#the fate he's tied to took him over using his broken heart

[helmarok]

genuinely so angry about this. you gave us a red-maned man with a big ol nose in the botw tapestry only for it to just have been another little white boy? no ganon? no hero ganon? like i was really hoping he'd have been the chosen hero but demise's curse and all of his previous reincarnation history has doomed him into being seen as evil by the kingdom he saved, and his portrayal as a villain in TOTK would have been his rage after what the people he loved did to him. that would have made a very good story about fate and the harm hatred can do but no that isn't what we're getting. did i expect nintendo to go the classic "ganon is evil!" route? yes. am i happy that they did after 30+ years of "ganon is evil!" formula? no of fucking course. i want more insight on him as a person and his culture. i want more lore on how he feels as a gerudo male and how he feels being born into a curse or being born as someone history has always scorned. but we'll never get it and that kills me

[justtwotired]

Whispers of the night -Lloyd Garmadon x F!reader

This is a PT 2, here is part 1

Y/n was mindlessly skateboarding trough the streets, listening to the music blasting trough her headphones while silently humming along.

It was night time, not many people roamed the streets anymore, and they especially stayed away from fighting notices coming from an alleyway.

Not Y/n though, she didn’t hear a thing as she put the sound of her music up.

Suddenly she was ripped from her skateboard and a hand was pressed against her mouth, she felt something sharp against her neck.

Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her.

“Nice haul.” Kai called out to the five men that had just robbed a jewellery store, leaving the owner fatally injured. Zane was currently with him waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

“Yet, I think it abetted if you hand that back to us.” Kai’s voice had a threat laying beneath it and one of the robbers huffed. “And how do you intend to stop us?” He took a step forward with confidence.

Lloyd couldn’t help but smirk beneath his mask. Once again some simple robbers underestimating them.

“Let’s make a deal,” Cole jumped down the wall that was the end of the alleyway. “You hand is that sack, and maybe you will get away with this without broken bones.” He said.

“Sure, why don’t we make a deal,” the man, that was obviously their leader, stepped forward. “You let us go, and we won’t hurt one of your beloved citizens.” He grinned and the ninja shared unamused looks.

“That seems like a nice deal, of course, but uh, I think you are missing a part of your plan.” Jay said matter of factly.

“Oh, right,” the leader smirked. “Kano,” he looked back, and the biggest of the group smirked.

As if it was fate, someone just came by the alley and she was ripped of her skateboard by ‘Kano’ and another of the men pressed a knife against her neck.

The five Ninja recognised the girl immediately as the one that had given Lloyd her number. She looked up and her eyes widened when she saw the Ninja.

Great, of course she’d land herself in such a situation. She was obviously not going to tell her mother who’d get mad at her for sneaking out and she’d definitely get an ‘I told you so.’

“Alright, let the girl go.” The black ninja spoke. “And why would we do that?” One of her captors spoke.

“Out of the goodness of your heart?” The blue ninja tried making the others glare at him and Y/n rolled her eyes at the comment.

Couldn’t they get this over with? She was actually rather cold and still needed to go to school tomorrow.

She’d free herself, but the man holding her was way stronger than her so she didn’t bother. Not like her illusions would help in a situation like this too.

“Look, just let the girl go, we can handle this without you hurting another citizen,” the green ninja stepped forward, a hand resting in the hilt of his sword.

Oh they hurt another citizen? This situation might be a bit more serious then she expected.

Suddenly the guy that was holding her loosened his grip and she saw this as an opportunity to bit his hand and push the hand holding the knife away.

She wirled around to see the man falling on the floor unconscious, and behind him stood the white Ninja, who was, although the mask, obviously smirking.

The other ninja didn’t waste a second in taking out the others and moments later all of them where unconscious and tied up.

“Are you alright, miss?” The white ninja looked at her as she inspect her wrist that had been held incredibly tight.

“Yeah, I’m fine, rather cold though, so I guess I’d be headed home.” She shrugged and they looked at her in shock.

“You’re not hurt or anything, maybe a bit in shock?” The green ninja stepped forward. “Well, my wrist does hurt but that’ll be fine, I’ve handled worse injuries.” She waved it off.

And stepped out of the alleyway, looking around for her skateboard and cursing to herself when she didn’t see it.

“Here.” She turned around and it seemed the green ninja had already found it as he was holding it out to her. “Do you need Anglicanism to walk you home?” The water ninja asked her with concern and Y/n smiled.

“Nah, I’m fine,” she assured.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t roam the streets on your own at this time.” The black ninja suggested and she shrugged. “I think I’ll survive, but bye I guess.” She said and then took off, calling Amelia on her way home to tell her the story.

—/—

The next day all eight of the friends walked trough Ninjago city.

“You you just told them that your fine, a bit cold, but you’d just get home easily and alone?” Luna asked with raised eyebrows and Y/n nodded. “That’s like the biggest you thing to do.” She laughed.

“What? It was not a big deal, it lasted five reminders tops, I don’t have to go to therapy for that?”

The others laughed and suddenly Anthony stopped walking. “What?” Arthur stopped next to him. “I’m kind of hungry, what about you?” Anthony smirked.

“Like you read my mind.” Charlie gave the same kind of smirk back. “Harvey’s, then?” Flora asked and everyone nodded. It was a huge supermarket almost everyone in Ninjago got their stuff there.

As they walked towards the place, they came by the alley Y/n had been the night before and she pointed it out with a small smile.

“Damn, almost died here then?” James joked making her laugh. “Imagine if you had died! Could I have gotten your skateboard then?” Luna looked at her.

“Absolutely not! It would definitely go to me!” Amelia protested. “You’re telling me that if I died, the problem would be who’d get my skateboard?” Y/n asked with a raised brow.

“Well, that’s not my problem, I’d just raid your closet.” Flora shrugged making everyone laugh.

They entered Harvey’s and smiled innocently at the cashier who gave them a suspicious look. “How cute, she recognised us.” Arthur grinned.

“Arty, please don’t tell me you like her.” Luna groaned. “Nah, don’t worry, Klara Butcher already has his heart.” Anthony said and Arthur hit his arm with a hiss.

“Oh right, I wouldn’t say.” He grinned innocently. “No way! You have a crush on Butcher?” Y/n interrogated. “You mean that girl with the purple haar tips?” Luna asked excitedly and Arthur just told them to shut up.

They walked trough the supermarket and towards the bread. “Croissants, everyone?” Charlie asked making everyone nod. “And a cinnamon roll for me aswel.” Flora quickly added. “And for me!” James chirped.

After that they head trough the drinks, making their way there, they walked trough the candy section and Y/n’s eye fell on a pack of skittles.

She grinned and as they walked past, she took it and placed it in the pocket of her hoody together with her hands.

They then took a bottle of cola and they checked out by the self-checkout.

They casually walked trough the store doors… and then the alarm went off.

They tried to keep walking casually but the moment someone yelled “hey, stop!” They bolted away.

They laughed as they looked behind them to see the two security guards try keeping up.

“Stop! Thieves!” He yelled out and the eight teens just kept running and laughing.

Just around the corner was a jewellery shop that had been robbed the previous night. Six ninja where there to try find any clues to who the group of robbers had been.

“Stop, thieves!” They shared glances before running out of the shop, only to see a group of teens being chased by out of breath guards.

“It’s not them, guys.” Jay waved it off about to walk back. “Their still thieves.” Nya pulled him back. “What do we do, are we going after them?” Kai looked as Lloyd.

“We don’t have much better to do.” Lloyd shrugged and the Ninja ran of towards the group of teens.

Not like they where to find anything in that jewellery shop.

“Uh, guys, I think we have a problem!” Luna yelled as she looked behind them. The group looked back to see they weren’t running from guards anymore, but from Ninja.

“Oh god, we are not winning this race.” Arthur groaned as they quickly turned a corner. “Well, I dare say we know the city better then them!” Hi twin brother disagreed.

“Anthony is right! I say we split!” Y/n called and she then grabbed Luna and turned into an alley, followed closely by Charlie.

“Their splitting up!” Cole called out. “Alright, Kai, Jay, you two go after those two, Zane and Cole you take the three that went straight, Nya and I go right!” Lloyd ordered and they all listened.

“Goddamnit Y/n! You know there’s a fence at the end of this alley!” Luna called as the three friends ran as fast as they could. “I know, I know, but we can get to the roof with that fence and then we can easily get to the Main Street, we’ll lose them easily in the crowd!” She called.

They got to the fence and when they looked back, the water ninja and the green ninja where approaching fast.

Charlie quickly helped Y/n up the fence who then went onto the roof, he then helped Luna who did the same.

Both of them then grabbed him and managed to get from the ground to the roof.

The hopper from roof to roof, almost slipping multiple times. The two ninja had easily got onto the roof, not wasting a second.

“You still think we can make it to main?” Charlie questioned. “I might have made a slight mistake in time.” Y/n called out.

“Well good going!” Luna called back. “Hey I’ve only ever ran from the police, I didn’t expect this alright!”

Her mind raced against time and she looked around. “You two jump down right here, then go leg immediately into opal-street and into the video store.” She called and they gave her a sceptic look.

“Trust me!” She called and Luna sighed. “Let me guess, you keep running and get caught? Little hero!” She joked and Y/n laughed.

“I’ll get myself out, promise!” She said and then the two finally listened as she kept running. When she looked back, the water ninja had followed her two friends and she hoped they would get to the video store in time.

Nya and Lloyd ran into the alleyway to see one of the boys help a girl up the fence. “Hold on a second, there is no way!” Nya called out recognising the girl.

“How is that possible!” Lloyd couldn’t help but laugh.

“She’s good!” Nya said as the girls helped the guy up the roof. Though, the two of them did it without breaking a sweat.

They followed them but where surprised when two jumped down.

“You follow them!” Lloyd called and Nya nodded and jumped after them.

He himself had almost caught up with Y/n who then jumped down aswel.

He quickly jumped after her and she tried to run but he grabbed her arm and pushed her Shinkansen the wall.

Lucky for him he had a mask because their faces where so close he couldn’t help but blush.

“Hello again.” He greeted and she was speechless for a moment. “Hi.” She said shortly before pushing him of her slightly.

“So you went from damsel in distress to thieve?” He gave her an amused look. “Thieve is a rather big word.” She rolled her eyes.

He huffed. “You shouldn’t be stealing either way, thieve or not.” He said and she chuckled. “Your kind of a kill joy, you know that?” She asked and he sighed.

“Listen- stealing is just wrong,” he pointed out making her huff a sarcastic laugh. “Harley’s is a multi million company, they won’t miss a pack of skittles.” She got it out of her pocket and waved it around. “And whatever my friends took.” She rolled her eyes.

“And before you give me the whole talk, we went to self check out, so no, the cashier doesn’t have to pay for what we stole, and no, I know damn well it won’t go of the workers pay check so don’t try to gaslight me into thinking that, and before you come up with a lie, I know Harleys policy because I worked there for a while so you also don’t have to give me the talk about not knowing how it feels.” She pointed out and he gave her an amused look.

“You’ve been caught multiple times, haven’t you?” He asked and she grinned. “A few, we mostly get away with it easily, the alarm doesn’t even always go off.” She explained.

Her phone started ringing and she got it out of her back pocket.

Incoming call from flowers😍…

“Can I take this?” She asked and the green ninja sighed and nodded. “Hey, babes,” she answered the phone making the person on the other end chuckle.

“Hey, n/n, we lost them,” Flora said. “We’ve re-grouped, where are you guys?” She asked and Y/n looked over at the ninja in front of her.

“No idea where Charlie and Lu are, but I’m having a nice conversation with the green ninja here.” She said, winning at him making him shake his head.

“Seriously? You got caught?” Flora laughed and Y/n could hear her other friends laugh aswel. “Yeah, haha, how funny, I suppose I see you at Jamie’s?” She questioned.

“You got it!” Flora said. “Right, see you in ten then.” Y/n said before hanging up.

“So, can I go?” She looked at the green ninja and he gave her a look. “You think that after shoplifting and then proceeding to let us chase you trough the city, I’m just going to let you go like that?” He gave her a sceptical look.

“Well, yeah, what, your going to take me back to Harvey’s and make me give back that bag of skittles?” She cocked an eyebrow and he was silent for a moment.

“Here, for your troubles.” She tossed him the bag of skittles which he caught. She walked past him and out of the alley.

“Hey,” he snapped out of his trans and looked at Nya who had appeared next to him. “I lost them.” She admitted.

“I caught Y/n, but she just gave me the skittles and walked off again.” He admitted. The others then found them, landing next to them.

“We literally just got beat by a group of teens.” Kai said annoyed. “Seems like Lloyd got himself a stealing girlfriend.” Nya laughed.

“Wait, was that the group from the park?” Jay asked and then everyone realised that they had just chased the girl that had given aloud her number.

Once again, Lloyd knew he was in for a day of teasing.

Her friends cheered when they noticed Y/n coming their way.

“How’d you escape the green ninja?” Amelia joked. “I just gave him the skittles I stole and walked off, didn’t even stop me.” She grinned.

Everyone laughed and headed inside James house.

“So, what’ve we got?” Arthur asked. “Well, we don’t have skittles, that’s for sure.” Luna said as she laid three cans of energy drink on the table.

“Not like we’re gonna need those that much anyway.” Anthony said, putting two chocolate bars, two cans of soda and a small bag of candy down.

“Jeez, Andy, how many pockets have you got?” James joked as he threw just two snickers onto the table.

The only one who had nothing was Flora. She had just joined a year ago after she began dating Charles and the idea of stealing was always a bit hard for her.

[escapingrealityforamoment]

In this short story, inspired by Taylor Swift's "The Story of Us," Y/N and Conrad meet after months of separation. They address the unresolved feelings and regrets that led to their breakup. As they talk, they find hope for a fresh start and a chance to rewrite their story together.

Y/N's heart raced as they walked down the crowded hallway, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. It had been months since they had seen Conrad Fisher, and the mere thought of running into him sent a flurry of emotions through their veins.

As fate would have it, just as Y/N turned the corner, they collided with someone, and to their surprise, it was Conrad. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"Y/N," Conrad said, breaking the silence. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has," Y/N replied, their voice slightly shaky. "How have you been?"

Conrad hesitated before answering, "I've been good, trying to stay busy. And you?"

"I've been okay too," Y/N replied, trying to sound casual, but their heart was anything but calm.

The awkward tension between them was palpable, a stark contrast to the ease they had once shared. Memories of laughter and shared secrets flooded Y/N's mind, but they were now overshadowed by the pain of the unresolved ending.

Conrad took a step closer, his expression softening. "I never wanted things to end the way they did between us."

Y/N nodded, finally finding the courage to express their own feelings. "Me neither, Conrad. It's just that things got complicated, and we didn't know how to navigate it."

He sighed, his eyes reflecting regret. "I wish we had communicated better, found a way to work through it."

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a weight lifting off their shoulders as they shared their truth. "I still think about you, Conrad. The memories we had together, they were special to me. And it hurt to see that chapter close without resolution."

Conrad nodded, understanding etched on his face. "I feel the same way, Y/N. I never stopped caring about you, and the way we ended things haunts me too."

As they spoke honestly about their feelings, the tension in the air began to ease. It was as if they were finally finding closure, unraveling the knots of emotions that had tied them in silence.

"I wish we could go back and rewrite our story," Y/N admitted, a hint of sadness in their voice.

Conrad reached out to gently touch Y/N's hand, his touch comforting. "Maybe we can't change the past, but we can start anew, as friends or whatever feels right. We can create a different chapter together."

Y/N smiled, feeling a glimmer of hope. Perhaps their story wasn't entirely over. Maybe, in time, they could mend the broken pieces and find a new way to be in each other's lives.

As they parted ways that day, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected encounter. It was a step towards healing, a chance to rekindle a connection that had once meant the world to both of them.

[sometimes-i-write-good]

¿Quieres bailar conmigo?

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x gn!pilotreader [no use of y/n]

2.6k || Fanboy comes home from leave a day early to surprise you, but you surprise him instead.

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Genre: fluff

CW: overload of charisma

Author's Note: Fanboy is my favorite Top Gun: Maverick character and I’ve already read everything in existence about him, so I have to take matters into my own hands. || cross-posted on ao3

===

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The first thing Mickey heard when he turned the lock to your shared apartment was a breakup song playing loudly. Punctuated by your passionate cries. In some form of a miracle, you managed to miss every note, which Fanboy took as a sign that your heart was not truly broken and José José merely possessed you with the urge to put on the performance of a lifetime.

He slipped quietly into the flat. Taking his time to unlace his shoes, set down his bag, and softly clicked the door shut behind him. You were not alerted in the slightest. Too busy in the kitchen stirring and shouting, “Qué triste luce todo sin ti. Los mares de las playas se van.”

Every other line you would spin, working your feet through a quick box step with the occasional fling of your spoon when the emotion built. “Se tiñen los colores de gris. Hoy todo es soledad.” you stepped backwards, closer and closer to Mickey with your hips swaying in a way that made his uniform fit a bit too tight.

“Media naranja…” he let his voice trail off, soft enough for you to hear him. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt the moment with a spike of adrenaline. He’d tried his best, but he never was good at subtlety when it came to you.

“Holy fuck!” You let out a startled scream, hand coming up to clutch at your heaving chest. “Mickey, I thought I asked you to stop doing that.”

“Aw, mi vida,” he laughed, stepping closer to grab you by the hips and pull you close to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stick your bottom lip out at him in a pout. Far enough out that he can’t help the way his gaze lingers on it. “Don’t think you can kiss it better,” you tell him.

Fanboy hums. He brings a hand up to trail the back of his index finger down your cheek so that he can tilt your chin up a bit further. “Can’t I?” It’s fun to watch your reaction to the question, feeling the slightest strain against his fingers and you try to move closer to kiss him.

“Mickey,” you whine.

He closes the gap between you. “Mi cielo.” His voice is low, raspy. All his attempted teasing seems to take more out of him than you and he’d been away for far too long to let his moment draw out any longer. Fanboy cupped your cheek then pressed his lips against yours, filling in all the passion he’d left you without while he was away.

The last kiss he gave you before he’d left was quick. A domestic kind of peck married couples gave one another as they ran out the door for work. In a way, Mickey had convinced himself on the plane to Virginia Beach, that is exactly who the two of you were. You’d been together so long that being moved around from base to base wasn’t the heartbreaking news that it had once been but rather a fact of life the two of you had to live with. Still, it didn’t excuse the way Fanboy had let his own being late impact the last memory of him you were left with before he’d walked out the door. It was something he fully planned to make up for today.

His tongue ran over your bottom lip greedily. Mickey could, and had, memorized every corner of your mouth and it would never be enough to truly satiate him. The moment your lips parted for him Fanboy jumped on the opportunity to run his tongue along the side of yours. He moved with a confidence you had only ever been able to bring out of him.

You hum in satisfaction, fingers going to hook in the belt loops of his uniform. Sure of yourself. A goddess in control of his futile sense of humanity. Freedom and a prison all in one. There could be worse fates than being locked onto your lips for all eternity. Some Fanboy didn’t care enough to explore. Not when he had your body pressed against him and his lips bruised by the shape of yours.

“Mi cielo.” Mickey murmurs against your lips when he goes to take a breath. A kiss pressed to each of the corners of your mouth. “You have no clue what you do to me.” And then, as though you knew full well what you did to him, you slid your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to your lips once again.

You’re the one to pull away after a few more blissful moments of kissing. Mickey expected you to be. Yet he still had to take a moment, pressing his forehead to yours, hand cupped around your cheek, with his eyes closed. If he had the choice, the two of you would be in the bedroom right now but you had been in the middle of cooking, and he was hard pressed to pull you away from a task once you’d begun. “I love you.”

Mickey doesn’t need to open his eyes to know there was a goofy grin on your face. “I love you more, darling.” The words brought a heat up the back of his neck, settling on his ears. Years into this relationship and you still could fluster him. Mickey opened his eyes, pressed one more swift kiss to your lips, then leaned back to look at you.

For a moment it felt like the two of you were plunged back into the moment of your first kiss. Two kids in love staring at one another with smiles of disbelief. Fanboy knew a part of him would always be stuck in that feeling whenever the two of you kissed. There was no conceivable explanation for how he got so lucky to be able to kiss you whenever he pleased. To be able to call you his everything.

“Mi vida, when I came in… is that really how you’d react in the case of an intruder?” He asked quietly in a poor attempt to cover a soft laugh. “Scream your head off first, figure out a way to fight later?”

You roll your eyes at him and, even in your moments of playful aggravation, Mickey can’t help the way his pulse quickens. He uses his thumb to trace hearts on your waist. A way

“I’m a pilot, mi sol. There’s a reason I do all my fighting in the air.”

“I can teach you to fight.” When you laugh, he pulls you tight to him. “I’m serious. It’s easy, mi vida, a lot like dancing.”

“I’m a horrid dancer,” you tell him. Mickey shakes his head. You have the tendency to be overtly hard on yourself, but he’d seen you when he had walked through that door. Stunning, if a little out of practice. He knew that if he were to tell you that you’d only dismiss the idea entirely claiming that he thought everything you did was stunning and, while you wouldn’t exactly be wrong, he didn’t want you to shy away from his next offer, “Dance with me?”

“Right now? I’ve got dinner on the stove.”

In a swift series of steps, Mickey had you clinging onto him so that he could position the pair of you right in front of the stove. He turned off the stove with a self-satisfied smile. For every excuse you’d planned to make, Mickey had already compiled a thousand reasons why not to worry. It’s how the two of you had always been. Fanboy had lived up to his callsign in more ways than one. He followed you everywhere fixing one problem or the next, easing your fears without you having to so much as ask. A love language, people would call it, but Mickey must have been the only person on earth who could speak it.

“You’re insufferable.” Your words make him grin. The radio starts up with a new song. “Tú” by Los Elegantes de Jerez, one of his favorites to request at the Hard Deck when Penny had live bands instead of just letting the jukebox play the same music over and over each night. He’d yet to convince you to come out and dance with him, but Phoenix was always willing. Otherwise he was more than content to dance on his own, throwing out flirtatious remarks to try and persuade you to join him.

He steps back just enough to take you all in. You let out a confused laugh.  “What?”

“¿Quieres bailar conmigo?”

“Mickey…”

“¿Quieres bailar conmigo, mi cielo?” He asks again with a bit more seriousness behind it and, when you don’t jump on the opportunity he adds, “Cocodrilo que duerme es cartera.”

“Fine, Mick. I’ll dance with-” You’re cut off with a squeak as Fanboy pulls you close. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, hand resting at the small of your back, and placed his left knee so that it rested against the inside of your right knee. It isn’t nearly as close as Mickey would like to be. He longed to crack open his chest and allow you to crawl inside to take residence in his heart so that the two of you physically portrayed Fanboy’s constant state of existence.

He brought his other arm up with your hand in his and waited patiently as you wrapped your arm around his neck. “Rest your weight into your hips.” He drags his gaze over your face, watching you calculate the right way to stand. Your analytical nature made him fall in love with you. The way your tongue would drag along your lips in deep concentration. It made it hard for him to remember what the hell he was saying in the first place. “The norteño means we have to keep our torsos connected.”

You settled your weight, pressing against him, and Mickey’s breath left him in a nervous exhale. “Not so confident anymore are we, Fanboy?” You laugh, and he ducked down slightly to press a kiss to the hollow beneath your ear.

“You make me crazy,” he said and started moving without giving you a warning. If he had told you to concentrate on the tempo you were bound to overthink and start lifting your feet instead of shuffling in wide arcs wherever Mickey led you. Once he was sure you weren’t going to stop him to start counting the beats he added, “we’re going to to step and swing our hips on each beat.”

Growing up his mother used to tell him how important it was to know how to dance. That it was the easiest way to find your other half that way. A perfect complement. Each move followed his lead. Right and then left. Two halves of a whole collapsed in an embrace Mickey never wanted to free himself from.

“Tú, solamente tú,” he sang into your ear with the fondness of someone discovering affection for the first time. A soulmate connected by the chorus of a song. “No necesito de nadie. Ni puedo dejar de mirarte.” You pressed against him, biting down roughly on your lip, and he could see the tender concentration as you counted in your head. “Hey,” he said, “eyes on me.”

Only, when you lifted your gaze to him, Mickey captured your lips in a tender kiss not once breaking step. These movements were second nature. Natural as ducking and dodging during a dogfight. He knew exactly where to let his smooth movements whirl him next. If he weren’t feeling so selfish, he might have included a spin just to hear your laughter. A sound as weightless as the way you moved against him. Mickey did not miss the way you playfully ground against him with each sway of your hips. The innocent confusion on your face while you watched his breath hitch. His hand stayed pressed to the small of your back. Drew you closer on each beat. Your hand on the base of his neck twirled the hair that needed to be cut before he went back. The gesture made him weak in the knees.

The song had finished minutes ago, but the two of you were still moving. He had been caught in the trance of your everything. Your smile, pulled back with mischievous joy; your eyes, how they lingered on his lips as he sang along; and your hands, how they clung to him even though he had no plans on letting you stray away from him during your dance.

He wanted to twirl the two of you out of this apartment. Take you to the Hard Deck. He wanted to call everyone on the Dagger Crew to the bar. Hell, he’d call anyone in off the streets to watch the two of you dance. Show everyone that you were his. Only he could draw this dreamy smile out of you. Only he could pull you out of your own head. Only he could love you like this.

You leaned forward to kiss him. “Thanks, darling. Can I finish dinner?” He relented. You, with great difficulty, managed to take a step back. Only to come back and kiss him with a ferocity that parted his lips almost immediately.

A different kind of dance began. Your tongue in his mouth, searching desperately for the words he had sung earlier. All you could pull out of him were gentle groans of pleasure. Mickey’s hands gripped at your waist. You were entirely in control. Each step forward led him backwards until he was pressed up against the counter.

Abandoning your hips, Fanboy moved his hands up to your hair. He had always learned in moments like this to let you believe that you could bring him to his knees. That thought might hold more truth to it that he cared to admit. But he could always slide his hands down to cup your face. Your weakness. He would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more room to slip his tongue into your mouth, and expose your neck enough for him to trail kisses downwards. So that when he did get onto his knees for you it was entirely of his own violation.

You noticed the change. You noticed everything when you cared to. “Mickey.” Your voice was muffled by his tongue tracing the shape of your bottom lip. “Mickey.” Once more he captured his own name and you had to pull away to say, “I have to make dinner.”

He sighed. “Do you?”

“Yes, I’m hungry.”

With one final peck he watched as you made your way back over to the stove. “I’ll have to make something more. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

There was no hint of annoyance in your voice. Fanboy could see you bite back a smile. He longed to turn you around to kiss you, but instead let you turn on the gas and stir the soup you’d been making humming José José.

“You do realize ‘El Triste’ is a breakup song, mi amor?” Mickey said, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you flush against him as you stirred the soup on the stove.

“When you’re gone I like to pretend I’m heartbroken.”

“And when I’m home?” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck. “What do you like to pretend when I’m holding you like this?”

He could feel the sigh work its way out of your chest. You flicked off the gas once more. “I like to pretend that we’ll get a chance to eat dinner, but…”

Mickey laughed. “But?”

“But,” you said, “I think we’re ordering in tonight.”

“Are we now?” You spin around to wrap your arms around his neck, grinding up against him, and pulling away with a smug smile. “Oh, mi ciela, vamos a bailar.”

[elvenfirefly]

Backstory

Born and raised in a nomad goblin clan of Blackarrows, Zuzo was always a quirky soul. Ever since his youngest days, he sought different paths than his peers. When others shot from the bow and practiced with wooden swords, Zuzo was in the camp, repairing broken toys and patching rags. When others tamed wolves, Zuzo was learning advanced knots. This earned him a false reputation as a coward, and it made things worse when Zuzo explained how his woolen coats keep his friends alive in winter.

It took plenty of black eyes and broken noses (on both sides) and a useful rabbit trap design, for others to start respecting his unique skills. Nevertheless, when he was a teenager during one of the clan’s raids, Zuzo hid in a town shop, refusing to pillage and kill. Fate had it that Mr. Bonko, a shoemaker and the proprietor of the establishment, didn’t scream when he saw Zuzo, but rather showed compassion for the poor goblin. He saw Zuzo’s warm heart and gentle touch and gave him an opportunity for a better life. And Zuzo repaid it over twelve years of working in ‘Bonko’s Boots’. With his skills and quick wit, he made new, fashionable footwear and saved the shop from bankruptcy. Having no kids, Mr. Bonko left the establishment to Zuzo in his will.

And thus began a second wave of hardships for this peculiar goblin, having to fight stereotypes and prying eyes, ill-wishers, and thieves. He read about the law to defend against false accusations; he taught himself basic arcana, for protection. His business survived three arsons, two floods, and seven burglaries—he stood the ground until the last blaze. Retrieving his cindered belongings, he packed his arms and reputation and ventured into the world.

Court dances filled the next decade of his life. From wealthy merchants and politicians to nobles, kings, and emperors, there isn’t a posh person who Zuzo hadn’t clad. They could mock him about his heritage but they couldn’t deny his exceptional tailoring. All wanted his designs, even plotting to get him to be exclusive. However, he remained as he always was: a goblin of the highest professionalism with passion and intuition for a fine cut.

Eventually, the court stories bored him and he settled in a dilapidated Tralin’s Theater that got a new owner. It was a small town and a fresh page, a new challenge: to bring life to the establishment, to clad the actors in the finest, eccentric costumes, and lend his craft for joy, arts, and beauty.

Roleplaying Zuzo

Of Gentle Heart and Touch Zuzo finds beauty in art, kindness, and prosperity. However, he is prone to embarrass those who behave badly in his presence. His dextrous hands allow him to achieve the highest of craft levels, both tinkering and tailoring.

Prankster This jolly goblin enjoys a good laugh and is often the cause of one. He is famous for his practical pranks involving stage props, which force actors to improvise and often result in an even better performance. The audience loves it and is awaiting the prank during the show.

Daydreamer and selectively focused Zuzo often dozes off during a conversation, designing his next dress in his mind. During work, he’s highly focused and almost unperceptive of his surroundings. Almost, because the moment someone touches his tools, he snaps back to reality.

Notable Combat Features

Trained Arcanist — Zuzo is a magic user of medium skill with expertise in conjuration magic. In battle, he animates and conjures objects to aid him.

Impervious Fashion — When not in his working clothes, Zuzo dresses in the latest high-class fashion. His enchanted suits grant him temporary quickness, endurance, and resistance to mundane weaponry.

Ik, a needle friend — Zuzo’s most deadly weapon. This animated needle is quick, terribly hard to spot, and is connected to the endless thread in Zuzo’s back pocket. In battle, it pierces and ties Zuzo’s enemies. The rumors say he once sewed the mouth of a deceitful nobleman.

Dud, a mannequin friend — This faceless, well-dressed animated caricature is Zuzo’s assistant and butler. Sometimes Zuzo talks to it while working. In battle, Dud is capable of giving serious punches with its wooden fists.

Sharp mind, teeth, and eyes — Zuzo has good vision in darkness, a quick problem-solving mind, and razor teeth. He usually only needs the first two for any situation.

Design Notes

Fill the battlefield with the most comical and dangerous tools: suffocating coats, flying needles, self-tying silk, gigantic pin cushion, snake-like tailoring measure rope, and shin-kicking stools. Zuzo’s battles are usually light-hearted with the goal to shame his aggressors. However, he is capable of more advanced magic if needed.

Encounters

You encounter Zuzo as he and Dud are fighting a bunch of thieves in a local town.

You encounter Zuzo in Tralin’s Theater workshop. He’s not kind to thugs and thieves.

You find Zuzo in a local town where he confronts his past clanmates. They demand ‘absence payment’ from Zuzo.

You encounter Zuzo after a chase in a local town where the party managed to hide in his shop. He shelters them.

You stumble upon Zuzo chasing after frenzied Dud, whose incantations went awry. He is trying to prevent Dud from hurting anyone while protecting it from the guards.

You are pointed to Zuzo via a third party when searching for clothing enchantments.

Quest Hooks

Zuzo’s needle Ik is broken. He needs a starsteel ore to make a new one.

Zuzo needs you to capture the current leader of the Blackarrow clan who treats Zuzo’s cousins and past friends with cruelty.

Zuzo needs you to break into the royal treasury. The king has falsely accused Zuzo of witchcraft and has taken Zuzo’s most expensive cloth. He wants them back.

There is an enchantment that would grant Dud the mannequin sentient characteristics. He’d be able to speak and think and have a soul. Zuzo will give anything if you find it for him.

Zuzo needs the party to retrieve a special royal gown from the emperor’s tomb. By the myth, the gown possesses the most powerful clothing enchantments ever seen.

Zuzo needs the party to collect feathers from the Giant Eagles of the mountains. He will use them to make the new costume and will enchant the party’s clothes in return.

[carewyncromwell]

“All my life I've lived for loving you...let me go now. “

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // More About The Escape Artist // featuring Sarahi Silvers @dat-silvers-girl​

x~x~x~x

Carewyn Cromwell was seen as a stoic, beautiful figure for her entire time as Queen of Hearts. What the public didn’t know that her close associates did was that for the first few years of her reign, she suffered silently, being separated from her family by the Civil War in the Country of Spades. It was even partly due to the hope that her new position would give her enough authority and reach to find her mother and brother back home and protect them from harm that Carewyn accepted the immense responsibility of Queenship in the first place. 

Although thanks to the efforts of Orion Amari, King of Clubs, Carewyn was able to reconnect with her mother, who’d escaped to the Land of Clubs as a refugee, within a year, intelligence about the fate of Carewyn’s brother Jacob was very hard to come by. The Tyrant of Spades seemed very keen to not let what happened to Jacob Cromwell see the light of day, and that secrecy only added to Carewyn and Lane’s concern. There were rumors that Jacob was imprisoned in some dark, mysterious torture chamber set aside solely for political prisoners or that he’d been murdered in various gruesome ways. One particularly upsetting one even proposed he’d been bound up in a straitjacket, tied up in a sealed bag, and then thrown over a bridge to drown in the river. 

Carewyn, for her part, desperately clung onto any shred of hope that her brother was still alive. She didn’t know if she had the heart to accept any other outcome. 

Jacob, meanwhile, took some time adjusting in the Jokers’ Domain, where Fate had deposited him. Not much is known about his beginnings there, aside from him getting into random spats with the wrong people and needing to make a quick escape before getting his nose broken or arrested. Some even propose that in Jacob’s first year in the Jokers’ Domain, the place purposefully messed with his head, making him go half-mad and forget whole chunks of his life that he then had to piece back together little by little. Others guessed it was some kind of amnesia, and that the traumatic way Jacob had managed to escape the river had caused him to hit his head and left him with severe head trauma. Still others wonder if his “death” had been a bit more literal than one might think, and when Jacob narrowly escaped Death, he only made it out with his life, not his full self or memories. Whatever the reason, Jacob’s fragmented memories and the actions they prompted out of him got him into a hell of a lot of trouble and made him plenty of petty enemies, who he then had to use his talents to evade. Fortunately, most of these “enemies” who were fellow Jokers treated the whole thing more like a big game -- the ones in the rest of Cinderhaven were a little less forgiving. The Cromwell Clan, a prominent family of jewelers in the Diamond Empire, in particular greatly detest this strange Joker called the Escape Artist. 

For all of Jacob’s fragmented memories, however, he could remember one thing -- there was someone he’d been trying really hard to get back to. A girl with ginger hair and eyes like his. 

Before long, it became clear this girl wasn’t a Joker -- Jacob certainly couldn’t find anyone like that in the Jokers’ Domain, and from what he managed to piece together of her, she seemed far too serious to belong among the likes of them. It reminded him of the stick-in-the-mud jewelers from the Diamond Empire who also had eyes like his -- and so it was in Diamonds that Jacob looked first. It was only thanks to Jacob’s great cunning and supernatural strength that he was able to parkour it over the high stone wall of the Cromwell estate with nothing but a couple of knives. 

In Jacob’s dreams, the girl with ginger hair sometimes appeared alongside another woman: an older and quieter-looking one with blond hair and similarly almond-shaped blue eyes. Both of them tended to dress in dark colors and waistcoats, so it was in the Country of Spades that Jacob looked next. In the height of the Civil War, however, it was naturally complete and utter chaos, and not the good kind either. It didn’t take long for the Tyrant of Spades to collide with Jacob and demand his immediate capture -- it also didn’t take long for Jacob to bust out of her custody once again with nothing but a broken jacket clasp as a lockpick and his own fists. 

He hated that woman, Jacob thought. The shards of knowledge he had of her were still broken and fragmented...but he somehow knew that that woman called the Tyrant of Spades was a large part of the reason why. 

Despite its upheaval, the Country of Spades sparked the most memories back to life in Jacob of any place in Cinderhaven he’d visited thus far. It was here that he figured out that the women he was looking for were named Carewyn and Lane Cromwell -- and that they’d had a family member named Jacob. Armed with this new knowledge, Jacob set about finding out what had happened to Carewyn and Lane. Lane’s exact whereabouts was harder to determine, since she’d escaped Spades as a refugee, likely to the Land of Clubs, but prior to the Civil War, Carewyn had been enrolled in a university by the sea in the Kingdom of Hearts, so that was where Jacob searched first. When he arrived in the Kingdom of Hearts, the Escape Artist initially took little interest in people talking about their King and Queen...until he noticed one local artist painting out a likeness of said Queen, with long flowing ginger hair and bright sky-blue eyes. 

Carewyn, the artist had called her. Queen Carewyn. 

Jacob’s heart felt like it had burst at the seams. Half-mad with joy, the Escape Artist ran all the way across the country toward the Palace of Hearts and actually set about trying to break in. 

Needless to say, he was quickly arrested. Needless to say as well, he soon enough broke his way back out and used his new position inside the Palace walls to try to seek out the Queen of Hearts. He eventually found her talking with the King in the royal gardens -- and it was here that Jacob was taken down a second time, this time by the royal gardener, Sarahi Silvers. The Escape Artist had admittedly been too distracted to notice such an innocent, cherubic girl tending to the red palace roses close by...but even if he had, there’s no way in the world he could’ve imagined that, upon seeing this crazy-haired escaped prisoner spying on the King and Queen, she would respond with such a mean uppercut that Jacob was knocked right off his feet.

“You stay away from the Queen, you -- you creeper!” Sarahi cried in shaky, but righteous anger. 

Once he’d recovered from the punch, Jacob dodged Sarahi’s second strike, making a mad dash for Carewyn and Diego. Immediately putting down her basket so that the rabbit inside could dart off to safety in the bushes, Sarahi then proceeded to tackle Jacob and pin him to the ground so he couldn’t escape. The noise summoned the palace guards, who quickly locked Jacob back up in manacles, even as the short, but strong man wrestled in their grip, bellowing and screaming like a mad animal. 

“LET GO OF ME! LET GO! I NEED TO GET BACK TO HER! I PROMISED! LET GO!”

Diego, for his part, immediately took out the sword attached to his side and stood in front of Carewyn protectively as he approached.

“Guards, please,” he said, however startled he was by the mad fit the prisoner was undertaking, “there’s no need to be rough with the man. He’s clearly not in his right mind...”

“But your Majesty,” the captain of the guards said tensely, “he already escaped one of our high-security cells! And he’s clearly here to target her Majesty -- ”

Carewyn herself considered the insane man writhing in the guard’s grip. Underneath all those messy dark curls, his eyes were as hollowed-out as a skull’s -- and yet, their color and shape...

Carewyn’s and Jacob’s eyes both widened, upon meeting.

“...Jacob?” Carewyn breathed disbelievingly. 

Something in Jacob’s mind cracked open. It was like Carewyn’s whisper tore down a dam in his mind, sending images rushing over his eyes, mind, and heart in a flood --

Jacob. He was Jacob -- Jacob Cromwell. He’d worked in the Country of Spades, under that woman now called the Tyrant. He’d worked with Duncan Ashe, the Jack of Spades, in that time long before. He’d been trying to stay under the radar, all so he could sneak out to the Kingdom of Hearts, where she was waiting for him --

Carewyn. Carewyn Cromwell. Carewyn Cromwell, his little sister, his baby sister, his precious sister -- 

With a mad, inhuman burst of strength, Jacob managed to throw off both of the guards holding him and -- even with his wrists still manacled together -- he managed to dodge both Sarahi and Diego and throw his chained arms up and over Carewyn’s head and around her in a suffocating vice grip. 

“Wyn!”

The cry was loud and strained, but also choked, like the most pitiful whine of a dog. Jacob clung to Carewyn like a child, even as his face burst into the fullest, most handsome smile and his eyes streamed with tears.

“Wyn -- my Wyn -- I found you -- I found you!”

And then, to Jacob’s immense relief, Carewyn likewise seized hold of him, her hands sinking into the back of his coat like claws.

“Jacob!” she choked. “You’re alive -- thank God, you’re alive -- !”

“Yeah,” Jacob said shakily. His manacled arms were trembling around her as he buried his head in her ginger hair. “Yeah, I am -- Wyn -- I’m so sorry -- I promised I’d see you soon -- I’d promised I’d meet you here, but I’m so late -- ”

“It’s okay,” Carewyn rasped. “It’s okay, Jacob -- ”

“I promised Mum I’d get out another way,” Jacob rambled under his breath. “I promised I’d find you, and then find her -- ”

His mother. His mother, Lane. That was who had been with Carewyn -- that was the other woman who’d accompanied Carewyn in his dreams, all those times -- 

“Mum’s fine,” Carewyn reassured him just as quietly. “Orion offered her sanctuary, in Clubs...”

“That bloke?” Jacob frowned for a reason he couldn’t quite articulate. “Hn...guess it’s better than Mum going back to the Empire...”

Everyone around the two Cromwell siblings were left perfectly dumbfounded, watching all this. Sarahi looked at Diego, her face completely bewildered. 

“Um...is this guy here to hurt the Queen or not?” she asked. “Because I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

Diego, however, knew Carewyn well enough that he could put together exactly who this man was. And when he did, his face filled up with such relief that it made him beam from ear to ear.

“...So the infamous ‘Escape Artist’ is...”

Carewyn’s shining eyes were full of happy tears as she smiled at Diego and nodded. Jacob’s eyes, likewise full of tears, regarded Diego with a broad smirk over his shoulder.

“Me,” he finished coolly. 

With seemingly no effort, he’d dislodged the manacles that had locked his wrists together and tossed them idly at Diego’s feet.

“Let’s see how long any of you can hold me, King of Hearts.”

[booksandwords]

New Year's with the Single Dad by Whitley Cox

Series: The Single Dads of Seattle, #6 Read time: 1 Day Rating: 3.5/5 Stars

The Quote: Don’t shy away from love simply because your heart has been broken. The heart mends. The heart is resilient. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of being someone’s everything again. Don’t waste the best years of your life angry at what was, and instead spend those years searching and hoping for what could be. — Zara Olsen

I quite liked this novella. Zara Olsen and Emmett Strong have quite possibly the most delightful meet cute I've read in a while. Twin coffee orders, as in identical and spoken in an almost eerie synchroisity. That is just the first of three unlikely conincidences that ahow their alignment. Their similarly aged children with the nicknames Nono and Jojo. Those super cute and adorably manipulative childrens comfort giraffes Zelda and Ziggy. Even their own childhood comfort toys still so present in their lives (Arabella Blossom von Bearson and Dr Arnold Strong respectivly) tied to their grandparents in diffent ways. The novella plays with the fate. The whole piece takes place over around 24 hours (excluding epilogue). In the first twelve they meet four times which includes them seeing each other in their professional settings as a florist and a doctor. This is a seasonal work that uses NYE as a time of growth and change. The plot can be kinda predictable but that really doesn't bother me if a work is as season focused as this.

I'm just going to add a quute dump here...

• "Until Valentine’s season hit them like that fat winged-baby’s arrow, that is. Then it’d be all red and pink hearts and more glitter—AKA the herpes of craft supplies." — (Emmett) Omg yes. My besties ex hated like an almost phobia level hate of glitter. It really does get everywhere. • “This might hurt a little. But I’m going to numb the area before I apply the sutures.” Zara swallowed and nodded. “Okay. I’ve been through childbirth. A little sting is nothing compared to that.” — (Zara) This is one the reasons I like Zara she has no filter and I adore it. • "So when I turned thirty-six, I decided I didn’t want to wait any longer to be a mom. Michael and I had Nolan a year later. We lived together, raised him together. Until he met Shane and they got married. Then they moved a few blocks away, and now we share custody of our son and the three of us are raising Nolan.” — (Zara) This is the ultimate love is love to me. Nolan knows • “He’s not dead—as much as I sometimes wish he was. Bastard has two kids with Tobi—with an I—because she’ll tell you. ‘I’m Tobi—with an I,’” Zara said in a baby-doll voice at the same time she tilted her head to the side and cocked her hip. “‘I’m Tobi, with and I and I have the IQ of a lemon wedge.’” — (Zara) Zara is jaded and omg this line makes me laugh so hard. • “Those girls started to be mean to me. Then they took Zelda from me and wouldn’t give her back. Then they started playing tug of war with her and pulled her legs off.” — (Josephine) As someone whose comfort toy was decapitated I can assure you this is most distressing. I can laugh about it now but it can still be a bit of a soft spot if the person who did it mentions it at the wrong time (and I'm 33). • “I’d rather someone tell me I’m doing a great job with my son than say I have a nice ass any day. Looks fade, but our children are our legacy. Our children are a reflection of us … our successes and our failures.” — (Zara) Do know how much this line made me smile. It's nso good to have a woman acknowledge that there is more to her than her looks. Even better that Emmett complimented her on how she raised Nolan first. • "However, I don’t know if I want to wreck my relationship with my florist. Where would I go if the relationship went south? Pike Place Posies? Pffst, no. Zara knows exactly what my mom likes. The relationship between a man and his florist is sacred. I don’t know if I could jeopardize that by sleeping with her.” — (Mason Whitfield) WTF Mason. But okay fair I guess. • grabbing Emmett around the back of the head and, before Emmett could pull away, planting a big, smacking, closed-mouth smooch onto his lips. — This is Mason and Emmett. (view spoiler). The moment just made me laugh and made think that apparently bro don't let bros kiss bimbos.

I got this free as part of a massive kindle giveaway at New Years. So I come to this novella knowing nothing of the wider series, though I do know they can all be read as stand-alone. In this novella, you do see the characters from many of the other books in The Single Dads of Seattle series. The NYE party is hosted by Hired by the Single Dad's Mark and Tori. Mitch and Paige from Saved by the Single Dad are referenced but not present. Mason's novella is Valentine's with the Single Dad, he makes a fantastic appearance including a reference to the shop that is important to that novella Wicked Sister Chocolates. Liam and his relationship with Richelle is the focus of Falling for the Single Dad are somewhat important to this story. Liam is interesting. He's loaded, started the support group and is more than a little jaded. It's a helluva combination. A couple of these are appealing to me. The whole series is a bit unusual with its focus on single fathers over single mothers and some beautiful seasonal themes.

[hiraiet]

the string of fate

(credits to ADORE. fansite)

“You know I don’t believe in love.”

PAIRING » jeong jaehyun x fem! reader

GENRES » angst, soulmate trope, fantasy, red string of fate au

WARNING » lots!! lots!!! of angst. hearts will be broken OC Han Yuri as your bestfriend

PLAYLIST » never ending story by Stray Kids, sorry, i love you by Stray Kids, The End by YangHongWon

WORD COUNT » 1021 words

You were always told that you were lucky and that you were special by your grandma because you had the ability to see the Red String Of Fate that tied soulmates together but you hated this ability and wished you were like everyone else. There were, of course other people around the world who had the same ability as you but it was ostensibly rare.

Your nibbled on your lower lip as your looked at your "soulmate" making his way out of the theater with his arms dangling over his girl. He smiled into the distance and looked at her as though he was a kid and she was the toy he always wanted and finally got it for his Christmas gift.

Your closed your flower shop right after they left. The neon lights of the theater opposite of your shop made you stop and stare at them.

With the ability to see the fates of other people allowed you to also build new relationships and break the law of soulmates, which meant that you could break the ties that the universe has given and make a new bond with people who loved each other. It felt like a curse when people actually asked you to do it but you couldn't just suddenly lie that you can't control it anymore.

Your soulmate was a nice person, although you didn't get your chance to personally know him, your friend had told you that he's the best guy ever. You took your chances to steal glances at him and sure, the way his eyes sparkled and the way his dimples showed as he smiled was beyond ethereal.

-

You called your best friend, Han Yuri and asked her to a evening café date. She was waiting for you in in the café, in a beige cloak, looking beautiful as ever. This fact make you flinch a little.

"Hey, Y/N, here," she said, raising her hand for you to see. You smiled and walked to her. As she started off and talked about how much she loved her fiancé, you smiled as you couldn't believe this woman who was with you through the best and the worst of your life was getting on with a new life.

"So, here's the thing, Yuri. I don't want to spoil it for you but I want to go to the wedding venue and do the things myself, I want you to experience the best, hun." You smiled as you mentally rehearsed your plans for her beach- side wedding.

Yuri's dream-marriage ceremony was a wedding in Paris, that's why you wanted to slap her to get her back to her senses because this wasn't some fictional love story, or maybe it was with all the tension. But anyways, we decided to go with her fiancé's dream wedding.

He wanted a beach-wedding. A one with white and light colored flowers decorating the area and you knew just right what to do as a florist.

"So, you found your soulmate yet?" Yuri asked, her gaze shifting from her Americano to you, almost making you choke on your Latte. You told Yuri everything, from the smallest details to the most recent ones but it felt like the right thing to keep your soulmate to yourself.

"You know I don't believe in love, I mean, sounds stupid that 'I' am the one saying that but it feels wrong that it's the universe making the choice of our lives for us," You replied, with a shrug. You knew Yuri thought the same but she met her fiancé so she basically believed in love.

It was her final day being single so you took her to have fun for the night. Next stop, karaoke.

-

It's the final day, and you make sure that the flowers near the priest and those on the tables of where the guests were seated compliments Yuri's dress.

The way she looks perfect in her dress bring you to tears as you stand, arms folded in your knee-length bridesmaid dress. Everything was just perfect, the sun wasn't so bright and her fiancé looked perfect in his suit.

You repeatedly told yourself that your feelings would soon go away and a heartbreak can't be hurtful forever. You told yourself this again and again as you glanced at the two most perfect couple looks at each other as they smiled and exchanged their rings.

"Y/N, I have a favor to ask," Yuri called for you, you wiped your tears and replied with a hum.

"Can you do us a favor and tie our knots together?" Yuri looked her her fiancé and smiled at him and then looked at you with the same smile.

Jaehyun looked at you with his expectating doe-eyes, he looked like he was just delivered from heaven, never had your view of this guy changed even once in your whole lifetime and you wished to alter that for the sake of your best friend.

You walked closer to your best friend and untied her knot from her wrist, the other end of her Red String Of Fate dangled in the windy beach as it disappeared further.

You walked towards Jaehyun, between your fingers holding Yuri's string, you untied Jaehyun's knot and tied the two of their Strings together intricately, it looked like a Chinese Flower and your smiled as a tear made it's way to the ground.

"I'm just so happy for you," You spoke, your voice broke, you wiped your tears as you saw the end of your string untied. Your part of the string was floating in the wind, it blew as though wanting to escape.

You blew into the wind, puffing out your face and slowly exited the place to the reception area. There was a huge house near the wedding area, you went to the balcony overlooking the ocean. The other end of your string of fate danced in the wind as if mocking you for your loss.

Perhaps this is the reward for cutting off bonds and making new ones for other people.

[beigehearts]

I actually really like this idea and have been thinking about it but was wondering if it was too- sensitive? But now that I know others want it I will write it. Please please please do not read this is you are sensitive to the subject. 

TRIGGER WARNING  CONTENT WARNING attempted s uicide, mentions of s uicide

Yandere Adult Trio when you try to commit s uicide drabbles 

Hisoka

You were desperate to escape this sadistic and cruel kidnapper. He took you from your home, and into somewhere unknown. It took you a while to realize why he wanted you at all... The reason shook your entire being- he claimed that you were meant to be his. That no one else could have you because you belong to him, he is the only person capable of loving you. He has drilled this into your brain but you never let it stick.

Nothing has worked, you tried attacking him, pretending to be sick, escape attempts: it all ends up with you in pain. How can someone who claims to love you, and holds you so closely, hurt you in the ways he has. It’s hard to admit but he had to put a splint on your wrist, after breaking it when you tried to run. 

There’s only one option left. You can’t make it out of here alive, so you won’t. the place he has you is very confusing, the door is locked, and you can only assume there is a hallway outside of it. But when you look out of the window, you can barely see the ground because of how high up you are. That’s your escape.

It’s a large window that you will have to pry open. Hisoka does leave you alone occasionally but also leaves no room for escape. Though you don’t think he’s factored in self sabotage. 

You have no idea where he is, but the moment he left you ran to the window. You grip the edge with your fingers and pull as hard as you can. Your hands begin to go white against the pressure, until you here a tiny “click”. You go flying back when the window shoots open in front of you. This is your chance. And on the off chance you survive- you’ll figure something out.

The wind is blowing, and is quite chilly. When you step out on the slight edge of the outside wall, your heart begins to pound. It’s time.

Wind whistles in your ears and your heart is pounding so hard you wonder why it hasn’t popped out of your chest. For a moment it feels like you’re flying- and you feel peace at last. This was never how you expected to go out, but it will have to do. You close your eyes and accept your fate, falling so fastly that you look like a blur. 

‘Glump’. You bounce upwards and all the air in your body is knocked out of you. You’re left hanging outside of the building, still unable to see the ground despite how long you had been falling. It feels as if someone is holding your leg, the rest of your body dangling upside down. Just barely you manage to crane your head upwards- you’re floating? 

You take a closer look, at the window which you fell from, is Hisoka waving down at you as if you didn’t just jump off the building. There is no escape... There is no escape from this nightmare. You’re pulled upwards until Hisoka grabs your body with his hands and pulls you back through the window. 

You’re gasping for air, shock setting into your body and leaving you shaking. He smiles down at you, and sets you down on the shared bed. “I didn’t think you would go that far my pet.” 

His gaze is burning holes through your head, but you’re more worried about not hyperventilating. He sits down next to you, a smile still on his face. Before you know it, there is no chance of catching your breath. His hand is wrapped tightly around your throat and you let out a weak excuse for a gasp.

“Oh my sweet pet. Please don’t do that again. I might have to punish you, but I’ll let you off this once since you look so cute this way.” 

Illumi (fem!reader)

You just can’t take it anymore. The torture that he calls training. The extreme punishments that have left you with scars. The promise that you will be the mother of his child. And if not, you are useless. Your back is covered in scars, all from whips and chains that he has used as ‘discipline’ even if you were doing as you were told. Eventually he said, “I love you. My wife to be. The future mother of my children. It is only natural that I try to make you be better.” 

If his version of making you better is torture then that’s not happening. At this point you would rather die than endure what he has put you through. He is thorough in keeping the room you are in “baby proofed”. There’s not a single sharp corner, no sharp objects, and no weapons of any kind. The lights are implanted in the ceiling so it’s not like you could use a lamp for anything.

The thought of attacking him is out of the question. You must find something for yourself. Eventually you find something that might work. He brings in plastic plates for you to eat off of. You’re sure if you attacked him with a plate he would make you eat off of the floor. You already have to eat with your hands. 

You take the plate and bend it until it cracks, and splits in half. You continue to break it up into small pieces until you have something resembling a triangle with two soft edges and one sharp. Luckily he gives you hard plastic plates and not styrofoam ones, he has some class it seems. 

Might as well get comfortable. You put some pillows and blankets down on the soft carpet and make a small bed to lay on. You sit up and find that you’re shaking. Your hands are shaking- but that’s to be expected. You put the piece of plastic against your wrist, it’s cold.

Does this mean you’ll be reborn? Or is there nothing after this? Either way, it must be better than this. You imagine a beautiful field where the grass is as soft as pillows and the sun shines just enough for you to feel warmth. There’s nothing for miles except for grass and you. The grass is cushioning you, making it comfortable to lay. You close your eyes and begin to move your hand downwards. Get it over with.

You pull your arm up so you can make a quick motion downwards but before you can... A hand grabs your wrist holding the plastic so tightly that you hear it crack, and are forced to drop the plastic.

You open your eyes and look up at the man above you. His face continues to show no emotion, but the grip on your wrist does. He is very angry. He lifts you up by your wrist and you hear another loud crack and squeal out in pain. You’re face to face, he’s holding you above the ground so your feet don’t touch, but all the strain is on your one wrist. If it’s not dislocated and broken by now, it would be a miracle.

In his usual commanding but monotone voice he says, “I cannot allow anyone to hurt the future mother of my kids.” He drops you on the ground and your knees take all of the force. “Even if it is the mother herself.”

He huffs and pulls a needle from his shoulder, “I suppose I must control you until you are stable. Or until you can bare my child.”

Chrollo

Honestly it could be worst. Though being held against your will does take a large toll on you. You’re fed everyday and can bathe and can read whenever and whatever. It’s like free living, though prison is also rent free. He is always so soothing and kind, offering to do things for you, get things for you, make things for you. It really seems like he wants to make you happy. 

He has been very honest and open with you. He claims he loves you and that he couldn’t let anyone else have a moment in the presence of your beauty. He seems normal until you realize you’ve been kidnapped. You wonder if you would have every suspected him to be crazy if you met him on the street. Truthfully, probably not. 

There are probably people in the world who would be grateful for what you have even if it is completely and utterly against your will. But that’s not the full picture. He’s so kind and says such nice things to you. Until you upset him. He never hurts you, and he never touches you aggressively. His threats are what destroy you, his threats that are not empty. 

One day you had pushed him away and told him to ‘fuck off’. He became very angry but continued to smile. He walked up to you real slowly and said in a calm voice “I’ll kill your ex and leave their corpse here.” He was not lying. The very next day when you woke up, there was the corpse of your ex. Laying on the floor, staining it with blood and what remains of their organs.

After setting that example he became more subtle. If you could even call it subtle. Whenever you upset or pissed him off, you might find a finger in a bowl, with a ring that you gave your friend on it. You had seen many dismembered body parts- but that’s when you learned to keep your silence and obey lest everyone you love die. 

There’s one way out of here and it’s not by escaping. You ripped up some towels and tied them into a noose. Somehow it seemed like it would work.

You stand on the wooden chair, taking long deep breaths, accepting your fate. The makeshift rope hangs from the ceiling, you grab onto it and get ready to put your head through it. Right as you go to reach your head through, the chair underneath you buckles and you fall to the ground with a loud thud.

You feel strong arms wrap around you. How did he get here? When did he get here? He pulls you onto his lap and begins rocking you. 

“Oh it looks like you’ve split the back of your head open.” He touches the back of your head and shows his bloodied hand to you as proof. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. You could have told me.”

He kisses your forehead gently but you already know that these actions will accompany something else.

“Unless you were trying to escape me.” He chuckles and holds you firmly against his chest. “Then we would have a problem, wouldn’t we?”

[justfandomwritings]

By The Norns (Part One - Soulmate!Loki)

Pairing: Loki x Reader, Soulmates AU

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Nobody was harmed in any way in the making of this story... but there was some arson.

Summary: She wasn’t a goddess. She wasn’t even an elf or a dwarf. She was a mortal, a Midgardian, a human. To Odin, she was a curse. To Loki, she was a second chance.

Notes: Don’t worry. Despite what the chapter and the description may make you think anyone whose read my stories before will know I am not a fan of soulmate aus that take away the character’s choice. This chapter is set up. Stick with me on this. I promise. Posted in honor of @muna1412​ being very excited at the prospect of another soulmate au.

This is not related to Loyalty in any way... I just have an unhealthy obsession with Soulmate aus. 

Fate was a funny, fickle thing. Loki knew that much. After all, he’d met her. 

Them, to be more precise. The Norns.

Urdr, Skuld, and Verdandi were their names: Past, Present, and Future, as they should be known.

It was they who watered the tree, and they who grew its leaves. The task fell to the Norns to write, shape, create, and control the fate of every being under the branches of Yggdrasil. 

A poor, dwarven craftsman working on the surface of Nidavellir, a beautiful, golden elf living on a hill in Alfheim, a meager, puny human scurrying around the surface of Midgard. It was they who made the dwarf rich, who killed the elf in his sleep, who let the human sow the land. They did not exchange the gold; they did not wield the dagger; they did not draw the plow. But it was by their hand, by their grace and mercy, that the worlds turned, that life waxed and waned, that the Realms drew breath. 

Every birth was through their will. Every death was by their hand, and everything in between was because they decided it would be so.

All fell under the gaze of the Norns. The kitchen cook, Andhrimnir, who served the Aesir’s table at night, owed everything to the Norns. They allowed his birth into Asgard. They raised him above the station of a lowly tavern boy. They gifted him the family he cradled so dearly to his chest.

Odin, King of the Nine Realms, Protector of Asgard, owed everything to the Norns. He was born by their choice. He survived a thousand battles because they said he would do so. He married Frigga because they put her on his path. His sons… 

Well, one of his sons.

Loki knew the exact moment Odin stopped looking at him as a son, the exact moment Odin chose Thor over him, the exact moment Odin turned his back on him, the exact moment his father marked him disappointment.

It was, like all things, the doing of the Fates. The Norns.

Fates were theirs to command from the highest branches of Yggdrasil down to its very roots. From king to beggar, slave to master, aristocrat to pauper, farmer to merchant, sailor to soldier. From Loki to her. She was their doing.

Love was an inevitable part of life. Not even the Norns, with all of the power of the gods and then some, could stop that. Humans, Aesir, Elves, Vanir, the sentient beings of the Nine Realms felt an overwhelming urge towards emotion, and one of the strongest, one of the most inevitable, was love.

They couldn’t stop it, but they could direct it.

It fell under the purview of Fate to decide who one loved. People, god and mortal alike, fell in and out of love all the time. 

Sometimes, though, every now and then, the Norns would reach down and touch two beings. The Norns would take two souls in two bodies and braid them together, weave them together, mold them together, as if they were one.

Those who knew magic well, those like Loki, could see them, watch them, doing this. 

They could see Urdr floating, invisible amongst them, deciding the pair. They could see Skuld, plucking up their souls. They could see Verdandi tying them together.

Loki watched them when they took his soul.

“Mother, Mother,” Loki tugged on his other’s silk skirts and pointed up into the rafters of the Grand Hall. “What’s that?”

Frigga followed her son’s gaze and gasped. Magic was not her proficiency, though what little she had she wielded well. She had enough to see the Norns, floating ghostlike in the air over her younger son. She had enough to see his soul in their hands, and another at their side. 

In the old days, before that fateful night, it was considered an honor to be chosen by the Norns. It was a guarantee of a great, powerful destiny in the future. It was a promise of passion, understanding, and respect on the horizon. It was the mark of one who would know true love. 

The Midgardians called them soulmates. The Aesir called them the destined. 

“The Norns have touched Loki,” Frigga whispered to Odin at her side. “They are gifting him a match.”

“With who?” Odin asked because he could not see them for himself.

Frigga squinted in the direction of the apparitions tying together Loki’s future. “I cannot tell. She appears to be…” Frigga’s eyes whipped around to Odin, “Midgardian.”

Odin turned up his nose and sniffed.

Midgard. The word, the world, that had sentenced Loki to a lifetime of second best. 

His ‘destined’, his ‘soulmate’, his curse.

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It was centuries before the soul tied to Loki’s found the body it would spend its own life in.

(Y/n), her parents named her. 

They weren’t sure why they named her that. When asked, they said they saw the name once in a book. Or was it on the tv? Or in a dream? 

Neither could really remember. All they knew was that, as she grew, the name suited her perfectly. Almost as if fate itself had chosen it for her.

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

For centuries, millennia even, her soul had been lingering on the edges of reality, existing but not quite feeling. She floated through time and space, following the ties that bound her to existence, waiting.

By the time her soul entered her body on Earth, she had existed longer  than any other Midgardian ever had or would in all of history. She had lingered for years just out of reach of one of the most powerful beings on Asgard, her soulmate. Lifetimes had passed her by in the blink of an eye, and though she didn’t remember any of them, they remembered her.

Her soul hovered above its mate, basking in the magic that dissipated into the air around him like smoke. She breathed it in, soaked it in, drew it in.

In many ways, even subconsciously, she showed her age, her mate.

Even as a baby, she never woke her mother up screaming, to the jealousy of her mom’s friends. She was the model toddler, even through her terrible twos. She almost never cried and rarely threw temper tantrums. They called her a prodigy when she started speaking in full sentences before time doctors even expected her to be learning her first words, and they called her a genius when she learned to read full children’s books while other kids were still struggling through their first alphabet flashcards. Even though she ran around playing in the mud or splashing in puddles, somehow her clothes were always pristine. She taught herself faster than the teachers could and skipped two grades in elementary school alone. She was suspiciously charismatic for such a little girl and made, literally, hundreds of dollars off her lemonade stand. She listened to a family speaking another language in the store once and ran up to them to answer a question they had; when her parents asked her how she’d learned to understand or say that in another language, she had no idea what they were talking about and seemingly hadn’t even realized she’d done it. 

And yet there were other things, darker things. 

When she was born, the nurses didn’t question the little shock of static that jolted through them as they held her. No one commented how, in the right light, the baby’s eyes could look terrifyingly aware. She lied as easily as she breathed and almost never got caught. A girl made fun of her friend's hair once at school, and that night ended up being rushed to the hospital by her parents with all the signs of a heart attack in a five year old child. She liked having things her way, and even when her parents refused her, they always found themselves oddly compelled to do whatever it was anyways. She had an affinity for snakes that often found her letting them in the house. The pranks she pulled on her little brother sometimes got out of hand and often resulted in loud crashes and screams, though by the time any adult arrived nothing ever seemed broken. Her father used to joke that she must be some kind of shape shifter because he swore that, from day to day, her eye would change their color. Sometimes, when he looked in them, he swore they weren’t his daughters, but when he blinked and looked back they always returned to normal. 

Most of it was written off as the simple oddities of a child or exaggerations of first time parents. 

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Superheroes did not exist when (Y/n) was a child. 

It would be another decade before Tony Stark would stand on a stage and proclaim before the world, “I am Iron Man.” It would be even longer still before Peter Parker would put on a red and blue jumpsuit and call himself, ‘Spiderman’. Bruce Banner hadn’t even begun his research into the serum that would be his ultimate undoing. Dr. Stephen Strange was finishing up med school. Thor hadn’t made his presence known. Wanda had just been born. Hawkeye and Black Widow were still assassins working in the shadows. No one outside Wakanda had ever heard of the Black Panther. Vision hadn’t been built yet, and Captain America had been dead for decades. 

Even if they did exist, it wouldn’t have helped (Y/n). Most of them weren’t born super. Most of them became so by lab experiments or radioactive insects or training or technology. 

In the world (Y/n) grew up in, there were no superheroes. And if there were no superheroes... then what was she? 

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She was 12. 

It was her big day. 

Not her birthday, she didn’t particularly care about birthdays. Something about them just felt off to her. When she turned 11, she asked her mom if she could have two of those candles that were shaped like the actual numbers, and she’d put them pressed against each other on top of the cake. She ran around all day telling everyone she was 1,111. Some people laughed, but mostly to humor her.

That was why she hadn’t had a birthday party when she turned 12. She didn’t like people fake laughing. It felt like lying. She didn’t particularly mind lying herself, but she hated thinking that people were lying to her. Especially because she could always tell when they were. 

No, instead, she had this. The Science Fair.

She’d won first prize the night before. She knew she had because one of the judges had told her she’d won.

That morning, they would be handing out the awards, and she was so excited for everyone else to know the secret, to know that she was the best, even better than the older kids in her class.

The judges were walking up on stage, and any moment, once they got past the category winners they were going to call her name.

“In third place we have Jesse Martin with his project in the biology category!” 

A cheer went up that, judging by the pitch, absolutely must have been from Jesse’s mom. The other parents in the room clapped while Jesse ran towards the stage, turning red in the cheeks from his family’s overzealous encouragement. 

“Congratulations, son,” the Dean smiled as he bent down to shake the boy’s hand. The mike picked up a small bit of Jesse’s anxious thanks before he ran to join the line of winners.

“And in second place we have, (Y/n)! With her wonderful….” 

Second place. 

But Mr. Sellers, the science teacher had told her she won. 

Was he lying? Did he honestly think second place was winning? Was he just saying that to shut her up? Or was he being mean? Did he want to laugh at her when his real favorite won? 

The parents were cheering her, including her own. Her father was nudging her towards the stage, but she didn’t at all appreciate the gesture.

No. They told her she was going to win. 

Her face screwed up in pain, and she balled her hands into fists.

At the back of the room something exploded. 

A scream went out. 

“Fire!” Someone shouted. “Fire!”

The poster boards up and down the hall were catching fire. It jumped easily from paper to paper. It didn’t help that there was no smoke, for some odd reason. That the sprinklers, that the fire alarm, didn’t turn on.

Someone grabbed (Y/n) by the waist. Her father no doubt. 

(Y/n) barely noticed. She was still upset staring at the trophy on the stage over his shoulder. 

Slowly, before her eyes, it began to melt.

She smiled. Good. If she couldn’t have it, no one could.

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

“She caused the fire.” He whispered, staring down at the floor in front of him with glassy eyes. 

“Wayne, that’s crazy; you know it is.” 

“I saw it with my own eyes, Elle. She clenched her first and suddenly Christina Danvers poster exploded. She gets second, and the first place project explodes the moment she throws a fit?”

“Our daughter doesn’t throw fits.”

“Not normally, but she did today. She was about to, and then everything caught fire.”

“Wayne, you can’t be serious about this right now.”

“She was smiling.” He whispered. “When everything burned down, she was smiling.”

(Y/n) listened silently from the hallway as her parents talked.

She loved to eavesdrop on her parents late night. They never knew she was there. It was another one of those odd coincidences of her life that (Y/n) was the only person in the house who never made the steps creak when she walked up and down the stairs. 

She was old enough to know what they were saying, what they were implying. It should’ve bothered her more than it did.

(Y/n) walked back upstairs, silent as the grave, and opened her closet.

She needed the duffle bag her father kept tucked away in the top of her closet, but she was nowhere near tall enough to reach it. As the door slid open, the bag teetered on the edge of the wire shelf and fell to the floor. 

“How convenient,” (Y/n) mumbled to herself. 

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“Hey Kid,” The man shouted at her out the window of his semi-truck. “What’re you doin’ out here at night? It ain’t safe!” 

(Y/n) shrugged. “Not safe at home either.” 

The man gave her an understanding look. 

(Y/n) watched him carefully as he opened the door of his rig and offered her a hand. 

Her mother had always told her not to talk to strangers, but (Y/n) had found she could always tell what people wanted. Besides, she was pretty sure she was a greater danger to them than they were to her. 

“Where ya’ headed?” The man asked.

“West.”

“I can take ya’ as far as Texas.” He offered. 

(Y/n) hopped off the curb and grabbed the man’s offered hand, hauling herself up into the passenger seat. 

She didn’t know where she was going or why she was going there. But something inside of her told her she had somewhere to be.

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Next Time On.... Part Two

Thank you very much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed. I have just come back from a hiatus and a great deal of why I went on said hiatus was the stress of managing ‘added features’ for lack of a better expression. I like writing. I don’t like formatting or managing the blog side of things. 

As such, no taglists. Please don’t ask me to be on a taglist. Keeping track of it stresses me out too much. I don’t feel like doing it. I don’t appreciate being pressured into doing it. In the olden days of tumblr, people used to follow each other, and I promise you that feature still works. If you follow me you will see part two when it’s posted. 

[shinescape]

Strings of Fate

Choi San x Fem Reader

note: angst and fluff mixed together and here you go. Had this song on repeat when i wrote this, thought of sharing it. Enjoy the read!

He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand watching you date other people and get your heart broken. He knows his place in your heart, a mere best friend and nothing more.

It hurts seeing you cry every time a relationship ends, especially on a bad note. But it hurts himself more knowing that he’s your soulmate and you harbour no romantic feelings for him at all. So he came to a conclusion to end it all.

San eyed the red thread tied on his left pinky, wishing it would disappear or that he doesn’t have the ability to see it at all. He used to find it special but not anymore. Even if the thread ended up on you.

You were calling him and he knew why, you needed him. Something had happened and you wanted to see him, to comfort you for the nth time.

But he needed to do something first. Something to make sure he is not bound to you anymore. He took the scissors that laid near the keyboard and placed it right at the thread. With one snip and it’s all over but he was hesitating.

He would still be human but without a soulmate. Different but not in a special way. Tears brimmed in his eyes and his vision blurred, his hands started to shake. His mind was everywhere that he didn’t hear the door burst open.

“What are you doing, Choi San?”

His mother worriedly walked over to him and took the scissors away. “What do you think you’re doing, son?” He let his hands drop to his lap just like his tears flowed down his cheek.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

He stared at the red string. It felt like a curse to him now. “Have you tried telling her how you feel?” She cupped his face and wiped the tears. The silence was the answer and she sighed lightly. “At least let her know and see what happens, hmm?”

“And what if things turn out badly? Let me just cut this stupid thread.” Just in time, his phone rang again. His mother held both his hands and made him look at her. “Listen to me, go and meet her. I know you love her regardless if you were able to see the thread or not.”

He furrowed his brows and she chuckled at his tight expression. “I know you like her ever since, it may not be obvious to her but it is to me. Now go, I bet she won’t budge until you’re there.”

He watched as you cradled yourself by the edge of the river banks on the grass covered field. He let out a long sigh and walked towards you quietly but it still caught your attention. You looked up at him with a deep frown and he gave that dimple smile you never get tired off.

Sitting beside you, he noticed you were on your phone. “We only broke up last week and he’s already posting photos with someone else.” San blinked at the brightness of your phone before taking it from your hand to get a closer look. He said nothing and just scrolled up and down the page once before giving the phone back to you.

“Am I cursed?” He turned to look at you, brow knotted at your words.

“You’re not cursed, what makes you think that?” His eyes fixed on the string that was tied on your right pinky. Every time he held your hands, the thread appeared like promise rings. It made him happy for a second but vanished when you started telling him about your past lovers.

“Every guy I date ends up breaking my heart or they just see me as someone easy to fool around with. They never stay longer than I wanted. What did I do wrong? All I wanted was to fall in love and be happy and experience those sweet moments together for as long as I live.”

Every single word pierced his heart. San heard this many times and yet he was silent as ever, listening to you talk about other men who paid no proper attention to you like he did.

He wanted to tell you that love hurts, it’s not all about sunshine and rainbows. There are storms and thunders much like what you are going through now. Like what he had been going through his whole life of loving you.

He was like an umbrella that made sure you get to enjoy the sun but doesn’t get the heat from it. “I’m sorry you have to listen to this. I just don’t know who to tell and you always seemed to have the time for me. You’re probably sick of me being like this, right?” You exhaled loudly and rested your head on your knees, eyes on the still river.

Yes, he was sick of it all but he stayed because you’re his soulmate. How was he supposed to tell you that? “I know it’s not the right time but I have something to tell you.” He started off knowing well this has the potential of a bad ending. Your friendship is on the line but he had to do something before he burst.

You turn to look at him and let him take your hand in his. You’ve held hands numerous times but somehow with him it has that electrifying effect. You would feel tingles all over your body. It was odd but not even with your past lovers had you felt that way. It was always just with him.

“You know that soulmates can see their bounded thread when they kiss right?” He nervously licked his lips when you furrowed your brows at him. “Yes, and I know you can see them from a young age even when it’s not your own thread. Did you find your soulmate by any chance?”

Your eyes widened at the thought of your best friend finally meeting his soulmate because you still haven’t met yours. You inched nearer to him and grabbed his sleeves, smiling up at him, eager to hear his story.

It always makes your heart swell every time you hear those kinds of stories, soulmates finally meeting each other. Hearing them explaining how the thread appeared right before their eyes when they kissed for the first time had you smiling without fail every single time.

San exhaled loudly and you wondered if you said something wrong. He looked conflicted, a pained expression shown on his face. How did you never notice this before?

“Is everything okay-”

“Can I kiss you?”

Your voices overlapped but you heard him. You want to pretend you didn’t but he noticed your change in expression which gave you off. “What...why?” You backed away but he moved to pull you back and somehow mid way trying to stop him, he pushed you down.

One hand intertwined with yours and the other rests on the side of your head balancing himself so he doesn’t fall on you. You didn’t know what was going on but he seemed so desperate. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

He lowered down and only repeated the same question. “Can I kiss you?” How were you supposed to respond to that? He never asked something intimate like this, even when you held hands and shared hugs all the time.

San was not himself and you only realised it too late. You fluttered your eyes shut as a “yes” found its way out of your lips. You held in your breath when you felt his warm lips pressed on yours. Your intertwined fingers gripped harder as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss.

It was hard to believe that you’re actually kissing your best friend. It definitely never crossed your head before. Not even once.

He pulled away seconds later and sat beside you, not a word left his lips. You sat up and placed a hand on his shoulder trying to make him turn and look at you but a fine red thread caught your eyes instead.

Backing away slightly, you saw a pool of thread in between your bodies. “You’re my soulmate?” You shook his shoulder, trying to get his attention but he stubbornly faced the other way.

“After all these years, why didn't you say anything? You watch me get in and out of relationships knowing well about this. Why?” You fist his sleeve and tug it harshly.

“Please talk to me, San.” hearing your light sobs, he finally turned to look. Your head hanging low and your fingers still gripping hard on his shirt.

“I was scared. What if you don’t feel the same way I did?” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “I even tried cutting the thread earlier but again I was scared. What will happen to you if I selfishly cut it and-”

“Have you ever thought of asking?”

Your words struck something in him. “If you had asked or told me, I wouldn’t have gone and dated other people. Do you know how guilty and stupid I feel right now?”

San knew you were going to ramble on and on about how he could have made things easier for the both of you if he had revealed it earlier on thus he engulfed your body.

A hand made its way to the back of your head, patting it lightly. “I’m sorry. I should be the one apologising so don't feel guilty.” You started to calm down as your hands hugged him back.

“Don’t you feel anything seeing me go on dates with other people? You could clearly see the thread and yet you let it happen. Why?”

“I thought that if I can’t have you then maybe someone else that’s not your soulmate could make you happy. I was so sure you don’t feel the same way I did so I hid my feelings and acted like it was nothing.”

You pulled yourself away and punched his chest. “That’s for hiding your feelings.”

Another punch, “For not telling me that we’re soulmates.” San held onto your fist before it could hit him again and softly smile at you.

“It’s painful enough living all these years knowing my soulmate is right next to me yet I did nothing to claim them as mine. So can you kiss me instead?”

You could see that he was trying to hold back his tears and that he finally confessed how he was feeling all this time.

As much as it hurts you breaking up with people who ended up not being your one and only, San on the other hand endured staying close by his soulmate, watching you falling in love countless time with others and console you until you felt better knowing that the strings that bound them together was visible to his eyes and only his.

You waited no longer and kissed him, feeling his lips curled against yours had your heart beating so hard against your chest.

Your bounded pinkies curled each other as you pulled away breathless, shyly exchanging smiles with each other.

He finally got his happiness and you found yourself falling for him like never before.

[lepusrufus]

Wrong victim

Pure comedic self indulgence because we all need a funny break before shit starts to really go down in To bargain for immortality. Set quite a few years after the game events, around 2025, and is pure ridiculousness so enjoy.

////

Her response to being unceremoniously shoved in the back seat of a car that looked like it's seen far better days was merely an annoyed grunt. It turned into an eye roll when the man that climbed in after her pulled everything out of her pockets. 

"Wouldn't want you calling anyone," he said with a toothy grin while waving her phone in front of her. 

"Trust me, that won't be necessary," she replied in a deadpan voice. It's not like she would call the police, she wanted them involved even less than her kidnappers probably did. As for other people she could reach out to, a phone call would be redundant really. "Do be careful with it, I'd hate to lose the photos of Daniela sleeping upside down." 

After maybe ten minutes of driving down the barely illuminated outskirts of the city, and having her pockets emptied, dagger included, the burly man driving pulled up inside a parking lot. It was large and overgrown with weeds and vines reclaiming spaces that had been left without human activity for who knows how long. The lamp posts were nothing more than useless concrete pillars as they provided no illumination, resulting in her pitiful captors having to use flashlights as they made their way into the dilapidated factory. 

Nicole sneered at the sight of collapsed walls and rusty metal walkways, reminding her of the one particular Lord she couldn't stand the sight of. She decided a distraction was needed from unpleasant memories. 

"Abandoned factory?" She whistled. "How many cliche movies have you guys watched?" 

She let out a chuckle when the man that had previously taken her phone shoved her ahead. Hopefully they wouldn't tape her mouth shut, there was so much fun to be had by mockery alone. 

It didn't take long before all three of them entered a dimly lit room, numerous candles placed all around, either on desks or candle supports nailed to the walls. The three more people inside were wearing long black robes and white masks covering their faces. Nicole had to laugh. 

"Oh so you're that kinda crazy." 

"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the man holding her hands behind her back said while pushing her into a chair. 

He then moved to a table and Nicole couldn't help but scowl at how unceremoniously her beloved dagger had been thrown on the wooden surface. Afterwards, he put on a mask not unlike the others, except with red streaks going down from the eye holes, and started to prepare something in the middle of the room. The others joined in on the task, all but the one man that had been put in charge of making sure Nicole stayed put. Because of course she could easily escape five people much bigger than her at any given moment. 

She decided to take a look around, at the various dusty books opened on pages she couldn't quite make out from where she was sitting. A few pages were laying around, either with diagrams or with scribbled notes. Had she really stumbled upon a cult? She couldn't wait to have a laugh about it with her family. 

"So," she started, craning her neck a little so she could see her captor's face. "Who you gonna sacrifice me to huh? I wanna know before you slice up my throat or whatever you're planning on." 

A confused and suspicious look was thrown her way, surely due to the complete nonchalance she spoke with about what would surely be her untimely death. "The… the devil," was his unsure reply. 

Nicole let out a small laugh. "Oh trust me, you do not want to meet her. Though devil is not quite the word," she continued despite a few other pairs of eyes landing on her. "Maybe a pissy fungal overlord with an unhealthy obsession for crows. Yes that's more like it," she finished with another chuckle. 

The man with a slightly different mask, who seemed to be their self appointed leader, got up from where he was nailing something to the floor and walked up to her in a few long strides. His eyes were barely visible, but anger was clearly distinguishable. 

He pulled out a knife, old, rusty and with a black worn out handle so typical of a kitchen utensil, and so incredibly ugly compared to the beautifully ornate daggers that decorated her home. She had to laugh when the dull blade got pressed to her throat. 

"Will you shut up for one minute?!" He raised his voice slightly, as much as someone who was doing something they didn't wish to be caught doing would dare to. It didn't deter her though. 

"Oh sweetie this is just what foreplay looks to me," she started with a grin that made her wish she had fangs like the better part of her relatives. "But please do me a favor and stay quiet, there's no fun in hunting if my darling finds you within five seconds due to you screeching like a broken squeaky toy." 

The man blinked for a few seconds, taken aback both by the words and by the apparent passivity towards having a knife at her throat. He stayed like that until one person that was working with some ropes behind interjected. 

"Of all the people you could've taken, how did you find this unhinged bitch?!" 

"I'll take that as a compliment," Nicole said, bending slightly to the side so the person that had spoken up would have a clear view of her sickly sweet smile. 

After that exchange, her captors seemed happy to move things along quicker, working in silence and begrudgingly ignoring any remarks she would throw their way, including an observation on the downright dreadful quality of the rope they had. Quality that she regrettably got to experience when her wrist and ankles got tied to the nails in the floor, having her lay down in a starfish position. It kind of reminded her of sprawling on the bed she shared with Cassandra simply to annoy the brunette. 

After loudly reciting something in latin, the leader bent down, same rusty knife in hand, and tipped her chin upwards to expose the neck. She did let out a wince when the blade sunk deep in her flesh and got dragged downward, towards her chest, leaving behind a choking sensation and the taste of copper in her mouth. The knife however only made it to the base of her neck, before the sound of metal crashing caught everyone's attention. 

"What the fuck," the man whispered, thankfully pulling the blade out so her skin had the time to begin stitching itself back together. She still had to turn her head around and spit some blood that made its way into her mouth. 

Before anyone else had a chance to speak up, the door was kicked open, one of the rusty hinges breaking completely, to reveal a rather angry Cassandra with her sickle in hand, ready for bloodshed. 

There were a few seconds of stunned silence before the blade was unceremoniously thrown into the first person's skull, spinning through the air for only a few meters before getting embedded into the bone with a sloshing sound. Anyone else trying to escape through the one door was met with a similar fate. One person had their knees kicked inwards before a knife held at the same belt as the sickle came down to slash their throat. Another had their head smashed to bits against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye. And last, the burly man that had driven and kept an eye on Nicole, had his heart ripped through the bottom of his ribcage when Cassandra shoved him against one of the tables, scattering the books and papers that were by then stained crimson. 

The remaining man, the leader, got grabbed by the shoulders and forcefully shoved into the same chair she had been sitting in not too long ago. 

"Stay put and I'll let you live," Cassandra spoke, all the cruelty polished over decades upon decades of sporting the title of the family's most sadistic coming through those few words. 

He gulped and nodded, eyes glossed over by the pure human terror now so unfamiliar to both of them. 

She then turned around, expression softening like a switch had been turned behind golden eyes. "Nicole," she started, barely an edge of concern and irritation at the sight of her wife's bloody skin. 

"Hi babe." The self satisfied grin almost had the brunette chuckling while she retrieved her sickle and Nicole's things. 

The weapon was used to cut her free, a grimace pulling the corners of her black lips downward at the same quality observation her wife had priorly made, no doubt. A hand was offered to Nicole to pull herself up, while the other presented the familiar dagger that was gifted to her so many years ago. 

"Will you do the honors love," Cassandra asked, with that beautifully sadistic smile. 

"Of course," came Nicole's reply as her hand wrapped around the leather covered handle. 

With some of the wretched ropes gathered from the ground, Cassandra made quick work of the man's hands and legs, securely tied to the chair and voice frantic. 

"You said you would let me live!" 

Cassandra laughed, a low ominous sound, while grabbing the mask and throwing it on the floor. She did love to see the terror in her victims' faces after all. 

"Unfortunately my wife made no such promises," she finished with a forceful pull of hair that kept his head in one place as she moved to the back of the chair. 

Nicole approached with the dagger already out of its holster and tapped the blade's point against her lips in thought for a few moments. She could simply slice his throat and be done with it, or stab him and leave him to bleed out, choking on his own blood. A hum made its way past her lips. No, no that would not do. 

She grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulling it up almost to the neck. After a few mental measurements and approximations were made, the tip of the blade finally found its way into muscle, drawing thin trails of blood and pained screams. It took a good five minutes to carve all the intricate details she wanted to, the swirling patterns cutting cleanly through skin, courtesy of her wife keeping the blade sharp and in top condition. 

After she was content with the level of detail, and screams subsided to pathetic sobs, she took a step back and, with a hum, looked at Cassandra for a reaction. 

"Oh dearest," the brunette said, looking over the man's shoulder and down at the bloody cuts on his abdomen and chest, forming a crude yet not unfitting replica of the Dimitrescu crest. 

At the adoration that made its way past the cruelty in her wife's eyes, Nicole smiled and gingerly took a hold of her unoccupied hand, bringing it close to her lips and leaving a small kiss and a barely visible blood imprint on each knuckle. 

"I take it that you approve of my… design choice," she asked with another glance down at the jagged lines that formed their family's symbol. 

"It's wonderful," Cassandra replied, fangs shimmering slightly in the low light, exposed from the proud smile that tugged at her lips. 

A gorgeous smile, really, that made something swell inside Nicole's chest no matter how many times she saw it. Truth be told, her rendition of the crest was quite lacking, never having had the artistic skills to quite capture the intricate details that formed it. Nevertheless, if it brought a smile to her wife's lips, she was more than content with it. How unfortunate that it had to be ruined. 

She let out a sigh, still holding Cassandra's hand. "Too bad those pigs at the BSAA would quite disapprove of us leaving such things behind. Oh well," she shrugged, bringing the hand she was holding over to the man's abdomen. "Better it be ruined at your hands." 

The next second, claws dug deep into flesh, slicing the muscle and everything underneath all the way up to the throat. It left five deep gashes over the fine cuts of her dagger, but the satisfaction did not dwindle. On the contrary, when the gurgling sounds finally stopped and the body went limp, her smile was still there, turning into light laughter when Cassandra licked her fingers only to visibly cringe. 

"Say what you will about the dungeons, but at least we feed our livestock well," she spat, taking out a napkin from a pocket and wiping her fingers clean. "But with that disgusting thing out of the way, let me help you with that," she continued, grimace morphing into a sly smile when her eyes landed on Nicole's still bloody neck. 

She gave her no time to disagree, not that she would, before she pushed her backwards slightly into the edge of a table. Nicole wasted no time in lifting herself up on the wooden surface, bringing their faces just a tad closer to being on the same level. 

Cassandra dipped her head down, lips leaving teasing feather-like kisses on her jaw before lowering even further so she could drag her tongue up the length of her neck. It made a shiver run down Nicole's spine, that turned into an impatient tug of her wife's hair when the motion was repeated again and again, until no traces of blood could be seen on her neck, save for the crimson stains that made their way to the hem of her shirt. 

Their lips met in a hungry kiss, full of fangs and smeared lipstick and the taste of copper so familiar to the both of them, albeit for different reasons. When Nicole's hands went to the first buttons of Cassandra's blouse, their kiss was broken with a sly smirk. 

"This is such a dreadful place for such things, don't you think," the brunette said, all too amused by her wife's exasperated sigh. 

"You started it," Nicole complained, but before the words were fully out of her mouth, she was tugged off the table and on the way out, ready to get back home and have a laugh about the irony of her capture. They would have to pick up where they left off at a later time. 

[anywherebuthere]

I had a dream about you last night || j.p.

James Potter x fem!reader

“Even when you’re gone, you are all that haunts my dreams.”

Wordcount: 1969

A/N: Happy (belated) birthday to the only man ever <33 I am illiterate, so I had a mental breakdown writing this <3 please enjoy!! special thanks to @anchoeritic and @gxtitobxby for supporting me via discord and for making fun of the time I got hit by a car :)) @skullsontess07​ I finally posted it pls don’t hurt me <33

Warnings: alcohol, allusions to sex, death, bad writing, especially towards the end. barely proofread because I don’t believe in mistakes <3 /j

Please do not repost this!! I do not consent to this piece of fiction being published on any other site besides tumblr unless it by my doing.

The ticking of the grandfather clock thrummed in James’ ears as he tipped back the empty bottle, the smell of whiskey heavy in the air. He leaned his head against the cold surface of the white plaster wall, scanning the textured ceiling with misty eyes. His home, still half furnished, was riddled with traces of something better forgotten. Even with the weight of alcohol on his breath, his mind is running with memories and daydreams of her. 

He closed his eyes, forcing the imagery away. In the distance, a train chugged on, its lone whistle echoing in the night, and James can’t help but be pulled into an uneasy slumber, memories still flashing through his mind like a broken film. 

-

“Prongs, you git! We’re going to miss the train if you don’t hurry your fat arse.” Remus shouted, frustration seeping into his humoured voice. 

“Relax Moony, we’ll be fine,” he replied, breath heaving slightly from sprinting across Platform 9¾, just narrowly having avoided knocking over an elderly witch. 

As the four boys approached the entrance of the cart, the train’s departing whistle blared. They boarded quickly, though not without receiving a glare from a crew member.

Hurrying down the corridor, the boys glanced through every compartment window, though each appeared to be full of giggling sixth years. That is, with the exception of one.

Near the back end of the Hogwarts Express, was, at last, an empty compartment save for a singular figure slumped against the window. With no other choice of seating, the gaggle of boys slipped in silently, Sirius and Remus snagging the seats opposite to the slumbering girl, their pinkies linked as they whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves. 

Peter, as adverse to the female race as ever, took the seat closest to the door, leaving James to be wedged between the mousy blonde and the stranger, careful not to bump her with his broad shoulders.

The train ride was filled with hushed whispers as the marauders discussed this year's prank for the welcoming feast, a customary tradition they held sacred, as to “start the year right.” 

As they began going over the mechanisms of their plan, they felt the train begin to swerve as it approached a sharp turn. The compartment shook slightly and James suddenly felt a weight on his right side.

He stiffened, glancing over to see that the girl’s head had lulled over from the compartment wall and onto his shoulder. James recognized her as a student in their year. Y/N, who had tutored Regulus the same day that James had helped Sirius prank him as petty revenge for a now long-forgotten argument. 

And well, perhaps James had wanted her to notice him for once. If so, it had been a successful endeavour as he remembered the way her face had contorted in anger, though her attention had remained just as elusive for the remainder of their fifth year. So… perhaps not so successful.

He flushed at the memory. She was now even prettier than the year prior.

“Oh? Is that a blush we see, Moony?” Sirius taunted, nudging Remus with his elbow as he snickered at James’ scowl.

“Bloody hell, piss off, will you? You’ll wake her–” 

He felt her suddenly stir beside him, brows creasing as though on the cusp of consciousness. 

James held his breath.

The moment passed as Y/N nudged her face further into the crook of his neck before settling back into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps he wouldn’t need the prank to start the year right this time around. 

-

It seemed that sixth year would be a good one for James. 

In the early morning of a mid-March day, an unlikely scene unfolded between the shelves of Hogwarts’ library. There he sat beside a bleary Y/N, voice still drowsy with sleep as she read aloud a passage from the Herbology textbook perched between them.

Initially, James had detested the thought of having to wake up at such an ungodly hour for the sake of a project. No other time had fit, not with his Quidditch practices and her absurd number of tutoring sessions. 

Though now, as the early rays of sunrise filtered through the library’s mullioned windows onto her skin, James thinks that there is nowhere else he would rather be.

He thinks this moment will be ingrained in his mind forever. 

“–once a century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers able to attract the unwary.” she paused to yawn, eyebags evident as she turned to meet James’ gaze. She scrunched her nose and he swore he swooned at the very sight. “Are you even listening to me, Potter?”

“I’m always listening to you,” he replied, tilting his head. She grins in response and he notices just how beautiful it is. 

She shifted her gaze back to the textbook lying in their laps, picking up where she had left off.

“Its scent adapts–”

James leaned forward suddenly, capturing her lips in his. The book fell closed between them.

Immediately, almost though by instinct, Y/N reciprocates, moving her lips gently against his as her hand cups his cheek. James finds himself gripping that hand as his other wraps around her waist, finding the small of her back and pulling her impossibly close against him.

She tasted of cherry chapstick and peppermint bubblegum, and though there was nothing particularly special about those flavours, on her, James swears that he could drown in his intoxication alone. Her perfume wafts through the air, the scent causing him to groan against her mouth. 

When they separated at last, his head was swimming in euphoria, his expression dazed. Y/N blinked up at him, sleep wiped entirely from her expression.

“Its scent adapts itself during these times to attract said unwary.” she finishes, sounding breathless still, voice trailing off as James began to laugh hysterically.

She rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly. 

When James still couldn’t stop laughing, Y/N gripped his haphazardly tied red and gold tie, using it to pull his soft lips against hers once more and he was sure in his mind that there would no one else for him.

-

Beneath a great oak tree in the courtyard lay two figures. Under the tree’s twisting branches, they hid in its cool shade from the sweltering afternoon sun. Few places aside from the castle offered shelter from June’s blistering heat and as the semester approached its end, they finally allowed themselves to rest in the gentle breeze. 

James was leaning against the thick trunk while Y/N’s head lay in his lap. His elbow was resting on her abdomen as she drew on his hand, doodling intricate flower designs alongside some… less desirable things.

He felt his heart swell with joy as her laughter filled the summer air and before he could catch himself, he blurted out the thought that had been weighing in the back of his mind since they had started dating.

“Do you ever think about your future?" 

He felt the scratch of her muggle pen slow, as though pausing in thought.

"I want to grow old and die surrounded with people I love, knowing I lived a long and fulfilling life. You know, typical boring stuff," she replied after a moment's consideration. Her eyes twinkled with more, though Y/N never indulged in half-thought-out plans. 

"What about you?" she questioned with the tip of her head. James didn’t need time to think about it. He had known his answer since that fateful September morning when she had slept on his shoulder throughout the entirety of the train ride.

"I don't care what my future is as long as you're there" he answers truthfully.

Y/N flushed, her ears heated. She looked away, the corners of her lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile.

James freed his hand from her loose grasp, hooking her chin to look back towards him before leaning in to kiss her.

Even after all these months, he relished in the taste of her lips. He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of the feeling.

He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of her.

-

The sun was setting in the west on a quiet evening, its golden rays shining on the slick skin of two lovers as they untangled themselves from the sheets, unable to hold in their laughter when one got his foot stuck in the knot of their crochet blanket. 

The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and endorphins as Y/N laid back, her body still bare, not bothering to cover it.

James propped his elbow beside her head, careful not to press on her spread-out hair, his face filled with ecstasy and pure bliss. 

He will never get used to the sight of her in his bed, giggling as the sun reflected off her silky skin. The image of her underneath him is cemented in his mind, permanently lodged there as solid as concrete. He knows now with absolute certainty that there would be no one else for him. 

James’ smile widened further as he nudged his nose into the crook of her neck, leaning in to place a kiss there when his vision blurred.

It was no longer sunset. Rather, the two of them were now enveloped in the dark of night and James is certain he hears the echo of a familiar spell ring off in the distance.

He pulls away from Y/N’s neck. 

She was no longer shaking with laughter, but rather, writhing in pain. There were lacerations all across her torso and James felt something sticky underneath his hands.

They were laying in a pool of her blood.

Panic clawed at his throat and though he had never been averse to the sight of blood, yours was an exception. The taste of bile clung to his tongue. 

“No... No no no no no,” he whispered in disbelief. Swivelling his head, outside the window, he spots a cloaked figure wearing a mask of silver disapparate. 

“No!” 

Grasping for the wand strapped to his side, he murmurs a healing spell, gasping for breath when the wounds remain open. His head was spiralling as Y/N shook her head almost imperceptibly, grabbing at his wrist with a shaking hand.

Carved into her arm was the word “MUDBLOOD” and James felt his vision turn red, suddenly hyper-aware of the blood pumping through his veins.

“James…” she rasped. He gripped her shaking hand.

“Why isn’t it working? Why?” he cried, tears streaming down his face, struggling to breathe.

“Whatever our souls are made of,” she gasped, blood spurting out of her mouth. Her beautiful mouth, the one that tasted of cherries and peppermint, was covered in thick, crimson blood. “you and I are connected.” 

“No! Stop with this rubbish, you’re not going to die!” he sobbed, gripping her bloodied hand like a vice. She continued as though he hadn’t even spoken.

Perhaps she was too far gone to hear him.

“Wh-whatever is beyond this life,” violent ruby coated her mouth as she coughed, blood splattering onto her smooth skin. “Promise me, y-you’ll find me again.”

“I promise,” he cried, sobs racking through his body. 

But she was already gone.

-

James woke with a start, gasping for breath with the taste of blood and “promise” still coating his tongue. He was alone in a house built for two.

In his fitful sleep, he had knocked over the empty bottle of whiskey beside him.

She had hated whiskey.

Had. 

A fresh wave of misery washed over James, adding to the dull pain that never seemed to go away, throbbing through him as naturally as the blood in his veins. It wasn’t enough that she existed still within every corner of their shared home.

Even in his dreams, he is haunted by her memory.

ㄧ

@catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[mrpenguinpants]

Xiao: String of Fate [Soulmate AU] HCs

Hey anon! Okay, I’m just gonna level with you. This request? This request right here? Probably one of my favourites. I went feral over this at 3am and my monkey brain fabricated an entire life story for Xiao when he’s not even out yet.

I sorta combined this request with my feral plot idea (which is honestly a 20k word fic at this point), but ahem, I hope you like and np^^ gotta make so many offerings so Xiao hopefully blesses me. Have a lovely day anon!!

--- Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ Fainting ]

[Masterlist]

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @sunnshiii @hanniejji​  @snowy224 @mayumintsu @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @legionqueensav​ @youaskedfurret​

---

Xiao: String of Fate [Soulmate AU] HCs

The red string of fate is a concept that those who are connected by a red string are destined to meet and fall in love. Regardless of place, time, or circumstances. The red string can never be broken unless one connected passes away.

Alatus

For the past few days, Alatus would wake up early and scale the mountains of his small village to pick Qingxin flowers. The morning dew would still be on the petals before the sun came by and evaporated everything. It became a bit of a small joke that the elders used to make, that a earth spirit would appear at the break of dawn to place the flowers for harvest. Not that Alatus minded, he was grateful that whatever celestial spirt was out there made sure to replace the ones he took. Remembering to always offer a prayer of thanks and a small offering, you would scold him if he didn’t.

He quickly scaled and vaulted over the wooden beam and slipped into your room. He winced at the sound of his shoes landing on the wooden floor but you didn’t seem to stir. You were still sleeping peacefully as Alatus took the fresh flowers to add to the ones already in your small vase beside you. They were your favourite flower after all. He reminisces about when you were both children and how you would drag him to mountains and tell him all about how at the very top there was his beautiful white flower. But you were both too young with small limbs to even attempt to climb it, plus if you somehow managed to do it, it would take too long and both your parents would be worried. It never seemed to deter you as you reasoned that a wind spirit would help your journey. Come to think of it, you always put a lot of faith into celestial beings. But he goes along with your plan, never one to contain your desire to explore.

He’s suddenly snapped out of his memories when he hears a soft knock on the door. It quietly opens to reveal your mother. She gives him a small smile as he looked a bit guilty for getting caught breaking in before waving him over to hand him something. You left him with a small bamboo package that you had wanted to give on his birthday. On top of the bamboo, you had wrote a short but warming message that you were worried about him always running off outside and that he might catch a cold. He smiled softly at your words, ingraining the way your ink brush flowed down the bamboo sticks into his mind. He offer’s a small thanks as she gives him a comforting hug. Whether for him or her he doesn’t know and she leaves.

He carefully untied the brown string keeping the package together to unravel a blue, white, and gold sleeve. He silently marveled at how beautiful it was and held it up to the light, it almost seemed to shine with subtle highlights. He has no idea how you managed to create this, he had never even seen the dye of red or gold used in clothing before. Perhaps the celestial beings decided to bless you for your prayers and devotion. He gives one small squeeze of your hand as he ties the sleeve to his arm and he slips out through the same window he came from. He looks up at the mountain’s he’s scaled before setting on the tallest one. One so tall the elders say that it could reach celestia.

As he scales the mountain he can feel a taint tug on his thumb, before it slowly disappears. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, breathes in deeply, and continues upwards.

The Golden-Winged King

One of his first adepti duties was to investigate the place he once knew as his home. There had been a dream eating demon that had been spreading curses onto unsuspecting youths. Putting them into eternal sleep before they bodies finally succumbed and they passed away. It was horrible and Alatus swore he would do everything in his power to make the dream demon suffer. Unfortunely, seeing as this was his first time venturing out back into the moral world and still recovering from his trials, he was assigned to work with a senior anemo adepti. One who was well-versed in using polearms that could “show him the ropes” as mortals would say.

This other adepti was too loud and erratic for his tastes compared to the calm and peaceful friend he once knew. Always getting side-tracked and flying around Alatus like some overgrown pixie. Never taking anything serious even though the both of you were tasked to destroy evil. But he held his tongue since this was his senior, gripping his sleeve when he was especially annoyed. This only seemed to spur the other anemo adepti further and inquire about the sleeve. Naturally, Alatus was hostile and guarded. That was first time he ever raised his voice which instead of becoming offended or angry, the other adepti was impressed.

From then on the other adepti seemed to want to interact with Alatus at any given moment. From checking in with him on his latest mission or if he heard about how the delicious flowers tasted. Who even ate flowers? Either way, every instance of communication was brushed aside, he would always make some weak excuse that he needed to train. Which lead to the other challenging him. The both of you were the same element so it would be a good time to see who was the best at wielding it. Overtime he began to look forward to your weekly spars. Even finding a bit of joy out of them. Ever since he had climbed up the mountain it had been constant training and hardships but when it came to these spars. It was fun. Alatus began to open his heart a tiny bit, let’s himself relax and fall into amusement when he see’s his partner’s face pop over him as they hovered over him.

He even began to feel his locked up heart start to beat a bit faster whenever he saw his partner perk up and wave at him. Whenever you threw your arm around him he never brushed you off like he used to, just basked in your presence as you rambled about how this stuck up bird was running everyone through the ground with her demands. It was amusing for fresh adepti’s to see you both interact. The ever stoic and aloof Alatus that taught them through strict rules loosen up immediately and smile whenever your head popped up to scold him for his training methods.

It was fun. Until the day he became possessed and killed you with your own weapon.

Guardian Yaksha

Guizhong was concerned. Ever since Rex Lapis had saved the poor adepti man from his possession, he had locked himself in. He still fulfilled his duties with alarming accuracy but it seemed that he completely on auto-pilot. He could stand in the pouring rain without realizing it or he always seemed to be in such a rush. Asking to do anything that needed to be done rather than relax. He was going to end up running through his long years at this rate. She brought it up to Rex Lapis and his fellow Yaksha but none of them had the time or want to check in on him. It was a time of war after all. Except one.

You watch him stand in the rain. Any attempts from you or Guizhong to ask if he was better always failed and you didn’t want to push. But this was already past the point of simple concern. So the next time you saw him relapse you walked over and embraced him. He usually carried himself as stiff as possible but you swore you were holding one of Rex Lapis’s pillars. You braced yourself to get thrown off or at the very least be questioned but none of those things happened. He just stood there and to be honest, you weren’t sure if that was even more concerning. You both didn’t say anything even when the rain stopped until Rex Lapis had summoned you both over.

You and him never developed a close friendship but he never seemed to brush you away whenever you sat beside him ever since you hugged him in the rain. A bare acknowledgement on good days but that was alright. Just sitting in each other’s presence when the war wanted to be quiet somedays was nice. On harder days when fighting took too much of a toll on your body you would lean your head on his shoulder. He never shrugged you off or seemed bothered by it, in fact, it almost seemed as if he leaned back against you. You both never spoke during these moments, just a silent understanding looming over you both.

Then when Morax announced that Guizhong had passed away, you felt as if you somewhat understood how Xiao felt. You didn’t even register that you had walked back to the same place Xiao was standing back when he was in the rain. The war was finally over but after everything that had happened to get to this point, it was hard. You knew that a few of your other Yaksha’s were ready to return to Jueyun Karst or return to earth. You blink quickly as you feel two arms wrap around you and you realize how funny fate seems to be. You choke out some unintelligible noise that’s a mix between a laugh and a sob as you cling onto him and let your bottled up emotions pour out.

He’s the last person you see in the newly established Liyue, wishing him luck in the rest of his journey, as you return to the earth. You aren’t sure what you’ll turn into but you hope that the peaceful atmosphere you both created will remain.

Xiao

It was completely out of the blue when you asked if he wanted to come on an adventure with you. You were both sitting under the tree that held the Wangshu inn up when you suddenly sat up and pointed in some far off direction across Liyue. Asked if he wanted to come with you after the lantern festival was over. He was a bit taken aback, you were a traveler first and foremost but you never asked if he wanted to come with you. You had always assumed that he wanted to stay as a protector of Liyue but after what Morax, now Zhongli, had said and how it was time to him to step down. You decided to ask him. It didn’t have to be far, you both could go to the stone gate if he wanted, just if he wanted to come with you anywhere.

His first instinct is to decline but you end up cutting him off before he can say anything.

“I know you have your reasons and loyalties to stay as Liyue’s protector. That’s why I’m not asking for you to accompany me across Teyvat. But I don’t know when I’m going to be back and after what happened in Liyue, I thought it would be nice to just, take a break, and go anywhere. You don’t have to accompany me if you don’t want to but I think it’d be nice to wander together,” you say as you continue to look across the land from the balcony. He can’t see where you’re looking at exactly but he ponders your words.

To wander and go anywhere. Just the two of you. He’s never even considered leaving Liyue even after all the demons were replaced with weak hilichurls and slimes. He gazes up at the tree’s leaves, looks further to see celestia, and even further back to his home. Guizhong always said he needed to relax and live in the moment of now rather than running past everything but was he really ready for that? 

“Ah, sorry was that a bit too forward? I really didn’t mean anything ba-”

“Yes. Let’s go,” Xiao cuts you off as his eyes shine in a new light of determination, “Wherever you want to go, I will come with you.”

You blink once, twice, before a bright grin stretch's across your face as you quickly ask if he’s joking. He’s not, and you cheer excitedly as you list off different places you’ve wanted to explore. Perhaps the shoal? Maybe even further into the chasm? Actually wait, the electro archon has closed that area off so maybe not there. Xiao patiently listens to you ramble as he smiles softly. Your excitement is addicting and he can feel his heart flutter just a bit. How long has it been since he felt this way? He can feel a small tug on his thumb, he looks down but he can’t see anything, but there’s a comfortable weight that he’s felt has been missing for a very long time.

---

If this seems interesting and people seem to enjoy it, I can post the actual fic when Xiao banner drops as a bit of a catalyst. It’s basically the same idea.  Though it’s kinda long so I have no idea when that’s going to be finished. It might turn into a thank you gift instead. (or ahem, you know, if you wanna commission me and see it earlier there’s that haha just kidding;;).

Honestly, I took a lot of liberties. I read the lore on adepti and Xiao but most of this is my monkey brain and previous semi xiao fics (which you don’t have to read but it would be helpful to see extended parts). Phew, this took a lot of time. It’s not as cute as my other fics but hopefully you all enjoyed it^^

Actually, nevermind. I hate this. I’ll keep it up since I haven’t posted this week yet but I hate this. 

[forever-rogue]

Crimelord Boba Fett proposing to female reader and promises to protect her with his life. :)

Did someone say King of the Underworld Boba Fett? Don’t mind if we do. Goodbye Bib Fortuna, long live the King.

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; warnings: egregious use of little one

Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The air is acrid and thick, feeling like it was suffocating you rather than helping to you live. Raising a hand to your face, you looked around the desolate Dune Sea, wondering why on earth you were being summoned to Maker forsaken Tatooine. And who the kriff was summoning you?

All you knew was that you had been summoned from your home on Corsucant - rather forcefully, and dragged back to this hell hole. Under any other circumstances you would have fought back or questioned what was actually going on, but something about the small but imposing woman that dragged you with her caused you to keep your mouth shut. She hadn’t given you so much as a name - hers or your mysterious summoner, and you hadn’t asked.

She’d watched you closely on the hours long ride to Tatooine, seeming to study and observe you with curiosity. At one point you had wanted to snap back at her but the weapons holstered to her side and stowed around the ship made you bite your tongue and bide your time. The woman didn’t say a single word; neither did you.

If you were being taken to your death, then that was that. You’d made that much up in your mind as soon as you’d stepped foot onto the ship. Harsh and cruel as it was too say, there wasn’t much you would be losing, nor would many people miss you. It was a quiet life you led these days, keeping to yourself and your humble abode in a small, but safe corner of Coruscant.

You’d been there, waiting, hoping, wishing ever since - no.

No, no, no. You weren’t going to let your mind back to that dark, haunted place. It was something that still managed to seep into the front of your mind, no matter how many years you tried to suppress them. It was when a man with dark hair would come into your little shop and you’d only catch a glimpse. When you heard deep, rough laughter that was all consuming. When you’d see a hint of green armor. When you’d hear a voice even remotely similar to his...

Boba Fett might have died many years ago, but he had never left your heart. He was still in everything you did, so many little things reminding you of what was and what could have been.

You hadn’t been back to this living hell since the day he’d died, lost to the sarlacc and left only to become memories that would fade away over generations. You’d wanted to stay there, to wait and see if somehow he would come back to you, but you couldn’t.

You’d left the next day and never looked back. You hated yourself for it, but you also...your heart had been broken into hundreds of millions of tiny shards of transparisteel. Ever since, you’d hoped that maybe one you’d come across your lover.

But the day never came. And while you went along with life, you still held onto the slight hope that maybe one day...maybe, maybe, maybe.

A soft sigh escaped your parched lips as you felt immediately all consumed by the sand, like it was becoming a part of you or you were destined to become a part of it. Either way, it was enough to frustrate you as you shielded your eyes from the harsh heat and blazing light of the twin suns.

“Keep up,” it was the first time she had spoken to you since she’d first called your name and instructed you to come with her. She was commanding for a figure so slight, but you had a feeling she was much deadlier than she looked - and she was already a sight. Biting back a groan you picked up the pace and trailed after her, confusion clouding your features as you began to realize where you were headed.

This was Jabba’s Palace...well no - Bib Fortuna’s. Just like Boba, Jabba, the disgusting, foul, loathsome leader of the galaxy’s biggest syndicate had been dead for some time.

What the kriff would Bib Fortuna want with you?

You’d cut off any ties you’d had with any of them long ago, before Boba was even dead. There was no way you could ever provide anything useful to him...

Autopilot had completely taken over and you were barely aware of the fact that you’d reached the palace and were headed towards its inner sanctum. Your stomach lurched as you walked through the walls you hoped would forever be a memory as you realized just how clearly you remember it all. Sure, the place had seen better days, wearing down from the harsh sandy winds and the hands of time, but it was ever the same.

Except this time - few people were milling about, no workers to be seen and it felt surprisingly...tame. Not something you thought would ever be possible for his place. Something had to have happened... something was off-

“Down,” the woman pointed at the stone staircase, her hand on the small of your back as she gently nudged you towards the top step. You were half surprised that she didn’t just completely shove you down to the bottom, but the energy you were getting from her wasn’t mean or negative...just curious.

“W-what?” you managed to stammer, your throat dry and scratchy the heat and lack of water. She quirked a dark brow and pointed at the stairs again.

“Down,” she repeated, “it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

Kriff. You were going to die at the hands of Fortuna. He was a weak man, bolstered by those he keep around him, ego inflated beyond measure. On his own he was a pathetic little thing, but when surrounded by his goons, he was cruel and merciless at worst.

Accepting your fate, you started your slow descend down the stairs, your heartbeat screaming in your ears with each foot fall. Your chest was thumping so wildly you were sure that it would burst through your chest at any point.

But nothing met your ears, there were no sounds, no talking, no music, nothing. It was almost deafeningly silent.

When your feet hit the soft sand floor, you did a quick survey of the almost empty room. A few torches lined the wall, but that was about all. The throne was in the center of the room as it always was and -

Maker. The Throne.

As you looked at it, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked upon the singular figure in the room besides yourself.

The man was in armor from head to toe. Green armor. With red accents. You knew those colors, those colors you once considered your own, those were his colors.

But no - it couldn’t have been. No, no, no, this was an impostor, this was -

“Hello little one,” that voice. You knew it more intimately than anything else, you know that voice inside and out. That voice that had laughed at you a million times, that voice that been in your ear during the heat of passion, the one that teased you, the one that scolded you when you did something dangerous. That voice.

It was his. Boba’s.

“No,” you shook your head as you refused to move closer to the man that was surely a pretender - a great one, but still not your Boba, “y-y-you aren’t...no.”

He remained silent for a long moment, the dark T of his visor trained on your as he refused to look away. You stared right back, as if you were seeing a ghost - in some ways you were.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, stepping down from his throne, imposing as ever as he slowly walked over to you. You stilled in your actions, wondering if you should run away or fight or something. Instead you watched as he came closer and closer and closer - right until he stopped dead in front of you.

“You’re just as pretty as then,” his voice was soft as he reached a gloved hand up touch your cheek. He hesitated before making contact with your skin, stripping the worn leather gloves off and tossing them mindlessly onto the sandy floor. He watched you closely before finally touching your cheek to his see if you would stop him or flinch out of his touch.

But you didn’t; despite believing he was gone all of these years, a small bit of you still had hope.

“Boba?” it was a weak, pathetic little whimper as you keened into his touch. He stalled for just a moment, his heart almost stopping at the sound of his name from your lips. It was even sweeter than he remembered, “is it really you?”

“I told you I’d never leave you, little one,” he rasped as you worked to blink back tears that had started to well up in your eyes. You looked at him with wide doe eyes as he made a small sound in the back of his throat. As a single tear pearled up and ran down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away, “it just took me a little longer than planned to get back to you.”

And then you laughed; despite the situation and the overwhelming onslaught of emotions, you just laughed. Before you knew it, he was laughing as well, a warm, rich sound that you remembered like it had been yesterday.

“Boba,” you couldn’t believe it. This whole time, all these years, your hope wasn’t wasted after all, “you’re alive. You’re here - I’m here. I-I...I dreamed of this day so many times.”

“As have I,” he promised, “I’m just...I’m afraid that I might be a little different than you last remembered - the sarlacc was not a kind friend to me.”

“I don’t care,” you promised him, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. You’re alive and that’s all...I...please, let me look at your face. I need to see you, Boba.”

He gave a curt nod before dropping his hand from your cheek and exhaling deeply. Slowly, he put his hands on either of the helmet - newly painted, you noted - and tugged it up and off. You swallowed nervously, anxious to see the eyes of your lover once again.

Boba let the helmet fall to the ground, the thud dulled by the pillowy sand, nervous for you to say something, anything. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but this? This was nothing; scarred and more weathered than when he had been a younger man, he was still the same as always. Boba - your Boba.

“At least one of us is - “

Before he could say anything in the negative, your put your hands on either side of his face before crashing your lips onto his. He was taken aback for a moment at your sudden action, but it didn’t take more than a beat for him to wrap his arms around you and hold you tightly against his chest. It was like no time had passed at all, and you still knew each other just as you always had.

Only when you needed a breath of air did you pull apart, staring back into his soft brown eyes.

“Boba,” it was soft - reverent - and worked to thaw the icy harshness that had settled over his heart, “I love you. I’ve always loved you so much. I never stopped. I always hoped that somehow you would make your way back to me.”

“Always, my little one,” he promised with a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I will always protect you. No harm shall ever come to you so long as I live and breathe.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” you wrapped your arms his neck and held him, just held him, as the two of your synced your breathing and become reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

“Will you stay?” he asked quietly as you pulled back and nodded. For Boba, you would have done anything and gone anywhere in the galaxy, “w-with me?”

“Yes,” you promised him softly as you traced over his features delicately with the tip of your finger, “always. There’s nothing that would make me happier.”

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered as you nodded, “I promise we’ll never be apart again.”

“I’ll hold you to that Boba Fett,” you sighed contentedly, “I love you, Boba.”

“I love you too, little one,” he kissed the top of your head, “come on, we have much to talk about.”

“And now have all the time in the galaxy.”

[lisinfleur]

How love looks like

The request:

Author’s Notes | I hope you like the result, love!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Reader’s daughter

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW Ivar vol. II, posted for HTGI event

Words | 1619

⁑ Warnings: Mentinos to pain, possible incorrect quotes or informations about Ivar’s condition.

She was trembling when she came into my hall for the first time.

"King Ivar."

Even her voice was trembling. I could bet her fingers were cold, although the package in her hands was made of warm blankets. Her dress was ragged here and there, and her hair wasn't properly braided. But her beauty was undeniable.

However, what caught my eyes wasn't her pretty face but the way she approached my throne, bending enough so I could see the little face contorting itself, essaying a cry.

"I beg you... Please help me," she said, eyes teary.

Her hands unfolded the blanket making my eyes large. It was only a second before she folded the blankets around the little girl once again, hiding the twisted bones of her legs from the cold that made the child start cooing, annoyed.

I saw that woman clinging to that package as if her whole life was inside those blankets. And, for a moment, that scene made me remember my mother.

"You lived through it," that woman's voice woke me out of my memories, allowing me to notice the obvious difference between her and my beautiful mother. "I beg you mercy, my lord. Teach me, please. I want her to live. I know she can live! Her father doesn't believe the gods enough, but I saw what they did to you. You've done it. Please, my lord, teach me how to help her."

She didn't want her daughter to survive. No. Mother wanted me to survive. She wanted me to be there for her. That woman wanted her daughter to be like me...

She wanted her daughter to live.

"This Thing is over. I have matters to solve," I said, dismissing the other citizens.

My eyes on her, seeing how strongly she was fighting the tears. Her fear that I wouldn't help stamped on her face.

An expression that vanished completely when I caught my crutch, getting up to walk towards her.

"Bring the girl inside, woman. First lesson you need to learn: it is never warm enough for her."

Her tears broke down, but she nodded. And I could see the determination in her eyes, shining with hope and gratitude over me.

We placed the little girl inside my room, and she slept on my bed while her mother and I sat for a talk.

I discovered her name was Y/N. The little girl she named Eira seeking Eir's mercy over the little one. The bastard she once called a husband expelled them when she refused to leave the little girl to the wolves telling him king Ivar was a great man even being like her.

I was great in her eyes. I was the reason why she had faith her little girl could be someone. Something more than her father's shame...

She asked me for a place to serve in my castle since she had no place to live. I gave her the servant room beside mine and offered to serve me for a payment she could use to sustain herself and her little girl.

She accepted those crumbs as if I was saving her life.

The next day she had her little girl tied to her chest, cleaning and organizing everything I told her to.

During her work, I observed how lovely she was towards that tiny thing tied to her chest, sometimes dancing, sometimes making unnecessary rounds with the broom, everything to keep the little child entertained. The twisted little legs tightly kept against Y/N's chest as she restrained her own movements to avoid hurting her little girl.

That woman was different from anything I'd ever seen. Even from my mother - who would do nothing but care about me, neglecting my brothers, and sometimes herself, to keep me alive. Y/N was doing everything for her daughter, but as soon as the little one was asleep, I saw her brushing her own hair, messing with her clothes to find out the holes and sew them, eating properly from the portions I send to her; ensuring to be healthy and strong to care for the girl she carried around like a little treasure.

It touched my heart one day at a time.

And when the pain came and I saw Y/N in despair, lulling the little Eira trying to make her sleep, I came into her room sitting on the simple bed she would spend her nights on, and extending my arms towards her.

Her eyes were full of faith when she delivered the little Eira in my hands, observing as I gently placed the little one on the basked, moving her legs as little as possible until they were well supported and warmed by the blankets around her. With my fingers, I mashed some of my own herbs letting drops of the bitter juice fall into the little one's mouth, observing as it slowly did its job, relieving the pain and allowing Eira to fall asleep.

It was the first time I saw Y/N crumble in front of me, bitting her lips to cry in silence the anguish of her little girl's pain but also the relief of seeing she was finally tranquil.

I would see that several times. I would help Y/N to immobilize Eira's broken little legs properly to prevent them from healing the wrong way. I would help her to care for the little one's wounds when they came. And when nothing would help Eira's pain, I would help Y/N's to hold on to her faith that the gods had granted her daughter a better fate.

Whenever that little child slept after my touch, I felt a little like Harbard, taking away her pain like he'd done for me when I was younger. But, unlike me, Eira had my knowledge to help her grow better. To help her suffer less.

I didn't see when that little girl and her mother invaded my heart. Y/N learned from me to care for her child, but I saw her using what she'd learned several times to care for me instead.

She was the one providing my teas, helping with my wounds, sewing protections to make my braces more comfortable...

Relieving my pain. My loneliness.

Standing beside me even in my worst days, Y/N became someone I couldn't see myself without. Someone I didn't want to see myself without. And along with her, Eira also became a part of my life, making my heart melt when she started dragging herself around my hall like I used to do, imitating so soon the ways I had fought so hard to learn by myself.

She would come to me full of trust and laugh at me so easy!

Sometimes she wouldn't sleep if I wasn't near. Sometimes I would hear Y/N telling her my story, painting me as some kind of hero Eira was starting to follow.

And it would make me proud.

Y/N made me proud of what was once my worst shame. She made me feel I wasn't incomplete, nor half of a man. She made me feel my whole life had sense, meaning.

I'd come like that, with my twisted legs and pain, cause the gods knew my mind was gifted. The gods knew I would create ways to live.

And now, my ways were making Eira's life possible.

Better.

Easier.

Slowly, I took Y/N more and more from the service of the hall. Soon, she was something like a personal servant to me. She would go anywhere I would go, and I wouldn't want anyone but her around when I was moody or living a bad day.

She became my relief as much as I once was hers.

It was inevitable to fall in love with that woman. To bring her into my life. To want her as my queen.

"I want you, Y/N. I want Eira. And I don't want to ever hear about your ex-husband once again. He's nothing but past. He's nobody. She's my little girl, and this is how I want things to be now."

She didn't argue. But I could see it wasn't the initial fear that prevented her from arguing with me or trying to contradict my arguments. Y/N's fingers touched my face that night and she touched our foreheads with tenderness.

"I wouldn't want any different," I remember she said.

Her nose nuzzling against mine in a caress I would discover it was my favorite sensation in Midgard.

"Eira is my gift from the gods. And they've decided to bless me again with you."

Now my little Eira was twelve years old. Her little braces were reproductions of mine, in a smaller size. She couldn't run around with the other children, but she would spend hours playing hnefatafl with me, making me the best company I could ever want.

She was definitely better than I ever was. Always filling our hearts with joy whenever she would play with her two little brothers the gods had blessed me with.

I'd noticed her blood-father walking around sometimes, looking at her at the market or observing as she would easily walk with her crutch around, sometimes trying to go a little faster than she really could just to show me something she wanted or giggle with her usual playful tone. I could see he regretted his mistake, but I never gave him a chance to approach, always looking at him with blues icy cold. A warning that it was too late for his excuses.

Y/N and Eira were mine now. My little princess, my queen.

They’d become my treasures.

And his time to claim back what he'd left was long gone.