author’s Note: I really hope I did the request justice. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it as always. Gave me an excuse to delve into the Legend OST too which was fun. Enjoy!

“So Y/N…”

You stood there before him, nervous yet impatient. Nothing seemed more important than to hear what else he had to say. Involuntarily settling yourself on the chair opposite him, you felt your heart beat out of your chest with such intensity.

Was it possible that you were about to face the ruin of everything?

You wished you knew.

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

(2 days ago)

“ I can see it now. You ...him...with a bunch of rugrats running around the house”

You chuckled, “What have you been smoking Ronnie Kray?”

The E.Pellicci, the pub where the Firm occupied, the place where you worked, and the place where conversations like this was not of the rarity. Chewing down his lunch, Ronnie pointed his jeweled index finger at you.  

“I’m telling you...David, he seems right up your fuckin street”

Ronnie Kray may be many things, a Kray twin, a gangster, a possible madman, a loving son and surprisingly your best friend, but a matchmaker? Most definitely not. At least not in your eyes.

With eyebrows furrowed, you had a hard time trying to suppress your amused laughter as he continued to rave about a nice chap he met the night before.

“Well...” you began, with your hands on your hips, “...given how much you’re fond of him, I’d say you’re a lucky lady” you said, ending with giggles before you started to wipe the table next to him.

“I told you I’m a giver, not a receiver” Ronnie said through gritted teeth, “I’m no fuckin faggot” he disliked being teased.

“True...you’re not” you replied, looking at him, “You just like fucking them instead” you added, with a wink. The man behind the bar let out a soft chuckle.

“Getting feisty isn’t she, this one?” He said. Shaking your head, you laughed.

“Hehehe...Thank you, Big Charlie” you said, looking over at your boss.

“The fucking point is, right, is you didn’t show up on Thursday night” Ronnie said, not letting the matter go “Where were you?”

You didn’t know whether he really did hope for your company. Nevertheless, you were touched he cared enough to inquire.

“One of my friends...” you said, leaning against a table “She was...” pausing, you continued, “...in trouble”

“Well, you could’ve just told us...” Ronnie replied, “Big Pat could have taken care of it” he said, indicating the tall, strong  man that stood by the door.

“Yeah, well as much as I love Big Pat...” you turned to him whilst wiping your hands with your apron, “ I don’t think this was the kind of help he could give” your voice turned soft as a whisper.  

“Message received love” Big Pat smiled as he nodded slightly. You nodded back in kind. “Well I’m sure David will come by tonight to Esmeralda's...Oi Reg!” Ronnie cried out as his brother Reginald Kray entered the pub.

“Yeah well I’m not sure if I’m up for it” you said, “Would you like something Reggie?” You asked, turning to him.

“Just coffee, thanks love” he said, making himself comfortable sitting opposite his brother. Ronnie groaned in disappointment, watching you grab the coffee pot.

“Ah, don’t be such a miserable cunt now”

“Easy there, mate” Reggie interrupted him with an extended arm “Don’t need to go that far”

Chuckling, you walked over to them, “And that’s why you need to be more like Reggie here...”you addressed Ronnie, as you placed the cup of coffee in front of Reggie “You’re such a sweetheart Reg, I’m surprised you don’t have anyone”

“Well, who says I don’t, love?” He said with a grin. You raised your eyebrows, “My my...the plot thickens” you scoffed.

“Well isn’t that lovely Reg...” Ronnie said finishing up the remnants in his plate “I hope I like her” he chewed it with sarcasm, making you giggle.

“Right, I’m off” he said, getting up, “Now don’t you dare forget tonight Y/N” he added as you came over to pick up his empty plate.

You shook your head,  “Not promising anything Ronald Kray”

“Ah! Stubborn Cunt you are”

“Come on now, mate” Reggie came to your aid once again. Ignoring all that, Ronnie exited the premises.

You turned to the remaining Kray Twin, “Need anything else, Reggie?” You sounded polite.

“All good, thanks”

The next hour passed by with so much to do. At least from your part. Big Charlie might end up conversing with whichever customer that entered, therefore most duties fell on your shoulders, and you did not mind. Your time was spent productively. No matter who came and left, Reggie Kray remained. With a cigarette in hand, he sipped his coffee. Refills were needed, but he minded his own business.

By around 3pm, the place began to slowly grow empty, leaving Reggie looking confused. Especially when he saw the chairs being put up on the tables.

“Finishing up early Charlie?” He asked.

“That’s right, Reggie” Big Charlie replied, putting on his jacket “It’s me Missus’ birthday”

“Go ahead Charlie, I’ll lock up” you said, as you began to mop the floor. Finishing up his coffee, Reggie got up.

“Right, I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry”

With Reggie’s assurance, Big Charlie exited the pub. Watching him walk out, you hoped all would go well while putting up the closed sign. Before you could even shift your thoughts, you felt the atmosphere in the room change, as you felt Reggie’s hands rest on your waist. Turning you to him in a flash, he pulled you close, forcing the mopping brush to drop hard on the floor, while his hungry lips attacked you with much force.

This sort of surprise, this sort of encounter, was nothing unfamiliar.

Kissing him back with equal need, you wrapped your arms around his neck, savoring his kiss flavored with coffee and tobacco, as he lifted you up to place you on the nearest table.

“Fucking hell...” he breathed into your lips, “...this is getting so hard”

“What?”you said playfully, “You mean this?...” you asked, with your bare knee grazing his clothed manhood.

“Cheeky...” He said, giving you a kiss  ,”... I mean, sneaking around like this”

Sighing, you nodded. You did not disagree, for he had point.

The fact that you and Reggie Kray have been secret lovers for almost a month, does not make it easy to find the time to be alone together. That time was scarce, it was limited. Pretense was a default mode. And when you made love, indulgence and appreciation was represented by muffled cries or suppressed moans.

“So…” he said, stroking your cheek, “Esmeralda’s tonight?” He asked.

“Oh…” you began, leaning forward to brush your nose against his neck, “I will be at home” you whispered, “…waiting for you” purring, you looked at him before you bit your lower lip.

“As long as you promise to be quiet” Reggie teased, urging you to scoff softly.

“Shut up and kiss me”

The mopping brush will remain on the floor for a few more minutes, until these secret lovers decide to part their lips from each other.

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

(The next day, 1 day ago)

The snap of Ronnie’s fingers sounded so loud, bringing you back from your trail of thoughts while staring into the distance with a glass of sherry on your hand.

Close friends and members of the Firm gathered for a meeting at Kray’s matriarchal household. Once important matters were discussed, then came drinks and catching up.

“What do I have to fucking do, to get you to come to Esmeralda’s again? Put a red carpet?” Ronnie sounded soft, yet irritated.

“Well...that would be nice actually” you sniggered for a second until Ronnie looked away. “Awww...” you cooed, upon seeing his stubbornly upset face, “I’m sorry darling...” you said , leaning in to peck him on the cheek, “I wanted to but...I wasn’t feeling well”

His grunt of forgiveness saved you in the end.

“But I bet you must have had a smashing time” you said, trying to cheer him up, “Wasn’t Reggie there?” You asked, subtly motioning towards him who conversed with Albie in the far corner.

“No...he wasn’t” Ronnie replied, lighting up his cigar “was probably out with his new missus I’m sure”

“Yeah, probably” you muttered, hopelessly taken by how handsome Reggie looked. Only to realize Ron was sitting next to you.

“Wait a Minute, The the last time you weren’t there, so was Reg...” Ronnie began, suddenly in the midst of realization. You grew nervous.

“Really?” Hurriedly, you got up casually ,”Would you excuse me...” you said, as you left him to this thoughts.

As he watched you walk away, as he took a glance at Reg sneakily peaking at you passing him by, Ronnie couldn’t help but wonder.

“Fascinating..” he muttered.

Walking briskly, you found Mrs. Kray busy in the kitchen.

“Oh let me help with that Mrs.Kray” you said cheerfully as you released Violet Kray from washing the plates.

“Ah…aren’t you such an angel” she said, her tone filled with fondness over you. You beamed.

“Actually, Y/N…” she began, “Would you mind terribly if I ask you for a favor?”

Turning to her, you looked at her with eagerness.

“Anything Mrs.Kray”

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

(This morning)

Shutting the car door, Reggie stood in front of the house, filled with doubt.

“Somethin’ wrong Reg?”

Peeping from the window, Frank Shea asked while sitting on the driver’s seat.

“No...” Reggie replied, with his hands in his overcoat pockets, “Just wondering if mum is alright. She was fine last night”

“Well, all she told me was she wanted to see you...” Frank said, “... maybe you should check on her to make sure”

“Hmmm...right” nodding, Reggie set off towards the house, while Frank watched him with a grin on his face.

Knocking on the door was the only option for him, since he forgot the keys in such a hurry. First knock, no answer. Another attempt made, still nothing. Before he could knock once more with concern, he heard a female voice.

“Who is it?” Oddly sounding familiar.

“It’s Reggie...”

His defenses were torn down the moment your inquisitive head popped out from the door.

“Y/N?” He asked, confused.

“And Good Morning to you too” you replied, your hair tied in a soft high bun. Sighing, Reggie moved forward, “Where’s mum? Frank said she was asking for me” his entrance forced you open the door, backing up, “ Didn’t even have breakfast cause I was worried   .Fucking starving st-“

He paused, lips parting with surprise the moment he fully turned to face you, and your eye-opening attire.

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

Loving Reggie Kray was indeed wonderful. But it brought out the adventurous side of you as well. Hence, you did not bat an eyelid to miss a chance to spice up a Sunday morning.

Dressed in nothing but a silk robe and lace panties, you made sure your ensemble seemed complete with garter belts and stockings, along with his favorite pair of heels you owned.

Caressed by the softness of the silk, your skin seemed more alive by his stare, which then had turned more towards lustful than confusion. And though you did not see yourself, you were certain your nipples reacted to his stare in an instant, given the fact it appeared to look like two mountain peaks covered with a veil of silk.

“Mrs Kray asked me to watch the place...” you spoke casually, “while she’s away to meet a friend” you said innocently, “ I was just passing the time and missed you oh so badly...” pouting  as you watched him slowly walk towards you “I hope you’re not cros-“

His passionate kiss hushed you in an instant while grabbing you by the arm. “With you...never” he whispered , resuming his kiss and deepening it quickly. You heard yourself moan without shame when you felt his hands hold you by the upper waist, allowing his thumbs to encircle your nipples over the silk robe. Fireworks setting off between your thighs, you held on to him by his belt.

Breaking away, he took his time to undo the knot, opening your robe to find those buds fully erect and receptive. You swore you heard him exhale loudly.

“You still hungry?” You asked, pressing yourself against him. Shaking his head, he looked at you.

“Nah..” breathlessly, he replied.

“Well ...” you began, stroking his visible erection over his pants,

“I am”

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

Worried of his brother’s absence, it was no surprise that Ronnie would stop by the house. Frank’s confused expression did not seem to sit well with him as he entered the house.

“Reg?”

Opening the unlocked door, Ronnie looked around with caution as he entered the house.

Worried of his brother’s absence at E.Pellicci this morning, it was no surprise that Ronnie would stop by. And Frank’s confused expression did not seem to bode well with him either.

“Mum?”

With no sign of his mother, he began to scan for signs of intrusion in the living room and kitchen. The steps he took on the staircase were slow yet careful. The moment he reached the top, he paused by a sudden noise. It was a grunt. And it seemed to be originating from Reggie’s room. Drawing out his gun, he slowly walked towards it. Halting by the closed door, he heard another grunt

“For Fucks sakes…” Reggie mumbled,“Hold still...”

Worried, Ronnie did not wait any longer.  With all his strength, he kicked the door to watch it open wide. With his gun pointed, Ronnie entered the room, only to drop his jaw with shock. For he saw it all in an flash.

You and Reggie together. Reggie, his brother, sitting comfortably on his bed, eyes closed in upmost pleasure while you stood on your knees between his thighs. Silk robe absent from your torso, your bare back writhed while you held on to his erect shaft, head bobbing back and forth as you feasted on him.

And he also saw how you both retracted in lightning speed, covering oneself and looking away in sheer embarrassment.

He saw it all indeed, with eyes so wide.

“The fuckin’ hell is this?”

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

(Present)

Heels clicked as you ran, as you ran through the streets with worry. This morning was certainly did not not take the adventurous route you expected. And it certainly proved to be nothing but embarrassing.

You wanted to see Reggie. You did not see him since he quickly persuaded Ronnie out of the house this morning after the reveal. Thank goodness he did, for you were able to dress, all the while gathering all forms of composure.

Hoping he’d be there, you slowed down the moment you saw the pub within your eye-line. You took deep breaths, calming oneself before entering. You longed for answers, you longed for reassurance. But as you entered, and found both brothers there, you weren’t sure what you longed for anymore.

“Right on time Y/N…” Big Charlie called out to you, “Go on and serve this to Ronnie now will ya?” He said, unaware of the situation as he handed you a plate of food. Fully aware of the fact you’re currently on the clock, you nodded curtly.  

The incident flashing before your eyes on repeat, you walked over to them with such difficulty.

“Here you go Ronnie” you sounded meek, putting the plate down in front of him.

You stood there before him, nervous yet impatient. Involuntarily settling yourself on the chair opposite him and next to Reggie, you felt your heart beat out of your chest with such intensity. Was it possible that you were about to face the ruin of everything? Your friendship with Ronnie? Your relationship with Reggie?

You wished you knew.

“So Y/N…” he said.

Involuntarily settling yourself on the chair opposite him and next to Reggie, you felt your heart beat out of your chest with such intensity. Especially when Ronnie began to continue:

“How the fuck did my brother taste?”

Your eyes never grew this wide with shock, until today.

“W-What?”

Slamming his fist on the table, Ronnie Kray began to burst out laughing.

Rolling your eyes, you could not help but bow your head down with embarrassment. As you watched him point at the both of you, you knew you will not hear the end of it.

“Oi!! It’s not funny Ron...” Reggie snapped, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Maybe for you...” Ronnie said, clapping his hands , “but it fuckin is for me” he added with joy.

“Oh my god...” you shook your head.

“Oh my god...??” He repeated, leaning in “Did you shag her up good to make her say that, Reg?”  

Face turning tomato red, you were drowning with embarrassment as you put your head on the table, unable to look at your friend.

“Y/N and Reggie! Fuckin brilliant!” Ronnie cried out, stuffing a cigar between his teeth.

Turning your head, you stealthily caught Reggie’s glance. With his hand moving to your back, he winked at you in comfort.And that’s when you finally found your smile. A smile of relief. With a realization.

For the secret was finally out in the open. And thankfully no bridges were burnt down because of it. Nothing was to be sacrificed either. A little embarrassment from Ronnie Kray was worth enough to bring in freedom to this blooming love, and a halt to all those silly excuses.

___________________________________________

A/N: To the Anon who requested to this, I hope you enjoyed it. And to the other readers i hope the same <3

Tagged: @starlightmornings @rogerfxckingtaylor @thisisjeany

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[oncerpotter2018]

DAY 3 - TOUGHER THAN THE REST // Held At Gun Point

Erik stood silently as his lungs tightened knowing there was nothing Charles could do any longer. He had to accept his fate and it was up to Charles to learn the lesson he needs to teach himself.

"No, you can't. There has to be another way. I can protect you. I can keep you safe, please just don't go" pleaded Charles as he took Erik's hand and held it in place. He tugged onto his arm so Erik would face his direction, once he was looking him straight in the eyes Charles pulled him down and kissed him full on the lips.

"I love you" Charles whispered breaking apart after a minute to breathe. Charles places his free hand on his lover's cheek and stroked them gently with his thumb. Erik smiled, a half hearted smile as he kissed Charles' head. He lifted his chin and kissed his lips once more.

"I love you too" he said pulling his Charles closer towards him, their foreheads touching.

"But what?" Charles knowing there is a catch to his words of affection. Erik sighed, his hot breath on Charles' skin, giving of the sense of life.

"But... I must go" he looks up, his hand still on Charles' own. Charles looked up into Erik's blue grey eyes and noticed the tears that began to fall from both of their eyes. Charles bursted into tears as he gave Erik what seemed to be their final hug. Their final goodbye.

"Please, if this is waht you want then go, but if you change your mind, you'll know where to find me" he said, his face still buried onto Erik's chest. The smell of his turtleneck and leather jacket would be the last thing he'll ever know. It was the autum smell, the feeling of wet leaves and dewdrops in the early hours of the morning. He'll miss that.

Erik hugged back wanting to savour the moment, to keep this memory alive.

"That's a done promise. There won't be a day that goes by that I won't be looking for a way back to you" said Erik taking back Charles into his arms. His eyes blurred with tears that still ran from his eyes. He kissed Charles one last time before he loosen his grip and let go of Charles' hand. Before he left, Charles ran after him, his arms waving wildly.

"Wait!" he cried, crashing into Erik once more.

"Charles, what's the matter?" Erik asked concerned as Charles went for a final hug. It was tight and if he hugged any tighter Erik could swear his heart would be in his throat.

"I just can't lose you.. I love you" he said one last time.

"I know... I know. I love you too" He said back, his heart beating slowly, his eyes closed for a few moments before something was slipped into his hand. Charles closer his finger upon the object before Erik had time to look.

"Don' look let, just promise me you'll remember me, that you'll always love me" Charles said. Erik closed his fingers firmly keeping to Charles' promise.

"I will"

Once he said those words, Charles let him go. He let him go knowing this was what he wanted. This was what Erik wanted. Charles watched as Erik took one last good look at him as he he began to disappear into the building.

Erik entered the glass doors knowing for the last time he was leaving Charles for good. When the people in the entrance noticed the man in the room, the panic in their eyes raised for the alarm but were surprised when Erik raised his hands in the air placing them behind his head and went on his knees. Without a moment to think, security entered and as quick as they came, they restrained Erik and took him deep down below the grounds of the Pentagon. They had been waiting for this day, the day for Erik Lehnserr, Magneto himself to either be taken down or have him surrender, it seems that the submission was the option in this case. But no matter how he was obtained they were just glad to know after what they had planned the world would soon be a better place.

"In here Lehnserr" said a guard pointing to a room made of glass and plastic. As Erik passed the man all he saw was the sickness and madness in his eyes, the wicked smile on his face.

"Come on Lehnserr, don't tell us you're scared?" mocked another man who stood by the door next to the other, smiling at his defeat. Erik didn't say a word as he entered the room. The men outside whispered something like that he couldn't hear but Erik knew that it wasn't good. When he had gotten a chance to sleep, his mind sadly drifted off to wondering where Charles was. What was he doing and how was he coping with his absence. All these questions were racing through his mind but all was interruped when strong arms gripped him tightly.

Erik tried to move, to do something to escape the graps that held him in his place. He struggled for freedom but something had punched him in the stomach making his body bend over. His lungs hurting from the constant pressure of the punches, either way he didn't know what was happening let alone who dared to punish him so.

"Get him up!" commanded a deep voice from the entrance and in an instance Erik knew who was talking.

"What do you want to do with him?" asked the other man beside him, his eyes looking at Erik's already bruised body. The other man gave a heavy laugh before walking over to where Erik was and yanked Erik by the hair, his throat titling back.

"Take him to the operation room, we have to make sure he gets the message" he replied to the young guard as he pushed Erik hard back to the ground. The others nodded at the request and with rough hands yanked Erik up not caring about his whimpers and cries. After a moments of wanting answers to whatever was going on the answers were finally given to him when a sharp pain entered his skin. This feeling went on for hours as if he was regretting his decision but there was nothing that could be done as he slipped out of consciousness. When he woke up, his arms couldn't move, his hips, chest and legs constrained only to realise he was strapped down, his body refusing to move. He tried to speak but even then he couldn't knowing that something was in his mouth that was blocking his words.

"Ah, Mr Lehnserr" said a voice from the doorway as the male approached Erik. "We much thank you for bringing yourself to us. You made our job a whole lot easier" the man said, his gloved hands stroking Erik's hair before a hand gripped his throat tightly. He squeezed chocking the life out of Erik even though he couldn't already breath from the gag. The man let go as Erik tried coughing, to get air back to his lungs, it was struggle, there was no denying that.

"Where do we begin, Dr?" said a female voice that Erik didn't recognise. He didn't even know who these people were, they seemed new for he had been arrested many time over getting used to the faces and voices of those keeping him away but these people were not those people. They were completely different.

"Hm, let's see now" the first man spoke, thinking of what vile torment he could possible do to Erik. Soon after a brief session of thinking the Dr got it, he fashioned an old timely device that would surely cause the most impact.

In what seemed to be an unethical approach to handling high risk prisoners, the bad doctor seemed to have no sense in eithical methods whatsoever. He had striked Erik hard, five, ten or even twenty times more getting stronger and quicker the more he did it. The whip had slashed out at its unwilling victum before the pain that coursed through him was unbareable. A couple of hours more and Erik had already passed out due to the combination of lack of air and the agonyising pain that shot right through his body every time the tails contacted his skin. Once the doctor knew he had enough, he couldn't resist the temptation and unstrapped Erik from the plastic table, pushing his body, letting it drop to the floor. His body dropped hard tot he hard and at some point broken bone filled the room making one employee squirm at the sounds, hearing the sudden gasps of Erik's awakening bakc to consciousness.

"Dr, what are you doing?" asked a young man as they watched the older male take Erik's body dragging it across the floor and stopping in the middle for all of them too see.

"Now listen carefully, this is how you get rid of a body" he said before in all their surprise he pulled out a gun from his pocket. Erik saw what it was and raised his hand but was back handed but the gun itself. Plastic. He should have know when he couldn't resgister any form of metal in the room.

"I've seen what you can do Lehnserr, I have learnt from other's mistakes now its your turn to pay for yours" he said out loud, taking note on the heated more on his cheek. One of the guards realising the potential risk stepped in, taking a risk of his own knowing the consequences of helping the prisoner especially someone like Magneto.

"Haven't you gone too far? Isn't this enough? There's no need to kill him" he stated, his eyes darting to his fellow comrades, his friends to stop this madness.

"It seems that your friends aren't with you Stanley" the Dr said before turning back to Erik, the blood, both fresh and dry still caked his face and aching body. He stepped forward and pressed the tip of the gun he had just cocked back to his forehead.

"Now before I count from three is there any last words before your life ends right here, before you die for the mistakes and the pain you caused to so many humans?" the Dr said pressing the gun harder on to his forehead.

Erik at first said nothing, until he felt something in his pocket.

"Don' look let, just promise me you'll remember me, that you'll always love me" Charles' words filled his head knowing the promise he made as he felt the hard sharp in his pocket and knowing what it was. He gripped it tightly knowing his heart belonged to Charles. His heart beats for Charles. As the Dr got to two, Erik said his final words.

"Tell Charles Xavier Iove him. Tell him everything is going to be okay, that the world can now be a better place" he said, tears falling from his swollen eyes as the Dr got to one pulling the trigger with it. There lied Erik, his eyes open and a chess piece, the king, in his hand.

"Who is this Xavier? What was he talking about?" the older man said, wiping the blood from the gun, his face unsurprised by the sudden realisation coming from the silent room, some with tears running from their eyes, others shocked and fearing what would Charles do. While others stayed silent, their minds wondering in lost thoughts of waht has he done. Stanley stepped forward, knelt beside Erik's head body and held him close. He knew Charles well. They first met at an Mutant Eithics lecture at The Pentagon. He was a friend and knows about him and Erik, their relationship together and so did the others.

"What are you doing?" said the Dr noticing Erik on Stanley's lap.

"You killed him, now you must face the Department of Mutant Humanitarian Rights for your actions" he said not taking his eyes off Erik. Soon, others knelt down beside him and closed their eyes knowing their thoughts would inform Charles. To let him know but it was best to do it in person.

The events of this tragedy was investigated by the Department of Mutant Humanitarian Rights and found the Dr was part of the Anti-Mutant Association, a party of people who sends men to kill mutants, it seems one breached The Pentagon as a doctor and had successfully killed Magneto. Some had cheered for his death, congratulationing the killer for his success but some were outraged and rioted the streets. While others stayed silent, as Charles did as he buried his boyfriend knowing the last thing he said was he promised. Promised to love him forever. It seems that fate was cruel that day. Too cruel for Charles to handle. He watched as Hank placed the last remaining dirt on the casket while he held tightly to his own King chess piece, knowing Erik was buried with his, the last thing that would be a part of Charles that he would have that will still be with him.

[imagine-darksiders]

So what would the 4 Horsemen, Azrael, and Ulthane be like with a deaf s/o?

Admittedly, I have done this one before so I’m upgrading that one. Ulthane’s is 100% new though x

Death: He suspects that you can’t physically hear him when he calls out to you from behind and garners no reaction from you. 

You don’t even jump, you merely continue on your way and he starts to ponder whether you’re deaf, or just dense. 

Before any demons can stumble upon you, he makes his way around to your front, maintaining a respectable distance as not to startle you too much. The moment he emerges from your peripheral vision, you gasp loudly and nearly trip up in your haste to scrabble backwards. 

To your surprise, the terrifying, masked man quickly makes very exaggerated signs with his hands that he means you no harm and you’re rendered briefly stunned that someone who is so obviously not human can use sign language. Although you’re certainly shocked, the fact that you can understand him is vaguely reassuring. 

Death slowly approaches you, making placating gestures and signing ‘friend’ again and again until he’s sure you aren’t about to bolt. Then, he moves on to asking what you’re doing out here alone. 

He knows you won’t last much longer by yourself, even if you could hear demons sneaking up behind you. Peering down at a wary, confused young human, Death reaches a decision and lifts his hands, slowly signing out, ‘C o m e  w i t h  m e.’ 

Something about the man tells you it isn’t a request.

War: You spot each other from across a street littered with upturned cars, building rubble and the bodies of demons and angels alike. Eyes locked, you both look equally as startled as the other and neither of you move for several, long seconds. In the end though, you decide you’d rather not wait to be hunted down by the armoured behemoth, so you turn and bolt. 

War begins to follow after, shouting that he won’t hurt you. Despite his insistence however, you refuse to stop which only serves to agitate him and drives him to turn his jog into a charge, bowling cars out of the way as if they were skittles. He catches up easily and his enormous, gauntleted hand snags your shirt, spinning you around to face him and lifting you clean off the ground.

“Why did you continue to flee?” he growls, frowning in confusion when you lift your hands frantically and perform odd symbols in front of his face. Brows furrowing deeper, he lowers you back onto your feet and then, in a far gentler tone, asks, “Can’t you speak?”

Eyes glistening with unshed tears, you shakily press a finger to your cheek, just in front of your ear and he blinks widely in understanding. “You can’t hear…”

Releasing your shirt and allowing you to stumble backwards away from him, War grumbles, realising that this complicates things and he won’t be getting the answers to questions he needs to ask you. Suddenly, you turn and start to bolt again but a strong grip on your upper arm jerks you to a halt. You push and shove at the large fingers keeping you anchored to the strange, hooded man but he doesn’t seem as though he’s about to let you go any time soon. 

Strife: He’d been following you for a while now. Amused that you hadn’t noticed him, even when he deliberately scuffed his boot or coughed loudly to see if you were ever aware of your surroundings. Eventually however, he got bored, and curious.

“Hey, Human!” he called, jogging up behind you. 

No response.

Strife frowns at the implication that you might be blatantly ignoring him. “HellOOoo?” You still don’t turn and he almost just says ‘stuff it’. But he’s far too inquisitive about you to let alone. So he strides right up behind you and taps you sharply on the back with a huff.

A second later, the poor horseman recoils as if he’d been stung and lets out a yelp when you leap an impressive three feet into the air, a strangled cry leaving your throat. Immediately trying to flee, you bound forward only to have your shirt snagged and you soon find yourself lifted high off your feet and spun around to dangle helplessly in front of a masked giant.

He balks when your face twists up and tears begin to glisten behind your eyelids. 

“Hey, what gives?” he asks, tilting his head and placing you gently back on the ground, “What’s with the waterworks?” But without being able to see his mouth, you can’t even hazard a guess at what he’s saying which only makes you cry harder, quivering in his loose grasp. 

Strife sighs in defeat, scratching the back of his helm and peering at you awkwardly. Just then, without warning, he bends down and grabs you under one arm, lifting you against his side and ignoring your feeble protests. The horseman carries you, chattering inanely all the way to Haven, deciding that it might be best to wait until you calm down properly before he tries to get you to talk to him again.. .

Fury: She found you when you were being stalked by a trio of phantom guards. They advanced and you turned when a large shadow fell over you, your mouth opening in a silent scream. Fury had waited until the very last second before deciding that she should probably step in and when she did, she wasted no time dispatching the demons easily and cleanly. You fell to the ground and stared up at her fearfully as she approached you with a disdainful sneer tugging her lips down. 

“Fancy not noticing your enemy until it is right on top of you!” she scolds, “You’re lucky I was here.” 

Seconds tick by in which you continue to stare at her wordlessly. At your look of total misunderstanding, Fury’s sneer turns into a scowl. “Oh, of all the - Look, I’m not going to harm you.” 

You shake your head, hands raised and jerking about unsteadily through the air. The horseman rolls her eyes. “Say something!” 

“Can’t!” you finally squeak out, your voice clumsy and weak with misuse, “M’deaf!” 

Squinting suspiciously, Fury cocks her hips and replies, “Oh really? Then how did you understand what I just said?” 

You touch a few fingertips to your mouth. “I can…lip read.” 

“I…” She pauses and her expression softens by the tiniest fraction. “Oh. Well…Here -” 

You promptly find an odd stone disc shoved into your face. 

“You need to touch this,” Fury continues slowly, over exaggerating every syllable, “It will take you somewhere safe.” 

“You can speak normally,” you grumble, “I’ve been reading lips for a long time…” 

The strange lady huffs, toe tapping on the concrete but she doesn’t lower her hand and refuses to answer any more of your questions until you agree to touch the Bridge. 

Azrael: He’s surprised, to say the least, when he comes across a human who doesn’t even seem to notice him.

With a gentle smile, he floats up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You freeze at the light touch and can’t help but allow yourself to be turned around until you’re suddenly staring up into a pair of kindly, white eyes. It’s his soft features and reassuring expression that stops you from panicking outright and lets you find the nerve to shakily sign at him. Azrael cocks his head slightly in confusion before nodding in understanding, concluding that this must be the only way you can speak to him. You would have said something out loud, otherwise.

The angel doesn’t know a lick of sign language, but he’s determined to learn for you. He uses every resource he has at his disposal and exhausts his efforts, and finally, he manages to get his hands on some old human texts that contain visual references to your unique language. It takes him a couple of days, but with your help, he manages to near enough master sign language.

A few angels ask him why he bothers, so he sets them straight, politely but firmly with a tight-lipped smile and a sharp tongue. He takes you, quite literally, under his wing.

Ulthane: He was looking down over the city below from the tree when he spotted you wandering across the street, tailed by a gruesome, opportunistic sycophant. Frantic, the maker bellows out a warning but the only one who looks up to hiss at him is the demon. You don’t even break your stride. In an instant, Ulthane vaults over the side of the tree and plummets towards the ground, splintering the tarmac upon impact. 

At last, you turn around, but only because you’d felt the vibrations rumble through your feet and you’re seeking out the source. The shock of seeing a hulking giant barreling towards you with his hammer raised high in the air sends you sprinting with all your might in the other direction. 

“Wait!” the maker roars desperately. The sycophant had dematerialised when he hit the earth but he knows they never stay gone for long. 

Sure enough, several feet in front of you, the air begins to shimmer and you don’t register what this could mean until a hideous demon suddenly materialises out of nowhere, claws held aloft ready to bring them down on your flimsy flesh. 

All you can do is utter a tinny yelp and skid to a halt, falling over onto your back. However, before the demon can bear down on you, its head snaps up and you just have time to see the beady, little eyes widen in surprise when a hammer the size of a table slams into the sycophants side and sends it flying, crushed to death thanks to the force of impact. 

You sit there in shock, your chest rising and falling rapidly until you suddenly feel an enormous fist close around you. You’re rendered completely helpless, unable to do anything but writhe as the giant turns you in his grip and then, you’re face to face with your captor. Two teeth protrude like tusks from his lower gums and glint harshly in the sunlight. His lips are moving, but you’re too transfixed on the present danger to concentrate on deciphering his words. 

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” Ulthane growls, shaking you as roughly as he dared, which in all honestly was woefully gentle, “I was tryin’ to warn you, you daft - …..Are you listenin’ to me?” He squints an eye shut and lifts you a little higher, away from his mouth. Finally, your gaze snaps up and you meet the dazzlingly blue eyes of an otherworldly being. No longer fixated on his teeth, you find your voice. 

“I - I can’t hear you!” you sputter, hoping that he wouldn’t be angry if you could just explain why you weren’t replying to him, “I’m deaf!”

The maker hesitates, mouth beginning to open around another reprimand and clacking shut again at your words. “Oh,” he blinks owlishly, caught off guard. He doesn’t listen to your meagre pleas for release when he takes you up towards Haven, knowing you’ll be far safer with him and the others than you will be out here by yourself. “Just stop squirming, m’not gonna hurt you,” he rumbles before mentally kicking himself, “Oh right, you can’t hear me.” Clearing his throat, the maker slows to a brief halt, just long enough to raise you back up to his face and offer you what he hopes is his friendliest grin. 

When the giant stopped abruptly and peeled his lips back, you almost fainted on the spot. But then, his lips moved slowly to form a word and although you had to squint and focus hard, you eventually understood what he was saying after he repeated the same thing several times. 

“Friend,” Ulthane hums, using his other hand to point first at you, and then at himself. 

Ever so slowly, the terror seeps out of your eyes and you blink back the wetness there. A hiccough escapes your throat, and Ulthane is glad you can’t hear the noise of endearment that leaves his own. 

“Friend,” you echo, exhaling shakily when the giant dips his head in a slow nod, his smile softening enough to hide his teeth. 

“Aye, friend.” 

[edda-blattfe]

Emotionally sadistic short stories... idk what exactly that is but I am. Intrigued👀

~Ooh! I’ve been waiting for someone to ask about that. Thank you for doing the honors, darlin’!~

A demonstration is in order! Hold on just a tick...

————————————————————————————————————————

Moonlit snow crackled underfoot, as the raven haired child trudged aimlessly on through the stagnant night. Trees, dark and lifeless as the charred bones of a beast lost to the flame, towered above, casting grim shadows across the horizon; their empty branches reached towards the heavens, begging the full moon for salvation from this harsh winter. The moon, that eye of a cruel god, could answer no such prayer, as it hung in the velvety black sky.

None of this meant anything to boy. No. His empty eyes could only mutely gaze at the frozen earth before him. Sight was the only sense he could trust now. Other than the child’s labored breath and footsteps, nothing else dared to break the hold silence had over the land. The singed woolly blanket, thin night clothes, and hide boots did little to ward off the cold; his flesh tingled, feet numb from the copious amounts of snow fasted to his ankles. For sanity’s sake, all scent had to be shunned; taste along with it. Yes, sight was his only ally.

The world was empty. He was empty.

He moved on.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

His feet were growing heavier.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

‘Keep moving,’ he urged them.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The empty trail behind grew longer.

Crunch. Cru-

‘Stuck. Great.’

Chapped lips pursed, baby cheeks puffed in frustration, the ravenete tugged at his leg. It didn’t move.

Fear quickened his heartbeat.

Another try. Nothing.

‘“Never stand still too long in the cold, my love,’” his mother’s words echoed painfully, ‘“ lest it take you from me.”’

One more time. He heaved, mustering all the streangth possible in his small body.

The snow gave away. He was free. Then lost his balance, falling face first into the snow.

A frustrated groan escaped the ravenette. Arms extended, he pushed himself up. Snow clung to his face. His knees and palms ached painfully. He almost wished they grow as numb as his stumpish feet. He held himself there, crouched in the snow.

‘Would it be so terrible to stay here.’

There it was. Numbness, creeping it’s way through his extremities.

‘There’s no one left....nothing left, for me.’ He eased himself back down. ‘I can fall asleep here, and not worry about tomorrow.’

His eyes, heavy, cold, fluttered closed. ‘I can rest...’

“Why, there you are!”

The boy snapped back to reality. He thought- no, he knew there was no one else in the woods.

“I have been searching every where for you,” the child hurriedly lifted himself up onto his knees, facing the stranger, “My little prince.”

Perhaps it was the particular lilt in the creature’s voice, or the devilish grin, whatever the cause, the boy felt as though he were face to face with a vicious predator. A frighteningly beautiful predator. It looked no older than an adolescent human, but it was certainly anything but that. Its ears were pointed, and the boy could clearly see fangs glinting from behind those thin lips. It stood atop the snow without any sign of breaking the surface, pale flesh glowing, just like the frozen substance, beneath the cold light of the full moon. Choppy black and magenta hair framed the thing’s youthful face.

But the feature that truly struck fear into the boy, was the creature’s eyes. Those deep rose red eyes. The color of blood. The color that spilled from his mother’s head as the home they shared burned around them.

He couldn’t ignore the overpowering scent of smoke that clung to him and the blanket. Memories flashed before him; blinding, terrifying fiery beings swallowing up everything flammable within the small cabin; the heavy blanket being thrown over him as he was pushed towards the door; the beam knocking his mother to the floor, her body lax, eyes empty...

The child’s face scrunched up, hands balled up and shaking. He choked back a sob. His breath hitched. No, he couldn’t break now...no matter how much he wanted to.

Meanwhile the creature merely watched from his place upon the snow, with no sign of pity, like the moon above.

“You have truly been through quite the ordeal tonight,” it sauntered towards the boy. “A terrible thing, really.” It halted in front of the child, and knelt before him. “But now is not the time for...well, this,” it waved a hand, not that anyone else could see it. It waited there, expecting the child to have the decency to look up. He didn’t, and the creature was not known for patience. It gave a huff. Then, in one swift motion, the creature scooped the child up from the snow and into its arms. Leaving the blanket.

The boy started at the abrupt contact. Feebly attempting to push himself away from the thing.

“Now, now, there is no need to struggle...oh for the love of..!” The creature held the child away from itself, holding him like one would a puppy or a doll, face morphed into an unamused expression. “If you will hold still for one moment, I promise not to eat you!”

The child did stop, looking at the creature with a face of utter confusion.

“Knew that would work. For future reference, I do not eat children...if I did, you certainly would not be my first choice.”

“F-future, reference?”

“By Elfame, the lad can speak! Yes. You will be living with me from now on.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

The child shook his head, “But, I don’t know you-.”

“You do not have to know me. I am an old friend of your father’s.”

“I don’t have one.”

The creature scoffed, rolling its bloody eyes, “Yes, you do. And a very..hm, unique one. Yes, that’s a good way to describe him...You know, you do bear some resemblance to the old man...What was your name? I swear someone mentioned it, but can not for the life of me recall-.”

“Maleus.” The boy spat. There didn’t seem to be any point in lying. He was becoming aware of how strong this thing’s scrawny arms must be to support him like this for so long.

“Ahh, that is right. Maleus,” It spoke the name slowly, as if it were savoring the flavor of each syllable, “Maleus Draconia.”

“Wait. That’s no-.”

“~Ooh, but it is!~” It finally drew Maleus back to its chest, offering some warmth to the freezing boy. “Draconia was the surname of your father, as it was his father’s, and so on into antiquity. Thus, it is yours!..Whether you like it or not.” It growled the last sentenced, glaring at the child as if expecting some sort of defiance.

Mal merely lowered his head in acceptance.

“Good!” It chirped, bouncing the child onto a hip and walking off to the right of the child’s previous path. “There is much for you to learn. The sooner you you do, the easier all of this will be for the both of us!”

Maleus studied the creature for a moment. “What are you?”

The creature cast a glance at him from the corner of his eye, “Well, that is rather rude. Don’t you think? Asking your guardian what they are before finding out who they are first?”

The boy only glared expectantly at the creature.

It sighed. “Hello Mal,” the creature began, voice monotone, “My name is Lilia, your fairy godfather.”

“My what?”

“Well, not the sort of fairy godparent you have heard of in those foolish tales humans tell. I was given the ‘honor’ of being your godfather, in the familial sense, since before you were even concie-.”

“You’re a boy?”

The fae paused. “That is your take away? You did hear the ‘fairy’ part, right?”

“The weird ears make that easy to believe.”

Lilia held a hand to his chest in feigned offens, “My ears are just as they should be, thank you very much. Just wait until yours grow in!”

“Mine aren’t like that.”

“Not yet. Here, let’s see,” the fairy brushed a few of the youth’s inky strands back. “There! The tips of your ears are pointed. Normally, they don’t fully grow in until puberty... how old are you?”

“Seven.”

“Yes, you have quite some time then. Now if you’re anything like dear old dad you should also have...Ahah!” His hand wandered from the child’s ears to a place just a few inches shy of his temple. “There’s one. Feels like it is almost ready to break through.”

“What is?”

“Your horns. -Do not say ‘what’ again. It is exactly as it sounds.”

Mal promptly shut his mouth.

The pair remained in silence for a time. Above, the moon had drifted into another part of the sky, and the child could almost smell the coming dawn. It was even more quite now than when he was all alone, since Lilia barely put a dent in the snow nor appeared to have any trouble with carrying his charge. Behind them, the indents from the boy’s trek grew further and further away, until they were completely swallowed up by the horizon, along with the woolen blanket.

“My mother...” Maleus whispered in his soft voice.

“She’s gone, little prince.”

The child somberly nodded. “I know.” He sniffled, wanting to hold back the waves of pent up emotion until later. “You-..you said I look like my father?”

“Yes....you have his eyes. That stunning green, with the tell tale fae pupil.” He mused, recalling a face lost long ago. “The shape is different, though. His were a tad round. The hair must be your mother’s. Thank Elfame for that, prince. His was this grayish purple, ugly as sin in my opinion, but he refused to put a glamour spell on it no matter what I did to him!” He laughed- well, it was more of a cackle, really. There was something eerie in it’s tone, and became far clearer as the it echoed throughout the frost laden wood. Mal was certain that if there were any other living beings around, they surely would have run off in fear.

“Why do you keep calling me a “prince”? Was my father a king?”

“No...not in a literal sense, at least.”

“Then why?”

“Curiouser and curiouser, you are!...Think of it this way; a king is a sort of leader, yes? Your father was, in a way, my leader. You will, one day, be a leader yourself. What do you call a boy who is to be king?”

“A prince...but wha-.”

“That is enough questions, for now. Once we arrive home and settle you in, then, and only then, will you be permitted to ask anything else. Do you understand?”

“Fine.” Curt, but it was a reply, nonetheless.

Onward they went, across the snow covered expanse, beneath the eye of the full moon.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Ok, perhaps I may have strayed a bit away from the “emotionally sadistic” vibe...but this was fun to write! Hope y’all enjoyed!

[ocean-taste]

Surrender to the Sun (Jasper x OC fluff) STEVEN UNIVERSE

SUMMARY: Amber lives on her own on an island close to Beach City. Her life changes when Jasper washes up on her beach, quite soon after she begs Lapis to take her back.

WARNINGS: Just a fluffy kiss.

~

Had she known what awaited on her on that beach, the same beach she walked on every day – where something new waited for her, I suspect she would’ve turned around, and walked far away. For she was now a woman of routine, she didn’t mean to be, that was what she had become, and when there was something new – often it wasn’t pleasant. Or at least, that’s what she had come to believe.

But in this story she didn’t walk away, she did anything but. After she pulled down the flag that evening, her dark green eyes laid upon a figure in the sand below her. A fish? Or a whale? Maybe some trash from Beach City had washed up on her lonely shore, whatever it was she went to inspect, and soon became horrified to see it was a human figure facing lifeless on the sand.

“Oh my god! Hello?! Are you okay? Can you hear me!” 

Quickly she shook the figure, it was large and full of muscle, and heavy to lift as she pushed the person so they were lying on their back. So heavy in fact, she found herself falling on top of them.

“O-Oh my gosh I’m sorry-“

“She doesn’t want me.” Lifting her head she saw the person, was in fact a woman. Facing upwards vacantly in the sky, her amber eyes somewhere far away.

“What? Um, I’m Amber, what’s your name? Are you hurt?”

“She doesn’t want me.” The woman’s deep voice sunk even lower than before, Amber stared down at her confusedly as she still laid on the woman’s chest, though clearly the woman was too strong to mind or even notice.

“She doesn’t want me.” Amber’s heart broke a little when she listened to the woman’s voice break; as soon as tears began to form on her strong face she hid them with her arm. Biting her lip fiercely as she forced back the tears and croaks.

“I’m useless, disgusting, worthless, no wonder she doesn’t want me! But I’m nothing without her! I don’t want to be on my own again!”

“H-hey, you’re not alone.. I’m here aren’t I? C’mon,” Hesitantly, Amber placed her hand on the golden woman’s cheek, making her jump a little at the touch.

“What’s your name? Let’s start there.”

“…Jasper.”

“Jasper. Okay. You’re soaking wet, you’ve got sea water in your eyes even.” 

Jasper held back a smile as the human girl used the ocean as a disguise for her tears, she didn’t know her at all but somehow she knew she didn’t want to owe up to the fact she was crying.

“Let’s get you dry and warm, c’mon. It’s getting dark.”

~ I had that dream again, where I told that big orange lug how I had come to feel. It has been playing on my mind for some time now, when I finally realised what I’ve been feeling. The dream replays in my mind constantly, but it always ends before Jasper could answer – a typical cliché. Because I knew what she’d say: she belongs to someone else.

It took me awhile it’s fair to say to discover I held romantic feelings towards her, as we’ve always been close. We kinda had no choice in that matter, she washed up on my beach one day and I was as isolated as they came. With only a boat ride once a month coming with my groceries from Beach City, I was all on my own on my little cliff, and that’s how I liked it. Until now of course. We didn’t warm to each other immediately, but she knew she needed some help even if she didn’t want to admit it and I was curious about her, having little to no contact with people I wondered if a gem would be any different, and she was – she was better.

She had a natural admiration for new things and how they worked, whenever she thought I wasn’t looking she would show her curiosity with beaming golden eyes with the most stupid, but most adorable look on her face. When she’d catch me looking she’d clear her throat and ask what such a strange object was, and I’d tell her it was a toaster or something silly that has long since lost it’s magic for me – a boring human. But not to Jasper, that little toaster meant the world for a little moment – that’s when I knew, I was falling deeper and deeper.

“I-I’m.. not good enough…”

I turned my head to see the big orange giant I adored, having the same nightmare again. Though Jasper didn’t need sleep she’d put herself into it just because there was a chance she’d see her again.

I clenched my sheets as I brought my knees to my face, trying to bury myself away from the resentment I felt. Jasper told me everything. Though now I think she regrets it, and pretends she never mentioned it. As she did burst emotionally to me when we first met, though I don’t think she meant to. I just happened to be there to listen.

~

“I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER!!!” The woman screamed again as she punched her fist into the waters. Her large fingers sinking into the sand like the tears that streamed down her face. Again and again she’d punch the waves of subdued waters that had once kept her prisoner, but they remained unaffected by her passion.

“I’M NOTHING!!! I’M NOTHING-“

Slap.

Jasper breathed heavily as her vision returned to her. Indeed the slap was weak, Jasper was one of the strongest Gems back in homeworld - any normal strength being was like a fly to her, and yet something still dared to test her. She turned and saw a human. Staring down at her with fiery green eyes. 

“Shut up!”

“Y-you.. YOU DARE TRY TO SILENCE ME?” Jasper tried to push herself up but her arms still felt so heavy and her legs refused to stand. Being under such pressure for so long, her body felt like lead. It was only moments ago her strength in her arms returned.

“I hate people like you, that’s why I moved away from everyone. Yet here you are, on my beach. Punching water.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Jasper croaked as she swung her arms at the human, though she was kneeling she tried to land a hit but they only stepped back, making her fall face first on the sand again.

Jasper spat at the golden dust that itched at her fangs, it tasted like her. The salt. The water. All of it, was her in some way. Jasper loathed how she was feeling, Jaspers’ were meant to be strong – unfazed by emotions in the heat of battle. But that ocean wrench, had gotten under her skin.

“She’s.. gone.. She left me; all alone… you don’t get it. I feel like there’s something missing.. something important…”

“I know. But you’re wrong to value yourself on whether a person is with you or not.” Slowly, Jasper felt a hand slither from under her chin against the sand, and carefully raise her head so she looked up. Of course Jasper’s head alone was heavy, so the human slipped her other hand there to help. Jasper stayed still, for the first time in her life – she felt too distraught, too angry, too sad – to even feel or do anything.

“You, yourself are that important something. You have to – look inside yourself for it. It’s something that doesn’t need someone else for it to shine, it just – does. You think you can only be strong with this person, that’s not true. And it isn’t love. Love is when that person cheers you on, but you don’t need them to be there – you choose for them to be there. To watch each other shine, then you shine together.”

Jasper could only stare at the human as her vision once again began to grow black, but in her last act the Gem reached out for the human.

“Shine…”

And there she fell, back into the golden sand. 

~

“God I said such corny stuff back then..” I cringed as I thought back to the memory, running a hand in my hair as Jasper shifted in her sleep again.

“..Good…Enough…” I bit my lip as I lay back down next to her. Staring at her blonde hair falling over her eyes as her brow continued to fury together as she dreamt on restlessly. It angered me how this other Gem person still affected Jasper, that my words really hadn’t sunk in back then. What I’d give if she would just – maybe, think of me like she did with this other gem. Maybe my idea of love was all wrong; maybe I wanted her to be selfish with me. To consume me. 

But what the hell would I know? I couldn’t even take my own advice. When things got hard back home I just got up and left, I didn’t let anyone reach out to me. Now I have a gem I am beside myself in love with, but she doesn’t hold any emotion like that towards me. I guess I deserved it, a runaway like me – doesn’t deserve love.

“..Enough… She… Good…” Jasper mumbled, rubbing her face in the pillows whilst I shuffled closer to her.

“I want to be good enough.. for you…” The warmth I felt from Jasper was always unreal to me, she was like a golden sun, and I so desperately wanted to be burnt.

“I’m no Gem but.. I’d try to make you happy… happy enough to coexist with me… so if anything were to happen; you could live on with little pain… I don’t know what I’m saying, or what I mean… and you’re asleep and I’m frustrated but- damnit Jasper. I lo-“

Panic struck me as I looked up to see the whites of Jasper’s eyes glowing in the dark, staring strait at me with not an inch of sleep in her iris’. She was as wide awake as they came. I jumped back in shock, but she only pinned me down beneath her in response. I stared up at her, trying to read her expression in the dark but my eyes weren’t adjusting quick enough. But I knew with her alien vision – she could see my bright red cheeks.

“Finish what you were saying.”

“A-aha, what? Saying what? I’m s-sure I don’t know-“

“Don’t lie. Say it.”

I rolled my lips in a tight thin line, keeping my secret far back at the end of my throat. I turned my head against the pillow, refusing to meet her gaze whilst I tried to look for a solution but my mind grew blank. I could feel her grow angry as her grip on my arms tightened a little – but not too much, she was always aware of how weak I was compared to her.

“…I don’t want to use violence, but I’m a Jasper. That’s all I know to get information.” 

I turned to look up at her desperately, slightly afraid of what she’d do. She could crush me easily if she wasn’t careful. Slowly she raised her arms into her battle stance I had grown to know, even though I was at the other end of her fists she still looked so beautiful above me.  The way her biceps flexed as she shifted, her own body was dancing and I bet that was how she thought of war – a dance.

Funny how before I knew her, I could never see war and pain as something as beautiful as a dance. But she made me think that maybe I could find it beautiful, or more like I want to see her fight. I want to see her do everything, and remember every detail.

Quickly her hands descended upon me, I flinched as I expected a punch but instead I was greeted with a strange feeling. An itch? No a pinch? Whatever it was, it was sending shivers all over me and it made me want to laugh – looking down I saw her tickling me all over, receiving the desired effect from me as I laughed hysterically.

Her fingers crossed over my skin numerous times, returning to certain spots where she knew I found particularly infectious, quickly she was winning as tears formed in my eyes.

“H-ha! Haha! Jas-Jasper stop! Please!”

“Not until you finish what you were saying!”

She pressed deeper into my ticklish areas as the tears streamed down my face, I knew I couldn’t handle anymore as my legs flailed in the air as she sat on my lap, unaffected by my attacks – her mission was clear. With a shaky inhale I ran through the words in my mind, hugging them dearly as they had stayed with me for so long – now at last they’d reach her. The one I desired most.

“F-Fine!... I… I-I…. I love y-you Jasper.”

Instantly her fingers stopped and returned to her side. I pressed the switch next to my bed, lighting my bedside lamp so I could see her better. I turned to see my lovable giant half smiling. But the disappointment in her eyes was clear. “Well… stop.” Pain struck the inside of my heart, but it soon turned into something bitter.

“S-stop? Y-you can’t just… dismiss me like that! Fine if you don’t love me back but- goddammit Jasper I love you! Accept my feelings at least!”

“Amber stop that. You look like fire. If you don’t stop I’ll-“

“You’ll what? Tickle me again? Fine! Do your worst! I don’t care! Whatever you do, I won’t stop loving you-“

Before I could react, I felt a pair of lips crash against my own. They were hot, warm like a golden sun, at long last – I was burning. My hands travelled up into her long golden locks as I stroked her head and hair. I felt her large hands travel up and down my side, making me shiver. One of her hands gripped mine and pushed it above my head, her grip light, she let me determine how tightly she could go. Even now, she was aware of her strength against me.

Soon we parted for a breath; she stared down at me with eyes I hadn’t seen before. They weren’t their usual distant hurt ones, they were here. Whatever she had been looking at before, she was finally looking at me. I felt like I could melt into my sheets if I wanted to, but I needed answers.

“Jasper… what am I to you?”

Instantly Jasper looked hurt from this notion, she shook her head as her cheeks began to bloom a bright orange. She hid her face in my neck, not wanting to meet my eye.

“…I’m a Quartz, Amber.  I am stronger than anything on this human world; I could destroy mountains with just my fist if I wanted to.  Which is why… I shouldn’t love you, Amber. I could kill you if I’m even the slightest too rough… you’re like glass to me.”

“I don’t care.” Gently I pushed her off me, she did so obliged as I stared down at her.

“You could never break me. I’ve been breaking myself not telling you how I’ve felt. Jasper, let’s at least try. “ 

Jasper stared up at me, scanning my eyes for any sense of hesitance. When she was sure she had found none, she sighed. I prepared myself to be dismissed again when I felt her hands slowly rise up and down my thighs, I looked back at her and she was smiling shyly.

“This is the one battle I’m willing to lose.”

I smiled ear to ear; something began at my toes then rushed up to my head. Like a bolt of hot lightening. I leaned down and kissed her again, she obliged, our lips matching together perfectly. Her hands began to travel and explore me completely as did mine, and as I began to melt to her touch – I knew nothing would be the same ever again.