minnoseyler

[undeniablespice]

i remain sincerely, unshakably convinced that aeron’s one true talent is basketball. he’s 6’5” and built like a scarecrow i know he would absolutely destroy the westerosi bball circuit if it weren’t for the Trauma turning him away from sports towards substance abuse and religion

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟐 — 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐉𝐎𝐁

kinktober day 002 | secretary!natalie rushman x ceo!reader

natasha's mission to retrieve a thumbdrive file involves seducing a high-ranking executive, and the seduction goes smoothly. a little too well, in fact, that she doesn't notice you're not all you seem to be.

cont. reader has a cock, power play, begging

word count. 1869

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

To Natasha, you were nothing more than just another target.

She was an unfathomably, dangerously-skilled assassin, feared across nations and intelligence bureaucracies. She was a Red Room widow gone rogue, taking things in her own stride and shifting the world upside down as she pleased. Renowned political figures and billionaire executives were dropping like flies, and you, were no different.

This time, Natasha Romanoff was going undercover as Natalie Rushman.

It had been embarrassingly easy for her to infiltrate security and create a false persona for herself. Climbing up the ranks of a corporate business like this one had been more time-consuming, sure, spanning over a few months, but Natalie would reap what she sow.

Chief Executive Officer Y/N L/N was all-too-easy to fool, even more gullible than the other targets Natasha had preyed upon. 

All it took was the classic seduction: bending over to ‘pick up a pen’, coincidentally right in your field of vision, clinging onto your arm and looking up with wide doe eyes while you talked, giggling shyly when you made a joke and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

In the end, all her targets got caught up in the Widow’s Web. You were rendered useless and completely at Natasha’s mercy, waiting to be preyed upon for manipulation and her own personal gain.

Or at least, that’s what you let her think.

“Fuck, baby,” you cursed, eyes screwed shut as your secretary bobbed her head up and down the girthy length of your cock, lewd noises escaping both your lips.

Natalie looked up at you through glossy eyes, bottle-red lipstick smeared but unarguably pretty, batting her eyelashes every so often. It had only taken a week of flirting before you took her home, your actions seemingly foolish.

“Take it all down your throat, Natalie, fuck,” you said breathily, hands tugging onto her hair as you chased your own high. Natasha almost choked on the length in her mouth at the fast pace you had set, but she quickly hollowed out her cheeks to engulf your wet heat once more.

Shit, it had been a while since Natasha had gotten such a thick cock, above average in length, too. Normally, these high-ranking executives had disappointingly miniscule excuses of a member, but this was thrillingly different. 

Still, Natasha couldn’t forget why she had made all this effort to get to your house.

“Fuck, babe, you’re too good at this,” you comment breathlessly, chest heaving as you come down from your high. “Bedroom?”

To speed up the process, Natasha finished you off with her hands working on the base of your cock, calculated squeezes and strokes that had you jerking your hips up as you toppled over the edge. Jets of hot white come went down Natasha’s throat, as she greedily sucked and swallowed.

Tastes fucking good too, she thought. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Natasha had to refrain from rolling her eyes. What you wanted was predictable, to have your cock inside her. She wanted something different, though. It was why she had embarked on this mission in the first place.

“Can we go to your office?” Natasha asks instead, never failing to load up on that sultry tone that had people falling to their knees. She licks her lips drenched in your seed, kissing her way up your unbuttoned shirt as she rises to her feet. Her navigation of your surprisingly well-built body ends at the column of your neck.

Calculatedly, Natasha presses her slick lips to the hot skin of your neck, her residual lipstick making an enviable mark there. 

“I want you to bend me over your office desk.”

Natasha can’t help but smirk at your affected reaction. You hastily lift your secretary up by the back of her thighs, letting her hook her legs around your torso. A sloppy kiss kickstarts your burning need to meet her needs.

Of course, the sole reason why Natasha wanted to go to your office was to retrieve a very important thumb drive that was stored there. As you were the CEO of an incredibly powerful corporate firm, being able to have that kind of information meant a wealth of power, influence, and information.

There isn’t a doubt of the sinful possibilities floating through your mind right now, as you single-handedly unclasp her bra and rid of her remaining garments, as you stumble your way over to your office.

Everything was going according to Natasha's plan.

As if on cue, you kick open the door of your office and ungracefully deposit Natasha onto your desk. The way you’re manhandling her is arguably hot, and when you trail kisses down the back of Natasha’s neck, she quite nearly forgets what she came here to do.

“Need you inside me, now,” Natasha growls out, because she needs to get this operation going. What scares her for a moment is that her statement isn’t entirely untrue, because you were evidently more skilled than any of her previous counterparts and she so craved release.

 You certainly don’t disappoint in that aspect, forcefully bending Natasha over the desk as she wished, then painstakingly slowly dragging her skirt down with your teeth. 

“Fuck,” Natasha doesn’t mean to whimper when your cock slides between her wet folds, collecting slick arousal with that huge shaft, but she does whimper, and you let out a low noise from your chest.

As you’re busy getting your cock lubricated enough to enter her, Natasha seizes this opportune moment of your distraction to slides her hand over the desk to where your laptop was, unplugging the thumbdrive just as you speak up again.

“You’re fucking naughty, hm?” you growl, and Natasha freezes.

The fear envelops her whole, before Natasha realizes that you’ve remained blissfully oblivious to her actions and were trapped in the haze of sex.

“You’re fuckin’ naughty, wanting me to bend you over my table like that. Beg for my cock, and maybe I’ll let you use it.”

Natasha gulps, not understanding why she’s threatening to start drooling onto your desk, her body building up so much slick.

She’s the Black Widow, for fuck’s sakes, and she bowed down to no one. She was in control, dictating the decisions that crafted this very situation, hooking you around her pretty little finger.

After all, she had already retrieved the thumb drive. Her mission was already over, already completed. She had no reason to stay. She could knock you out cold in a matter of mere seconds, so why was she so hesitant?

Your grip hardens at her disobedience, and Natasha can’t help the whine that tumbles out when you pull your cock way from her wet heat. 

“You want it, hm? Then beg for it,” you repeat, dangerously close to Natasha’s ear, raising goosebumps with your hot breath brushing the surface of her skin.

Natasha wails when you push her back into the desk, pebbled nipples pressing into the cold glass. She’s clenching around nothing, wet walls fluttering emptily, slick arousal dripping down her thighs. 

Suddenly, you bring your hand up and harshly slap Natasha’s ass. The moan she lets out is downright pornographic, high-pitched and long-lasting as a red blush blossoms on her rounded ass, the pain stinging her skin and pricking tears behind her eyes.

It’s been so long, her body screams at her. You need this. Need to be fucked, need to be used.

“Beg for it.”

“Please! Need your cock, please,” Natasha babbles, finally, giving in to your urges. When you thrust your whole length down her tight pussy, all in one go, Natasha almost falls apart instantly.

You thrust up into her, hard, thick length pushing past her slick walls. If Natasha thought you were big before, with your cock in her mouth, now she knew you were fucking huge.

It isn’t long before you’re fucking into her with an animalistic nature, skin slapping against skin with dirty, lewd noises. “Can’t take the size, baby?” you question dryly, pulling on her hair as Natasha drools onto your desk.

Your cock is hitting her cervix with almost every thrust. The pleasure not only stems from the fact that you were the biggest she had ever taken, but also from your sheer skill.

Natasha’s first orgasm of the night comes in a tidal wave. It’s like water breaking through a dam, hitting her with a strength she didn’t know her body possessed. Her walls flutter around your girthy cock as she squirts. 

“Oh, Y/N!” Sinful moans of your name fall from Natasha’s lips as you thrust even deeper than she thought imaginable.

In other words, that was only the beginning of the rollercoaster-esque high you would bring Natasha to.

***

Natasha awakes with groggy eyes. There’s a warm, muscled forearm splayed over her torso, and it takes a fraction of a second before Natasha remembers it’s you.

“Shit,” she whispers, looking out of the window at the rising sun. She was supposed to leave your house last night, but the events had gotten more than out of hand.

The ache in Natasha’s legs and back is a blaring reminder of that fact. The image of sweaty, slick bodies moving together in a darkened room flashes across Natasha’s mind, and she has the decency to flush a pink-red.

Checking again for the thumbdrive in her strewn clothes, Natasha nods to herself assuredly and gets herself together to make an exit. Her eyes float to your sleeping figure. Looks like she had worn you out.

“You’re kinda stupid, but you were a good fuck,” she whispers with a tilted head.

As soon as the front door of your house clicks shut, you sit up slowly, letting the blanket slide over your toned abdominal muscles and down to your waistline. 

“Just a good fuck?” you ask amusedly. “Squirting three times in a row seems better than good, if I do say so myself.” Relaxed, you reach over to your bedside and take your phone.

Dialling in a number that you’d memorised by heart, the receiver picks up in less than two rings. “You’re fuckin’ late,” a gruff voice sounds out. “What did we tell you about not fucking the targets for the whole bloody night?”

You scoff in half-annoyance and amusement. As long as you got the job done, your bosses didn’t have any reason to question your methods. "You’re just jealous you didn’t get a taste of that sweet pussy,” you drawl out contedly, delighting in the aggravated huff that crackles over the line.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” you continue, your face taking on a more serious expression. “The Widow left my house thirty seconds ago, with the false thumb drive."

"Details?" 

"Swapped it out while she was cumming on my cock, sir."

"......Microchip tracking device?"

"Implanted in the top button of her blouse."

"Audio recorder?"

"In the hem of her very scandalous skirt.”

There is a pause on the line, but you know not to fear. When a low chuckle is emitted from the other end, you can’t help but smirk in smug satisfaction. The next words you hear are almost as sweet as Natasha’s moans of your name.

"Well done, Agent. Your mission is complete."

if you liked this, please give it a reblog! it means the absolute world to me <3

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[a-spes]

| BUT YOU SHALL BE MINE - Drabble (1.006 words).

| Summary - you've lost. the final battle against the scarlett witch finally came, and you've lost. all the world's greatest heroes are dead, except you.

| Tags & warning - Scarlett witch x R, enemies, wanda is dark, everyone is dead (oops), a bit of angst with twisted comfort (don't even know if it can be called comfort honestly), description of dead bodies, mentions of blood/death/violence/heavy injuries.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

You made a terrible mistake when you didn't die.

Not that it was your choice, you've just had a bit of luck. That's what most people would think, but in your opinion it was more of a sentence. It was nothing more than a cruel joke from the universe, because what's a life where everyone you cherish is dead?

You won't even be able to bury them because there is no bodies to pick up. Only dust, or bits of those you love. You wouldn't even be able to tell what belong to whom — Could that be Tony's arm? Or maybe it belongs to Steve? You are not even sure it's a arm. It could be a leg, or rubble. In that state, it's difficult to say.

But maybe it's better that way. You have never been the strongest one, you would've never been able to carry all their bodies homes. Steve could've, he has a super strenght. Stark would've invented something, or perhaps paid people to help him. But you? You have nothing special. No powers, no skills above the average, nothing except your luck.

You somehow always manages to get out of impossible situations. From being able to escape Nat' when she is angry to survive deadly situations, nothing serious has ever happened to you. You've always seen that as a gift, but it turned out to be a curse.

Your second mistake was to try to get up.

Maybe if you didn't she wouldn't have noticed your presence. You knew you should've hide between two corpse, no matter how disguting that idea was, because maybe you would've escape her gaze. But you couldn't think properly, and condamned yourself the moment you moved. A faint, and painful move, which earned you what? Nothing, because you weren't even able to do more than resting of your forearms before slipping, head first into the mud.

It was painful, and humiliating, but not as much as knowning that there was nothing you could do to avenge your friends. At least, they died as heroes, trying to save humanity, and even if they failed, that's how the world is going to remember them as. They will be martyrs, and you'll be nothing. No one would remember the name of the Avengers' shadow that died squirming on the ground like a worm.

Somehow, you still had that spark in your heart, the urge to fight, but it was useless. If a whole army failed to defeat her, how could you? Maybe your body knew it because it doesn't respond to your requests anymore. You could hardly move your fingertips.

When your vision darkened, you thought it was the end of your pain. It's not that you could see anything anyway. On kilometers, there was nothing but desolation. Bodies piled up, the ones of your friends. Smoke raising in the sky, making you cought violently. And that red mist, the reason for all your woes. It was all blurred because of your tears before the world fade away.

"Ah, look at you," the woman said. That's when you realize that you didn't lose your eyes, her shoes were just blocking your view. "You're covered in blood, broken and lost, but yet ...," she chuckled before resuming her sentence, "you still think you can do something against me. How cute is that," she said, her tone dripping with false pity. Or maybe it was genuine, which only make the situation more humiliating for you.

"You are brave one though," she added, not noticing that you weren't listening. You couldn't, even if you wanted. Your mind was fuzy, and you ears were ringing due to explosions. "The last one standing ..., you should be proud, you know, not everyone can last that long against me," which is why she has been surprised when she felt an ounce of life. She thought her battle was over, that all forms of life had been exterminated for miles around, but it turned out that one hero was still standing.

Not the strongest or bravest one, but still the last one to breath. She kneels beside you, surprised that the last awakened soul resides in such a fragile-looking body. But the woman wasn't oblivious, and she could feel that there was more than that behind those pretty eyes. She wanted to believe that if the last person standing was such an innocent woman, it wasn't by chance. She saw it as a gift from the universe. At that thought, a smile spread across her face. A sweet and caring one, as comforting as the hand she is now running across your cheek. The one you're leaning on, appreciating that ounce of sweetness in your ocean of pain, not having enough energy to care about the person who's giving it to you. Her thumbs brushing your tears away, soothing you as if she wasn't the cause of your pain.

"Such a pretty face ...," she mumbled, "so much potential wrapped in that fragile body," she continued, her words slipping out of your ears until she eventually straightens up. "You know what? The realm of the dead probably won't mind if I keep one soul for myself," she conclued, considering that the small whimper that escaped your lips was an acknowledgement of her statement.

With a flick of the wrist, she envelops you in that red glow you hate so much. Slowly, your body is torn from the earth where your friends lie for the eternity. The red mist takes all the pain away, but also your chances of salvation.

"It's okay, you can rest now, my little soldier," she whispers, and those are the last words you can hear before the world disappears. The last two living creature leaving this desolate land behind in a second, as if they've never been here.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz

[melrodrigo]

favorite - t.c.

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a day of feeling useless, Tara’s the only one who can make you feel better.

Pairings: Slight Amber Freeman x Reader in the beginning, Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Am I projecting? Maybe. Tara’s my bbg 🫶🏻

Amber

YN - Why do you only want me when you have nothing else to do?

You bite your lip as you hit send, swiping out the app as fast as you can to try and quell the feeling of regret you know is coming.

Your lover of sorts, Amber Freeman, had been acting weird lately.

You’re not sure what to call the two of you, best friends that kiss each other? friends with benefits? two buddies in a situationship?

All very accurate descriptions, you think as you laugh bitterly.

It had been weeks of bliss at first, with flirty comments, secret kisses, and love notes stashed in your locker.

But for the past few days, she’s been awful. Gone are the nights spent giggling together on your couch while you watch a movie, gone are the butterflies whenever you see her name pop up on your screen.

She’s quiet. It makes you uneasy.

At first, you tried to ignore it, think to yourself she must be busy.

She loves me, she’ll answer, you reason.

Nothing hurts more than being proven wrong.

A - I think we should stop talking.

YN- What? Why? Can’t we talk this out?

A - I wanted to tell you a couple of days ago in person but…I’m sorry. I just don’t like you anymore. I met someone else.

You blink back the tears already welling in your eyes. You shut your phone off, refusing to answer, part of you hoping she might beg for your forgiveness after seeing you upset.

Nothing.

Your chest heaves as the hole in your chest deepens.

How could she? After everything you’d been through together. Especially after the Ghostface attacks last year, you’d hoped she cared a little more.

You’d been the one to warn her, even. When she told you she had feelings for you, you’d made her promise that she swore they were true. You weren’t taking a chance on a ‘maybe’.

But alas, your moon-eyed perspective had affected your decision-making skills. She’d told you she loved you, and that she was going to be your girlfriend, and you had believed her.

You fall back onto your bed. Hands pressed to your forehead harshly as you think.

You pick up your phone once more, ignoring all thoughts that tell you this is a horrible idea, and call her up.

-

“Hey. Thanks for coming.” You tell Tara as you step back to let her in. She’s dressed in an oversized AC/DC t-shirt paired with gray sweatpants.

Her hair is slightly messy like she’s just woken up from a nap. You curse as you catch yourself thinking about how cute she looks.

“No problem.” She tells you without missing a beat, walking into your house and up to your room like it’s her second home.

You and Tara had a history.

All throughout grade school, you had the biggest crush on the brunette, but she never reciprocated. Not that you ever told her about it. Later, when both of you were in high school, she confessed that she liked you.

You were so confused between your feelings for Amber and for her back then, you ended up never giving her a clear answer. And after time, the two of you just started to drift away.

But you wouldn’t be able to say that the underlying feeling she was the one wasn’t always simmering within you.

Your feelings for Tara were something that could never be explained. Not even to your best friends over the years, who would hear endless rants about the girl.

She was just so, perfect.

Well- nobody was perfect; you knew that. She was always somewhat of a rebel throughout your school years. But you found her imperfections endearing, which only made her more human and in turn, more perfect to you.

It didn’t help that she also looked like an angel that had fallen from the skies.

In short, Tara Carpenter was an enigma. You’ve had crushes before, of course. But this one, you think will never go away. Whether you viewed her from a romantic or platonic lens, all you could feel was adoration. You were incredibly fond of the girl.

You snap out of your daze and follow her upstairs, closing the door behind you.

“So, you wanna tell me what this is about?” She says, not unkindly.

You play with the hairs on the nape of your neck as you answer her.

“I’ve just been feeling…sort of weird. I needed some company.” You tell her, somewhat awkwardly,

“And nobody else was free?” She prods, her eyes filling with an emotion you can’t quite place.

You look down shyly as you shake your head. “No, I wanted you to come.” You mumble, loud enough for her to hear.

You sneak a peek at her expression and relax once you see she’s smiling.

“Good. ‘Cause I’ve been missing you.” She says, grinning.

Her words make you feel like a weight’s been taken off your shoulders. Everything’s normal. Everything’s good.

You relax, moving over to join her on the bed.

“I missed you too.” You say.

She doesn’t miss a beat before she reaches for your TV remote and pushes herself further up your bed. She takes her hair out of the bun it was in and whips out her glasses.

She never likes to wear it because she thinks it makes her look nerdy, but you think it’s the cutest thing.

“You sure are making yourself at home.” You murmur, earning a soft slap from the girl.

“Hey! This is how you’re supposed to experience a movie.“ She says, nudging herself into your bedsheets.

You scoff as you join her and place your leg over her own.

“Who said we were going to watch a movie?” You challenge, raising a brow at her.

She shrugs, unserious. “I figured I’d take the lead. You need a distraction, and you weren’t doing anything…so.”

You nudge her with your shoulder one more time before settling in beside her, not willing to debate.

She scrolls on your TV a little while longer before you nearly leap out of your seat as you see your favorite movie pass.

You open your mouth to force her to pick it, but she buts in before you can get a word out.

“Yes, I know it’s your favorite movie. I’m putting it on now, shush.” She teases, smirking slightly.

You relent without a word.

Halfway through the movie, you can tell Tara’s getting sleepy. Her eyes droop and her head is falling further into the pillow.

You bite back a chuckle and pull out your phone, ready to take a photo that’ll surely embarrass the brunette.

She stirs in her sleep when the flash goes out, looking up at you groggily.

You panic and shove the phone underneath you, moving over to do anything to distract her. You don’t have enough time to think, you surge forward and press your lips to her forehead.

Her eyes widen, no doubt wondering what the hell you’re doing.

A forehead kiss? Yeah, that isn’t suspicious at all!

She’s still still under you, blinking slowly.

“Go back to sleep Tar.” You mumble against her skin, using a nickname you haven’t called her in ages.

It works though. You feel her physically relax and in the next few minutes, she’s fast asleep against you once again, this time with her arm wrapped around your waist.

You feel your cheeks get hot and thank the gods that nobody can see you.

You watch as the credits of the movie finally roll, and you feel the tiresome events of the day finally catch up to you.

You look down at Tara, studying her features. You want to reach out and touch her freckles, but you resist the urge.

Whatever Tara Carpenter was to you didn’t matter today, you reason. The only thing that matters is that she’s here, and she’s made you feel better than you have in months. Friend or something more, she’ll always be the one to brighten your day.

[anachronismstellar]

Fic writer curse got me fam, and the doctor didn't give me a note so I have to go to work. To cheer me up here's more Airplane vs The System because I wanna feel I'm making progress

And it's Cumplane Bros being smart because I love them and yeah

Hope you like it!

---

“There's…” he hesitated, glancing at Shen Yuan nervously before sweeping things around, going through names of missions. “There's stuff missing. And I can see the names, but now it's all gray? I can't select my old logs.”

Shen Yuan opened his own system, checking the same options Airplane had gone through, finding everything normal.

“That's weird, even for the System,” Shen Yuan took a step back, picking up his fan, tapping it against his palm as he walked back and forth. “And you don't remember getting any messages?”

“No, I would have told you if anything had popped up!” Which, yea, Airplane wouldn't be able to hide something like that. And they had been enjoying a nice life for the past couple of years, finally living their happy ending. Yes, some wife plots here and there but…

“I thought it was done with us now that the story was finished.” Airplane's voice cracked at the end, and this time Shen Yuan couldn't help but feel his heart squeeze for his fellow transmigrator, murderously rampant or not.

“Okay, we have to think.” Shen Yuan went back to walking, pressing his fingers against his forehead, his crown starting to feel too tight on his head. “We know Linguang-Jun was working with an Owl demon. Did he say anything else?”

Airplane blanched, trembling hand going over his mouth, rubbing his fingers over closed pressed lips. It took him some moments to compose himself, shrugging as he made the screen vanish.

“He said it wasn't a Demon, but a Heavenly being, which makes no sense, I didn't write the Heavens-”

“Oh so you do remember what you wrote, amazing!”

“-But he also said that they wanted Mobei-Jun alive. He said that they were powerful and they knew all about Linguang-Jun's schemes, down to the people he had bribed, that's why he had to help them.”

“Did he at least describe them? It was an Owl type of creature but what else?” He stopped next to the table, moving papers around with the tip of his fan. He couldn't help but think that something else was going on. “If we have the physical description we can focus on one area of the map.”

Shen Yuan huffed when Airplane ignored his comment completely only with a twitch of an eye. Airplane couldn't physically hurt him, Shen Qingqiu's cultivation skills being better than Shang Qinghua could ever develop, but Airplane looked just enough on the edge that he might try his luck with a punch.

Shen Yuan didn't want to test his limits, so he ignored that he had been ignored, letting it slide.

“He said that they arrived as a white Owl, then they changed to their humanoid form.”

Shen Yuan froze, eyes going wide. The color helped to focus their search on the Northern Desert, but where? The area was huge, most of it completely uninhabitable except-

“The Polar Owl,” he mumbled, not bothering to answer Airplane's “what?”, shoving away the pile of useless notes to grab the huge map of the demon realm hidden under it all. “You only wrote one fucking normal animal in this entire weird ass story, and it was the Polar Owl,” Shen Yuan grabbed a brush to circle the places the Owl hypothetically lived, not cursing out loud Airplane's lack of following through with backgrounds. This time. “They live in the furthest north anyone ever been, no one else can survive the low temperatures except-”

“The Mobei line.” Airplane's whisper wasn't loud enough to interrupt Shen Yuan but the awed expression on Shang Qinghua's face was.

“Exactly.” Shen Yuan snapped his fan open, a smirk tilting his lips up as he straightened up his shoulders, putting on his best peak lord smug face. “And they are considered sacred to the Northern tribes because of their resistance to low temperatures. Thus it is completely possible that Linguang-Jun thought that the person he spoke with had come from the Heavens.”

Ding!

Mission in progress: Author's favorite.

UV002 objective: aid UV001

[COMPLETED]

---

Off to work I go, wish me luck ✌️

[konigsblog]

hiiiii i LOVE your writing sm and i also LOVE angst so i was excited to see your post about an angst prompt so heres one ive been thinking of

i feel like ghost would be someone who would quickly put up walls when he felt he was getting too close to someone, so when he and reader get to the stage where they both clearly like each other but its not official, ghost would start acting cold, saying he was too busy for a date when he would just sit on his phone, looking at photos of reader, and then he would act like you were the idiot, like he never saw you the way you did, as if there was nothing between the two of yours, all because he's too scared to lose someone he loves.

kinda long sorry (ಡ᎔ಡ)

thank you so much for your kind words, i really appreciate it and it doesn't go unnoticed, thank you a lot for your support, you're so sweet <3;

he's lost too many. soldiers, friends, siblings, parents. he couldn't bare the idea of letting you into his life, visiting your grave in the future, a bouquet of your favourite flowers placed on the dirt. he saw your kindness, appreciation, your effort to make him your friend, and despite being pushed away multiple times, you never gave up.

it almost made him frustrated. just drop it, corporal. he'd curse, swallowing his words before turning his heel away from you. simon wanted you, he needed you, desperately - but the flooding thoughts that kept him awake at night was enough to turn a blind eye to your attempts. why did you want him so badly?

although you wanted eachother, it was useless and pointless. seeing you on field would disrupt his skills, becoming worried when you got hit, risking his life just to be able to save yours. he would do that anyway, romantic or professional, but he used that as an excuse, another reason to push you away.

but when you actually stopped bothering him, he felt ill. sick to his stomach now at the lost presence following him 24/7. ghost, could we meet up for coffee together? are you alright, simon? you don't seem to like me that much, am i doing something to upset you? i'm sorry, ghost, i wasn't trying to anger you..

he'd recently blown up at you. his nightmares kept him awake at night truly, but he blamed you for your constant, tiring and repetitive attempts to draw him in. “fuckin' drop it, corporal. would you stop bothering me? it's repetitive and clear that i clearly don't need, nor want you.”

to say his words didn't burn was a lie. he could see the tears forming in your eyes, glassy and glistening, nodding your head before leaving him, alone.

i'm sorry, fuck. why did i do that? i fuckin' lied, i need you, why would i say something like that.. the cold heart inside him shattered as he realised what he'd done; even if he had deal with the heartbreak of another death, he'd also have to live being alone if he never let anyone in, including you, the one he truly and genuinely desired.

”i needed you, sweetheart, i shouldn't of said the things i did, god-.. i'm so sorry.” his voice was a whisper, holding your limp, motionless body in his arms, unable to save you as blood gushed from your wound. a lifeless corpse he held, sighing as he visited another grave of a person he'd pushed away, despite his true need for her.

[mymegumi]

YOU’LL BE THE LAST TO KNOW ও ITADORI YUUJI

⠀ warnings: hurt/no comfort

itadori yuuji is meant for great things.

he has the smile of the sun and patience of a saint. he wipes away your tears with the look of someone who is physically hurt by the things that hurt you. he kisses the corner of your lips to convey to you that he loves you with all he is. he presses his hand to the small of your back so you always know that he’s there, that you’re never alone.

he loves you with everything he is, and it scares you.

you don’t think you deserve it. you can barely perform jujutsu at anything higher than a grade three sorcerer can. itadori performs as well as and is on his way to being better than grade one sorcerer—hell, he could be a special grade before this whole ordeal is said and done.

idiotically stupid and loyal to a fault, you know that he’s never had an evil bone in his body. he wipes away your worries with the promise of a life greater than jujutsu, kisses against your skin the image of a family.

you’re scared, though.

you feel anxiety crawling down your throat whenever he leaves on a mission you aren’t strong enough for. you let the feeling of uselessness wash over you every time he presses a final kiss against your forehead, fear shaking your bones that that’ll be the last one.

but itadori is the protagonist.

he is meant to be bigger, do better, and be the one to stop things.

when you beg him to stay behind, to just stay with you and let someone else do the job you know only he can do, he just shakes his head sadly. he lets his hand slip from yours and gives you time to cope with the fact that he might not always be there.

“if it’s not me,” he’d say, at the edge of your doorway, “then there’s no one else.”

“there’s me.” you’d beg back, hands clutched to your chest as you can feel the anguish of him leaving. “just stay with me.”

and he doesn’t say anything. you know why.

it’s never enough to make him stay.

itadori yuuji is meant for greater things.

it’s what everyone says when you ask others about him. kugisaki says that he’s held back by the meaningless relationships and friendships he’s had at jujutsu high. you’re not sure if it’s a slight at you, but you ignore it. megumi highlights his ever evolving skills and martial prowess. says that he’ll surpass even the greatest jujutsu high alum at the rate he’s learning and that he’s going to be a name everyone knows.

you think you’re holding him back.

because jujutsu high is being attacked and you know he won’t stop asking people where you are. he’s probably looking for you at this very moment, truthfully, while trying to fend of a group of humans using jujutsu negatively.

but you don’t want to stand in his way.

you love him so dearly, know him so well, that you know he’ll drop anything and everything he’s doing to help you. you couldn’t even fight off more than a handful of curses on your own, there’s no way you can call itadori to be your prince in shining armor.

he’s probably saving people who are worthy of it.

hand pressed against your abdomen, you feel the blood spill past your fingers and if you weren’t already on the floor from the blood-loss, you think you’d end up there from spilling your guts.

it might seem like you detest him, you realize later on. the self deprecating thoughts and disdainful comments to stay behind, but it’s because you always imagined he would be the one to die first. you suppose it’s cruel irony that it would be you, wouldn’t it?

you die holding onto your matching locket. the missing couplet was hung loosely around itadori’s own neck on a gold chain.

he finds you later.

the wails are enough to make kugisaki need to step outside. megumi can hardly handle stand to watch the sigh of him cradling your body.

he wishes more than anything he could’ve told you he loves you one last time.

[layla4567]

Until we meet again

Mihawk x Fem!reader

Part 2

Summary: You make a living as a thief, stealing for your own benefit and working alone. One day you will cross paths with Mihawk and they will declare themselves bitter enemies.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers trope, not proofread, very poor conection to op universe, canon divergence, the reader makes judgmental comments towards men, mention of blood and and injurie

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is purely and exclusively inspired by the Puss in Boots movie, why? I don't know, don't ask me because I don't have a clear answer lol

You were squatting at the top of a terrace hidden behind a tower, from up there you could see your objective with shining eyes. You smiled and raised your scarf until it covered your nose and mouth completely. You slowly slid across the roof while adjusting the front laces of your black cape where you wore your pirate look underneath it.

Discretion had always been your greatest strength and you always had to go unnoticed if you wanted to achieve everything you set out to do. The life of a pirate thief has its rewards: adrenaline, treasures, etc. But also its cons, many people were after you, especially the government, there were even posters searching for you and capturing you, luckily no one knew who you were since you always wore your cape and your scarf, plus the added bonus that your hair was hidden in your hat.

You always used to say that if you wanted to do a job well done you had to do it alone, that's why you didn't have a crew or assistants or anything and even less men, you felt like you couldn't trust anyone. Do you remember the afternoons at your mother's house always saying the same silly saying: "Actually Columbus's wife was the one who discovered America, because the man couldn't even find his shoes." You laughed softly, repeating her words in a low voice, in the end she was right, men are useless, you discovered that when your father abandoned you both.

You approached the ledge of a balcony with your entire body against the wall and hidden behind some tall palm trees but without losing sight of your objective. Near a market a sailor had poorly stored a devil fruit that he had found. You had followed him closely to see what he would do with it, the middle-aged man looked everywhere nervous of being discovered while he put the fruit in a wooden box and covered it with a worn blanket. The poor fool didn't know that a shadow was lurking from above ready to attack, that fruit had to be yours no matter what. Smiling under your scarf, you were about to go ashore when you saw something that left you frozen. A tall individual dressed in a cape and a wide hat with feathers was approaching with long, slow steps towards where the fruit was blocking your objective. The man didn't seem to realize that a devil fruit was hidden there, he just looked around indifferently. Shit, you thought. Surely the government had sent him to capture you and now he was looking for you, although luckily he had not seen you yet.

Cursing quietly, you climbed back up to the roof without losing sight of him and went down the back, hiding in some leafy bushes, analyzing each of his movements as you slowly approached the stand where the hidden fruit was. You had heard about him before, if you didn't they would say you lived under a rock. Mihawk known as the lord of war was the most popular and skilled swordsman, everyone was afraid and respected him but you didn't care, you were also quite good at your job and until now you had not been discovered, the only thing you had fear is that he would discover your plans or that he would discover you. Now Dracule had his back turned and only his long cloak and wide-brimmed black hat were visible. You crept even closer stealthily like a cat while still hiding behind bushes or barrels without being seen.

You kept drilling Mihawk's back with your eyes so as not to lose sight of him. He seemed to sigh boredly as he looked into the distance. When you were close enough to the crate and the sailor was out of sight, you removed the dirty blanket, uncovering the fruit, and were about to grab it when the sound of a sword being drawn and hitting the edge of the fruit crate near your hands as a warning to you. you stopped When you looked up in surprise you found Mihawk's amber eyes boring into yours.

"I could feel your gaze on my neck, although I thought it was an annoying mosquito"- The man said, raising an eyebrow curiously.

You looked at him furiously, feeling your blood boil, you were always careful with all your movements, but apparently this Mihawk guy was not a fool at all. Had you underestimated men, perhaps, this one? Slowly growling, you moved your body away from the fruit with your hands up even while crouching.

"Very well, what you will do now is withdraw without tricks"

You pretended to bow your head in defeat but with a quick movement you took your hand behind your back and unsheathed the sword that you had hidden under your tunic. With a blow you decided to attack Mihawk but he already saw this coming and simply clashed his sword against yours to avoid the blow to his chest. He looked at your saber and laughed lightly, your sword compared to his was smaller (or rather his was abnormally larger than any other). He raised an eyebrow again, visibly amused by your attitude, not many dared to challenge him but he delighted in the few people who had the courage (or stupidity) to fight him.

"So the little brat knows how to defend himself, interesting"

His peaceful attitude in contrast to yours made you more furious than you already were, he prevented you from taking the fruit but when you attacked he barely defended himself? Was he doing it out of boredom? Gritting your teeth, you attacked again, putting your foot forward and extending your arm, but Mihawk dodged your blow and you clashed your sword with his again. Several attacks followed where he only defended himself and never started the attacks as if he knew he already had the battle won before he even started. Your body was almost shaking with rage and your breathing accelerated while he remained calm as if it were child's play. Bastard. You wanted to shout at him to attack and not be a coward but you restrained yourself and started running to buy time.

"Do you want to play cat and mouse then? As you wish"- He sighed

You ran trying not to burn all your energy so quickly, you avoided boxes by jumping over them and you passed between people without touching them as if you were as thin as a noodle. You felt like you were already quite far from your pursuer so you smiled satisfied and turned your head back. And that was a mistake. Shocked you saw that Dracule Mihawk was hot on your heels, it didn't seem like he was running but rather he was flying. You began to run faster and turned a corner of a house and climbed the balcony to reach the roof just when he hit the heel of your shoe with his sword, although without hurting you. Without looking down you ran along the roofs of the houses and jumping over the tiles while he followed you below and did not lose sight of you.

It was a wild chase where your strength already seemed to begin to abandon you slightly while his was still intact. Feeling your thighs burning, you jumped onto another roof further away and fell with a somersault to get back on your feet and go down a ladder and continue along another path. This time it seemed that Mihawk had given up and had not followed you, you laughed satisfied looking back as you continued running but suddenly something large collided with you and with a groan you fell to the ground while the tip of a sword was pointed at you. You raised your head and saw the tall man with yellow eyes staring at you with one corner of his lips turned up slightly.

"The game is over little mouse, the cat won"

You were not one to give up easily, so with your sword still in your hand, you took his sword out of your sight and jumped up, pushing him and running towards the only exit that he was covering with his back, preventing your escape route. Mihawk was just as fast and grabbed your wrist firmly to spin you around on your trunk and pull you towards him like it was a dangerous dance. You collided with his bare chest with a loud noise, you tried to get out of his grip by twisting like a worm but he wouldn't let you go. Being so close to him you could feel the heat emanating from his skin and you could hear his heartbeat which was fast, apparently the race had tired him out.

"I told you, you should have given up when you had the chance."

"And what are you going to do now, huh?"- You spat angrily, forcing a grave and deep voice to preserve your identity.

"Mmh" -He pretended to think- "What I do with you now is none of your business, in fact it's not even my business."

You didn't want to hear him talk anymore so you stomped his foot hard with your heel. Mihawk growled and let go of you as he bent forward slightly and closed his eyes. He didn't seem as calm as before and his muscles tensed a little. You walked away from him and shouted in a deep voice.

"You work for the government right? They sent you to capture me?!"

Dracule stood up straight and regained his composure. "Oh I just took this little job because I wanted some entertainment. I didn't even know why they were so obsessed with you although after seeing you in action I think I can understand it.."

He seemed amused by the situation, he kept looking at you with those hawk eyes that seemed to hide mischief and mockery towards you. It was more than you could tolerate and you moved your sword again to hurt him but he simply with a quick movement of his wrist not only pushed your sword away but also made a cut on your cheek. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt the itch of the wound on your cheek and fell to the ground in surprise. The force of the blow caused your hat to fall forward and some strands of long hair could be seen. You had your back towards the swordsman so he couldn't see you well yet. You took off your handkerchief to touch the wound with a grimace of pain, seeing your fingers were stained with blood.

"Enough. You're wearing out my patience."

You stood up slowly in pain and grunting but this time with your normal voice which surprised Mihawk a little since it sounded slightly higher pitched. When you stood up completely your hair fell completely behind you and he frowned. You turned around to face him angrily, now your scarf was no longer covering your face and the man could see that you were clearly a woman.

"Well, well" -He said low, looking at you from top to bottom- "This is a pleasant surprise"

Mihawk closed the distance between him and you with his long, slow steps while you tried to walk away but seemed rooted to the ground. Dracule was a few centimeters close to you and since he was incredibly taller than you his face was slightly downward. You avoided eye contact but you still perceived his yellow eyes traveling over your face as if it were the first time he had seen a woman. Suddenly Mihawk's soft fingers traveled to your jaw and slid under your chin to lift it up and force you to look at him. His threatening, yellow eyes burned your retinas and you felt intimidated. The man let out a low laugh.

"You have guts ma'am. I didn't expect to find an opponent as good as you."

You closed your fingers around Dracule's wrist and moved it away, closing your eyes, trying not to look at him, but his amber eyes were still in your head. Remembering the reckless woman you were, you challenged him by raising your chin.

"So? I asked you what you were going to do with me now, Dracule Mihawk."

The tall man narrowed his eyes slightly upon hearing her full name. He went from your lips to your eyes analyzing you. He would never admit it but deep inside he was greatly amused by your cheeky attitude and how you had dared to face him.

"You know what? I'll set you free. And you better hurry because they're probably coming."

You opened your eyes and were speechless as your lips parted slightly. You expected him to hand you over to the authorities, even stab you, anything but that. Was Mihawk going soft…for a woman? Seeing you frozen and unable to speak, Mihawk raised an eyebrow and smiled a small smile that seemed almost invisible.

"Didn't you hear me? Go now, if you value your life."

Mihawk turned around adjusting his hat and putting his sword back away as he climbed the ladder you had used to get down there. You shook your head and regained movement. You bent down to grab your hat and put it on while you covered your face with your scarf and walked away at fast steps trying to find another hiding place and then run away. Before losing sight of you, Mihawk turned his head with a look of satisfaction towards where you had fled to see you for the last time… or not.

I'll definitely do a part two, when? I don't know but I will do it (I will try)

[jxngs]

FUUBUTSUSHI | 風物詩 — 2

· . ༄࿔ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Snow whispers softly, Blind eyes in winter's embrace, Curse king's frozen game.

⤿ or in which a blind girl is forced to play shogi with the king of curses.

Sukuna / Ryomen Sukuna | Original Female Character(s)

Tags: Slow Burn × Size Difference × Heian Period × Romance × Violence × Enemies to Lovers × kind of lol × Canon-Typical Violence × Betrayal × Disabled Character

[Ch. 1] | [AO3]

"Let's make a wager today."

Yukina felt excited about the idea. She was already having fun with the King, and he somehow made it even more interesting. Perhaps it would motivate him to try harder to win. If that's the case, so be it! She and Sukuna have been playing shogi for a while, and he was never close to winning.

Outside of playing, the young female didn't do much. Eat, play, eat, sleep. At first, she needed to be escorted by Uraume every time. It took her almost three days to memorize the paths that led her to her room, the kitchen, and the room where she played with the King. It wasn't his chambers; that's what she knew for sure.

She also met a couple of the servants and even one of the concubines so far. They didn't engage in conversation with her that much unless they had to directly interact with her. Even the concubine didn't bother with her once she found out that her stay was temporary.

Well, it's temporary until Sukuna wins.

If you asked Yukina, she'd tell you that her stay is permanent, given the way things are going.

Loss after loss.

It didn't matter to her, though. She was having fun.

"Sure! That'll be fun," she responded to him.

"If you lose, you'll have to give me your eyes as a keepsake."

Oh.

That was definitely one of the weirder bets she had; why would someone want something so useless? It didn't make sense to her at all. Perhaps if she saw some value in it, she would be weirded out by the whole idea rather than being confused.

"You can just take them," Yukina said a few seconds later.

"You want me to take them now?" Sukuna asked incredulously.

Isn't that what he wanted...? Did she misunderstand his words?

"It's not like I use them." She giggled—as if that's the most normal thing to say. "I usually wager with my life."

"Why would you? Are you that confident in your skills?"

"Well, once a shogi master loses, they're considered to be a normal human. And I..." Yukina gripped her kimono and tilted her head down, hiding her face. "I can't live with that."

The King was silent.

This pathetic human managed to catch him off guard every single time.

In his eyes, she was already a 'normal human', yet to see her think so highly of one board game to the point of losing her life over it... It's truly pathetic. So pathetic that he wanted to laugh. Laugh at how she was going to lose her life whether she wagered on it or not.

Yet, the way that she was willing to give up her eyes without any reason made him feel puzzled. Weren't humans oddly attached to their things? Whether it was a limb, a house, a wisdom tooth, or even a teapot they had only recently bought, they would never let go of it.

Yukina, on the other hand, offered them with no hesitation. Her body was relaxed, and she had her usual small, guileless smile gracing her face. Her demeanour didn't change at that, but the idea of losing her status as a shogi master disrupted her features.

Was it because it was the only thing she found value in in herself?

Sukuna couldn't handle it.

He couldn't handle how she was getting him to overthink. He couldn't handle how a young, disabled woman like her was willing to lose her life over something she valued when most people didn't do half of that. Sorcerers of all kinds had their pride, and they would never admit to such a thing.

His own pride wouldn't allow him to be less than her.

With a hand movement, his lower set of eyes was sliced, splattering blood on her and the floor. 

"W-What?" Her timid voice stuttered.

Her slender fingers reached to her cheeks, trembling. Her seraphic smile no longer graced her face. She was scared. Terrified and confused.

And he loved it.

It made him think if she was the same when he attacked her hometown. Was she crying and trembling? Yelling for her father in broken words? Oh, she must've felt so lost and so confused.

Seeing her break like that reminded him of how human she is, after all. 

Yukina was not an angel.

"King S-Sukuna," her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "What happened?"

"Let's start the game." The King shrugged her off, already picking up a piece.

A bloody hand suddenly covered the board, hovering over it to not dirty it. Her pale complexion made the crimson red on her fingers pop more, and it made him wonder if it'd look just as good if her entire body was covered in it.

"No!" Yukina protested. "I-I don't know why you hurt yourself, but— but we're not playing till you treat it."

Sukuna chuckled at her. She didn't know that he had healed himself to stop the bleeding. She was just so dumb that it was entertaining him beyond his expectations. 

Suddenly, she reached behind her head. Yukina started to untie her blindfold, though her movements were shaky. She then extended her hands with a thin, long piece of fabric resting on her palms.

"I don't w-want you to bleed more." She said.

His gaze flickered between her hands and face, his face blank and neutral. Did she really think that he was like her? It almost made him scoff.

Her eyes were shut, but he could see the concern and worry in her expression. It was as if she was pleading for him to take care of his self-inflicted wound. It had him pause for a second, but...

Sukuna took the blindfold from her; however, he held it in his lower left hand. He didn't take his eyes off her, and he could see her smile at him in relief.

"You're dismissed for today."

Yukina slowly nodded her head at him.

Was she upset?

It was painfully obvious how she wore her heart on her sleeve. Her lips were pouty while she started to tap the floor around, trying to find her white cane. The glowing halo around her dimmed, and she was mindlessly searching. He could hear how slow her heartbeat was compared to earlier. 

Sukuna found himself puzzled by her again. He knew he should've taken it as it is. Yukina was a simple-minded woman who was overly trusting. Her intentions were clear, and she lacked the deceit that people had.

So, why couldn't he think of her in a simple way?

He took the cane that rolled away a bit far and handed it to her silently. Her head snapped up toward him, and it suffocated him.

"Thank you," she breathed out, gently grabbing it from him with a small bow.

She stood up from her place, leaning on the wooden pole for support. Her thick, white lashes rested comfortably against her skin as she began to walk out. The soft tapping filled the silence in the room. It had a rhythm and a specific pace, and it swayed from left to right.

Honestly, Yukina was obviously upset about how their playtime was cut short. 

The only thing she looked forward to in her current days was her time with the King. She got to talk to him and explain sequences with ease, and over time, he began to indulge in her talks more and more.

Did she do something wrong? 

Just as her mind was about to convince her of that, his voice rang through the room.

"What did you want in case you won?" he asked her.

Her tapping came to a stop, and she turned around to face him.

"I wanted... to visit the gardens here."

The King didn't say anything in return, and thus, her tapping continued. 

Yukina walked through the halls with a quickened heart rate. The corners of her lips were tugging upwards, though it looked odd with the blood on her face. The King was an odd person in her eyes, but he was still kind nonetheless. She couldn't understand why he would injure himself so suddenly, or why he decided not to play with her for the day. She didn't sense any sort of negative emotions from his voice, so it wasn't like he was angry or upset, right?

Nonetheless, she hoped that things would be better tomorrow. Perhaps they'd wager on something again, but the consequences wouldn't end up like how it did today. Her request was tame in comparison to his: to visit the gardens or to lose her life. It didn't matter anyway. The outcome would always be the same.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she found herself already in front of her chambers. Sliding the door open, she stepped inside and closed it behind her. Since they didn't play a single match today, she had a lot of free time. The problem is she didn't know what to do. Yukina didn't have friends to chat with, and there wasn't really a hobby she could do while blind.

With a sigh, she sat down on her futon and placed her cane to the side. Her hands fiddled with her kimono sleeve in boredom as she thought of what she could do.

Back at her family's house, she would try to do embroidery in her free time since she could rely on her tactile senses for that. However, she didn't have anything to do so, and she'd need someone to sort out the colors for her first. It wasn't her place to ask the King for such a thing either.

Yukina decided to start braiding her hair. Normally, it'd be left down, reaching her mid-thigh, with her signature clip holding some pieces behind. Her hair was too heavy to be wrapped in a bun, so she would rather braid it instead.

Her nimble fingers were already threaded in her long locks, and she started to softly hum a tune to ease her boredom. From what she knew, no one lived in a room near her, so she didn't have to worry about being loud and annoying. It made her feel a lot more comfortable to do so.

Her fingers worked rhythmically, weaving strands of her hair together with practiced ease. The gentle hum of her voice filled the quiet room, a melody that echoed softly off the paper walls. It was an old tune, one her mother used to sing to her when she was a child. The notes carried a sense of nostalgia, a comfort that eased the restlessness in her heart.

As the braid grew longer, Yukina found herself lost in the repetitive motion, her thoughts drifting like leaves on a calm stream. She wondered what the gardens looked like. She had never seen them, but she imagined them in her mind: the flowers would be hidden beneath the white, the trees bare and skeletal, yet there was a serene beauty in that stillness. She could almost hear the soft crunch of snow underfoot, the crisp air filling her lungs as she wandered through the frozen landscape.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she tied off the end of her braid. Yukina still continued to sing and hum, deep in her thoughts. The King had been strange today, stranger than usual. She couldn't shake the image of him, the way his voice had wavered when he spoke to her.

The King was a mystery, one she had yet to fully understand. But there was something about him, something that drew her in.

The hum of her tune faded, leaving her in a silence that was almost too loud. She wished she could see his face, read the expressions that she could only imagine. But all she had were his words, his voice, and the emotions she could sense but not see. It wasn't enough, and yet, it was all she had.

Her train of thought was cut short when she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, pushing her hair back.

The door slid open, and they entered. The footsteps sounded heavier and different from usual. Uraume was the only person who would visit her, often to give her food or clothes, but it didn't sound like them.

"... Who is it?" Yukina asked.

There was a pause, then.

"Your playmate." A familiar deep voice rumbled through her ears, but it sounded unusually close now.

Oh?

The King never visited her before. She didn't expect to hear from him until tomorrow.

She turned her body to face him, head tilted upward. It was amusing to see her 'gaze' on his torso rather than his face, but she was blissfully unaware.

"King Sukuna," she greeted him, shocked. "Can I be of any help?"

A large, calloused hand touched her cheek, and it made her flinch from the sudden touch. It always surprised her whenever people touched her suddenly; deep down, she didn't like it. She didn't show any of that, though.

His thumb ran over the same spot many times before doing the same on her other cheek. Yukina was frozen in place—cheeks red and hands gripping her clothes. What is going on?

"You didn't clean your face well." The King finally clarified to her once he pulled away. You can hear the amusement in his voice.

It made her cheeks burn more in embarrassment, and she said, "I didn't know. Thank you."

If she was able to see, she would've averted her gaze.

"Follow me." He said after a round of silence.

Yukina couldn't even process it until she heard him already walking away. She scrambled around to find her cane to quickly go after him, not questioning where he was taking her.

The walk was fairly silent until a small sneeze escaped her, her nose scrunched up. Another one rang through the halls before she was able to apologize. God, she hated it whenever she sneezed. It was common, and she had done it in front of the King multiple times already. She simply didn't know why it happened so much, but it was a lot worse during spring.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her ears pink.

He didn't say anything in response and continued to walk. It was hard for her to figure out where he was walking. Sometimes, she would end up going the wrong way, and she wouldn't know till she heard his footsteps start to fade away. If it wasn't for her actively thinking about it, she would've ended up lost.

Just as she was going to turn to the right, something tugged on her clothes from behind, and she was stuck in place. 

"Huh—"

"Not that way." The King said with a flat tone.

"O-Oh!!"

Yukina stopped trying to walk forward and turned around to where he was. He still held on to the back of her kimono, and if he used a bit more strength, it would lift her up off her feet. It was similar to how a mother cat would hold her kitten. She felt too flustered and helpless to say anything. At least they didn't waste time because of her.

Soon enough, she heard him slide a door open and let go of her clothes. She smoothed it out the best she could, but her movements came to a stop when she felt cold air hit her face, blowing her hair away. Her hands came to a stop, and she gasped when she realized where they were.

"Woah~!" Yukina breathed out excitedly once she stepped out on the engawa¹.

In a second, she was already stepping off and walking around. Her steps were faster than normal, as she breathed in the crisp air. It was snowing, but she didn't care. All that mattered to her was how nice it was to feel it reach her body softly. The young woman was too mesmerized by the smells and sounds of nature to realize that he wasn't there with her.

Sukuna stood on the wooden porch, his face void of any emotion. His gaze rested on Yukina; he watched her from afar for a few seconds, then walked away. Humans were too boring and pathetic sometimes, and he couldn't bear to see it.

It was such a stupid request, and if it wasn't for her winning at a game of wits—unintentionally, he wouldn't have granted it.

If anything, his hatred for her grew more and more. And seeing her smile and blend in with the white-covered landscape further strengthened his hate. Sukuna hoped that she would accidentally die out there so the vow would be nullified. He would do anything to get her out of his face. To go and slaughter her village for binding him to a weak, dumb mortal.

Her innocence frustrated him beyond belief. How can someone be so ignorant and foolish to trust anything?

Despite being far from the garden now, he could hear her talking to herself. It took him a second to focus and realize that she thought he was still there, too.

Hah.

That made him laugh more than he had expected.

Yukina's mood was completely different from earlier—that was evident from how she excitedly talked about her surroundings. How she loved winter and its calmness. How the coldness in her lungs made her feel alive. How apparently everything was covered in white. She even asked him if that's true, but she was so into her rambling that she didn't think twice of his silence.

He heard her sit down and go quiet for a second.

Did she finally realize that she was alone? Oh, he would've loved to see her reaction to that.

Instead, she began to talk softly about how she wished she could see, and it made him stop in his tracks. Yukina had never brought that topic up before.

With curious ears, he listened.

She was so soft-spoken, but she didn't sound weak. It was as if she wasn't bothered by her disability as much as he thought she would be. She simply accepted it long ago, yet he could pick up on the yearning in her voice.

"I bet it's so pretty," she said. "I often long to see everything around me. The mountains and its rocks. The moon and its stars. Apparently, even the sun and its skies look pretty during sunset."

Sukuna couldn't recall the last time he paid attention to his surroundings. Or if he ever did.

"You know... My mother used to always say how she chose my name because I reminded her of the snow during winter."²

Yukina's words rang in his brain, and he remembered how she looked earlier. Her hair was braided this time, yet her front pieces fluttered and moved with the wind. Pink dusted her cheeks and nose, and her light blue kimono made her stand out even more. Her skin was so white it was a few shades away from matching the white fabric that covered her eyes.

For a second, it made him wonder what her eyes were like. Was it brown like the girls in their era? Or did it have that milkiness that some blind people have? Did they stand out with her white lashes?

The image of her twirling around under the falling snow kept relaying in his mind. It made his usually hot body drop in temperature, feeling the coldness grace his skin. Engulfing him and wrapping itself from behind.

She really did look like she was winter personified.

And he hated how he agreed with that. How he kept thinking of her.

With a sneer, Sukuna walked away. He was no longer interested in hearing her realize his absence.

Notes:

¹. Engawa: A covered corridor which runs around the outside perimeter of a building, similar to a porch.

². Yukina's name: The 雪 (yuki) in her name means snow.

[maxineryx]

Hiiii I was just wondering if you would be able to write something angsty for Guren? I just started watching seraph and that man has me in a chokehold.

hiiii!! thank you so much for requesting this! i’ve actually wanted to write something for Guren since FOREVER but i never had the motivation. but here it is, hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: blood, death

WC: 1.2K

The soft sound of Guren’s footsteps echoed throughout the ruins of a past city, a past city that was abandoned yet peaceful before a terrible battle arose.

Now it was quiet again, though it was anything but peaceful, as a tense and dreadful feeling hung thick in the air.

Dust and smoke blocked Guren from seeing anything, however, he already knew that most of his soldiers were dead. It wasn’t too late to just turn around and walk away. So why was he still walking forward?

That was because there was a specific soldier he needed to see alive. There was still a fragment of foolish hope that somehow, somehow, you were spared, just lost somewhere in the thick dust and smoke.

If you were dead, Guren would never forgive himself. After all, it was he who charged his soldiers into war, to their deaths. This outcome was very much expected.

As he traversed through the depressing land, through broken debris and body parts, he recalled his last (which he hoped wasn’t) conversation with you.

“You are not going. That’s an order from your superior.” He demanded, back towards you as he reached for his office door, about to leave.

“But why?! Why are you doing this?! These soldiers have friends, perhaps family! Don’t you see how you’re just pointlessly forcing them to their deaths?” You questioned, fists clenched and anger pooling out of your eyes in the form of tears. His hand froze before it dropped to his side. He hastily turned around, brows furrowed and teeth clenched. You searched his eyes for any sign of regret or remorse, though you were met with none. The look in his eyes was harsh, furious, and judgemental. This wasn’t your lover looking at you. It was a superior, nothing more than a person who just gives you orders.

“I will not be telling you. That’s disclosed information. The only thing you should be worrying about is following my order of ‘you are not going’. Don’t make me repeat myself.” A hint of venom was in his voice as he stared down at you.

You shook your head, disbelief in your eyes. “You’re just playing around with them like they’re your puppets. What makes me so different from them? If they go, surely I should be too?”

“No. You are not fucking going. These soldiers have skill, a chance in defeating the vampires, a chance of making it out alive.”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the pure anger coursing through your veins as you looked up at him. “What are you trying to say?” Came through clenched teeth.

It was as if your heart dropped when a small smirk grew on his lips. It was a faint one, yet it caused you so much hurt that you debated whether or not to just obey him and leave.

“You’re useless and weak. You being there would be a waste of air. A good cursed weapon was wasted on you, and you would just drag them down if you go.”

You lowered your gaze, though not in defeat. Slowly, you walked in his direction, barging past him. Only his head turned sideways to see what you were doing. Your hand reached with a slight tremble for the doorknob, stopping before you opened it.

“I don’t know you anymore, Lieutenant Colonel. I apologize, but I’m unable to follow your order.” 

And he let you leave without another word, huffing when the door shut with a soft click.

If only he had said another word. Or perhaps if he hadn’t told you at all about the plan, he wouldn’t be discovering a shocking scene unveiling in front of him.

It was an irregular line of cloaks that the vampires wore. Something, or someone, had killed them all in one go.

Guren cautiously picked one up and examined it; it was covered in dust and grime, as well as a speck of blood. He looked closer at it.

It’s fresh. He noticed before dropping the cloak.

He decided to follow the line, squinting his eyes and looking around for any signs of life, for any signs of you.

That’s when it came to an end, and he was met again with an endless sea of dust and smoke.

Suddenly, his head perked up at the sound of a faint and weak cough. His head whipped around in the direction of it, eyes widening at your small and battered body that was sitting up against a broken wall.

Guren’s legs moved by themselves, and in a quick second, he was already by your side. His hands moved everywhere but were pulled back immediately after seeing you grimace your face at the pain. He sat on his knees, pulling you onto his lap so you were more comfortable.

“Hey.” He whispered though it was so faint that perhaps you weren't able to hear it. His trembling hands held you close to his warm body. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Your eyes looked around before focusing on his face. There was no sign of happiness or anything positive; just pure pain and hopelessness. “Lieutenant… Co—“

“Guren.” He interrupted you, bottom lip quivering. “I’m still your Guren.”

You let out a long sigh, looking away from his eyes. Looking over to the direction of the line of cloaks, your weak and trembling hand pointed. “I did… that, Guren. I-I’m not… weak. I killed them all in… one go.”

He held you closer, hand supporting the back of your head. “Shhh, I-I know you did. Don’t talk. You— just don’t talk.” He was breathing heavily, unaware of what to do next.

“I will die here. I a-already lost too much blood.”

Guren’s eyes travelled down to your abdomen, where a huge hole resided in your body, your skin and clothes surrounding it covered in the crimson liquid that made his skin crawl.

“Oh, fuck!” He pushed his hand onto the wound to apply pressure, though deep down he knew you were right. You had lost too much blood. It was too late. He came too late. “Don’t die on me! Hold on! Please!” He begged tears slowly forming in his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry… I didn’t mean— I didn’t mean what I said last night.”

It started to rain.

“Guren.” You said softly.

“I was just trying to stop you from going… I didn’t mean it!” He clenched his teeth and curled his fingers into fists, furious at himself for letting you go like this, and now you would die as a consequence.

“Guren!” It was a little louder, able to stop him from his mindless babbling. You raised your hand with all your strength and held his face. He leaned into your touch.

“I know y-you didn’t mean it. It’s fine… at least I have proved myself worthy of being in the… army.” You whispered, smiling faintly. Suddenly, you started coughing, blood trickling down your chin.

“Don’t talk. Please.” He squeezed the hand that held his face.

“I love you.” You said breathlessly, so soft that it could have been mistaken as a mere breeze.

A smile made it onto your face before you took your last breath, exhaling it. Your eyes lost their colour and discarded any emotion lying within them.

Guren already knew you were gone.

But his foolish hope clung onto him.

He shook you once. Twice. Thrice. Your name left his lips. Tears fell endlessly for his face as he dipped his head, bangs covering his watery eyes. His hand by his face fell, and so did yours, flopping to your side.

Guren has never cried because of a singular soldier's death.

Now he has.

And it was all his fault.

[shadowbriar]

Sirius Black - The Lion and The Lamb

Pairing : Sirius Black x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 5.1k Warning : One curse word. I'm so bad at this I don't think there's any other? Synopsis : Sirius' plot of pairing her with Remus has finally come to a success yet he finds it hard to find the joy in their relationship. Notes : Post no 3 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. This story is a little bit all over the place, I'm sorry for that. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Sirius Black's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @when-you-cant-think-of-anything

It is only logical that someone like her, a bright witch with the wittiest mind and cleverest brain, would ever fall for someone who’s equally as brilliant. Someone who excels in his classes, despite the fact that he has a troublesome condition that restrains him from having a full attendance in his classes, is still being appointed as prefect due to his capability and proficient skill set. It’s simple logic, isn’t it? Smart people are attracted to smart people, the same way funny people are attracted to other funny people.

At least, that is the rule Sirius Black is believing in.

For years he has tried to play the matchmaker for Remus and her. ‘Accidentally’ pairing them up for school projects, ‘accidentally’ forgetting their group study session so the two of them would be left alone, and ‘accidentally’ always making her sit next to Remus in every chance presented. Sirius was determined to get them together. He would always argue that they just haven’t noticed the chemistry they have, how everyone in the room could tell that these two are in love with each other. Though James would always deny and say that no one except Sirius would see this so-called chemistry, Sirius has already made it his life mission to make them a couple.

“Truly, I love Padfoot but his antics on pairing us up is starting to get under my skin.” Remus grumbles as he walks with her through Hogsmeade. They were supposed to meet up at the Three Broomstick, her and the rest of the Marauders, but after an hour of waiting, the two knew that this is just another stunt Sirius’ pulled for them “Once we get back to the castle I will make him transform into his animagus form and turn him into a fur hat, I swear it.”

She chuckles, “I’d love to witness that.”

The two continue their walk until Remus halts all of a sudden, stopping his pace with an expression she couldn’t decipher. It was as if he was thinking deeply about something that is struggling to burst forth from his lips. His brows furrow and it’s taking a huge amount of self control in herself to not straighten them with her thumb.

“I have an idea that might make you murder me,” He says to her “But this is worth the shot, at least for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you not tired of this? Of Padfoot always setting us up like this?” Remus questions, his arms now fold in front of his chest “Because I am. We can hardly hangout with the others anymore and don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you, Love, it’s just that—”

“Sirius,” She cuts, nodding in understanding with a small laughter “I get it. What do you propose?”

Remus shrugs, “Well, since the boy’s so determined to get us together, why don’t we just.. Get together?”

“Get together?” She repeats with a raised brow “As in.. Date each other?”

“Yeah, precisely that.”

She stares at him with appalled eyes. Remus seems adamant with his proposal, his tone is firm and his body language shows 100% certainty, yet her mind still couldn’t process his words properly. The idea of them dating would be as logical as flying pigs. They are the true definition of platonic love. Dating Remus would feel like painting the Black Lake pink with a makeup brush, painful and useless.

Noticing her bewildered expression, Remus proceeds to explain his bid, “Alright, maybe I worded it wrong. I meant to say that maybe we should try to give the impression that we’re dating. I love you Dove, there’s no denying that, but we’re nowhere close to what Padfoot is insinuating and I just can’t live the rest of my school years being his experimental toad.”

“Ah,” She finally nods in understanding. Her facial expressions soften from the explanation, letting out a chuckle now as Remus’ words start to make sense “You still have to define try in this scenario, Rem. What are the rules and what not?”

Remus shrugs once more, “Just act like we’re dating in front of the boys, I guess.”

“Okay, and what does ‘act like we’re dating’ mean?” She questions further, her right hand now resting on her right cheek as she gives the offer a thought “Dating could have a very broad meaning, these days.”

“Hold hands, walk you to your classes, carry your books, you know those little things.”

“And how about the PDAs?”

“Like kissing?” Remus asks. He winces slightly at the thought, not out of disgust but more on the unlikelihood of either of them enjoying such action “We can opt that out. Just tell people we’re not a big fan of public attention for such gestures, they’ll buy it.”

She pursed her lips, brows furrowed now as she truly pondered her options. Sure the fact that Sirius is restless about his mission is irritating her, but is pretend dating really the answer? It feels cruel, knowing that Sirius came from a good heart, but Remus is right. Just how many more years should they suffer through this foolish mischief? If anything it will only grow discomfort between her and Remus and she surely wouldn’t want to lose her friendship with him.

“Should we put a time frame for it then?” She says, trying to help perfect the proposal “Say.. 3 months? Would that be too long? We could just tell people that we didn’t really work out by then.”

“I was going to say until the semester ends, but 3 months seems enough.” Remus nods, holding out his hand “So is that a deal?”

She smiles, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, “Deal.”

—-

The next morning when the pack walks down to the Great Hall, Sirius’ eyes are caught at the sight of his two friends sitting comfortably close to each other, already enjoying their meal and sharing what seems to be the most interesting discussion. James shot him a look, utterly puzzled at the intimacy they were showing. Peter was the only one who could still function and walk to the couple, sitting right in front of them.

“Morning, you two,” Peter greets, his eyes narrowed in an interrogating way “You left pretty early this morning, Moons. Didn’t even hear you go out the door.”

“Yeah, I had to pick her up from her dorm.” Remus shrugs, his tone casual as he rests a hand around her shoulders “You guys are here on time.”

“What is happening?” Sirius asks this time, a disbelief smile decorating his baffled face. He was still standing by the table, the only one who’s not yet seated. His eyes travelled to Remus’ secured hold around her “You two are more comfortable than I last remember.”

“Yeah, well, we decided to give it a go.” She explained with a smile, looking at Remus.

Sirius let out a chuckle, one that doesn’t sound the most sincere as he proceeds to question, his tone was laced with uncertainty, “Give what a go?”

“Dating.” She answers as she turns to him briefly before giving Remus a little peck on the cheeks “We’re dating now.”

Remus, who wasn’t expecting the kiss, turns crimson. It wasn’t the first kiss he’s received on the cheek from her, but getting it under the impression of their romantic affair still caught him off guard. He gave her a look, one that she understood was him being impressed at her act, before pulling her head closer to his shoulder. 

Remus’ eyes now travel to Sirius’ who is stupefied, still on his feet after witnessing such action. He doesn’t seem to be joyful, not even the slightest bit happy at the fact that his life mission is now finally achieved. Like someone hit the invisible reset button in the back of his head. Completely at loss of words and understanding of the scene unravelling before his eyes.

“You alright, Pads?” Remus asks with a raised brow.

James had to pull on Sirius’ robe in order to bring the black haired boy back to life. Sirius blinks, evidently trying to digest the new information with a scrunched brow. He finally takes a seat, resting his hand under his chin in an interrogative gesture, “What— When, uh, when did this happen?”

“Yesterday, after our Hogsmeade date.” She answers casually, squeezing herself closer to her ‘boyfriend’ as she continues “We figured.. You’re right. We do have chemistry between us, so we thought— Why not? Right, my Love?”

Remus smirks, seemingly amused at the pet name given, “Right, Darling.”

“Aw, not the pet names.” James fakes a gag “You two are going to beat me and Lils as couple of the year.”

Breakfast continued with so much laughter and bliss that her cheeks were starting to hurt. It feels wonderful to finally share tender and warm moments without having to worry that Remus might feel uncomfortable or that she would have to excuse herself to join her group of friends to run from a plot Sirius would pull on them. After what seems to be forever, the two of them can finally appreciate the platonic love shared in the group.

Yet through the delightful morning they’re spending, she couldn’t help but to notice the half-hearted laughter Sirius would let out or how he would play with his food more than to chime in on James' jokes. He wouldn’t meet eyes with her, as if he has a secret he wants to keep. Something she couldn’t tell what it was nor what it’s about.

—-

Fake dating Remus has been brilliant to say the least. Neither of them now have to feel awkward from each other, nurturing their friendship that was once put to halt when Sirius started his ruse. James and Peter have been more free to ask either of them to hang out too, knowing that Sirius wouldn’t pop out of nowhere and jeopardise the plan to have her paired up with Remus instead. Yet through all these splendid events, she couldn’t help but to notice Sirius’ withdrawal.

He has been more quiet whenever the five of them would hang out, being too busy with his assignments she knows full well he pays no mind about or excusing himself to get some rest. She couldn’t even see him alone, always having something in his schedule that would make him leave her in the hallways.

It would be a lie to say that she doesn’t miss his presence.

“Have you been giving the group more quidditch practice, Potter?” She asks as she plops herself to the sofa, scanning around the Common Room to look for the familiar black haired boy.

James makes a face, “No? We haven’t even done any practice for weeks due to the bad weather.”

A frown blooms on her face. Quidditch practice is Sirius’ most used justification to his pardon and to know that there hasn’t even been one for a while surely baffles her. What could be the reason for Sirius’ absence then?

“Where’s Sirius?” She voiced out “I haven’t seen him for a while now, it’s like he’s avoiding me.”

“Probably feeling undermotivated now that you two are dating. His whole life was devoted to seeing you two as a couple, now that it’s happened, I suppose Padfoot requires some time to recalculate his next life mission.” Peter comments nonchalantly “Perhaps he could finally find one that is actually useful for his future.”

She forces a smile.

A big question mark is still ingrained in her mind. She seems to be the only one to notice Sirius’ withdrawal and is actually bothered by it. Perhaps it was because the boys still see him in their dorm room and spend more classes with him that they could hardly notice the difference. Either way, she knows that she won’t get her answer by asking them about Sirius. She has to ask him herself. However that might be.

—-

Sirius’ palms have been more sweaty nowadays every time she was around. He was sure that one of these days his closest mates will call him out for the strange act he’s been pulling and how he’s committing the grandest sin to have feelings for his best friend’s girlfriend.

In his defence, Sirius never intended to fall for her. He’s always admired her, sure, only a fool would question that, but never has Sirius ever thought that such admiration stemmed from romantic feelings. He always thought and believed that her best pair is Remus, someone who is stable and responsible, unlike him who is impulsive and directionless in life. Someone who would follow wherever the wind would sail his ship to.

No, Sirius will never accept anyone who is less prudent than Remus to be her lover.

But that day in Potion class haunts him like a persisting ghost. How the cauldron of Amortentia smelled like her. A mix of her perfume, her favourite dish that she would always dig in whenever Christmas comes, and that scent of flower they did their Herbology paper on back in third year. There would be no chance that Sirius misinterpreted the scents. What he smelled from the love potion was her, only her.

Now he’s standing feet away from her, trying to cast the patronus charm along with the other students. He could see Remus succeeding in no time, producing a wolf shaped patronus. He could see the mixed emotions Remus had on his face. Proud of his success in conjuring the spell and bitterness over the form of patronus he owned.

He turned his gaze to Lily, a beautiful doe was running around her. James on the other side of the class was screaming in delight when he finally conjured his patronus, a magnificent stag standing by his side. Sirius knew that James would use this to pester on Lily more. People do say that some soulmates may have a connected form of patronus.

Sirius’ lips turned into a smile as he watched her successfully produce her patronus now. A beautiful rottweiler was running around her. What a perfect patronus, Sirius thought. A courageous and loyal animal, the perfect one for her.

Now Sirius tries to cast the spell himself. A couple tries and he finally managed to produce a full patronus, a german shepherd. He lets out a satisfied laughter, watching as his patronus runs around the class, stopping only when it met her patronus.

But Sirius’ patronus soon disappears as his focus dissolves, locking eyes with Remus who watches over the event with a confused look and an intrigued smirk plastered on his face. Sirius swallowed his own saliva in nervousness. Does this mean Remus knows about his growing affection towards his girlfriend?

—-

“I’m calling it, me and Lily are soulmates.” James says happily as he jumps on his bed, resting his arms behind his head as a pillow “Who would’ve thought, right? A stag and a doe. Merlin, we must’ve been made for each other for real.”

“Not really in the mood to talk about patronuses, guys.” Peter snorts, sulking at his still failure in conjuring one.

“Don’t worry, Wormy, your time will come.” Sirius says, patting the boy’s shoulder before heading to his trunk to put his books in “Took me a couple tries to get it too.”

“Right, your german shepherd patronus,” Remus notes, a suspicious smile tugged on his lips “Did you notice that yours were the only one other than her’s in the form of a dog?”

Sirius feigned a confused look, furrowing his brows, “Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, right! Her rottweiler!” James chimed “It was adorable when your patronus came to her’s, Pads. Too bad yours didn’t last too long. You surely need more practice with your spell.”

Sirius only let out a small chuckle, not saying another word as he silently prays that they would drop this topic. It’s uncomfortable enough for him to know that his patronus were fond of hers, adding to the stress of his realisation of her scent from the amortentia. Now to have Remus staring at him with an expression he’s dying to confront yet certainly not ready to face the consequences of, Sirius wonders if pairing her with Remus all these years was a mistake.

—-

“I think we need to call off this ruse.”

“Already?” She asks, putting down her book to meet Remus’ eyes “We’re not even half way through 3 months.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need to get that long. Even if we break up now, I’m sure Sirius wouldn’t pair us up like he did before.”

She raised an eyebrow, confused, “Why would you think that?”

“Because that git finally realises that he likes you.” Remus says with a confident smirk.

Her eyes nearly popped out of its eye sockets. What Remus said just now is as surprising as hearing that Dumbledore and McGonnagal are holding their wedding this Yule break. Never in a million years would she ever expect such a reason to be uttered by him.

She let out a mocking laughter, dismissing his words, “You’re mental.”

“I’m not,” Remus denies, leaning closer to her to prove his words “That day in Charms class. His patronus came to you. You both had guard dogs as patronus. Why do you think that’s because?”

“Mere coincidence?” She questions, still finding his words to be baffling “We both have dogs as our patronus, so? They’re not even the same breed. You’re making a connection out of nothing.”

“Am I really?” He challenges “I mean, think about it! Don’t you think Sirius has been acting strange ever since we’re dating? And that day in Potion class, I bet you a hundred galleons, he smelled your scent from the amortentia.”

“He does not,” She says firmly, shaking her head in denial “And you don’t even have a hundred galleons, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “My point still stands. Sirius likes you, I’m certain of it.”

She frowns, still finding it hard to digest Remus’ words. It feels like some sick joke he’s trying to have her convinced. There would be no chance in hell that Sirius would like her. Why would he? All these years spent of him trying to get her with Remus, why would he now have feelings for her?

“No.” She says short.

“Why are you so defensive about this?” Remus groans “I’m telling you. We call things off now and I bet Sirius will waste no time and court you.”

“He spent his whole life in Hogwarts trying to pair us up, Remus. Now you say that he has feelings for me? Doesn’t that sound a little bit mad?”

He shrugs, “Maybe he didn’t realise his feelings for you until we did this fake dating.”

“That still sounds absurd.”

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Remus says, holding his hands up in surrender “But I still think we should stop our ruse now. If he really does have feelings for you, I don’t want him to feel like he’s betraying me or anything. I refuse to be the cockblocker between you two.”

She put up her book, closing their conversation with a nod. If Remus thinks that it would be best for them to stop their fake dating now then she would have no issue against it. It wasn’t like she was having the grandest time of her life fake dating him, but there would be no chance that she’s falling for his words, that Sirius secretly holds feelings for her because there’s simply no chance for that to ever happen in this life. No chance.

—-

“You broke up with her?!” Sirius asked, tone rising in disbelief and unexplained anger “Why?!”

“Because,” Remus answers with a shrug “I just don’t think that it was working.”

“So you dumped her?”

“No, it was a mutual agreement.”

Sirius still has his displeased expression on, glaring at Remus. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way. A mix of relief and rage at the same time. He was glad that they finally ended their relationship, for whatever reason Sirius isn’t sure he wanted to dig deeper on, but on the other side he can’t help but to worry if she was hurt by Remus’ decision. Even if it was a mutual agreement, who’s to say that she isn’t crying and bawling her eyes out from heartbreak right now?

“I still can’t believe you broke up with her.” Sirius mutters “You two have only been, what, a month together?”

Remus shrugs once more, letting out a tired sigh, “There’s no bad blood between us. She’s fine, I didn’t break her heart if that’s what you’re so riled up on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, giving him the ‘are you serious’ look.

“What?” Sirius asks, appalled “What’s with that look?”

“Oh, come on, Pads, stop acting oblivious.” Remus says, rolling his eyes “You might fool Prongs and Wormtail but you’ll never fool me, not about this.”

Sirius frowns, folding his arms in front of his chest in defence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Remus glares.

Sirius squared his shoulders, showing his firm stand.

Remus sighs, patting his best friend's shoulder in an attempt to console him, “For what it’s worth, Pads, I’m not angry. If anything, I’m glad that you finally come to your senses and realise the true reason for your dedication in finding her a proper partner. You care for her, in a whole different world than how me or Prongs or Wormtail do. I just hope that you won’t be stupid enough to pull another lark on her.”

Sirius remains quiet, his defensive expression softens a little. It was one thing to realise his feelings for her, one thing to see all the signs scattered around them that he was so blind to see before, but it’s an entirely different thing to have it confronted by Remus. By the one person who he should feel most embarrassed to admit the feelings for. What kind of a friend is he? Has he no shame?

“I’m sorry, Moony.” Sirius begins “I never meant for it to go this way.”

“What are you saying sorry for? I just told you I’m glad about your budding affection for her.” Remus replies with a chuckle “You can throw away the shame or any foul feelings you have for liking her. I’m not angry or disappointed or anything you might think I feel. Matter of fact, if I could give you any advice, I’ll tell you to go and see her now and waste no more time. You’ve been dense for quite too long, it’s time you actually do something about it.”

“Are you sure? You’re not the slightest bit angry at me?”

“Pads, if you ask me one more time, I swear to Merlin I’ll hex you.”

Sirius smiles, genuinely at last. He feels like the heavy burden that has been sitting atop of his chest has been lifted. Like he could finally breathe and think clearly after being so suffocated by all the overthinking he’s done at night. He could feel the energy that used to flow through his veins slowly returning, making his confidence and bold self to be resurrected back to life.

“Moons,” Sirius called, grinning “You don’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

—-

The library was pretty much empty now. Students have either gone back to their dormitory or down at the Great Hall to have their dinners. She too would find herself digging into roasted chicken and mashed potato right now had today been another ordinary day, but no. Today has been everything but ordinary.

Remus’ words echo in her head like a broken record. She knew that Sirius had been acting strange. She’s confident that she was the first to notice this. Even his reaction to their dating news was so out of character. The anticipated grin and jump of joy was never presented, only vacant eyes and forced laughter served by Sirius ever since.

Now she tries to bury the thousand of questions running in her mind by reading some books she knew would do her no good. She’s lost count of how many times she’s reread this one sentence. None of the words seem to enter her brain, lost into thin air as her eyes skimmed through the words.

“Hey.”

Her head was turned in the blink of an eye, neck almost cracked from the sudden force. She stares at the boy standing by her side with a surprised look, smiling faintly, “Sirius, hello.”

“Can I join you?”

“Uh, sure,” She says, heart pounding now “Take a seat.”

Sirius silently does, smiling at her with quite the nervousness. Whatever it is he wanted to say tonight, she knew that it messes with his heartbeat as much as it does to hers.

“Are you busy?” He asks, fidgeting with his fingers “I’d like to steal a little bit of your time if you aren’t.”

“No, I’m not busy.” She says, closing her book. She tidies her hair nervously, trying to compose herself in front of him. Something she’s never felt before, conscious of his appearance in front of Sirius. Lord, just what is happening in her heart, truly?

“I, uh.. I have something to talk to you about.” Sirius begins, his volume getting smaller and smaller that he’s practically whispering now “I heard that you and Remus didn’t work out.”

“Oh, yeah, we didn’t.”

“Are you okay?”

“Grand,” She bobs her head up and down, a little bit too cheerful for someone who’s facing a break up “Me and Remus are still friends, there’s no hard feelings between us. We just didn’t work out.”

“I see.”

She nods again, smiling awkwardly, “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah.. I mean, no, not really.” Sirius says, tongue tied over whatever lines he wanted to spill “I just— Well, I— Shit, this is so hard to say but I— Well, the past few days I’ve been thinking and I.. Well.. I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?” She asks, raising an eyebrow “What for?”

“For trying to pair you and Remus together.” He continues “I.. I realised that I might not have the proper reason for wanting to find you the right partner. I mean, I thought I did but some things that have happened recently have altered my perspective.”

She opens her mouth before closing it again, confused at whatever direction he was going for, “Sirius, I don’t believe that I understand a word you said just now.”

“I know. I’m not making any sense right now.” He says with a chuckle. The laughter was enough to melt the tension between them but once it died down, the heaviness on his shoulders returned that Sirius couldn’t help but to let out a sigh “What I’m trying to say is.. I think.. Well, I used to think that certain people belong to certain people.”

Her brows knit, listening carefully to his words.

“I thought that smart people belong with smart people. I thought that someone as smart as you should be with someone just as smart. I mean, it’s logical isn’t it? The lions belong with the lioness and the lamb belongs with the other lamb.” He continues, rambling “But then you started dating Remus, and that Potion class happened, and Charm class happened, and I began to think.. Could the lion be with the lamb?”

“I— Am I the lion or the lamb?” She asks, furrowing her brows “I’d be offended if you say I’m the lamb.”

Sirius grins, “You’re the lion, of course.”

“Then who’s the lamb? You or Remus?”

“Me,” Sirius answers, biting his inner cheek in nervousness “I’m the lamb.”

Her expression softens, slowly understanding his words.

“I know it was wrong of me to feel this way. You’re dating Remus, for Godric’s sake! I’ve been trying to pair you two for years and now that you two are dating, I can’t even fake happiness for it.” Sirius confesses, smiling pitifully to himself “What a friend, right?”

She takes his hand gently, softly squeezing it in assurance, “We can’t help who we fall in love with, Sirius. I’m sure Remus understands.”

“He does,” Sirius answers “Do you?”

She was quiet now. It all happens too quickly for her. Just a few hours ago she was fake dating Remus, then he told her that Sirius likes her, and now Sirius himself is professing his feelings. Sure there have been moments in her life where she admires Sirius more than she admires Remus or James or Peter, but it was never as strong as how Sirius is portraying right now. Never as clear as the devotion Sirius is offering her right now.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” Sirius says, noticing her mute as rejection “Just say the words and we can put this behind us. Pretend that this never happens.”

“Sirius,” She calls, holding his hand firmer now “I appreciate your honesty and truthfully, I— I don’t have a word to say to you right now.”

Sirius nods, understanding.

“I just.. I need time to digest everything.” She continues “And you’re not making me uncomfortable. If you’d like to dive further into whatever this is we’re feeling right now, I’m willing to give it a go, but I can’t promise you anything right now.”

“Give.. Give it a go?” Sirius asks, hopeful eyes now staring at her “You’re willing to give this a go?”

“I mean, sure. I’ve always wondered what chemistry you always talk about whenever me and Remus were in the same room because to put it frankly, I always thought that it was us who had the chemistry, not me and Remus.” She reasoned, smiling a little at the thought “But like I said, I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise you that I would be able to return the affection as much as the one you have for me. I’ll try, but I don’t want to give you false promises.”

“That is more than enough.” Sirius says fast, grinning satisfiedly now “Thank you.”

She nods, returning his smile.

Relief was what best describes the two of them now. Sirius kisses the back of her hand gently, showing his grandest gratitude for her understanding and kindness. The same happiness was mirrored on her face, flustered at his gentle gesture. It’s only a matter of time now until the two hand each other their hearts. After all, german shepherds and rottweilers always make cute puppies, don’t they?

[ryuichirou]

Dark headcanons feat. Idia

Anonymous asked:

Got any more super dark head canons for our favorite hikikomori? I’m a glutton for punishment, I know.🫠

Anonymous asked:

being normal is overrated. fuck it gimme your most messed up idia hcs nsfw and sfw

Ask and you shall receive, dear Anons, even if it happens several months later 😭

I want to thank you once again for your patience; one of the reasons why it took me this long was that I always get excited when we receive asks about darker scenarios. I got so excited that, I think, some of the hcs are kind of like short stories lol even though I didn’t want to make them too long… well, anyways.

So, dark and messed up hcs! Obviously Idia-centric; a lot of it is Mob/Idia. Starting on a lighter note, but then it gets more messed up.

(I’m not talking about the Tweels and Idia this time (I know there are asks about them too!), they’ll get another post <3 Let’s hope that I’ll finish it soon)

Sometimes he tortures himself by having internet arguments lol He doesn’t feel good when he argues with randos, even though it’s funny sometimes, but sometimes he continues to do it fully knowing that the conversation is completely useless. A couple of times he connected to his opponent’s webcam log and found footage of them masturbating. He could’ve easily used it to end the argument quickly, but for some reason no matter how heated he gets, he doesn’t do it. He thinks about it though.

Idia has seen every single cursed thing on the internet. Things that would make some people traumatised, things that are way too much even for Idia. If cursed things on the internet were an iceberg meme, to Idia Blue Waffle and One Guy One Jar would be the most basic tier. Something that everyone knows and isn’t as shocking. Sometimes he wonders how Azul-shi or Crimson Muscle would react to some of the stuff he’s used to seeing.

Same goes with porn, to be honest. Idia could go months without masturbating or watching porn, but he isn’t sure if it’s because of his low sex drive or because of how bored he is with porn. Regular porn doesn’t do it for him at all, with kinks he either gets into them or suddenly loses interest, his favourite hentai tropes are pretty messed up. He ended up watching some banned illegal stuff a couple of times just to see if he’d feel anything. The next day he was back to his favourite hentai tropes though.

Idia got groped during his entrance ceremony. He has no idea why he was picked out of every single person there, but he thinks it’s because of his hair: everyone’s silhouette is the same in the ceremonial robe, but his hair makes him stand out. Even though his butt is small… When it happened, Idia got so shocked that he just stood there still, allowing them to touch him. He was upset, but at the same time remembered all the hentai and doujins that started this way, and it resulted in him feeling a weird mix of deep disgust and arousal. He had no idea if anyone noticed him getting molested, and if anyone saw that he had a boner, but he sure felt like every single person was looking at him and judging him. He got traumatised by that, but the situation was so bizarre to him that he came without touching himself after returning to his room as quickly as possible.

Despite being shy and antisocial, Idia is very cocky, and he was especially cocky when he was a freshman. Living with 3 other people was a huge stress for him, and as we talk about living with them 24/7, his natural response to stress was to start talking shit. He felt intimidated by everything and everyone back then, and at the same time felt super annoyed because he was a genius who was much more skilled and smart than most of his senpai, and definitely smarter than the goons that he had to share a room with. Long story short, his roommates thought he was weird and bullied him every time Ortho wasn’t around for some reason (i.e. when he was charging): stole his clothes and pillows, threw stuff at him, talked shit about him, not even trying to be quiet about it. One time they dogpiled him on his own bed and made him pee himself. The other time they wrote swear words all over his body, talking about how all this were the things that people called him when he wasn’t listening. Idia got his revenge after that (yay doxing), but he is a bit scared of these guys to this day.

Idia’s second year wasn’t much better because he still had to share a room with a guy. And if the first bunch were bullies that Ortho really didn’t like (he tried to protect Idia, but couldn’t do it all the time), his roommate during his second year was more sneaky. He had good relationship with Ortho, so Ortho didn’t mind leaving these two alone in the room. He even asked Idia to try and befriend the guy because he really thought Idia needed friends. Idia hated the guy though because not only did he treat him just as badly as the previous group, he also constantly threatened that he would complain about Ortho being dangerous, just to make Idia anxious to lose his knight in shining armor. This got so bad that he made Idia cry like a baby one time because the guy convinced him that he would make everything to take Ortho away from him. And Idia isn’t an idiot; he knew that this wasn’t as simple, but something about the way the guy said it made him break down and cry pathetically.

Idia pretty much lived in fear for an entire year, and somewhere around the middle of the first semester the guy started molesting him. Ortho didn’t intervene because Idia tried his best to hide it from him, even when the guy started demanding Idia to suck him off and started sticking fingers up Idia’s ass, mostly to humiliate him. This is why Idia thought that he was either a masochist or just unstable, because while he absolutely hated it, he felt like he also didn’t mind it enough. The guy got kicked out of NRC before he actually raped (=put his penis into Idia) him, and while Idia was super happy, he also felt disappointed. As if Idia deserved bad things to happen to him… or was he actually into this dynamic and wanted to feel punished and used by someone who treats him like shit? He was never into butt stuff before, but he felt himself aching for a dick that he sucked for months while the guy was humiliating him.

Sometimes Idia fantasises about getting violated by other NRC students. It’s not like he looks at them and sighs dreamily, more of a “what if/how would he do this” type of way. He thinks it’s just his morbid curiosity, and even thinks that it’s very self-centered of him to think that Azul or Rook or Sebek or Lilia or Cater or anyone else would want to rape him, but… what if? He has pretty solid scenarios in his head for some of them, it’s surprisingly easy to come up with them based on their interactions…

Idia kind of likes it when his entire head is being hidden during sex. Well, likes the idea of it. Maybe it’s due to the fact that it keeps him anonymous, but the idea of a bag on his head or a hole-in-the-wall thing kind of tickles him. He had a bunch of dreams about getting stuck in a hole in the wall and then being used as a fuck toy. These dreams always end with someone somehow recognising him and calling him “Idia?” though, so Idia wakes up covered in sweat.

One time Idia almost became one of those people who die due to strangling themselves during masturbation. And he isn’t even into this type of stuff, he just wanted to try to see if it would work or not. He didn’t pull his pants down or anything, he tried to do it through clothes, so he was fucking lucky that Ortho woke up just in time to see him passed out with a noose around his neck. Poor Ortho got so worried and obviously came to wrong conclusions, but Idia felt way too embarrassed to confess about the actual reason why he ended up in this situation… it feels horrible knowing that he made Ortho so worried and upset and heartbroken, but he just couldn’t say that he did it to feel good when he orgasms.

[divaofmads]

Forever In My Heart | King Baldwin

Part I | Part II

Gif by @princess-of-thebes-1995 Dividers by @saradika-graphics pictures by Pinterest

Summary: Baldwin knew that his illness would not allow him to live long. Unfortunately, he did not have an heir to leave the throne to, and since he was of French origin, he demanded an heir from the French kingdom to take over the throne after he died. So King Louis VII sent his younger son and his wife to go to Jerusalem and make a deal with the King.

Warnings! : Toxic Relationship, (King Baldwin is 20, Prince Hugh is 25, Y/N is 19), No Y/N using (Princess Maria), Inspired by history. It is not real historical events exactly, There are chronological mistakes, I apologize for the mistakes I made in English that is not my native language and I am trying to improve my writing skills

A/N: No one's religious beliefs were disrespected. The story was written by researching the ideas of that period.

A/N 2 : You can imagine whoever you want to play the bad guy(Please comment who do you imagine).

" 5th June 1173

My lover who is more beautiful than anything. My lady with lips sweeter than honey, a complexion that would make the moon jealous, and eyes brighter than the sun. The angel who inspires me. You're in my dreams when I sleep, you're the first thing that comes to my mind when I wake up. I miss you so much that every day we are apart I pray to Jesus that my father will return from crusade as soon as possible and start making preparations for our wedding.

After that incident, after the doctors had a dilemma about whether I might be sick, I thought that your father the emperor wanted our engagement not to be official, using his relations with the Seljuk State as an excuse. Forgive me for such impertinent ideas, my love. I would never betray you and your family. However, the crusades that my father Amalric started against the Fatimids by joining forces with the French and Germans showed me that what prevents our marriage is fate. But I know. No matter how late it is, our lives will be united, you will be the most respected queen the Latin kingdom has ever seen. Christian and Muslim healers will soon produce a cure for my illness together. Don't think about me. I will be fine, knowing that you love me gives me strength, my queen. Always be happy, be healthy. Always remember me. Dream about our future during the days we are apart, because I do. May the God who reigns in the heavens and watches over the whole world protect you.

I think the reason you didn't reply to my previous two letters is because you were busy, but this time I'm eagerly waiting for you to reply to my letter, my love. My heart is with you forever."

Who could love a man whom even God has cursed?

1180 4th June

When the night covered the lands of Jerusalem like a blanket, Baldwin stood by the window and watched his kingdom. God had given this holy city to the Crusaders and had stood by them. The Latin kingdom acted as a protector against the increasingly powerful Muslim invaders. Although the failure of the 2nd Crusade had caused a lack of trust among the Crusader countries, he was the only great king who was able to unite the Holy Land after his father Amalric died. His people were pleased with him. Despite being a Crusader commander, he did not want anyone to be treated unfairly, regardless of religion or race. But why did the king not feel proud when his people loved him so much?

When he looked at his reflection in the golden goblet he held in his hand, the answer to the question was actually very clear. Despite everything, he was the cursed king. He was weak and incapable for Muslims. How could a king who was struggling for his own health deal with state issues? He was also a servant lower than a pig. He was created so ugly because they did not believe in the same god. Just as ugly and useless as a pig. Saladin should have been ashamed of himself for being defeated by a king who was a child and a leper in the battle of Montgisard. But no one had thought about it. His smart moves in the army and state administration, his choice of advisors and the poor-looking king proved his power. He was the only king who came into being on the bed to manage the war. His courage had inspired the painter.

It was normal for Muslims to spread such prejudiced and hostile gossip, of course. But it was the Christians whose ideas he had to fight against. They thought that God had cursed Baldwin when he was born. He was the one God did not like. He knew how dark his soul was when he created him. When he grew up, the devil would be his guide. He was a cruel, barbaric ruler whose mind worked for nothing but evil. Leprosy was his mark and badge for his past and future sins. He was branded so that the people would notice and stay away from this devil.

He had long forgotten his identity. The man he saw in the reflection in the goblet, with a rotting skin, was either a pig or a devil.

But he was not human in either world. When he could no longer hide this curse and his fiancée did not even deign to write him a farewell letter, he lost the last feeling that would remind him of his humanity. Love. No one loved a pig, they would detest it. No one would stray from God's path and fall in love with the devil. He would rather die. And what were the feelings? What were the longing and love he felt in his heart? Moreover, what was the sadness that was hidden behind these two feelings and spread throughout his body? These feelings grew stronger after he received the news that the crown prince of France and his wife, the Byzantine Princess Maria, would arrive in Jerusalem tomorrow. Could a pig long for? Could a barbarian be sad, or could the devil love?

Baldwin could no longer bear to see the truth reflected in the globe and threw it to the ground. So many years passed. Baldwin stood strong against the gossip about him. He only loved his kingdom and swore to protect it. He rewarded the oppressed and punished the oppressors so that people could live in peace and not have hostile feelings. However, the seeds of love that had been waiting to sprout in his heart for years blossomed with the news that he would see the woman he loved again, and the king felt hopeless.

As the medicinal drink spilled from the glass that fell to the ground spread on the stone floor, the bare parts of his maskless, bandaged face reappeared before him like a nightmare. As his breathing rhythm quickened, he heard a voice.

"When the Physicians were preparing the drink, I could tell from the smell that it tasted bad."

When Baldwin looked in the direction of the voice, he saw William coming from the darkness. The only source of light in the room was the moonlight.

"William," he said, trying to hide his emotions, "I didn't hear you come in."

William smiled warmly. "You wouldn't have heard of it if there was a rebellion, your majesty, and forgive my impudence, but the reason for this has to do with your guests tomorrow."

Baldwin turned toward the city. "I was sure I would never see her again. But now, in the castle of Kerak, Raybald of Châtillon is hosting them."

William looked at the king. "Indeed, you should have known this day would come. Your relations with the Kingdom of France are strong."

"Maybe I was just afraid that day would come."

"You're still in love with her."

"Every minute I thought I had forgotten her, my longing for her grew my love."

"Princess Maria was a good match for you. She was very intelligent, kind, and combative. A fine queen for the Latin kingdom," he said, and the melancholy gaze of Baldwin, which he did not want to show, gave him away, caused William to apologize. "I apologize if I went too far, your majesty. I just wanted to recall a pleasant memory."

A beautiful memory. It was true. Every moment Baldwin spent with the princess was special. He could talk and laugh for hours about any memory he recalled. Baldwin was not born into a loving family. When he ascended to the throne, his kingdom was on the verge of division. His illness pretended him weak against his enemies. But in all his misfortunes, Maria was his white rose, and no matter how pessimistic he felt a moment ago, he now smiled because of her.

A bitter smile, ""Do you think she can still wield a sword skillfully?"

He had the same bitter smile on his face. ""There is no doubt about that, your majesty. Perhaps once they are settled in the palace you can challenge her to a duel and see for yourself."

Although this idea sounded nice at first, the facts were obvious. He replied in a reproachful tone, as if rebelling against fate. "How can I do this when I can't use my limbs and can't see in one eye, William, tell me!" He looked harshly.

"These words do not seem to belong to you, my king. Weren't you the king who learned to use a sword with his left arm because his right arm betrayed him at every opportunity? You designed special stirrups for your numb legs. You led fights with that blind eye of yours. Now don't tell me you avoided a duel with a 19-year-old young woman."

"I don't want her to see me like this, Will. My body is decaying day by day. God's curse is growing stronger and my resistance to pain is diminishing." He looked at the view again. "I don't want her to remember me like this. She confessed that she was amazed by my beauty the night we fell in love. He turned back to William and pointed his finger at his face. Look at my current state, the boy she fell in love with is dead. The Leper King was the end of that beautiful boy."

Baldwin suddenly felt unwell and William held him as he collapsed to the ground, his legs shaking.

"Your Majesty, you need to rest now."

William called to the servants to take Baldwin to bed. The servants came to them in a hurry and, taking kings arm, carried him to the bed. One left to get water. Another was adjusting his pillows. Finally William warned them to leave the room and approached Baldwin.

"You have always been a good boy, Baldwin. You are the best king the Latin Kingdom has ever seen. No ruler after you will be able to hold these lands together."

"I would not want this. I hope that people will recognize my efforts and protect the lands from hostile armies."

Before leaving William Baldwin's room, he spoke one last time. "Prince Hugh will take more care of you both, your majesty. Be careful."

Maria had been nervous since they arrived at the castle of Kerak. Representing the Komnenos dynasty had been a heavy burden on her shoulders. About six years before she was born, dark times had passed over Manuel I and the Byzantine lands. Constantinople had been sacked, the city almost destroyed. Châtillon had been the emperor's worst nightmare until Manuel took revenge on her. He disturbed the people as if he owned the Byzantine Empire. Maria's nanny would tell her these dark memories before she went to sleep at night. Maria was a naughty child and would tell the story that Châtillon would come back one night and kidnap the naughty children. But Maria always trusted her father. Although he seemed like an emperor who was afraid of the Turks and had a weak political mind, Maria was smart enough to understand her father's strategic steps. That's why she never feared Châtillon. Her father may have suffered great losses during those times, but later he took his revenge on Châtillon in a satisfactory way.

Baldwin did not attend her and Prince Hugh wedding. He was too tired to go to France. Otherwise, his death would have come sooner, and Saladin's army would have occupied Jerusalem long ago. Therefore, Reynald of Châtillon attended the wedding as regent. Emperor Manuel saw this as an insult, and the ties between him and the Latin kingdom were almost broken. But Baldwin, the Latin king, knew his former father-in-law well. He had observed the emperor very well during his engagement to his daughter, and had skillfully kept the bond between them together.

Despite everything, Châtillon must have been unable to stomach the emperor's revenge, for he was taking a jab at the princess who had joined them at the dinner table. He was talking badly about her father. He was making fun of the Byzantine Emperor, implying that if the emperor did not come under Crusader countries protection, the Muslims would give up Jerusalem and occupy Constantinople, and they would be successful. Therefore, it was very lucky for the princess to marry the son of the King of France. Maria would of course say something in response to these words, but the crown prince of France thought that women were stupid and should not meddle in state affairs. What did women know except intrigue, sex, and having children? Whenever Maria spoke, her husband humiliated her in front of the lords of the other kingdoms. She did not want to experience the same thing again. She felt sad enough when she thought of Baldwin anyway. But both Maria's and the prince's minds were changed by Châtillon's audacity. He had brought up the subject of Baldwin and the princess's broken engagement. Maria felt uneasy. She knew that her husband had always kept his eyes on her, for it was a sensitive subject.

When Châtillon noticed the tension between the two, he explained how strong the bond between her and Baldwin was. He had read Maria’s letters impudently several times before the curse of leprosy had set in. He disclosed some of the love poems in these letters. Of course, he could not remember the exact words, but he sang similar sentences with a mocking grin. Hearing these things made the Prince angry. The gold goblet in his hand almost bent, but he tried not to show it. He looked at his beloved wife with a meaningful smile. Not wanting to appear weak, he intervened. “I thought your engagement was a political agreement, my lady. Would you care to give me more details? I would like to hear it.” He brought the glass to his lips, finished the wine in one gulp, and slammed it down on the table.

However, Maria knew that the prince intended to ask her this question. If she was not satisfied with the answer he would give, his revenge would be severe. Hugh had threatened her with his dynasty. The prince was madly in love with her and knew that his love was unrequited. He was jealous of her in front of everyone and everything.

She was trying not to give away her lie as she pushed the toasted almonds on the Blancmange that had just been served into the rice fish paste mixture with the tip of her fork. "We were both kids at the time. Our alliance against his half-brothers brought us closer. These are childish feelings." These words were lies. Every emotion she experienced was too mature.

Raynald lifted his globe to his mouth and drank the spiced wine, smearing it through his filthy beard before scraping the remains of the wine away with the palm of his hand. "Your mind was capable of writing love poems as a child."

Prince Hugh gritted his teeth. He should have cut off the head of the daring man in front of him with his sword, but he was too arrogant to show his jealousy to anyone. Instead, he chose to show his anger to his wife by stroking Maria's hair harshly. She had to be careful.

She looked bravely at Reynald. Looking into his eyes, she put the Blancmange in her mouth and began to speak, ignoring the rules as she chewed. "I am flattered that you find the love poems written by a little girl mature. Yes, Baldwin and I were mature, and I was smart enough to see that you were a pain in the neck when you were still a mercenary."

Raynald looked to the prince to put the princess in her place, but Hugh agreed with his wife, and for once, though he didn't show it, he was pleased with her headstrong nature.

Then he looked at the princess with greed. "It was obvious that the daughter of the Byzantine emperor would not suit the future king of France."

Maria stood up, her chair leg scraping the floor. "Then you should know to watch your step when talking to me."

Then she turned respectfully, in a way that glorified her husband. "Master of my heart, if you allow me, I would like to go to the chapel and pray."

The prince was unsure of what to say. He did not want to be angry with his wife, for she had put Raynald in his place, who had insidiously planted the sin of jealousy in his heart. He was also flattered by his wife in front of the other lords and barons at the table. He only gave his wife permission to go to the chapel.

She grabbed the hem of her dress so as not to fall. So she left the room and walked quickly down the corridor. Talking about her memories with Baldwin broke her heart. His look, his smile, his conversation, his intelligence... She had never known a man like him in the Empire or the Kingdom of France. Her mind was always on her old love. She had stolen her own life. She spent her youth in the bed of a man she did not love, thinking of Baldwin. Now she was in pain and wanted to be alone, alone with the Virgin Mary.

One of her maids would come to her. She called to her lady, said that her son were crying uncontrollably. Little Philip needed his mother. She ignored the maids calling her as she ran down the hall. But the baby wanted her mother and was crying non-stop. But a child from a man she did not love would not be good for her right now.

She just wanted to go to the chapel and pray before the Virgin Mary. She was on her knees, placed her elbows on the altar. "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Forgive me, I cannot guard my ideas from sin as I guard my chastity. Holy Mary, Mother of God. I am weak, the love that the devil has cultivated in my heart becomes sweeter to me every day that I do not see him. Please hear me, tear down the walls between us and inspire me to forget him. O Virgin, holy and merciful, obtain for all who offend thee the grace of repentance, and graciously accept this poor act of homage from me thy servant, obtaining likewise for me from thy Divine Son the pardon and remission of all my sins. Amen." She placed her palms crosswise on her chest. She was crying, convulsing with tears.

The prince and princess of France entered the holy lands with four horse guards in front and six behind to protect the gift chests. The royal coat of arms, the 'fleur-de-lys', was carved on wood on the body of the carriage, and the windows were covered with curtains in the color of the coat of arms's base color, the blue, thus completely cutting off communication between the people and the nobles.

But it was impossible not to notice such a long convoy. The children playing followed the horses and did not leave its vicinity, hoping to see who was behind the curtain. But the princess saw them. She had slightly parted the fabric and was enjoying the excited running of the children speaking in a language she did not know. Meanwhile, her husband, who was sitting next to her, distracted her by holding her hand. When the young princess turned her head to the prince, the smile on her face disappeared.

"Don't let children know you're looking at them, my lady. Then they'll have the brass face."

She looked at him smugly. "They are children. At least don't act arrogant towards children!"

Hugh gritted his teeth. He should have put her in her place, but their baby Philip’s nurse intervened to calm the anger between them. She smiled and called out to the princess as she sat across from her, put the baby to sleep in her arms.

"Your Majesty, in a few years your son will be running around the palace corridors just like them."

Maria smiled at the woman. "I hope he becomes a guardian of peace and justice." The word that crossed her mind was 'like Baldwin'. But she could not say it.

The nurse looked at the baby. "There is no doubt about it, my lady."

Prince Hugh was very angry with his wife. He could have given her a severe punishment, but his love was holding him back. Instead, he used his ambition for his son. He smiled arrogantly. "He will be a king in the Latin lands, a nightmare for Muslims! He will send the unbelievers to hell in this world. He will slaughter the unbelievers mercilessly. Otherwise, how can he be the commander of the Crusader armies?"

Maria hated herself for marrying such a cruel man. She could assure herself that the children's voices he heard outside had become screams of pain in his imagination. And look at the nobles who considered Baldwin a barbarian! What a disgrace! The princess was about to continue looking out the window in anger when she turned her head and caught the nurse's eye. The woman gave her no words. Her expression begged his majesty to be silent. For his well-being and peace. Maria smiled with tears in her eyes and did as he said, smiling slightly.

Meanwhile, William, who had received news that the royal carriage was approaching the palace, was giving orders for the final preparations. Sybilla had to make sure that the food and organization were perfect. The servants were arranging the prince and princess's favorite fruits and wines on the table in their rooms, and the gifts to be presented to the royal family were being counted in the great hall.

Baldwin lay on his back in his bed, surrounded by four physicians who were helping their assistants apply ointment to his wounds.

"Ah," sighed the king, "at last, my love. At last, I will be able to witness your beautiful smile again."

"Be a little faster!" But even that was tiring him. He was excited to greet them and wanted to stand up in defiance of God.

The physician warned the king, "Your Majesty, you must lie down for a day and wait for your skin to absorb the medicine. It will be more beneficial."

Baldwin gritted his teeth and spoke threateningly. “Are you disobeying my orders?”

The physicianstammered. He emphasized that he had been misunderstood. He apologized and ordered his assistants to hurry. After applying the herbal mixture to the king's wounds, they wrapped clean, white bandages crosswise, using two layers of cloth so that the skin would not be visible. Cotton fabrics in particular were imported from the Mediterranean. Otherwise, his completely covered skin would not be able to breathe and would become damp, and the amount of salt in his sweat would cause Baldwin to suffer in pain. In fact, the ointment was already hurting him enough.

One of his servants came to him with a silver cup in his hand and supported his back, allowing him to straighten up. Thus, he drank the healing water easily. As he was sliding the last sip from his lips to his mouth, William entered. He too might not have been in favor for king to welcome the royal family, but he knew that his life was short. Seeing the woman he loved should have been more important than the pain he would suffer. Who knows? Perhaps the last time they would meet would be Baldwin's funeral. Maria stood in front of her childhood love's coffin, crying heartily, and they would say goodbye to each other for the last time, and the only memory she had of him would be the metal mask.

"Your Majesty," he said with a wry smile on his face, "I have come to take you. News has come that they have almost arrived. Everything is ready in the outer courtyard. After the welcoming ceremony, you may proceed to the great hall."

Baldwin confirmed William and after the bandaging process was completed, he stood up. My God! For a moment, the King seemed to forget about the curse. He thought they were just like those two beautiful children from ten years ago. Two noble children who will live their love that has not been granted to anyone else. He hadn't even gotten help from anyone when he was sitting up in bed. Love must have been such a miraculous feeling. None of the physicians' ointments could give him the strength to stand up in minutes. The verses from the Bible that were read to cure his illness were of no use. Only his passionate longing for Maria gave him strength. It healed his melted bones and allowed his joints to bend freely. It allowed his joints to bend freely. Perhaps he would soon have the power to expand the borders of the Latin kingdom. But no! The truth had a bad habit of coming out at the wrong time. He was standing from William. He was only five steps away.

"Let's go." King said. At this moment, a servant called out to him, came to him with quick steps and held out the mask in his hand.

"Your majesty, mask!"

There's that Silver mask! The evil Witch who took him away from life. The King looked at the mask's artificial lips, hollow eyes, and metal eyebrows. He was the only person in the room who saw the mask's devilish grin. It was as if the mask was mocking him. He knew how much the woman he loved would pity him when she saw his sick body. And Baldwin's embarrassment must surely be the amusement of the mask. Once again the King was defeated. Although he had the arrogance of a king when he took the mask from the servant's hand, William knew the dramatic mood of the man he had known since childhood. So he supported the king with his words while his face was completely covered with a metal mask. When the servants grabbed his arm and tried to help him walk, he gestured with his hand for them not to come.

"The king looks quite healthy. No need."

William stepped back from the door and cleared the way for the king to exit.He clasped his hands in front of him and waited for Baldwin to come out. However, after their King left the room, William followed him to accompany, followed by the servants. It was noon. Light seeping through the corridor windows illuminated the gray stone walls. The designs and art of Arab architects were on display.

"My legs are shaking William. "This is not because of my illness," he said. He could keep Saladin and his armies away from his lands. He could win the battle. But for love, he was still young.

"I know, your majesty. Although not as excited as you, I'm excited to see the princess too."

Beautiful, attractive, innocent, seductive. Which word was more appropriate to say to the holy beloved? Which one would he choose to describe the relentless love inside him? Or were the other adjectives hidden behind these words what made his fall in love? Was it her stubborn and strong stance that made her seductive, was it her helpfulness and fairness that gave her the name of innocence, was it her white skin and wavy hair that reached down to her waist that made her attractive or was her beauty and grace necessary? There was no definite answer to these questions and even the answers that suddenly came to his mind were not enough to learn the reason for his feelings for her. The way he looked at her or the way she shyly looked away from him, he would now forbid each other. If their eyes met, it would be a sin. Then how would Maria have the courage to go to church again and ask for forgiveness?

All this was going on in the king's mind. When the horse carriage carrying the royal family entered the courtyard. The prince and princess were presented. The King was sitting on his throne waiting for them. But what he was most worried about was how he would react when he saw Maria. And that moment has come. As she descended the wooden steps of the carriage, Baldwin’s eyes went there. The years had made her a mature woman and made her beautiful. The dark brown tone of her hair had lightened, and blondes were mixed in between. Her skin was smooth as in her childhood. The cherry cheeks that adorned her snow-white face had not left her. A storm had formed in his heart, his love had turned into a natural disaster. When she descended the creaking steps and her feet touched the ground, Maria looked up at the king. Her honey-colored eyes sparkled. She had seen the child behind the metal mask in Baldwin’s eyes.

But the maid who got out of the carriage was carrying something in her arms that revealed the sin of their love. One of the heirs to the crown. Prince Philip. Maria's son by Prince Hugh. This child would have been theirs if this disease had not taken him prisoner. William expected the king to make a welcoming speech. But Baldwin seemed rather absent-minded. “Your Majesty,” he warned his king, “you must pull yourself together. The princess is now a married woman with a heir."

William was right. He had to come to his senses quickly and fulfill his duties as a king. The Latin King stood up, holding on to the arms of the prepared throne, and greeted the Prince and the Princess. He said it was a great honor for them to be here. Because he was on very good terms with King Louis VII of France. That's why it was such a pleasure for him to welcome the future heir, the Prince, and his wife, Princess Maria. Of course, when he saw Princess Maria next to the Prince, these words he said were completely fake. Even though he knew that Maria and the king were old childhood friends, the Prince did not allow Maria to speak and spoke to the king himself. Because he knew she still love this king with the ugly rotting skin. The king could not look at Maria. Because if he did, everything would be understood. So he averted his eyes, but Maria looked at her old friend William and smiled. Old memories had gathered in her eyes and came out.

William spoke up. "Your Majesty, if you wish, we can place the gifts of the Kingdom of France in the great hall. This will provide a much more intimate setting for the gifts presented during the banquet."

"Good thinking, William," Baldwin said. "Let's do what's necessary."

After the prince and the king finished speaking, they went inside. The servants showed the nobles to their rooms so they could get ready for the feast while their belongings were being put away.

Baby Philip had a separate room. They went to their rooms with the nurse.

When they came to the room, the bathtub was ready. The bathtub was made of white marble, shaped by marbles extracted from the Anatolian Seljuk lands. It was filled with water containing jasmine essence and leaves. Arab servants surrounded the bathtub, one had a silver tray, a loofah and soap on it. The other had a loincloth in his hand.

Princess Maria knew that Muslims were very clean. This was the most important thing for Islam and they were very contemptuous of people who were not clean.

The servants took off Maria's clothes, covered her private parts with a loincloth, and holding her hand, they sat her in the tub.

A woman took a copper bowl and dipped it into the jasmine water in the bathtub and poured it on the princess's hair. The cold drops of water cooled the roots of her warm hair. The weather was so hot here that the coolness of the water was a relief to her. She leaned her head on the edge of the tub and positioned herself so the other woman could massage her shoulder.

Her muscles, which had been tense due to sadness and her husband's irritable character, began to relax. The woman's delicate fingers were moving around the girl's shoulders and neck. The drops of water that had begun to dry on her skin were keeping it cool in the hot air. She was half asleep, half awake, dreaming but barely aware of what was happening. She didn't even realize when the woman's delicate, thin fingers were replaced by thick, calloused ones. Baldwin was in her dreams. She was sitting in the arbor of the palace in Constantinople, in the gardens with their many varieties of flowers, with Baldwin's head on Maria's lap. His eyes were looking up, into the honey-colored eyes of his beloved wife. The sun was streaming through the wooden planks of the arbor and making the heavens in Baldwin's blue eyes shine. She stroked his light golden brown hair. His skin was soft and shiny, just like when he was a child, and his lips were thin and small.

"My beautiful lover." He said. But voice was not like him. "Are you thinking about me?" The girl's eyebrows furrowed. As if this was a rebellion against passing into the real world. She opened her eyes and sat up. When she looked up, she saw Hugh sitting on the edge of the tub, looking at his wife with longing. But the same was not true for the princess.

She was serious. "What are you doing?"

Hugh replied as she stood up, using the sides of the tub for support. "I thought my wife missed me." He stood up too and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Maria lowered her eyes, raised one hand, and asked the maids to help her get out of the tub. But the prince was on edge against his wife's cold attitude. He watched with anger as he was left alone.

The servants were massaging Maria's body with various oils and combing her hair. Meanwhile, her assistant was choosing a beautiful outfit for the banquet. But Maria was nervous. She and Hugh had not touched each other for a long time. They had never brought each other to the perfect peak of orgasm. That letter from the Latin palace had changed something and the prince was aware of it. She knew that Hugh would use the maids to do this. Even though he knew that adultery was one of the greatest sins, the prince felt entitled to it. Perhaps he wanted to make the woman he loved jealous and take revenge. But he never achieved his goal. Because Maria could never love her husband enough to be protective or jealous of him.

As if it were a ritual, a rite, he would ask for sexual intercourse in the palace of the man she loved. He wanted to trouble her conscience.

While her dress and jewelry were being prepared for the feast, the servants dressed Maria in a white silk nightgown, the sleeves of which were wide and connected to the skirt like bat wings.

When the princess returned to bedroom, she did not see her husband. This was a relief to her.

"Where would you like me to put these clothes, my lady?" Maria was startled by the old woman's question. She answered with a faint smile on her face. "Put them where the emerald green surcoat is."

Then she went to her jewelry. They were in a carved wooden chest on the table. She put her fingers inside and began to rummage through the earrings, necklaces, and rings. The necklace she would wear to the banquet was very special. Among the betrothal gifts that Emperor Manuel had burned or distributed to the poor, the only gift Maria had saved was the beautiful necklace designed by Baldwin. The pearls hanging from the edges of the gold collar surrounding the red beryl, emerald, and alexandrite stones...

She called her maid over and told her that she would be wearing this necklace as an accessory to the dress they had chosen. The woman was fascinated as soon as she saw the necklace. "This is very beautiful, your majesty."

About ten minutes later, the prince called out to his wife, who was giving instructions to her maids to put away the clothes. "You must be happy to see your childhood sweetheart, my love." Maria was startled by her husband's voice as she smoothed down the pearl-embroidered dress in her hand. She ran her fingers over the soft texture of the shiny fabric and handed it to the maid. "The same topic again?" Then she looked at her husband. "That's in the past, you know. Ten years is a long time to forget."

Hugh grabbed his wife's arm tightly and turned her towards him. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. "For the mind, yes, but for your heart? Was ten years enough?"

Maria did not say a word, and that was an answer for Hugh. He squeezed his wife's arm tighter. The young woman groaned, feeling the pain in her arm deeply. She frowned under the pain and tried to pull away. "Leave me alone!"

The maids were disturbed by the tension between husband and wife and did not know what to do.

Hugh brought his face closer to hers. "If that's true, I swear..." he was cut off by a knock on the door.

Maria looked into her husband's eyes without the slightest trace of love.

She ordered. "Come in!"

The young servant girl ran to Princess Maria and bowed before her.

"Your Majesty, forgive me. Your son Philip, I believe, needs your help."

Prince Hugh was also angry. Were all those nannies interested in his heir? Just as he was about to attack the young girl, Maria grabbed his arm. "My prince, please! Have some patience!" She was worried. "Is everything okay? What's wrong?"

The girl was not very good at lying, she stammered. "He wouldn't stop crying. We thought he needed his mother. The mother's scent calms babies."

Hugh glanced at his wife contemptuously. "Your motherhood is as bad as your wifehood!”

Without saying anything, Maria left her husband and ordered the young girl to take her son.

The maid was escorting the princess to the room where Philip was staying. Maria noticed that she was quite excited. She had thought of scenarios such as her son being sick. She started asking the girl questions. Was her son sick? Maybe something bad happened to him and they were afraid of the prince and didn't tell her. The girl's nervous attitude made the princess even more nervous. "Stop, I order you!"

The girl stopped suddenly and looked like a child being scolded by her mother. Maria could see how frightened her face was in the candlelight. "What's the matter? You look very nervous."

The girl stuttered and pointed to the hallway behind Maria. “This way, my lady.” Maria swallowed and looked at the hallway the girl was pointing to. It looked much more ornate than the others. The work on its door was magnificent and decorated with gold leaf.

Maria frowned. "Philip isn't there, is he?"

The girl shook her head. “No, your majesty. Just come in. He’s waiting for you there.”

When the soldiers waiting at the door saw Maria, they immediately moved and opened the door. Maria knew very well who was waiting for her inside. She walked through the door with excited steps and went out to the balcony with the most beautiful view of Jerusalem. The two soldiers standing here welcomed their princess and escorted her to the door leading to their king's chamber.

The soldiers brought the princess to the door and left. Maria took a deep breath, knocked on the door and entered that was nervous. It was the first time she had done something in secret from her husband. She was sure he would punish her if he knew where she was. She could not leave the bedrooms. He would put guards at the bedroom doors.

She looked around. The objects were as if they were showing off in the light of evening with sun. This was not the room he had stayed in as a child. It was his father's room and its size was dazzling. It was a room worthy of a young king of the Holy Land. Maria looked at the bed across from her in admiration. Her childhood love was resting in this bed, leaving his scent on these sheets. She slowly approached the bed and picked up the burgundy-colored pillow. She wrapped her arms around it tightly, as if she were hugging Baldwin. She buried her head in the soft texture of the pillow and breathed in the scent. It smelled just as she remembered. It was so clean, smelled of soap and incense.

The princess remembered the dream she had the night of their engagement. It was a terrifying nightmare, to be exact. She had longed to speak to the bishop of Hagia Sophia. Even though the priest had interpreted her nightmare positively, Maria was always anxious. She was afraid of the end of their epic love. And one day, those things she feared separated them until death. When all these memories came to life before her eyes, a small smile appeared on her face. However, her eyes denied this smile and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Is that you William? I've been waiting for you." It was Baldwin's voice, and it came from afar. Maria, with the remorse of her sin, did not want to be caught by Baldwin, and her whole body trembled. When she turned her head to the silk tulle curtain that separated the room, she saw his silhouette and dropped the pillow in her lap to the floor.

Take the pillow or leave the room… While she was trying to choose the right way in this dilemma, Baldwin pulled the veil aside and entered.

“Maria, you…” Baldwin stood there in shock and could not finish his sentence.

There he was, Baldwin. The man whose happiness she had forgotten for years with his longing was standing right in front of her. Baldwin was no different. He felt much stronger now. He never expected to meet those meaningful eyes again. Alone. It was as if their cursed love had flared up again.

Baldwin did not want Maria to get into a difficult situation. As soon as he saw Maria approaching him, he spoke up. "It is not right for you to be here, my lady. Please do not do this to us."

Maria, on the other hand, was determined. She had been imprisoned by a man she did not love for years, and when she could no longer stand this torture, the man who was her ray of hope stood before her.

They were standing face to face when she replied, "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Her hands were on groin, her nails tearing at the flesh on the sides of her fingers.

Baldwin replied, his voice filled with reproach. "You gave up on me, Maria. I learned of our separation from the letter your father sent to the palace. You didn't care to send a farewell letter."

Maria was crying. She looked into the king's eyes. "This is not true. I swear."

"Tell me what is right," he said. "Of course you couldn't go against your family, I understand that. But what about your love? Your fear got in the way of your love, and I couldn't read your last letter that smelled of roses, is that right?"

"No. You don't know how strict my father is. I wrote you letters many times. I wanted to send them secretly, but my nanny betrayed me. That's why I always got caught. I gave up because a young girl died in pain because of the letters I wrote you. I wasn't afraid of my father, Baldwin. I didn't want innocent people to suffer because of me." The words barely escaped her lips as she sobbed.

The girl took Baldwin's right hand, wrapped in a white bandage, and caressed it. But the effects of leprosy were beginning to set in again, and his arm was numb. What a disappointment it was not to be able to feel the woman he loved while she held his hand! "Oh God, please," he whispered. He did not care how great a sin adultery was. He wanted to feel the touch of the woman he loved. He wanted to experience the sexual urges he felt for the only woman in his life, past and future, who would love him. Not now, his inner voice said. He did not want to die without being drunk with Maria's love.

Baldwin took his right arm and pulled it from Maria's hands. He held out his left hand. "Come on Maria, come with me. We have a lot to talk about," he said. Although the princess realized that Baldwin could not use his right arm, she did not show anything so as not to upset him. So they went behind the silk veil.

The evening view of Jerusalem was almost under their feet. They sat on the couch. Their eyes met suddenly. It was the first time Maria saw her friend, her love, with a mask on his face, and it was painful for her soul.

"God has given you the most beautiful design of all his creations, Maria. You took me back to my childhood."

Maria smiled. "You too, my dear. The innocent, well-intentioned child standing before me has not changed at all."

Baldwin took offense. "You needn't pity me. I have been the god-cursed king for too long."

Maria put her hand on Baldwin's silver mask. Since she couldn't touch his skin, she had to be content with this. "You're still that boy I fell in love with." She caressed the cold, hard, emotionless mask. "The eyes looking with courage and hope. That boy whose character and heart I admired, has now grown up and become the greatest king the Latin Kingdom will ever witness."

There was surprise in Baldwin's voice. "Do you really think so?" He knew what was being said about him outside the borders of the kingdom. Even Saladin did not take him seriously at first. Until he saw that the king was a formidable enemy, he didn't respected him. Still, his illness had become a symbol of bad luck in many kingdoms, especially Byzantium, and had caused political relations to be damaged. If an agreement was made with the Latin kingdom, the curse of God would be poured upon them.

"Even if you gave me all the jewels in the world, it wouldn't satisfy me as much as your love." Her lips trembled, the area around her eyes turned red.

She was trying to control herself not to cry. She brought her face closer to Baldwin and buried her head in his neck, witnessing his scent and warmth. "You are not only the king of the holy land, but also the king of my heart," she said.

Baldwin was ashamed. He had never been so loved and pampered by a woman. He could even see his mother at political meetings. It had been a long time since he felt like a man. He had forgotten that he was a man because in other kingdoms he was nothing. Muslims called him a pig because they did not believe in the same God. Andalusian Arab historians spoke of him as a disgusting creature. According to Christians, he was the child of the devil and God punished him with ugliness and pain as a price for the cruelty and misery he would bring to the world. Jews living in his kingdom cursed their kings because they were not under the rule of a glorious king and prayed for his death. However, even though all that was left of that beautiful child was a piece of rotten flesh, he was reminded that he was human by the woman he loved, without knowing what he had become.

"You are here with me now, Maria. We may never meet again, but it is a great chance that you are here with me now."

Maria tried to smile, but tears were flowing relentlessly down her cheeks and down her chin, dampening Baldwin's white bandage. "I beg you, don't talk like that! Make me forget about reality for one night. Let's be in a fairy tale. Kiss me and let us to live happily ever after."

"I promise, Maria. I'll only make you live your fairy tale tonight."

Maria wrapped her arms around Baldwin's still feeling hand and lifted it into the air. She brought her lips close and kissed it longingly, many times.

Baldwin kept his word and wanted to talk about the good times.

"After reading the letter from the French court, William and I discussed whether she could still use a sword."

Maria wiped her tears and smiled. "I haven't used a sword since I got married. Hugh says it's not for women."

"It is unfair, the land of France has lost its best knight."

Maria shrugged. "If you're not my opponent, I don't care."

Baldwin's voice was full of affection. "We can reminisce whenever you want."

Maria snuggled up to Baldwin. She leaned her head on his chest. "It's okay, I don't want you to get tired."

Baldwin's numb arm was finally beginning to get feel, and he lifted his arm with difficulty and effort, and as he gently stroked Maria's hair, she looked happily at him without lifting her head from his chest.

"Maria, my beautiful queen. While my illness cannot prevent me from fighting the Ayyubids and leading my army, shall I miss the chance to duel with you? I will definitely be ready for it tomorrow."

"I would be honored, my king," said Maria. If she had married Baldwin, she would have been queen, and in their correspondence Baldwin always referred to Maria as "my queen." The fact that he addressed her with the same title, just like in the old days, showed the greatness of the love in his heart.

At the end of this entertaining conversation, Baldwin grew quiet. There was an inexplicable sadness in his voice. "You said your father was strict. You said a girl died because of us, Maria. What have you been through?"

Maria lowered her eyes as she remembered. Her eyes were red and a few tears slid down her cheeks to her chin.

"Several times one of the young maids helped me to smuggle letters into my room. The niche in the wall where i had once kept my doll was filled with letters from you. But the day the nanny discovered our secret, father showed no mercy. "she sobbed . "The young girl was punished by the priest reading verses from the Bible, supposedly purifying herself from her sins. Hot irons, daggers and hot oil. The girl fainted many times due to this unbearable pain and her weak body could not stand it anymore. The girl died."

"I never thought the emperor would be so afraid of our love that he would slander God. No God would allow such a punishment to be given to a virgin girl."

"I couldn't write you back. Because I never got to your last letter. The last time I saw it was among the gifts from you were being burned, in the middle of courtyard." She was sobbing and repeated over and over, "Forgive me, forgive me, my love."

Baldwin's heart ached as if it had been thrown into fire, and it was because of sadness and despair that Maria has.

"If I had a chance, if this curse would leave me alone, I would make you the happiest woman in the world," he said, stroking her hair.

But Maria, angered by this statement, rose harshly from her king's lap, her hands resting on Baldwin's groin, gripping the fabric of his robe tightly. "Please stop cursing your illness! You shouldn't care what people think. And I don't believe the thing what they think God says in bible. God holds you up as an instance to all; the kingdom of heaven is strengthened in your hands."

Baldwin put his bandaged hand around the girl's neck and pulled back the hair that covered her beautiful neck. "How can you be so sure about God, Maria? Are the priests wrong?"

"Did you not show your power, despite the limitations of your illness, and become a king loved by your people and respected by your enemies? You keep a part of God within you. You are not that man hated by God, Baldwin. If you were, I cannot imagine the illness that Hugh would have suffered," she said, laughing wryly at the last sentence.

When Baldwin returned her smile, Maria could tell by the sound he made as he laughed. and Maria thought.

"I would like to see your smile, enslaved by the mask, one last time, my dear," she said. There was sadness on her face.

Baldwin was embarrassed. "You know it's impossible, Maria."

Maria frowned. There was a half-mocking look on her face. "Why is that impossible? Has the evil witch completely transformed your face into a silver mask?"

"No, of course not. But the man under the mask has already killed the beautiful boy you remember."

"Then how come I'm looking into that boy's eyes?"

Maria slid off the couch and sat on her knees on the floor, looking pleadingly at the man she loved. For Baldwin, this was the moment he had feared.

"I beg you, let me touch your skin one last time, my dear."

The healers did not yet know about leprosy. There was only suspicion in their conversations. Despite this, they made definite statements and the worst thing was that it was contagious. Moreover, the woman he loved wanted to touch him. If anything happened to her, she would never forgive herself. Even this idea was enough to terrify him and he quickly stood up. He was going towards the window to get away from her.

"No, Maria. Don't ask me to do this!" But his muscles had become one with his illness and betrayed him once again. Baldwin lost control of his body for a moment and stumbled. Maria cried out as he lost his balance. "My love!"

Baldwin was down on one knee, his left hand on the ground, supporting his arm.

He felt that the woman he loved had hold his arm to save her king. When he looked up, Maria looked at him with a feeling that was companions of love and fear.

"Oh Maria." He didn't want her to see him like this, but fate betrayed him once again.

Baldwin got up with Maria's help. There was almost no distance between them. They were looking into each other's eyes with love. Despite the illness, the fake marriage, the years that passed, their love had not diminished even for a day. They could see the storms in the sea of love in their eyes.

"Come on, let me touch you one last time, Baldwin."

"If it infected to you, then I'll die."

"Nothing will happen, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I have what those incompetent healers lack."

"What was that?"

"Wouldn't some stupid servant have been infected by now?" Maria put her hand on the mask. "If they understood enough about the disease to be sure it was contagious, why couldn't they find a cure?"

Baldwin took Maria's hand and caressed it. "Okay then, I'll take off my mask. But if you care about me at all, don't ask to see my face."

Maria objected. “But…” But Baldwin was determined.

"I want you to always remember me as beautiful, Maria. Like that child whose beauty you admired and confessed to. Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my short life as an unhappy man."

Although Maria wanted to prove that she would love him in any way possible, Baldwin's request prevented her. Maybe not with words, but nodded, avoiding her eyes.

She closed her eyes and waited. But the king had another plan. When he left the dream queen and did not return for a while, Maria opened her eyes. Baldwin approached her with a piece of black cloth in his hand. He knew that Maria was a stubborn girl, so he had to make sure her eyes were closed. His hair, made of golden threads, had fallen out, leaving a purulent, bloody scalp in its place. His facial anatomy, which resembled a Greek statue, was now in a state of great destruction. His lips were falling apart, the bones in his nose were melting. He was not ready for Maria to see him like this, and he would never be ready. His concreteness should live as a memory, in Maria's dreams.

He lifted the cloth up and folded it into a strip to fit his eyes. It was much better this way. He could now let her touch him freely. He placed the piece of cloth over Maria's eyes, wrapped it around her head, and tied it at the back as ribbon. When her eyes closed, the pinkness of her sweet lips could be seen in all its glory. What wouldn't he give to kiss those lips? Her kiss reminded him of God's forgiving side. But all he had to do was get rid of the mask. He took it off, praying that everything would go well.

While Maria was waiting for Baldwin, the world was pitch black for her. It was like a blind man trying to witness life. Her ears were much more sensitive now. She could hear the friction of the silver mask sliding across his skin. She waited. She waited for the best moment for Baldwin.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Maria had been ready for him years ago.

Baldwin gently held the girl's wrists, as cautiously as if he were holding a glass rose branch. He could not control his breathing rhythm in excitement as he brought her delicate fingers close to his deformed face. And when her fingertips finally touched his rough skin, Maria sighed with joy. He needed to feel this warmth so much that he had finally managed to overcome the despair that had been following him for years.

“Baldwin,” she said, her voice catching in her breath. The happy expression on her face gave way to a sad plea. She took his face between her hands and caressed his cheeks with the thumbs. "I missed you so much. I had a hard time not rebelling against the fate that separated us. But God rewarded me with you for my wait."

"You are the only sin I do not regret, the only sin I will not beg God to forgive me, Maria," Baldwin said. Nontheless Maria's fingers seemed to be trying to explore the face of the man she loved. She saw nothing. If someone else had been standing in front of her instead of Baldwin, it would not have mattered. Still, she saw the anatomy of his face not with her eyes but with her touch. Baldwin's words fueled the impossible love she felt for him.

"You too, my love," she said, rising on her toes and pressing her lips against the calloused, chapped lips of the man she loved. A passionate act that proves that she doesn't care about his illness. Maria's lips were the heaven Baldwin had not experienced in this life. Baldwin's lips must have been dark sin for a married woman. But this sin was only the price of their desperate separation.

They said goodbye to each other for the last time, feeling their skin, before their love was lost in the sands of Jerusalem. Baldwin's virgin lips were alive with a woman's lust, and he didn't want this moment to end. God, I wish time would stop right now. If only the fairy tale these two poor lovers were living would never end.

Maria put one arm around the king's neck. With her other hand she felt around his body and found his hand and held it. She put his hand on her breasts. She squeezed his hand together to show him that she wanted him to caress it. Baldwin's hand was on the princess's breast while her hand was on his hand. Their kisses were much more passionate now. Their tongues were dancing on the wet skin. Their lips were in awe, as if they were reading a verse from the Bible. Baldwin slid his hand from his princess's breast and down to the curve of her waist. Her body shape had such an aesthetic. Her rounded lines were satisfactory. He almost lost himself in the complicated paths of love. But he suddenly remembered that he had to protect the honor and dignity of the woman he loved. He didn't want her to see her as an unchaste woman who was cheating on husband with another man. Baldwin turned away from her. “We must stop now, my lady,” he said. “This is not right for you.” He took his mask from the table where it had been placed and began to place it on his face.

"But we both want this. Or have you given up on loving me?"

He was so close to her as he untied her blindfold, he could feel her body heat. "Maybe my body will not live thirty years, but my soul will be exalted with love for you, my queen." He said. When she removed the tape completely, Maria was once again face to face with the mask that had ruined the life of the man she loved. But despite everything, she was grateful that she could look into his eyes. "Forever," he said and she looked into his beautiful eyes as he finished the sentence.

Maria's eyes got wet again. "My love is yours forever, my king," she replied.

Unfortunately, the end of this miraculous moment came early. William called out before entering. She was startled.

"Your Majesty, I have to take the princess away now."

Baldwin caressed the girl's cheek one last time. "My moon-skinned love, with eyes brighter than the sun. You gave me the most beautiful gift in the world. Thank you, I am grateful to you."

He had so much more to say, but whatever he didn't talk about turned into tears in his eyes after she left. He had to calm down before going to the banquet and pretend that this moment had never happened.

[pearlsinmyhair]

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: violence in this chapter (capture of an anomaly, star girl gets injured), mentions of getting stitches without anesthetic. The Fight ™. Miguel loses himself in anger twice (tread lightly). lots of cursing. use of spanish.

so…it does get worse after this chapter. hobie is a g (yes he’s here). as always, this is a platonic!miguel x reader fic, not a romantic one.

part i | part ii

word count: 2.7k

part iii: i’m not her

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

　　　　 

“let’s go over the process one more time.” miguel was saying as you both exited the trans-universe portal.

“no, please god, no.” you groaned, pressing your hand to the mask of you spider suit. “we must have gone over this a million times, miguel. this isn’t my first anomaly.”

the eye patterns of his suit narrowed. you had gotten to know his facial expressions well over the past nine months, even when he was wearing his mask.

“yes, but this one’s big. you’ve never tackled a big one before.” he claimed, and you rolled your eyes.

“telling me about it isn’t going to be the same as me actually experiencing it. just let me do my thing.” you responded, shooting a web to a nearby building and jumping up to swing.

miguel’s tight grip on the back of your suit held you still like a puppy, and you wriggled for a moment before giving in and letting him set you on the ground.

“we’re waiting for the other spider, remember? slow down.” miguel said firmly, hand resting at the base of your neck for a moment in a ‘stay’ gesture. you shrugged his hand off.

“who is it?” you asked. you had yet to work with someone other than miguel on missions. he preferred to work with you hands on, using the anomalies as a lesson.

yet another thing that was unusual: miguel didn’t do ‘partners’. jess was the closest to that before you.

miguel’s posture stiffened, and your spidey-senses tingled as you put the pieces together.

“don’t tell me.” you said in a giddy voice to him, and miguel pressed his fingers to his temples as if trying to relieve a headache.

before you could press him more, the sound of an all-too familiar guitar riff burst across the roof top you both stood on.

“hey, star girl.” came the sound of a familiar voice, slurred with a cockney accent.

you turned and ran straight to hobie, pounding your fist with his as you pulled you close by his arm around your shoulders.

“you two…know each other?” came miguel’s stern voice, glaring at you and hobie.

“yeah, we’ve met a few times around the base.” you explained as hobie shoved your shoulder playfully.

“y/n’s pretty hard to miss, boss. kinda surprised you assumed we hadn’t.” hobie said, and you didn’t miss the mocking tone in his voice as he looked at miguel.

you poked him in the ribs, willing him to behave.

he pinched your side in response, causing you to squeal and pull away from the spider punk beside you.

“enough play, let’s secure this anomaly.” miguel said, murmuring a curse in spanish as he turned from you and slung a web.

hobie looked down at you. “does he get jealous this of’en?” he asked, shooting a web of his own as he shifted his guitar up his shoulder.

you shrugged. “he’s not jealous, hobie. you just piss each other off.” you both jumped from the building, quickly locating the thing you were to capture.

“sure, i piss him off. but that was different. he’s got a soft spot, y/n”

you shrugged again as you pulled yourself up into a flip, locating the anomalies weak points.

it took a moment for you to realize just why miguel was so concerned.

the anomaly was a green goblin, and a quick one at that.

nine months ago you would have been useless in this fight. but now? miguel’s training has honed your skills, and you moved through the motions with the ease of a dancer in a well-rehearsed routine.

that was, until the goblin threw one of his smoke bombs right into your face.

the momentary blindness caused you to miss your webbing. you slammed through a window of a skyscraper into an office building, rolling across the floor and into a desk.

“fuck.” you murmured as you tried to stand, only for your legs to buckle. your ears rang from the bomb, and your eyes watered.

you removed your mask, taking a breath of fresh air as you tried to get your barings. you looked down at your body in an attempt to take stock of your injuries.

there was a laceration across your calf from the glass, and your shoulder throbbed. it took a second for you to realize that it was dislocated.

you took a few moments to rest your head back, fighting the urge to just sit and rest. you were needed. you had to get back.

you shifted up against the desk, manouveing your arm so that it sat in place before you shoved your body to the side.

you let out a strangled cry when your arm popped back into place, the pain bright but brief. your hearing was coming back, and you could hear the distant cackles of the green goblin as you stood.

you stepped to the broken window, taking a breath before you jumped back into the fight.

“hey star girl! you still with us?” shouted hobie from a distance, and you gave him a thumbs up.

he couldn’t afford the time to ask you more, simply nodding as he slammed his guitar against the goblin’s glider, causing the anomaly to fall.

orange silk stuck to the goblin’s chest, tugging him forward before a blue figure slammed into his chest, causing the two to fly into another building, disappearing from view.

you took a moment to just hang, catching your breath as you waited for miguel to give you and hobie the go ahead.

when nothing came, you scowled, swinging through the opening.

the sight that greeted you made your blood run cold.

you knew miguel could get mad. you had heard the whispers, heard the stories, listened to the tales of blood and broken bones that followed in his wake.

but nothing could compare to actually seeing his brutality.

miguel laid into the goblin, his fist colliding with his jaw over and over again, each impact sounding wetter than the last.

the anomaly’s mask was long sense shattered, and you could see the eyes of norman osborn just barely clinging to life.

“miguel stop.” you said, voice barely above a whisper as you fought down the bile rising in your throat.

but miguel didn’t hear you, slamming his fist against the goblin’s face again.

you should have known not to get too close. you were trained to stay away from close fist fights. but in that moment, nothing mattered.

you took a step closer and placed your hand against miguel’s back, trying to calm him. “mig, you need to st-“

his elbow collided with you nose with a sickening crunch. blood burst from it like a supernova, and your vision swam as you stumbled back a few steps.

hobie caught you under the armpits, hauling you back so you could both lean against a desk for support.

“miguel, what the fuck.” he was saying, voice low and angry as he pressed a ripped off part of his shirt to your nose. you winced in pain, and hobie’s eyes hardened even more.

when you finally got the courage to look up at your mentor, your mouth went dry.

because he was already looking at you, with the same mixture of guilt and regret that he had when he first took you as an apprentice.

he was on you in a second, hovering over you and cupping your face with clawed hands. looking wild while beating a man was one thing, but the devastated look he gave you now as he held you was much much worse.

hobie was still pissed, watching miguel from behind you, making sure that he was gentle.

miguel brushed the blood from your nose with a claw, looking tortured. all the while he was murmuring soft sentences in spanish, things that you didn’t quite have the mental capacity to translate, what with the broken nose and bleeding leg.

“lo siento, pequeña. no quise hacerlo, va a estar bien. mierda chica, lo siento mucho.”

you watched as hobie tapped at his watch in your peripheral, and an orange portal opened to your left. it seemed to snap miguel out of whatever trance he had fallen into, and he straightened.

he nodded to hobie, and the punk picked you up easily as miguel did the same for the now-unconscious green goblin.

“ready?” asked the spider holding you, though you knew him enough by now to understand that the question was mostly rhetorical.

you nodded as you pressed the back of your hand to your nose, preparing for the lecture that surely awaited you.

the four of you jumped into the portal, back to base.

₊ ⊹

the worst possible thing miguel can do is be quiet.

he did it often. once you had called him a ‘stewer’, because he would wait until whatever speech he was preparing was the perfect amount of cruel.

you sat in your designated chair with one leg up as the spider-doctor of the base bandaged it. it had needed stitches, and you had forced yourself to go through it without any kind of anesthesia. you had stitched up worse on your own before.

“two weeks rest, and then you’re able to go back in the field. just take it easy for now.” the doctor was saying, and you nodded. you were only truly half listening. the other half of your attention was placed upon miguel, who stood with his back turned to you not twenty feet away.

the doctor dismissed themselves, and you pulled your leg up to sit criss-cross in the chair.

it was a design by miguel himself, added when you needed a place to sit on days where your mentor was busy in his office.

you could still vaguely hear the echos of him explaining complex microbiology and gene-splicing as you did your research papers beside him.

miguel was silent for a few more beats, and you continued watching him, knowing that he felt you staring.

you had been his apprentice for nine months. you knew each others mannerisms well by now.

he let out the characteristic “you’re about to get an earful” sigh that typically haunted your nightmares.

“you almost died.”

oh.

you expected something a bit more barbed, but you could work with this.

“yes. i almost did. but i’m here, and i’m ok.”

“it doesn’t matter.” he said as he finally turned to you, with a solemn resignation in his eyes that made your heart stop.

“you. almost. died. y/n. and i can’t allow that while i’m your mentor. you’re benched.”

your confusion sharpened to irritation.

“you can’t bench me, miguel. i’m not a child.” you responded, rising from your seat. when you put weight against your freshly stitched leg you tripped slightly. miguel gave you a hard look as if it justified his decision.

“i’m your superior. if i say you’re done, you’re done. understood?” he said, with a note of finality that meant he didn’t want a response other than confirmation.

you shook your head, unwilling to back down. “no, i don’t understand.” you replied, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to look bigger next to his tall form.

“i don’t understand why you give me special treatment over others. i don’t understand why you feel the need to be so fucking protective over me. miguel, i don’t…” you sighed, gathering your words as he watched you with a carefully controlled expression.

“i know you feel a certain…responsibility over me because i’m your apprentice. and i understand your concern. but i’m also a person. i’m eighteen, soon to be nineteen. i can handle scrapes and bruises. it’s what we do-“

“y/n, it wasn’t just scrapes and bruises this time. you flew through a fucking window. jesus christ, kid, i thought you were dead.” his tone leaned to desperation, and it made any words you had prepared die in your throat.

sweet clarity.

miguel laying into the green goblin like it was personal, like it was vengeance. how the moments that you took to rest were probably actually minutes, making it look like you went AWOL. how when miguel accidentally elbowed your nose, he probably expected to find you bleeding amongst glass rather than clutching your face.

but the sympathy that normally accompanied your conversations with miguel was gone. instead, words sharpened like blades on your tongue.

“this isn’t fucking fair, miguel. i didn’t ask for this.” you said lowly.

his eyes narrowed at you. “and what exactly is this.”

the words on the tip of your tongue, ready to fire like bullets at the weakest part of miguel. the must vulnerable.

there was always an unspoken fifth rule of your partnership.

never, under any circumstances, talk about his daughter.

“being treated like i’m gabriella. like i’m some second chance for you to make things right. as if i’m just another option to make your life happier-“

you didn’t get to finish.

miguel’s hands clenched the collar of your suit, lifting you so that your toes barely brushed the ground. it wasn’t strangling, but the way he glared down at you promised violence.

your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you, rage palpable as his claws created puncture holes in your suit.

but you trudged on. you had repressed these thoughts for too long.

“miguel, you can’t lock me in a tower and call it love.”

all at once, the rage faded, and the grip on your collar ceased.

you dropped to the floor, wheezing. but a web hit your chest, easing you down. you followed its trail back to the owner.

hobie brown stood in the entrance way to miguel’s office, looking livid. but he said nothing.

that was always the wonderful thing about hobie. he knew when to wait for your signal.

“listen to me very carefully, kid. you will go home, now. you will get the fuck out of this demension as soon as this conversation is over, and you will stay out of it until further notice.” miguel growled, looking down at you.

“you will not be called on any missions, and you will not respond to any invitations to help.” he looked pointedly at hobie. “if you do, i will take your watch and drag you back to your dimension myself. am i understood?”

you looked at him from the ground, frustrated tears in your eyes. there was no way out.

“yes sir.”

you got up and walked out of the office.

₊ ⊹

hobie followed you, keeping pace with your limping step.

“are you really gonna listen to that prick?” he asked, glaring at some nosy spiders that stared. “he’s a fucking idiot if he thinks your gonna stop-“

“i am going to, hobie. i’m going home.” you told him, and the spider-punk paused.

“you saw how he looked at me. do you think he’s going to be kind when he finds me swinging with you or pav with anomalies? you think he won’t drag me back?” you knew miguel well. and you knew his resolve.

he wouldn’t hesitate to take your watch. he wouldn’t hesitate to confine you to your own reality, never to see him or your friends again.

all for the sake of protecting you.

‘you could have died.’

“you said your parents are gone, right?” hobie asked, and you stopped walking at the audacity of that question. when you turned to him, he raised his hands up to show you he meant no harm.

“i just don’t think you should be alone right now. come crash in my flat. we’ll find something to do other than wallow in our own misery, ay?”

you deflated, wanting nothing more than to sink into hobie’s embrace. and you did, allowing him to pull you close as the tears you were holding back finally escaped your eyes, leaking onto hobie’s blue shirt, mixing with the blood that stained it from your nose.

he tapped his watch to open another portal, and you spared one last glance towards the direction of miguel’s office before you stepped through it.

masterlists | part iv

so…like i said…it does get worse in the next chapter. i hope that you all liked this one ♡. stay tuned…

“lo siento, pequeña. no quise hacerlo, va a estar bien. mierda chica, lo siento mucho. - i’m sorry, little one. i didn’t mean to do it, it’s going to be ok. shit kid, i’m so sorry.

taglist:

@pearlssdiary @zeyzeys-stuff @alexisabirdie @ifuckyourmom @hagdgishbr @migueloharaslxt @ladynecromancer @ladyfairenvale

[ninjaneonleon]

Swanatello and Crownardo

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair!

Leo sniffled as he stayed curled up in the rain, grateful that it washed away his tears. He was near the lake, as he often was these days. It had been years since Donnie had been home properly, years since Leo had his twin back.

It just wasn’t fair.

How much longer did they have to wait? How much longer would Donnie have to be a prisoner of this stupid curse?

They had made no progress in saving Donnie. Even after finding the symbol on the bottom of the lake and finding Donnie’s recordings, they were still no closer to getting him out! Even Barry was at a loss. This was old magic, older than Barry or even Big Mama. Yes, Leo had been begged for her help, worked in the Battle Nexus for months while she gave him access to every library and book and scroll in the Hidden City. Still, he found nothing.

How much longer would Leo have to be this useless?

“Why so sad, my child?” A deep voice croaked from behind him. Leo jumped and looked around. He hadn’t heard anyone approach, just the ruffle of feathers of a bird in flight. Wait, a bird?

The crow who perched above him was like nothing he’d ever seen. Its piercing red eyes stared down at Leo with sympathy and the dark aura that pulsed around it echoed with power. A familiar sort of power. The same power as the Lake, as the curse.

Leo was enamoured instantly. Maybe this bird had a solution.

“I have a question for you, child.” The crow spoke and Leo couldn’t look away. “What is the reason for your tears?”

If the crow had asked Leo anything two years ago, he wouldn’t have answered or he would have made some stupid joke. Even a year ago, Leo would be curious but guarded. But Leo had gone too long without his twin, he’d been left uselessly on the sidelines for too long. He wasn’t even needed for portals anymore since Barry set up the permanent gateway. This bird was a chance to save Donnie. Leo’s instincts had never failed him when it was important like this.

So Leo told the crow everything. About the Kraang, about Donnie’s plan to hide the key, about the lake and how much Leo and his family were suffering. About how much he missed his twin and how he would do anything to get him back.

By the time Leo was done, he felt drained and dizzy. It was like once he had started talking, he couldn’t stop. The relief of finally giving the whole story, of being honest about how much he was struggling and not hiding it behind jokes or dealing with it alone in his room, it was freeing in a way Leo didn’t realise he needed.

“I can help you, my child,” the crow murmured, having hopped down from the branch long ago to perch on Leo’s shoulder. He rubbed his beak against Leo’s cheek. “I can give you the power to save your brother from the Lake’s corruptive influence. If you can retrieve the treasure it hides, your brother will be freed. If you bring the treasure to me, I can reverse the spell on him entirely, bringing him back as he was before the lake ever touched him.” That sounded like a dream come true, more than Leo could have ever prayed for.

“How do I do it? He’s become so strong since the Lake took him,” leo asked softly. His head was swimming with possibility.

“Drink this.” A small blue vial was dropped into his hand. “It will let you match him in skill and strength.”

Leo studied the vial. Rationally, he knew that he shouldn’t take it, that he should take the vial back to Barry or Mikey and get it checked. But Leo was done being rational. Rational had gotten him nowhere.

Without any further hesitation, Leo downed the potion in one gulp. A strange feeling flooded through his system, one of warmth and safety, of being deep in the earth and yet high in the sky. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. He was powerful.

Music started from nowhere, echoing around Leo as he panted from the intense feelings running through him. He knew instinctively what he needed to do.

“But I don’t know how to dance!” He cried.

“That is alright, my child.” The crow was back on his branch again. Leo found his arms raising by themselves and he raised up to stand on his toes. It felt as natural as breathing. He moved slowly with the music. Plié. Arabesque. Pirouette. Ciseaux. Fouetté. Leo closed his eyes, smiling as the music guided him in ways he didn’t know he could move. “I will teach you.”

Part 2

@tangledinink @dryad-druid

My brain did a thing

Swanatello and Crownardo have infected my brain

[an3mos-mp]

Summary: Reader is a tailor and gets a frisky request that Venti models for them.

Starring: Venti, reader

Genre: smut, handjobs, dirty talk, light nipple play

Warnings: Venti and reader are somewhat under the influence of alcohol

Author’s note: This was NOT proofread and it's been sitting in my ‘to edit’ list for long enough so here you go. If you know me, no you don’t. (I’m serious 🧍‍♀️) likes, reblogs, comments and new followers will always be appreciated. This is a side blog so I don't post often here AT ALL.

Word count: 1.4k (even i don’t understand how or why i wrote that many words of smut)

You were a well known tailor in Mondstat and it wasn’t surprising that you got the favour of a well known bard that frequented Diluc’s tavern, Venti.

For years, you and him had been the best of friends and often bonded through him modelling some of your new ideas and designs so you could see if they were as good in person as they were in drawing

He was an excellent model and very professional. On top of that, he had a sense of artistic expression you’d expect from a bard and he was able to execute that skill when it came to commenting on your work and helping you fix design issues.

You often went to the same tavern every time to celebrate successful designs and making customers happy, to Diluc’s dismay, to drink the night away but you did have a single problem… though could you really call it a problem?

Venti got very flirtatious when drunk and it wasn’t with just anyone he came across when drunk, it was only with you.

Odd? Yes. Did you mind? No. Especially after developing a small (not small) crush on him.

It was one of those nights where you’d celebrate a successful design with Venti over bottle upon bottles of dandelion wine and Venti was flirting with you, as usual, but got interrupted when a regular customer spotted you in the bar with an anxious expression before stating they needed a design by the next morning.

You then found yourself with a drunk Venti in your shop, running around to grab materials for the design.

“You didn’t look at the design, did you?” Venti voiced from where he was seated behind you on your desk, legs crossed and design clutched in his nimble fingers. With a silent curse, you rushed to where he sat while nursing an assortment of random materials; you remembered grabbing polyester during your panicked state of searching for materials but that polyester was deemed useless by the design in Venti’s hands.

From over his shoulder, the delicate design of nightwear glared at you with its gorgeous frills and obscene disposure. Oh god, would that be able to cover anything important?

“That’s quite…” You trailed off, blood rushing to the surface of your skin.

“Scandalous?” Venti breathed. Opting to steal a glance at him to see his reaction, you shifted your eyes to his teal ones that were already on you as they glowed under the dim light of your workshop. His attention to you encouraged your heart to beat faster than the design made it beat.

You could only nod and when you turned to him his teal eyes were already focused on you, his cheeks reddened by what you could only hope was the dandelion wine.

“Do you… need a model for this design?” His voice was soft and hesitant like he was afraid they would shatter the tension that was created between you, the same tension that increased in correspondence with the decreasing distance between your lips,

“I do,” your voice was quiet, “I have never made anything like this before so naturally, I need guidance from a model.”

“Then should I… strip?” Venti said, his eyes on your lips and the design now crushed slightly in his tightened hold. Your thoughts descended with any sense of decency you normally managed to maintain around Venti because of his word choice. Why did he use ‘strip’ like he’ll need to be naked for you to make this piece? He had a body suit he would wear whenever he’d model for you and this time didn’t need to be any different. It wasn’t rational to believe otherwise because it was just a poor word choice. That poor word choice, however, had wrapped itself around your mind just like Venti’s legs which were now wrapped around your waist. The design was now discarded on your desk and his hands opted for clutching the material of your shirt.

Your hands were over his in an instant as you attempted to loosen his grip on you. “I think I should reject the design while I still can.” Venti protested by pulling you closer with his legs around your waste, you sighed. The dandelion wine was still in effect.

“Complete the design.” He demanded and despite your previous observation, his speech was clear of any mistakes unlike other nights you’d spend drunk together.

“Let’s go get some rest, we’re drunk.” Your words were breathless and half hearted just like your attempt to step away from Venti. He grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“But I want to model for you.” He stated, the hand around your wrist used your hand as an anchor to bring your bodies together. Your heart fluttered at this.

“Venti you’re wasted,”

His hold on your wrist tightened and your eyes were locked together like magnets. “Please.”

The tips of his fingers traced the skin from the wrist of your hand past your elbow to your exposed shoulder as his lips remained hair’s width away from yours, building your anticipation.

His hand grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you toward him before your lips locked together.

His cold fingers latched themselves around your wrist for the second time that night before he guided your hand to the warm skin underneath his shirt; this gave you enough incentive to slowly trail your hand up his abdomen;

“Touch me.” His lips caressed your own with every word before he locked them together, it was inevitable for you were opposing forces bound to comverge. His lips burned against yours with an ardent flame that fed on the desperation you both emitted into the kiss. Venti’s back arched into you when the tips of your fingers skimmed his left nipple with a feather-like touch. He sighed against your lips as you circled his nipple with the aim to engrave the feeling of his skin on your fingers, the pathetic broken words that fell from Venti’s lips, which had now parted from yours, when you tugged on his nipple left you lightheaded and itching for more of his reactions.

After giving half-hearted and rushed attention to his other nipple. Venti protested but he dropped it when your hand descended from his chest down his abdomen to the waistline of his pants.

As you took your time handling buttons of his pants, Venti took your preoccupation as an opportunity to leave open mouthed kisses along the edge of your jawline and down to your neck; His lips were the paintbrush to the canvas of your skin and like a skilled artist he relished the purples and reds scattered on your skin and while they were not in any particular pattern, they conveyed an important message to him and anyone (archon’s forbid) who would dare cast their eyes on you. You were his.

While lost in his mastery of staining the skin of your neck with love bites, Venti snapped his hips into the palm of your hand with a sound of surprise. You had managed to work your hand into his pants, your fingers now wrapped firmly around his dick. Your other hand had its own firm grip on his thigh to discourage Venti from grinding against your hand as he did when he felt your warmth against his erection. “Don’t move.”

Venti chuckled, his head still buried in your neck. “Anyone would move if someone had their hand on their dick.” His words danced between the skin of your neck and soft lips grazed your neck with every syllable; it was enough to make you shiver but you didn’t forget the task at hand.

Soon enough you had Venti muffling his moans in the crook of your neck as you worked your hand on his dick; your wrist ached with how long you had been at it but the rising pitch in Venti’s pleas spurred you on. His fingers were curled into the material of your shirt as if you were his only anchor as he drowned in the vast ocean of pleasure you brought him with just your hand.

“I’m… so close.” He gasped, vision blurred by tears.

You ran your thumb over his tip causing him to whimper pathetically into your neck, his grip on your shirt tightening as your pace increased.

His hips began to move involuntarily despite your grip on his thigh and Venti was in hysterics.

“Please, please, please,” He moaned repeatedly like it was a prayer, like begging for release was the only thing he could remember to do because his orgasm and your hand were the centre of his thoughts and those prayers were answered through a mind numbing orgasm.

It was the first of many that night.