#you turn to walk out of the ruins to confront him but something is different

[riiwrites]

“dancing in the dark.”

summary : when the BSD men catch you dancing.

includes : chuuya, dazai, fyodor

request : “i was thinking what fyodor, dazai and chuuya would react if their s/o is actually a dancer and keeps it a secret from them!” - 💙

a/n: thank you so much for the request, angel!! i really tried to fit the description as you requested in your og ask, i hope it’s fit to your standards :) also tysm to my lovely poe for being my russian translator for the nicknames that fyodor uses in this fic! show him some love, they’re so so great <3 @cherrymoka222

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CHUUYA

• Chuuya truly thought he knew everything about you. From your likes to dislikes, your personality traits and little silly habits. He thought he had you figured out.

• That was until, he caught you in the garden.

• Moving elegantly but so swiftly, he was in awe.

• He didn’t dare to disturb you, thinking this moment was just so perfect to ruin.

• And he thought, if you were to hide such a thing from him, how would you react if he knew? So he never confronts you about it.

• That is until, he has a better idea.

“Right, baby..I’m gonna head to bed.” Chuuya announced with a yawn, making you turn your head as you nod softly, smiling at him.

“Kay.”

He begins to walk out the room, as soon as he reaches the doorway however, he takes one last little glance at you and smiles to himself before heading off.

An hour or so later, the normal time you would often “head to bed” came around but in reality, you’re heading to your escape in the garden.

As you head towards the back door, you couldn’t help but have a sneaky feeling that something was different about tonight.

Oh how you were so right.

There stood Chuuya, still in his normal work attire with a big smirk on his face as he watched your little suspicious look turn into one of shock.

“Hey.” He says.

“..Hey..” You repeat, slowly making your way towards him. As you did, you noticed the scenery around you.

The bushes surrounding and sculpting the area were lit beautifully with fairy-lights scattered across them left to right, with a little boombox sat on a nearby table with slow jazz playing softly in the background.

“..So you know..?” You ask.

“Oh I know.” He instantly says, letting out a chuckle as he saw your flushed face out of embarrassment.

“Come now, doll..why the face? You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” He says softly, walking towards you and creating the distance between you both smaller and smaller with each passing second. “I think it’s beautiful.” He whispers as he reaches out to touch you, lifting your chin up with his gloved fingers.

You shyly locate your eyes to find his, a little hesitance in your voice as you whispered “Really?”

He nodded, his smirk now changing to a soft and comforting smile as he whispers back. “Really.” The tone in his voice sounding so sincere and full of genuine honesty made you feel giddy.

He leans in and kisses your lips ever so gently, before pulling away after a few seconds to hold out his hand towards you.

“Can I?” He asks.

You smile, nodding as you put your hand in his, and he slowly walks backwards and guides you throughout the garden, spinning you around and dancing with you in the dark as if time was nonexistent.

DAZAI

• This smug bastard already has a pretty fine idea about your talent.

• He’s already onto your every move.

• Why? Because he sees the way your eyes light up once anything dance related shows up on the screen and you look so engrossed with it.

• He thinks it’s adorable, really. He’s always known you’ve had a liking for dance.

• But, catching you whilst you’re actually dancing just like the stars on TV? Moving so graciously with your legs as you slowly make the garden your own.

• He could watch you for hours, and he did.

You walk on water like it’s fragile to touch, the little ripples appearing just below your toes as you tread ever so lightly but dance with such a powerful impact that could make everyone stop and stare.

Well, it made someone specific stop and stare.

“Wow..” You’re instantly snapped out of your thoughts as you fall straight into the water, snapping your head towards the sound of your disturbance. You shoot him a glare.

“Whaaat? Can’t I watch my beautiful bella dance like nobody’s watching?”

“Well someone’s clearly watching.” You scoff as you stand up, your lower half now drenched in water.

“I’ve been watching you for hours, Y’know~” He chimes, smirking as you step out of the water and shake your legs to remove any excess water.

“How did I not notice your eery gaze carving holes into the back of me..?” You whisper to yourself, but Dazai answers your rhetorical question anyway.

“I’ve actually known about your little talent for months now, you just haven’t spotted me. Until today when I was oh so rudely interrupted..” He sighs heavily.

“Okay, one, Joe Goldberg, cool it.” You retort as you walk towards the back door, to which he was standing in front of. “And two, you interrupted me! I would’ve kept dancing if you kept your mouth shut..”

“Oh?~” He says, his smirk only growing wider. “Is that an invitation, dear?”

You couldn’t help your blush as you look up at him, smiling a little as your annoyed facade fades. “..Maybe..”

He smiles, hopping off the steps leading to the back door and placing a kiss on your forehead. “Aren’t you just the sweetest when you’re not mad at me?” He says, then, he flicks your forehead.

“Ow!- dick..” You murmur as Dazai walks past you, giggling to himself as he reaches the bit of the garden to which you were dancing on.

“Well? Show me the VIP experience, bella.”

You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes as you rush to the pool of water as Dazais eyes follow you, waiting patiently for you to begin.

As you begin to dance and return to your concentrated look. Dazai stares with the biggest smile on his face as he watches you take the night away with your actions. God, how lucky was he?

And he could’ve sworn he fell in love with you all over again, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

FYODOR

• Like Dazai, he knows about your liking towards dancing.

• But, he doesn’t know you actually do it, he just thought it was something you enjoyed to watch.

• You tried your hardest to hide it from him, simply because you didn’t want to bother him with your interests whilst he was busy working and didn’t want to be a distraction.

• He suspected something the moment you started acting suspicious around him, you could never hide anything from him.

• He eventually found out about it one day when he was reading and then suddenly heard piano music being played from outside.

• His interest was piqued almost immediately, as he closed his book and slowly made his way throughout the house and out to the garden.

• He had his suspicions, and as he reached the door and opened it quietly, they were confirmed.

• There you were, dancing ever so beautifully and spinning heavenly. Why would you hide this from him?

• He wanted to find out, and he was going to.

Soon, the music came to an end, putting an end to your routine as you descend from your tiptoes and onto the ground flat. There were a few seconds of silence until the area was filled with sounds of slow clapping.

You could’ve swore you heard your heart stop.

“Myshka..why’d you stop?” He says with a little smirk. You turn around slowly as your met with your lovers strong gaze.

“Oh..uhm..because the song..ended..” You stammer, looking down at your feet as you could practically feel your inner self growing smaller and smaller with each moment of silence.

Fyodor walks towards you, hands clasped together. “What a performance, lapachka..You move so elegantly.” He compliments you, to which you blush and move your hands to your face.

“You weren’t supposed to know..” You muffle out, and he can’t help but chuckle at your cute actions. He gently takes your hands and pulls them from your face, giving you the same smile but this time, it looked comforting.

“And why not?” He asks.

“I just..” You pause, becoming careful with your words. “I didn’t want to bother you with it..”

His gaze becomes softer as he appears a bit confused, and also..saddened? It only lasts a second though as his smirk returns and he strokes your cheek.

“You could never bother me, dear..” He whispers as he kisses your lips. You close your eyes and kiss him back, going up on your tiptoes to get a better angle. He pulls away and continues stroking your cheek, before pulling away and walking past you and heading towards the music player himself.

You raise an eyebrow as you turn towards him. “..What are you doing?” You ask skeptically. He switches on a channel of classical music, looking up at you with the same look on his face as he extends a hand out towards you.

“Come.” He says, and you instantly follow.

He takes your hand and you both begin to way to the music, his feet moving just the same as yours as if he was an expert on what he was doing. You were surprised.

“How are you so experienced with this?” You giggle.

“I’ve adapted to the area of dancing in..every lifetime let’s just say..” He replies, spinning you around slowly once before going back to sway with you. You smile, making Fyodor chuckle just a little.

You both danced for most of the night, and being in eachothers arms made Fyodor think he was one of the luckiest men in the world.

Maybe living in this lifetime wasn’t so bad, as long as it meant being with you.

TAGLIST : @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101 @reesesnieces @suzurans-world @heartsfourdazai @nomnomventi @silverbladexyz @inojuuy @boarcide @cherrymoka222 @kissesmellow21 @aliyahgracedrawing @chuuyathehatrack2 @boredwithwrath @rainy-dazie @lone-ray @ishqani @fun-cats @wefureko-blog @hoicacti @seikkoh @famousfoxkingdom @morrie-rose @underscoredaniii @monmush @night-dazai @s1eepybunny @minomikn @pinkdaises @lalalanddddddddd @mayaaluvvvv @probablyzombiedinosaurs @rinismahname @starrs20 @just4notherhumanbeing @little-miss-chaoss @drowningfishy @saeandscaralover @minniepresents

✿ riiwrites 2024 ; please refrain from ever plagiarising or reposting any of my works without crediting.

[piftamere]

satoru ending (wc : 1.6k ; cw : hospital room, brief description of the crash, mentions of death)

in your hospital bed, you feel small, you look small too. you're paler than usual, dark circles surround your tired eyes. you broke your left arm and now a cast envelops it.

“never scare me like that again” and a couple “i love you”s can be read on the white bandages, written by yuuji and kugisaki. flowers, ballons and a teddy bear decorate your room.

the doctor came by earlier, you're going to be okay. you should be out of the hospital in a few days. the police came too but megumi told them to come back tomorrow. you’re thankful he did.

megumi, yuuji and kugi look exhausted but they're smiling, you don’t have the heart to ask them to leave so you can rest. their presence is comforting, you’ll sleep later.

your ribs hurt when you breathe and even worse when you laugh, but you still reward yuuji’s poor attempts at lightening the mood with a chuckle. you can tell he needs it, you all need it.

when you recognized the driver as satoru’s former assistant, your heart missed a beat. you asked her to stop the car, but she started ranting to you, accusing you of ruining her life, of using people then discarding them.

you were so scared, you really thought you were going to die in that car. she kept speeding while not focusing on the road. going on and on about how you were a terrible person. and when she swerved off the road to avoid another car, you saw your life flash before your eyes. you saw the faces of everyone you would never get to see again. satoru’s face.

you’ll never forget the fear you felt when the car flipped over.

your thoughts are interrupted by frantic knocks on the bedroom door, megumi invites them in.

satoru walks in, he looks like a shell of himself, his hair is messy, his eyes are red.

“we’ll leave you two alone.” megumi says to you, his hand on your shoulder, before gesturing for everyone else to leave the room.

he sits down in the chair next to your bed, panic still evident in his eyes. “how are you feeling?”

“better now that you’re here.” you give him a soft smile, taking his hand in yours. you see him visibly relax.

“are you in pain?”

“a little, but i’m okay don’t worry.”

“i’ll always worry about you.”

“i know.” you say with a small smile.

“i was so scared.” the words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. he’s staring down at your joined hands. “it’s my fault it happened. i never thought she’d take it this far, i’m so sorry.”

even if it hurts to speak, you need to say this. for him.

“how could you have guessed that your ex-assistant was insane to the point of stalking me for months and pretend to be my uber to confront me, or kill me i don’t really know what was her plan… that she would lose control of the car and that we’d have an accident. even a psychic couldn’t predict that satoru.”

hearing it out loud, it sounds ridiculous. satoru chuckles halfheartedly, wiping off a stray tear, but he stays silent.

“do you know why i was in that car?” you say barely above a whisper, squeezing his fingers to get his attention. he turns his head to look at you, you can clearly see the tears in his eyes now. he shakes his head.

“because you had an interview?”

“it’s funny because i was doing the interview, answering the same old questions and i started talking about my love for music, how it’s my passion and the only thing i want to do in life, how i feel like it’s what i was born to do you know?” he nods along, “but while i was rambling on and on, something felt wrong, it was different from all the other times i’d given that same speech. because all i could think about was you. that’s how i feel about you too. i love you, and i’m tired of pretending i don’t.”

his eyes widen, bottom lip quivering as he starts full on crying, tears streaming down his face and you panic, trying to wipe them away.

“i didn’t want to make you cry! i’m sorry satoru! i take it ba-” before you can finish your sentence, he places his hand on your mouth.

“don’t even think about taking it back.” he sniffles, melting into your touch, your hand still on his cheek. “i’m just a little emotional today, i’m fine. i love you too, more than you can even imagine.” he takes his hand off your mouth.

you exhale deeply, relieved to see he stopped crying. “okay, good…”

he takes both of your hands in his, looking into your eyes as he speaks. “i know it’s probably not what you want, given how much you love what you do and how hard you worked for all of this, but i need to say it. if this was the one thing that makes you want to quit, i get it. because a part of me wants to convince you to quit too. i don’t think i could stand losing you, these past few hours have felt like a living hell, and i would give up on everything if it meant keeping you safe, next to me. so just say the word, now or in 5 months, and i’ll leave it all behind, for you. If you’ll let me, of couse.” he looks down where your hands are joined, his voice trembling slightly. “but if you choose to keep going, i swear to protect you, i won’t let anything like this happen ever again.”

you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. “i’ll think about it,” you say softly. “i’m probably going to take a break but i don’t want to quit. i’m not saying i’ll never change my mind, but i love what i do too much.” you give him a reassuring smile. “and how likely is it that i’d get stalked twice, right?” you chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

he shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips but worry still clear on his face.

“i’ve never seen you so serious ‘toru. come on, smile.” you say with a pout, poking his cheek where his dimple usually is. his smile grows a bit but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. still, it’s good enough for now. your voice hoarse, you say warmly, “oh there it is.”

you scoot over to the side of the bed, tapping on the covers to invite him to join you.

“come. you can’t say no, i almost died today.”

“i wouldn't dream of saying no.”

he climbs on, careful not to touch your cast, he wraps his arms around you, gently, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

in his embrace, the tension that has been gripping your body since the accident begins to ease. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calms you down. you finally feel safe, for the first time since the crash. the hospital room and the pain fade away, and all that remains is the warmth of his body against yours.

you close yours eyes, his fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm.

“can i tell you a story?” his voice is soft, gentle.

you nod, “sure.”

“do you remember when we met?”

“yeah,” you say, a chuckle escaping despite the pain. “i thought you were an asshole.”

he coughs, clearing his throat awkwardly. “well, i was… but…”

“but?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“but,” he continues, “the moment I saw you, I knew you were going to be someone important to me. you had this fire in your eyes, this determination. even though you were giving me the cold shoulder, i couldn’t help but be drawn to you.”

you tilt your head, gazing up at him. “really? i always thought you just enjoyed getting under my skin.”

he laughs warmly, the sound a comforting wave against your back. “maybe a little. but that was just my way of trying to get close to you. i remember watching you from across the room that first night, thinking, ‘i have to get to know her.’ there was something about you, something that called me.”

the memory of that night comes back to you. “you were so cocky, acting like you owned the place.”

he chuckles a bit sheepishly, a whine escaping his lips, “i’m sorryyyy, i was trying to impress you and it backfired. i really didn’t want to make a fool of myself…”

“and yet you did.” you tease lightly.

“and look where that got me.” he grins, tightening his hold on you.

there’s a moment of silence before he speaks up again, “so… am i your boyfriend now?”

you hum, “hm if you’d do me the honor yes.”

“and you’re my girlfriend?” he whispers into your neck, you can feel him smile against your skin.

“that’s usually how it works yes.” you mumble as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

fun facts :

satoru's the one who changed his contact name to "my pest"

they moved in together a few months after the accident

satoru's already thinking about proposing after one year together and yn has to keep reminding him that they don't have to rush it

megumi and yn still see each other often despite not living together anymore, and they keep working together too

author's note

ignore if some things dont make sense :3

satoru got his happy ending, megumi and maki are next dw !! 😗😗

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part thirty-eight - the end

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

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[hxney-lemcn]

From the Start — Abyss Razor x gn! reader

summary: reader and Abyss finally make plans for a first date

tw: light angst (this is fluffy tho I swear)

a/n: I'm on a roll, this has turned into a mini series. ^gif is literally Abyss to reader

wc: 1.1k

Master List | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

You didn’t have a chance to say a word. By the time the words had left the blue haired man’s lips, he had run like his life depended on it. You were left flabbergasted, standing with your jaw slack in the garden. It felt like your soul left your body. Did that really happen? Were you hallucinating? What were you supposed to do now?

All you could do was walk back to your dorm, contemplating the absurd events that had happened just moments prior. Did his feelings really run deep enough to propose so soon? Or had it been a reaction to your confession? It was clear he didn’t think of himself as worthy for anyone, so did your heartfelt emotions overwhelm him?

You entered your dorm with a muddled mind, unaware of your roommate's curious gaze, “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

“I think I’m getting married,” You tried to joke, but your heart thumped faster as you recalled Abyss’ sincere gaze as he spoke the words. Obviously you weren’t actually planning on marrying him…not yet at least, but the fact that Abyss was willing to think of a future with you caused butterflies to line your stomach. 

“Can I give a speech?” They asked, unphased by the sudden turn of events. 

“I know I said that jokingly but I was literally just proposed to,” You emphasized the truth to your earlier statement.

“By pretty boy?” They asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“By pretty boy,” You confirmed, plopping onto your bed. You had confided in them about your feelings for Abyss. They had deemed him a pretty boy after they saw you two walking down the corridor. 

It felt like eons before you saw Abyss again. You’d run into Finn, who greeted you warmly. You asked him if he’d seen or heard from Abyss recently and he sweatdropped. 

“He’s really embarrassed,” Finn confessed, scratching his cheek. “I overheard what happened when he told Mash, but when I advised him to just talk to you he almost passed out.”

Blinking in surprise, you replied, “Oh.”

In the meantime, you had caught up with your younger friend. Helping him with his homework and giving him tips on how to get through his first year. It was nice to put your worries on the backburner. It was also satisfying to watch Finn’s face light up as you helped him finish a project of his that he’d forgotten. Everything felt normal again…until your problem walked through the door to the library. His eyes had landed on you almost right away, and before you could even blink he had disappeared. It seemed that if you wanted to confront him, it would take more effort than last time. 

Abyss was mortified at how carelessly he let his feelings slip. He felt pathetic that your confession sparked such a fervid emotion in him that he couldn’t even control his mouth. You, alongside Abel, were a shining star in his dull world. Where he was ruthlessly mocked, berated, and nearly killed for his existence, you had bestowed nothing but kindness. You were an angel in his eyes, sent from the heavens and somehow managed to stumble upon his wretched form. Your warmth had seeped into his heart and tainted it as yours. You may not have seen your actions as praise worthy, but they were everything to him. 

Abel was important to him as well, but his feelings towards you were different, fiercer. Your presence alone made him feel content. He didn’t need anything as long as you graced him with your smile. He’d be content to be on the sidelines, as long as you were happy. So why did he have to ruin it with his foolish feelings? Let alone something as drastic as marriage? He hadn’t even courted you properly! He couldn’t bear to handle what you possibly thought of him now. 

He could avoid you easily enough. His personal magic was perfect for this exact situation, but the longer he spent time away from you, the bigger the ache in his heart grew. He had already been connecting random things to you, but it had grown worse in your absence. You would’ve loved to see that flower. You would’ve loved to see that strange bug. You might need to know this fact that he had learned for your shared class. Everything seemed to lead back to you.

He missed the sound of your voice. The warmth that encapsulated him when you directed your smile towards him. He missed the way you’d light up and ramble about topics you loved. He missed when you sat close to him in your excitement to show him something. He missed you. 

You were surprised when Abyss had approached you. It had only been a week since the incident. You were half expecting to have been forced to come up with an elaborate plan to get to speak with Abyss. Looking back, it was just a silly incident, it wasn’t a big deal. He had professed his feelings for you in his own way. It was endearing really. What wasn’t silly was him avoiding you like the plague. 

“I apologize for my impulsive behavior-”

You cut off his apology by enveloping him into a hug. Comfort washed over you as you finally got to hold the silly man. He wrapped his arms around you slowly, hiding his face into your neck. You both felt a sense of peace in the other's warmth. Resting your head on his shoulder, a pout suddenly formed on your lips.

“You know, you can’t just ask me to marry you and then just disappear,” You huffed, squeezing him to let him know you weren’t really angry. You were just glad that he was back. He stiffened in your hold, pulling you closer so you couldn’t witness his embarrassment. You continued before he could apologize further, “Although it’s a bit soon for us to marry, I’m open to dating.”

Abyss let out a squeak, pulling away to hide his face behind his hands. Even though both of your feelings have been out in the open for quite a bit, you still felt a rush of anxiety fill your veins, hoping that he wouldn’t find a way to reject you. 

“I-I w-would be h-honored to a-accompany you on a d-d-date,” Abyss muttered, bowing before you.

You felt your face heat up at the scene, but it did little to quench the giddiness that consumed you, “Are you free this weekend?”

[iovebarca]

Tangled Emotions - Pau Cubarsi

Authors note: Sorry for ghosting! I've been working on my final projects one is about ancient civilisations and the other about women's football so a lot of reading🥲

WC: 1300+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, angsty but not really angst, fluff.

send me requestsss 🫶🫶

The school ball was in full swing, the gym transformed into a dazzling dance floor with twinkling lights and music filling the air. You and Pau had decided to attend together as friends, looking forward to a night of laughter and dancing.

As the evening progressed, you found yourselves lost in the rhythm of the music, spinning and twirling on the dance floor with carefree abandon. Pau's laughter echoed in your ears as you shared jokes and whispered secrets.

But then, as you went to refill your drink, you caught sight of Pau in the hallway, his lips locked with the one person you least expected – the girl who had always been inexplicably mean to you. The sight sent a pang of hurt and betrayal coursing through you, the music fading into the background as your heart shattered into a million pieces.

Without a word, you turned and fled, tears blurring your vision as you stumbled into the nearest bathroom. The sobs wracked your body as you leaned against the sink, the weight of the evening's events crashing down on you all at once.

Minutes passed in a blur as you tried to compose yourself, the echoes of laughter and music from the ballroom filtering through the walls. But the pain in your chest only grew with each passing moment, the image of Pau and that girl seared into your mind like a brand.

Finally, with a deep breath, you straightened up, wiping away the tears with shaking hands. You couldn't bear to stay at the ball a moment longer, not when your heart felt like it had been torn in two.

With one last glance in the mirror to make sure your red eyes weren't too obvious, you squared your shoulders and left the bathroom, determined to put on a brave face and leave the night behind you.

As you walked away from the ballroom, the sound of laughter and music fading into the distance, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at your insides. You didn't know what you would say to Pau, or if you would even be able to face him at all. All you knew was that the pain in your heart was too raw, too real, to confront just yet.

-

The rays of the sun twinkled warmly around the living room, and the scent of summer air filled the house. Yet, the usually happy atmosphere was marred by the tension between you and Pau. It had been this way since the thing that happened just before the break. The image of Pau kissing that girl was seared into your mind, and the hurt still lingered.

You and Pau had been best friends for as long as you could remember. Your families always celebrated things together, and your graduation party was no different. But this time, you tried to avoid him as much as possible, he knew why but he was too ashamed of his previous actions, the pain of the recent events casting a shadow over the celebrations.

You wandered into the kitchen, hoping to escape the awkwardness. Irene, Pau's sister, watched you with a knowing look. She had noticed the cold distance between you and Pau. Determined to mend things, she hatched a plan.

Later that evening, as you were heading upstairs to grab something from your room, Irene cornered you. "Come with me," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Confused, you followed her. She led you to the bathroom, and to your surprise, Pau was already there. Before you could protest, Irene shoved you inside and quickly locked the door.

"Sort this out," she commanded through the door. "You two are ruining your own graduation party."

You turned to Pau, who was leaning against the sink, looking equally frustrated and embarrassed. "This is ridiculous," you muttered, crossing your arms.

Pau sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. But maybe she's right. We need to talk."

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. You glared at him, the anger and hurt bubbling up. "Why did you kiss her, Pau?" you demanded, your voice trembling.

He looked taken aback by your question, his eyes shifting away from yours. "I don't know," he mumbled. "It just happened."

You scoffed, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "It just happened? That's all you have to say?"

He straightened up, frustration clear on his face. "What do you want me to say? That it was a mistake? Because it was! I didn't think it would matter so much to you."

"It does matter, Pau! You just had to kiss her! Why her?" you shot back, your voice breaking.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" he demanded, stepping closer. "You're acting like it broke your heart or something."

You stared at him, the dam of your emotions finally breaking. "Because it did!" you cried, tears streaming down your face. "It broke my heart, Pau. I've been in love with you for years, and seeing you with her felt like a knife in my heart."

The shock on his face mirrored your own surprise at your outburst. A heavy silence fell between you, filled only by the sound of your quiet sobs. The minutes ticked by, each second dragging on as the weight of unspoken feelings hung in the air.

Finally, Pau took a deep breath and broke the silence. "You... love me?" he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of hope and fear.

You nodded, wiping at your tears. "Yes, you idiot. I love you. I didn't know how to tell you, and then seeing you with her... I just couldn't take it."

He looked down, guilt and realization washing over his features. "I didn't know," he said softly. "I thought... I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you'd realize how much you mean to me."

You sniffled, the anger starting to dissipate. "Well, it worked," you muttered, your voice still shaky. "But it hurt, Pau. It really hurt."

He stepped closer, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn't know what to do. I've been so confused about my feelings for you. I've been trying to understand why seeing you with other people makes me so angry, why I can't stand the thought of losing you. And then I kissed her because I thought it would help me figure things out, but it only made everything worse. I love you, but I didn't know how to admit it, and now I've fucked up and I don't—"

You interrupted his rambling by grabbing his face and kissing him passionately. The words died on his lips as he melted into the kiss, all the tension and confusion dissolving in the warmth of your embrace.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless, the room filled with a new, electrifying tension. Pau looked at you, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and joy. "You kissed me," he murmured, almost in disbelief.

You smiled through your tears, nodding. "Yes, because I love you, Pau. And I needed you to stop talking and just understand that."

A slow smile spread across his face, and he pulled you into another embrace. "I love you too," he whispered into your hair. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

Irene's voice interrupted your moment. "Are you two done in there?" she called through the door.

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. "Yeah, we're good."

The door unlocked, and Irene peeked in, grinning. "About time," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now come on, it's your graduation party. Let's go celebrate."

Hand in hand, you and Pau followed Irene back downstairs, ready to enjoy the holiday together, knowing that your friendship had blossomed into something even more beautiful.

[cyupie]

✦ unsaid, unheard

neito monoma x gn!reader

angst to sort of comfort

word count: 2k

second person pov + purposeful all lowercase + not proof read and written late at night

✦ summary

neito monoma lets himself live in denial about his feelings towards you; it's only until you two actually drift apart that he realizes what he's lost.

you & neito had been friends for longer than you can remember; always aspiring to make it to u.a. together and become the top heroes. you remember the face he made when you both made it in, how he spun you around and treated both of you to some macarons right after. it was the best day of both of your lives.

he was always thoughtful, even if he never really confided in you — you were best friends, though, you always knew how he felt even if he didn’t say it out loud. neito knew you better than you knew yourself and vice versa. his favorite boba place & order, how he scrunches his nose up when he’s focused, and the way his eyes crinkle when he’s really really happy are forever ingrained in your memory.

you don’t know how to tell him you think you’ve fallen in love with him. you don’t think you ever will once you see how he starts to look at itsuka kendo during your second year. it’s a gradual thing — ditching your usual meetups to go see her, taking her to the new mini store that he refused to check out with you last week, the way he smiles at her — it makes your heart ache when you can’t remember the last time he smiled like that with you.

you love neito monoma.

neito monoma loves itsuka kendo.

so, you don’t tell him. you swear that you aren’t going to ruin it for neito and itsuka because they look so happy when they’re together. people grow apart all the time; this is no different from any other friendship. you barely think about him (he’s the only thing on your mind at night) and maybe you’re even doing better off without him (your heart hurts when you see him with her).

it’s been two months since you last spoke when he finally confronts you. you were walking out of class when he drags you to the side with a stern look on his face; neito looks conflicted. he’s not worried, he reassures (you’re the only thing on his mind when everything is quiet and he doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that he still thinks of you instead of itsuka when something good happens).

“i just want to know why you’re avoiding me.” he lies.

“i’m not avoiding you.” you lie back.

both of you see right through each other. neither of you comment on it.

neito thinks he wants to cry, or scream, or shake you — he doesn’t do any of that. he just sighs. “fine,” the blonde huffs as he turns away from you. “i don’t care anyways.” neito hopes you’ll say something about his blatant lie. you stay quiet.

he doesn’t see you for the next few days, he knows you’re avoiding him. neito knows you better than he’ll ever admit. the way you looked at him when he first said he thinks he has a crush on itsuka drove him insane; he tries not to think about it anymore. there’s no point.

when he’s with her, he thinks it’s love — he wants her near him all the time and he likes when she pays attention to him and he wants to do all the things he did with you but with her now. neito ignores the pit in his chest when he realizes how long it’s been since you two have hung out.

neito monoma loves itsuka kendo.

neito monoma doesn’t care about you.

it’s fine. him and itsuka have even gotten together now, this is the happiest he’s ever been. neito swears it on his life that she makes him happier than anyone else can. he sees itsuka’s confusion when he accidentally orders your usual at the boba shop instead of hers; your tastes are so different that it’s hard to believe he could mix them up.

when he offers itsuka his own drink and takes the one you usually get instead, he thinks of you the whole time he’s drinking it. have you been to this place since you two stopped talking? neito stomps the thought away as quickly as it comes.

you seem ok, he thinks (he sees the bags under your eyes). you have new friends who’ll probably treat you better than he ever did growing up (why does it hurt to think that?). neito stops and realizes how much he misses you when he hears your favorite song come on the radio — he remembers listening to you scream along to it anytime you heard it.

he finds you after school, talking to some kid from class 1a (why them? why not him? was he not enough for you anymore?) and he thinks he’s going to cry. neito smirks, instead, and leans against the wall before laughing, “so this is where you’ve been? going behind our class’ back to hang out with these hero wannabes?”

he doesn’t know why he says that.

“oh,” is all you say at first and he wants to apologize over and over again until you stop looking at him like that. why do you look at him like you don’t care anymore? why can’t you look at him like you did before you both came to u.a. — before itsuka? “did you need something?”

neito pauses. no, he didn’t; why was he here?

“just wondering where our little y/n went; haven’t seen them in a hot minute.” he remarked, trying to look as nonchalant as he could. neito internally grimaced at his choice of words.

“you see me in class everyday.” you point out.

“and then you disappear to who knows where.”

“i don’t see a problem.”

“i do.”

“why?”

i don’t know, his thoughts answer. why does he have an issue with it? you two have been drifting apart for a while. it was inevitable, friendships don’t last forever (neito’s heart aches when he thinks of never talking to you again).

“because you’re hanging out with those 1a losers instead of us,” he settles with, ignoring the way his subconscious corrects it to instead of me.

“they’re my friends.” you argue, seemingly defensive over them.

“and i’m not?”

“are you?” your question makes you both share a look. your friend has long gone, unsure of how to deal with this seemingly personal argument between you two. you find the words repeating in your own head. it doesn’t feel like you’re still friends.

so why do you still feel that pit in your chest when you look at him and remember how much you love how pretty his eyes are, or how that one strand of hair never stays where neito wants it to and he has to fix it constantly throughout the day.

you find yourself hoping he says yes.

he walks away, instead.

it hurts more than you’d ever admit; neito doesn’t want you to see how much it hurts that he can’t even call you his friend anymore. neito doesn’t want to admit that it’s his fault, either.

he goes to itsuka for comfort — she’s always been good at that. she strokes his hair softly and is so much softer with him than she’s ever been; why does it make the ache in his heart feel worse? why does he look up at her and expect — hope — to see your face instead?

neito can’t shake the thoughts away this time.

whenever he walks into class, he looks for you first; whenever he’s practicing, he wonders who you’ve been partnered with; whenever he gets a sliver of free time, he thinks what’s y/n doing? it drives him insane. it isn’t until he breaks down to itsuka about it that her response makes him realize anything.

“i think we should break up, neito.” she says calmly. neito thinks his whole world is ending around him.

“what? why?” he finds himself asking. he thought they were doing good, he wanted to talk and communicate; she’s always told him how important it is to communicate. why is this her reaction?

she gives him a pitying look — suddenly, he’s not so upset. irritated would be a better word.

“don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

“see what? why are you being so cryptic?”

“neito, you poor, poor soul.” itsuka sighs and neito finds himself wishing you were there more than he ever has before. you wouldn’t have been so vague with him about whatever this is, you’d have been straight to the point.

and then it clicks.

it clicks how badly he messed up. suddenly, itsuka’s unclear words and her (well-meaning) laughter at his wide eyes makes so much sense. suddenly, he wishes he could take this whole year back. it feels like all the walls he worked so hard to build up are crumbling around him as his feelings jumble and he doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

neito monoma doesn’t know who he loves.

it’s a few weeks later, and the school year has flown by. valentine’s day is coming around the corner and you find yourself wondering how neito is. he loved cheesy things, the stereotypical and the type of things that only happened in stories or tv shows — you wondered how he was going to cope with itsuka having broken up with him so close to valentine’s.

and then there’s a knock on your door at 1am on valentine’s day morning. you shuffle around, not knowing who it is. you don’t really care; your hair is a mess and you’re in your pajamas and just about ready to scold the hell out of whoever’s—

neito.

he has a giant bouquet of your favorite flowers (or at least, the ones that remind him of you the most) and a bag filled with gifts. he’s looking at you expectantly and his face is flushed and you’re not sure what to say or how to feel or why he’s even here in the first place. you two just stare at each other for a minute.

“hi.” neito greets. he looks like he immediately wanted to say anything else and shrink back into a corner never to be seen again after he realizes how awkward this whole thing is.

“hi.” you say back. you’re no better than he is.

he holds out the bouquet of flowers and neito’s holding back a million words in his head as you take them. “i got you stuff,” he blurts out as he gestures to the bag in his hand.

“i can see,” and he looks like he’s just about ready to give up on this whole endeavor. you pause. you’re staring again. neito stares back.

you sigh, opening the door further and gesturing for the other to come in. he doesn’t hesitate as he steps in and moves to the side for you to awkwardly shuffle around him and shut the door. neito sets the bag on the ground and you put the bouquet on its side on your desk.

all you can do is wonder what you’re going to do with them as he starts taking out the gifts.

it’s your favorite snacks and a plushie of your favorite animal — he’s sure it hasn’t changed — and a gift card to that damn boba place. he’s looking at you and waiting for a response and you just stare. neito thinks he’s done something horribly, horribly wrong when you start crying.

“hey, wait- i’m sorry. why are you..” his voice trails off as he looks at you. he never knew how to comfort people, no matter how eloquent he was with his insults and endless rants about 1a. and you’re staring up at him with tear-filled eyes and he feels his heart break for the thousandth time.

all you can manage is, “i thought you hated me.”

and he pauses. he looks at you and you look at him and more gently than you think he’s ever done anything before he brings you into a hug and you’re safe. neito doesn’t say a word; he doesn’t need to. he doesn’t like to be vulnerable, he’s never liked being vulnerable.

but you’re here in his arms and he knows you understand that better than anyone. you’ve always understood. he’s so stupid for having never noticed it — you — before.

neito monoma loves you.

© cyupie   do not plagiarize, translate, feed to ai, or repost my works to any other websites

[alimaybankkk]

Could I request a JJ HC of how he cheers up reader when they are sad?

𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

a/n: so i was gonna make this into a blurb but i got so carried away. however i really like it!!

summary: in request

warnings: none but angst and major fluff

pairing: jj maybank x sad!reader

you’d dissociated yourself from the group, muttering something about being tired and waking up early. all your friends looked around, confused, knowing you had a completely free day tomorrow.

essentially, the pogues had appointed jj as the person to confront you; it was hardly a question. you two were always attached at the hip, and when jj had seen you come home and go straight to bed without hanging out and kissing him, he knew something was up.

“what’s up with her?” pope had said, looking annoyed.

they had been huddled around a table with stacks of cards, intending on playing many different games, (as simple as war, for they were simple-minded folk and didn’t bother to learn anything too complicated, but as soon as, in john b’s words, you “ruined the party,” the whole mood of the game dropped.

“she’ll be…” john b had wanted to say you’d be fine, but then he saw jj’s eyes looking off in the direction you’d walked off in. if jj seemed worried, it meant something was wrong. “someone’s gotta talk to her.”

immediately, with no question, everyone looked at jj as he stood, understanding his purpose before being asked. cleo mumbled something about “romeo saving his juliet,” but everyone was too occupied to laugh, even though this was the type of thing they’d find funny.

eventually, chatter resumed when jj made his way through the doorway of your shared bedroom. his heart clenched sadly when he saw you facing the wall, head downturned and fidgeting with your rings.

he slowly made way to sit next to you on the bed, its weight dipping beneath the two of you. you didn’t turn your head, just brought your lips into a tight line.

jj accepted that was an acknowledgment of his presence. he knew how you got whenever you were upset, and he never wanted to push you. he draped an arm around your waist, expecting you to sink into the touch like you usually did, but you just stiffened. his lips fell apart. “shit—baby, did i do something?”

if you weren’t this upset, you would have giggled. it was pathetic. you just shook your head, glossy eyes burning into the floor. they never looked into jj’s eyes, and he was starting to get self conscious.

“how was your day?” jj asked, and as soon as he did, he regretted it.

you turned to face him, feeling as though he was making fun of you. you sighed angrily and wiggled out of his arms, attempting to slide away from him when he grabbed your wrist. “it was a bad day? wasn’t it?”

you pursed your lips and nodded, eyebrows raising as you sighed. your eyelashes seemed to curl downward as your stressed eye position fell.

jj brought you into his arms, lifting you back into the bed. he hugged you tightly for a few minutes, feeling your body shake against him as silent sobs escaped your mouth.

jj was sure he felt even more sadness in the moment than you did, but he’d never admit that. to be honest, he was thankful for it. he didn’t want you to feel pain; you didn’t deserve it.

just like he felt he didn’t deserve you.

in your eyes, jj was the most perfect boy to ever exist. the caring moments like the ongoing one right now added to his sympathetic and sweet personality, enriching your love for him by the second.

but in jj’s eyes, he was a coward. he was scared of the life he’s lived ever since he was little that he threw away his childhood as soon as he got the chance and lived as a bad boy who was a criminal and was full of flaws. in his eyes, you were too good for him. he truly believed constantly that being with him hurt you and he was ashamed for you that someone as perfect as you could love someone like him.

but those things were not negative things to you. sometimes they made you love him harder. to you, jj was a broken boy that craved love and affection he’d never gotten. you knew he felt as if his whole life and soul was repaired just by a single kiss of your lips.

you always thought so poorly of luke maybank for simply looking at jj as if he were all such terrible things. jj was not the type of boy to try his best to see good in himself. as soon as anyone said something slightly offensive, jj believed it and hurt on the inside but brushed it off and dished something back.

jj was so easily covered up by a fake ego that no one noticed the way he truly felt about himself but you.

he felt as if he wasn’t worthy of love or even respect until he met you. you’d welcomed him so quickly into your life, your saccharine laugh and oh so charming smile immediately brightening up his life. he saw you as an angel sent from heaven.

months and months and months built a two year relationship that was so accepting, loving, and respecting between the two of you. almost all of your friends were jealous of the way you made each other feel—even sarah and john b. but they would never admit something like this.

they liked to tease you two for your neediness and your clinginess. as much as you craved jj’s touch constantly, you knew it was jj who initiated most of the touching—not that you were complaining. he was the one who always cheered you up on your hardest days—like today.

you grasped longingly for the material of his shirt, wrinkles forming underneath your fingertips. finally, he let himself cry, too. you pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. “are you crying? why are you—don’t cry, jj, it’s okay…”

he pulled you back into the hug, kissing the side of your head like it was the last time he ever would.

“baby, give me your pain,” he said, finally pulling away and giving you a kiss. a kiss so full of need and love. a kiss so sweet and beautiful that you were almost knocked off your feet. you sighed into it, arms entangling into his hair. “gimme it all, please.”

your heart clenched at the thoughtful words that fell so effortlessly from his mouth. the feeling was so romantic and poetic at the same time you almost melted, knowing there was no one else in this world that could replace him.

“give it all to me,” he continued, hands dancing to cadres your face. “you don’t deserve this, angel.”

it was a new nickname, but you were glad to find you liked it a lot.

“neither do you, j,” you fought, a pointer finger reaching to tuck hair behind his ear. he sighed, eyes squeezing shut.

he kept them closed as he remained silent for a few moments, mouth slightly agape as soft breaths could be heard coming from it.

your hands latched onto his and you reached them up to your lips, kissing each callused knuckle.

when jj finally opened his eyes, he wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up, carrying you to the bathroom and placing you on the counter.

“i just want to go to bed, jj,” you said with tears still rolling down your cheeks.

he sighed, coming up from the drawers he had been rummaging through and kissing the tear away. when another one rolled down at the kind gesture, he quickly swiped it away with his hand and kissed your forehead lovingly, lips lingering for a little longer.

“i know, pretty girl,” he finally responded, tilting your chin up to look at him. “but i also know you’ll be miserable if you wake up tomorrow with all this smudged good-for-nothing makeup on your face.”

your lips formed into a tight lipped smile, blinking away tears as you nodded. “i know.”

he smiled before continuing his search in the drawers when he finally pulled out a makeup rag.

he wiped away the smudged makeup so softly, whispering things to you soothingly, (you’re so perfect, you’re going to be okay, i love you, etc.)

when he was finally done with the makeup, he brought his lips to yours before pulling back and muttering, “you are so damn beautiful.”

you tried not to break down again—the opposite of what he said had been the reason why you were upset in the first place. a friend of yours had made fun of the way you looked without makeup. it hurt you so bad to the point where you stormed out of the house before waiting in the car and touching up your makeup.

you thinned your lips and looked down, eyelashes fanning out toward jj. he watched you for a few moments.

he admired the way a single vein in your cheek twitched when you frowned, exactly where your dimple would usually rest. he loved to notice such small things about you, he thought as he watched the way your nose turned up.

jj knew to take that as a sign you were getting impatient. after all, he’d sat there staring at you for so long.

he smiled before grabbing a hairbrush that was beside where you were seated on the counter and helped you off of it. “turn around, sweet girl.”

you obliged, watching his movements in the mirror you now faced as he worked the brush through your hair.

your heart clenched so tight as you watched the way his eyes lit up with love and he tried to bite back a smile. you smiled. the boy before you was exactly the one.

“so perfect,” he whispered, stepping back to look at you in the mirror. you finally turned around again to look at him in the eyes.

he was so whipped, he thought, but he didn’t care as you intertwined your fingers into his hair, pulling him into a passionate and needy kiss.

he sighed into it, absent minded tensed shoulders relaxing immediately as he wrapped his arms so tightly around you. you loved the way he held you: as if there was someone so terrible to protect you from.

and maybe there was. the monster of love coming to take you away or something. it was jj’s biggest fear—you leaving him. it’s why he tried his best to savor every moment with you, his mind carrying him into his own little world where you’d be with him forever with just the simple squeeze of his eyes. it was something he did a lot, mostly when you were vulnerable. he never wanted to let go of this feeling, and if he just took time to appreciate it, maybe he—

“j?” you whispered, bringing him out of his trance. you had a warm hand pressed to his chest and he looked down at you, eyes softening.

“yes, angel?”

your heart beat faster at the nickname, but you just leaned into him and continued, “want to go to bed.”

“okay.” he said, grabbing your soft hand and leading you back to the shared bedroom. he gently placed you on the bed, kissing you for what felt like the millionth time tonight and turning to his dresser. “gonna get you something to wear.”

he looked through your drawers and pulled out a pair of nike pros, but when he was in search of a shirt, he found nothing. he just sighed, knowing it was intentional.

your favorite thing to do was hide your load of shirts from jj so that he would have no choice but to dress you in one of his. not that you even had to do this to wear one of his shirts.

he placed the pair of shorts on the bed next to you as he passed by on his way to the other side of his room, looking through his own drawer. you dressed out of your uncomfortable pair of jeans and into the shorts, relief on your legs.

you hummed excitedly when jj have you his t-shirt—his favorite of yours to wear: sex wax. it fit so big on you that it provided almost a shield of protection of softness. you also took mind that it was the shirt that smelt the most like him. he wore it quite often and his scent rubbed off on it.

“do you want me to leave, pretty girl?” he asked as he changed his own shirt.

you shook your head eagerly, dreading the thought. “please don’t.”

he nodded, smiling. you pulled your shirt over your head, followed by unclipping your bra and jj’s eyes widened. he’d seen you like this so many times, but your body never failed to amaze him. you smiled at his reaction as he spluttered, “so fuckin’ beautiful.”

you giggled and slid his shirt over your head, becoming light headed by the overwhelmingly pleasant smell of jj on it. you brought the neckline to your nose, sniffing it with closed eyes and relaxing immediately.

“if you love the way i smell, angel, i’m right here,” he laughed, sliding into bed next to you.

you shrugged and turned to face him, eyes full of love. he smiled as he looked deeply into your eyes, so lost in the beauty he saw before him. “thank you,” you said.

jj nodded so casually as if he hadn’t just made your night. “like i said, baby. give me all your pain.”

your left hand reached up to play with his blonde hair while your right held his face in it as you kissed all over it.

his nose, his chin, his cheeks, his eyebrows, his forehead, all over his jaw… you drowned him as much as you could in the love he gave you tonight. it wasn’t until you pulled away that you saw the familiar sight in front of you, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted and cheeks red.

you had no clue what it meant, but you were always willing to find out.

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Pour Your Drink (And We'll Talk It Over)

Pairing: Awkward! Timothee x Oblivious! Male(intended) Reader Summary: Reader and Timothee have been fighting over the same seat in a local coffee shop for months... Words: 454/500, it's not my goal but it's close, and why ruin something good striving for something better? Warnings: Cute, Fluff Notes: surprise surprise I actually like this. CAN BE READ AS ANYONE ELSE

⋆˚✿˖°☕︎ ⋆˚✿˖°

☕︎The last few months were odd to say the least. In your entire life, not once have you ever had a long-term experience quite like this one. Sure, there had been a few times in high school when that one kid stole your seat but you were just kids then. Logically, you know the 'adult' thing to do would be to fuck off and find a new seat, but you're a weirdo, you hold onto the things you like and the things that comfort you, so why couldn't this guy just take your advice, fuck off and find a new seat?

☕︎You dont realize you're staring at him, sitting in your seat, through the big window of your favorite coffee shop until he locks eyes with you. The surprised questioning look on his face is enough to snap you out of your thoughts. You turn on your heel and speed walk into the shop hoping you can just get your coffee and not have to wait, but luck is never on your side.

☕︎You're forced to stand there like a moron behind the three people in line, who all seem determined to take up the entire morning just looking at the menu like they've never seen the English language in their life. You fidget awkwardly, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head, having to physically stop yourself from looking over at him multiple times, too awkward to be confronted about your weird staring. 

☕︎When you finally make it to the front of the line the young barista smiles at you, and without you ordering she recites your total. You should probably do something different, switch up your usual routine, maybe get something healthier for your gut, but the thought of deviating from your comforting habits for something that might not even be worth it is more vexing than the guy you were staring down coming up next to you to pay for your drink. 

☕︎Rightfully so, you startle and gawk at him but he just smiles and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. You might be hallucinating, and if it didn't look totally insane you probably would have pinched yourself. You blink and sure enough, the guy's cheeks are turning pink. His lips move like he's speaking but the noise doesn't register and you're left standing there like an idiot because wow this guy is actually really cute and suddenly your throat feels dry and your ears are ringing and your palms are sweating. 

☕︎You're snapped out of your trance-like state when the barista calls your name, your movements blur as you grab your drink, thank the cute guy, and then scamper from the shop blushing like a madman.

[sspextkr]

🦋 desolation - avox!coryo au - snowjanus week day 2

🦋 day 2: canon divergence 🦋 “All snow melts under heat, dear boy. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Now, hold still..”

🦋 trigger warnings/tags: gore, blood, dark fic, mutilation, starvation, dehumanization.. the whole nine. dunno what you'd call it but coryo is put into a market system and sold so warning for that too. vomiting.

🦋 a/n: this is for you, avox!coryo nation

“Tell me, Mr. Snow.” Dr. Gaul hummed, running a gloved finger along the edge of her blade. Coriolanus’ mouth went dry. Any second now, that blade would silence him for eternity. “Was it worth it? Your little plan to save your songbird?”

Coriolanus didn’t answer yet, dropping his gaze to the marble floor of her lab. Highbottom’s taunts echoed in his head on repeat like a scratched record– “You hear that, boy? It’s the sound of snow falling..” He couldn’t have failed. Snow’s don’t fall. They pull through. Always have and always will. He bit his tongue to hold back some of the tears that threatened to slip. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“I urge you to speak now, young man.” Dr. Gaul took a step towards him. “I fear you won’t have the chance to again for a very, very long time.”

“.. What do you want me to say?” He croaked. “Do you want me to beg? To plead for your forgiveness and mercy?” Coriolanus glanced up at her, gaze as venomous as the snakes she loved to toy with.

“If you did, I fear you’d make a fool of yourself.” She grabbed his chin harshly. “You knew the consequences and yet you still cheated. All for some girl you barely knew.”

“She wouldn’t have stood a chance if I didn’t..” Coriolanus stuttered, trying to pull away from her grasp. “It’s not right.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart now. It’s much too late for that, Mr. Snow… You say you won’t beg for mercy, but in a way, you are. A convict on trial, saying whatever he can to get himself out of the death penalty.” Dr. Gaul laughed, a horrid sound. “Predator turned prey.. Isn’t that funny? You climbed your way to the top of the food chain, only to get forced back down to the bottom of it.”

The tears in his eyes finally gave away. The taste of iron filled his mouth, no doubt from the abuse of his poor tongue. Sick as it was, he relished in it. Relished in feeling the weight of it in his mouth, every little thing he could taste in there. Death would’ve been better than this, he thought. But weren’t they the same thing? He’d be reduced to nothing. A hollow shell unable to speak or express himself. Trapped in silence forever. The fear he felt made it nearly impossible to breathe, too.

“Aw..” She wiped one of his tears away. Coriolanus pulled back like he had burned her. “All snow melts under heat, dear boy. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Now, hold still..”

...

A cruel memory, one he tried to block out. Filled with panic and broken screams. Blood pouring out of his mouth onto his lap, a waterfall of consequence settling into a pool on the ground beneath him. He tried and tried to plead for help, begging for her to stop, but she never would. Sadism used to taste so sweet, Now it was cold and bitter. Served cold just like her revenge, she said. Revenge for what, he wanted to ask. For ruining her games? For giving her the show she wanted?

Was it all a mistake?

The Dean’s confrontation was playing on repeat in his head. If he had said something different, done something else..

“President Ravenstill has left your form of punishment up to me. I talked amongst my fellow colleagues and we believed that being sent to the districts as an anonymous, peacekeeping grunt might’ve been suitable.. But then an Avox walked in.. and I had another one of my brilliant ideas. I thought, if he’s anything like his father– Which he is– Then having him go to the districts would be just as bad as having him walk free.”

“Still..” He stammered. “Don’t you think that’s too far?”

“Like I said, anyone caught cheating will simply have no future at all. You made your bed, Coriolanus. Time to lie in it.. I think a good night's rest will do you some good. It’s the last you’ll be having for a while.”

Then, he was sent home to spread the news to his family. But the second he got home and saw the hopeful looks in his family’s eyes, the words got stuck in his throat, and all he could do was sob. They sent a van to take him to Dr. Gaul’s office before the sun was even up the next morning, leaving him with little to no time to say goodbye or get things in order. Somehow, he’d managed to fit in a little nap on the way there– It’s not like he could do anything.

His last (coherent) words, officially, were “Don’t fucking touch me-!”. At least that made him sound stronger than he actually words. He’d never live it down if he spent his last moments with the ability to speak sobbing and pleading.

After the ordeal, they left him for around ten minutes– Alone, bleeding out, but God did it feel like eternity. When they did return, they loosely patched him up and left him alone again. Coriolanus spent most of his ‘recovery’ period sleeping.. Because what else was there to do? When he wasn’t sleeping, he was staring at his mangled reflection in the little mirror one of Gaul’s assistants had left.

A week later, they tossed him out into the market. Coriolanus wasn't aware the Avox market could be so bustling, but it was.. And, God, was it miserable. Chained and pulled around like a circus animal, put on display.

The things people said made him sick.

"You sure are a pretty one.. But I'm afraid I'm out of room."

"Why is he marked up so high? I know he's a Snow, but geez.. 5k for an Avox is too much."

They talked about him like he was a fucking dog. A dog. He was a Snow, for fucks sake. A Snow! Scratch that, a real person. A person with emotions, thoughts, feelings..

He was sick to his stomach. This was the government he had advocated for?

...

Coriolanus stayed on the market for about a week or so (he couldn't tell. Time was a fucking blur) until someone finally decided to "buy" him. He was loaded into the back of another van and dumped into another basement.

This.. Is my new forever, I guess.

...

He'd fallen asleep again. What else was there to do? He was told he had two weeks to recover before they'd put him to work. At least they had a little humanity. He was the only Avox in the house too, apparently, so he knew he'd be overworked.

Oh well. Nothing I can do now.

Coriolanus was attempting to fall asleep for the millionth time when the door to his room opened, and a stream of light came pouring in..

Followed by a voice he thought he'd never hear again.

"Hey, Coryo. I brought you some soup.."

Sejanus fucking Plinth.

Coriolanus sits up quickly, blinking away the tears. The Plinths are the ones that bought him?!

"Take it easy.." Sejanus sat next to him, holding a glass bowl filled with delicious smelling soup in his hands. "I know you're probably confused.. And scared. I wouldn't blame you."

What the fuck am I supposed to do? Coriolanus wanted to say. He felt his mouth move out of habit. But there was no tongue to move.

"We, uh.. Caught word of what happened. So I begged my parents to buy you.. I think it made my Pa happy, letting him spend some of his money on me." Sejanus stirred the soup with a spoon. "I couldn't risk anything happening to you."

Coriolanus gave him a small hum of acknowledgement. Great. He's going to live out the rest of his days as a servant to the Plinth family? District scum? Ugh.

"Pa put me in charge of taking care of you, so.. We'll be spending a lot of time together, eh?" Sejanus tried to cheer him up with a smile. Stupid boy. The smile faded. "I.. Got you some soup? I dunno how well you can handle food right now, but I didn't want you to go hungry.. You look like you need it."

Sejanus held up the spoon to him like he was a toddler. This is what I've been reduced to. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and let the soup pass. The vibrant taste he was expecting- Courtesy of Ma Plinth- was let down by the taste of nothing. That's odd. Ma's creations are normally delicious–

... Oh.

Another thing. He'd never taste again.

Coriolanus swallowed the soup awkwardly, grimacing. It hurt, but it was better than nothing.

"There you go.." Sejanus hummed, continuing to feed him. "I'll get you as good as new in no time.."

He finished the bowl rather quickly, finding himself disappointed when Sejanus set it to the side. Shouldn't there be more? He's barely had anything in weeks. Refeeding syndrome is a very real thing, but he's gone off of less for longer and eaten more right after.

Sejanus placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're safe now. You're troubles are over, Coryo. I'm gonna make sure of that."

Coriolanus glared at him. You're wrong. They've just begun.

taglist: @officialelioperlman @on-plvto @runningfrom2am @theirgayyourhonour

[flowerandblood]

The Vanity and Variability (3)

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, mention of trauma ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother’s debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Aemond & Miss Baratheon & Vhagar Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in his life had he been so afraid of Sunday. He knew what awaited him then, he knew that the whole town, all the people of Chelsfied would want to meet him and have a few words with him.

He knew how gossip worked, even more so in such small towns, he knew that everyone was already talking about the fact that he was bankrupt, that he had no eye, that he had come to Borros Baratheon's house like a stray dog, begging for his daughters' pennies.

He felt sick at the thought.

Worst of all, he realised, the very people who surely deep down despised and mocked him would pay him compliments, ask about his health and express their joy that someone like him had come to their town.

He knew they would do this, and then they would talk behind his back, whispering about how great his scar on his face was, how he reigned like a lord, how they felt sorry for any of Mr Baratheon's daughters who would receive the unpleasant honour of becoming his wife.

He knew this and had mentally prepared himself for it, but even so, when confronted by such a huge crowd of strangers he panicked, forcing himself out with barely a few words, leaving the whole conversation to Mr Baratheon. He felt embarrassed for himself and thought it couldn't have gone any worse.

When they were finally to be seated he waited impatiently for the youngest Miss Baratheon to take her place and sighed heavily not understanding why it was taking her so long.

"This seat is for Mr Targaryen. After all, we won't let him sit at the back." He heard Floris' words with difficulty and furrowed his brow, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye.

"There's enough room for everyone." Whispered her younger sister, impatient and tired of the humiliations that had been endless since he had appeared in their house.

"There isn't." She replied lightly, something akin to mischievous amusement in her voice.

He watched in silence as the youngest Miss Baratheon withdrew and walked to the bench behind them, sitting down resignedly, looking down at her hands, her father turned to her and asked her quietly what she was doing.

He decided that he had no intention of sitting next to this insolent girl and putting up with her solicitation or the, obviously casual, touch of her body, which she would surely cling to him as soon as he sat down next to her.

Therefore, he joined her younger sister at the back, recognising that his reputation in this place was ruined anyway, so it didn't matter if he sat in the first or last pew.

He just wanted holy peace and quiet.

He saw Floris turn to him, frowning her eyebrows, surprised and displeased by his decision, wanting to say something already, but he didn't even let her open her mouth.

"Please attend to your prayers, Miss Baratheon." He growled coolly, and she flushed with a blush of shame and turned away, correcting her hat as if nothing had happened. He felt her little sister's gaze on him and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, frustrated.

"Can't you concentrate on prayer in the house of God either, Miss Baratheon?" He rebuked her in a dry, frustrated voice, and she shook her head quickly, pulling a prayer book from her small bag.

He was relieved that he had chosen his prayer companion well, for Mr Baratheon's youngest daughter was focused the whole time and did not look at him, absorbed in her own thoughts.

He knew she was only pretending.

He knew she was thinking only of him, like her other silly sisters wanting to be princesses in a magical palace.

Even though he had told her not to look at him, now it was he who glanced at her all the time, wanting to catch her in the act, to prove to himself that he was not at all mistaken, that she was not at all different from them.

Neither Cassandra, nor Floris, nor Ellyn, nor Maris could stand it; each of them turned at least once in his direction, and he felt like laughing at the pathetic sight.

He was frustrated and tired.

He felt like a sold-out object in the eyes of his family, a way to royalty in the eyes of the general's daughters and a nobody in the eyes of the people around him who knew absolutely nothing about him.

He was alone.

As they stood up to receive the eucharist, he let her pass in front of him and drew in the air feeling her body rub up against him, her pleasant scent reaching his nose.

Had she done this on purpose?

He stood behind her in the line, looking at her intensely, hoping that when she took communion and turned back towards the pews, she would throw him a look that would reveal everything about her.

She, however, did not even turn her face towards him.

He sat down beside her, a little closer than before, watching for her reaction, but she was still staring absently ahead, her fingers wandering involuntarily over the soft material of the cover of her prayer book.

What was she thinking about so strenuously?

He opened his knees a little, just a little, so that their legs came into contact almost imperceptibly. He felt her flinch, her fingers moved in an anxious gesture as she swallowed loudly, but she did not turn her face towards him.

He pressed his lips together, glancing at her once in a while. He grunted and corrected himself in his seat, pressing his knee harder against her leg, looking at her expectantly.

Look at me.

Stop pretending.

He could see that her breathing had become anxious, that her figure trembled with uncertainty and fear, her hands clenched tightly on her book.

And suddenly he had an idea.

Why not play with her?

Alys loved it.

Subconscious, innocent coquettishness.

His hand from his knee went over her fingers, which clenched panic-stricken at the object on her thighs, and he grinned with satisfaction, knowing that she thought he wanted to touch her so directly, so indecently. At the last moment, before his hand touched her skin he grabbed her prayer book and with a slow movement pulled it from her grasp.

He took her book as if nothing had happened and began to look through it, recognising that it was really old and beautifully published, it must have been at least 20 years old by now. He felt her face turned towards him, but she still wasn't looking at him, her hands lying on her lap was trembling.

"Please, sir, give it back to me." He heard her faint whisper, and he murmured under his breath, delighted that she was finally speaking to him, taking some strange pleasure in her helplessness.

They both knew full well that this was what she wanted.

A little bit of his attention so that she had something to think about at night.

"What harm am I doing? I am merely looking at it, Miss Baratheon." He hummed softly, licking his finger, turning another page. He knew she saw the gesture, felt her whole body tense up when he did.

Come on, answer something ambiguous, play with me.

"Please. This is my only memento of my mother." She mumbled with difficulty, and he froze.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy, his knee immediately pulled away from her body. He grunted loudly, feeling a sudden dryness in his throat, and handed the prayer book back to her.

When he felt the touch of her skin he involuntarily mussed it with his thumb barely, as if in a gesture of apology for having completely misunderstood her reaction to what he was doing.

He glanced at her with his lips pressed together and felt a tightening in his pit, a sudden chill went through his body when he saw that she was crying.

She didn't make a sound, her body and lips trembled slightly, tear after tear ran down her cheek and she wiped them away with her hands, looking straight ahead, her eyebrows twisted in pain.

He clenched his hand into a fist feeling only the shame overpowering him.

Of course she didn't want to flirt with him now.

What was he thinking?

He wanted to apologise to her as soon as the liturgy was over, but she got up at once, literally running out of the church. He looked at her with his lips slightly open, not knowing whether to stay or run after her, what he should do.

He finally left quickly, deciding that he couldn't leave it like that, that he couldn't let her tell her father about it. Heedless of Floris' and Cassandra's calls, he ran a little way, come to think of it no one of his status was likely to do so, and saw her round the bend in the village road.

She turned towards him hopefully, evidently thinking that he was her brother, but when she caught sight of him a moan of disappointment and pain broke from her lips, which for some reason made him feel even worse. Her face was flooded with tears.

"Miss Baratheon. Forgive me. I have no idea what has gotten into me." He mumbled with difficulty, not knowing how to properly apologise for what he had done, how to explain the momentary eclipse that had apparently descended upon his mind that he had allowed himself to behave in such a way.

She looked at him, breathing hard, and after a moment she shook her head, pain and some kind of immense weariness in her eyes.

"I don't understand you, sir. I try, but I don't. You are cruel. You humiliate me and my sisters knowing that we do not stand in a position to oppose you. I would like to be your friend, but I am not sure you could be a friend to anyone, let alone a person of such low position as myself." She burst out on the verge of crying and despair, then turned and moved with a quick step towards her house.

A moment later, Cassandra and Floris ran up to him asking what had happened, what their sister had done again, and he did not answer them.

You are cruel.

I would like to be your friend, but I am not sure you could be a friend to anyone, let alone a person of such low position as myself.

These words rang in his ears for the next few days and he felt like he was going completely mad. She avoided him, did not look at him or speak to him.

He kept repeating to himself that this was one less tiresome sister, that at least she was no longer taking Vhagar away from him despite the fact that his dog missed her and howled at her door when they returned from walks. Still, even though he pretended that this change suited him, he couldn't stop thinking about what she had said.

I would like to be your friend.

What did she mean by that?

He had never had a friend. He didn't have access to other, strange children because his grandfather considered them unworthy and feral, that he and his siblings would pick up bad habits from them.

He could not say he was friends with Aegon or Helaena, for they were never close. He loved Daeron, but he was his younger brother, not a confidant.

He realised then with amusement and embarrassment that he had no friends.

He had never needed them and did not feel that this should change now.

Nonetheless, he felt a kind of discomfort as he walked with Vhagar to the shore of the lake where she had fallen asleep with him at the time, and as soon as she spotted him from afar she got up and set off back home, greeting only his dog on the way.

He wanted to stop her, to talk to finally alleviate this tense atmosphere, but he couldn't get anything out himself.

To his despair, Cassandra, Floris and Maris had insisted for so long on organising a ball with dances at their estate that Mr Baratheon finally gave in.

He hated dancing, hated the fact that everyone was then looking at him and talking about him, his scar, his eye patch, the fact that he was poorly mannered for a man from London since he allowed ladies without a partner to have to sit.

He didn't have the strength to explain how tired he was of such entertainment, how he only dreamed during it that he could already go back to his room and lock himself in there with his dog and his books.

Therefore, he was not surprised by the surreptitious, disgruntled glances of the guests, who did not understand why instead of asking one of his future chosen ones to dance, he was sitting with his legs crossed, tapping his fingers on the table top, looking around, bored.

He knew what they thought of him and he didn't have the strength to try to change it.

He watched from the corner of his eye as Mr Baratheon's youngest daughter danced with her brother, her gown, like that of her sisters, was all white with a high waist, long gloves halfway down her arm on her hands.

In her front curls, which were arranged at the back of her head in a small bun, were pinned the white field flowers he had seen walking with Vhagar once before, the rest of her hair was loose, waving slightly with her every movement.

He had to admit that they were both excellent dancers and he could see by the joy on their faces that they were taking great pleasure in this, their figures turning with lightness and to the rhythm. He thought, watching them these few days, that they were very close to each other and he partly envied them the bond that he himself had never managed to establish with his siblings.

However, he felt a strange kind of unease, as if a tingling in his chest, when he saw her being asked for her next dance by a colonel whom he remembered from balls held in London.

Colonel Larys Strong was a strange and disturbing man to say the least in his eyes. He knew him because the affair between his brother, Colonel Harwin Strong, and his half-sister, Rheanyra, had been the talk of London.

Everyone suspected that her children did not come from her first marriage, but just from their union, which would make her children bastards, which indeed he believed them to be.

Nevertheless, it was Larys who seemed more dangerous to him, for his conversations with women, which he sometimes listened to from the sidelines, bored, were inappropriate, impertinent and ambiguous to say the least, often embarrassing them. He would pick out young, naive girls in love with uniforms and male prowess.

He thought, looking at the youngest Miss Baratheon, that he couldn't have chosen a better target, and tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek, looking at them in thought.

He wondered if he should warn her, inform her to be wary of this man knowing what intentions he might have had for her. He hesitated, recognising that this was why she had her older brother and father to watch over her. On the other hand, he reminded himself that they did not know his nature and he felt anxious again, playing with his fingers extended on his armrest in a nervous gesture.

I am not sure you could be a friend to anyone, let alone a person of such low position as myself.

He rose slowly from the chair he was sitting on, to the surprise of Floris and Maris, who had accompanied him the whole time, playing cards with each other.

They led him away with curious eyes as they watched him disappear between the crowd of guests, circling around the dancing Miss Baratheon and Colonel Strong, making sure that his hand did not slip too low or that he did not slide too close to her.

He pressed his lips together seeing that as soon as the dance was over, Colonel Strong immediately leaned over to ask her for another dance, a shadow of uncertainty flashed across her face.

He recognised that she was too young and inexperienced for him to watch idly as this man pestered her.

For this reason, he did the first thing that came to his mind. On a sudden impulse, he moved towards them, meeting the surprised stares of the conversing couple, and bowed before asking Miss Baratheon if she would honour him with her next dance.

She looked at him in disbelief and for a moment probably wanted to refuse him, but then she glanced at Colonel Strong. She lowered her gaze and nodded, embarrassed.

Colonel Strong made room for him, glancing at him surreptitiously, and he, whether he wanted to or not, now had to trudge through the few minutes of this torture and then face the critical stares and remarks that he had danced with General Baratheon's youngest daughter first, rather than the eldest.

They bowed to each other and then moved, passing between other couples, her hand on his. He decided that since it was appropriate to talk while dancing anyway, and everyone was looking at them, he preferred to divert his attention and convey to her what he had wanted to say all along.

"I would not trust Colonel Strong if I were you, Miss Baratheon." He said dryly, turning with her, glancing impatiently to the side. They made another move and her hand covered by the material of her glove was again on his, he met her gaze, uncertain and sad.

"You are quick to pass judgement, sir." She declared with a kind of resentment from which he furrowed his brow, but again they had to separate, avoiding the other couples, in those few seconds he thought through what he wanted to reply to this accusation. When her hand was in his again, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"In his case, I have very solid reasons for that." He stated coolly and she blinked, swallowing hard, clearly wondering whether to believe him. He couldn't look away from the white flowers pinned into her hair, he thought they suited her and reflected her person well.

"It seems to me that it is easy to lose your good opinion, let alone gain it." She replied surprisingly seriously for how she usually spoke, he could feel the tension between them every time they came close again, their hands on each other's arms.

"I thought I was the one who was quick to pass judgement." He mused, not taking his eyes off her, and she flushed and lowered her gaze, embarrassed that he had turned her own words against her. Involuntarily the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk of satisfaction.

Teasing her gave him an disturbing amount of pleasure.

She glared at him, a little giving in and a little fighting, recognising that she would make one more attempt to point out to him what she thought of him. They turned their backs to each other and moved sideways, avoiding the couples who passed between them and stood at the very end, facing each other again, her fingers back in his hands.

"Why is my conversation with Colonel Strong so preoccupying you?" She asked curiously, wrinkling her brow, her cheeks red from embarrassment and exertion after another dance in a row, some of the tiny strands of her hair stuck to her face.

Her face seemed pleasantly soft in its shape to him.

"Friendly concern." He replied dryly, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief, her eyes large, widened in surprise, for she had completely not expected such words. She swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze, her lips pressed together.

She gave up.

"Then it remains for me to thank you, sir." She said a little more softly, lifting her gaze to him not so displeased and hurt anymore, some kind of warmth and relief was painted on her face.

"Hmm." He hummed and they stopped in front of themselves at last, the music around them ended and people began to clap.

As was the good custom he escorted her to the side, glancing at the table where Floris and Maris sat, Cassandra standing behind them had tears in her eyes. He let out a quiet breath, knowing what awaited him when it was all over.

"Don't worry, sir, I'll tell them that you danced with me just to rescue me from this intrusive man." She said softly seeing where he was looking, sensing subconsciously what he was thinking about.

He hummed under his breath again, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, measuring her with his look from top to bottom.

"Why?" He asked dryly, and she smiled at him in a way that made him warm.

"Friendly concern."

_____

Taglist 1

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[bellarkeselection]

Kacey Dutton x reader

Readers out with kayce she hears a familiar voice and knows it's her abusive ex so she starts to run but kayce follows her in the restroom she tells him kayce calms her down " stay with me "

Dutton's Are Better

We got off of the truck walking inside the local bar. I found a spot near the bar that had two empty bar stools available. The bartender came over and we each got a beer. Kayce shifted the black cowboy hat on his head looking at me. “Sorry this isn't nothing fancy for date night.” 

“It doesn’t have to be. I've had a whole life of it.” Turning my head in the direction of the young Dutton. 

Kayce sent me a smile back. “Yeah.” 

Kayce and I had met the day after his sister came into a confrontation between her and my father Roarke Morris. The company he works for wants to build an apartment on the land that the reservation and the Dutton families own. I first believed it was a good idea to make some change but seeing it now it would be horrible to ruin this place. “So what is so different about this date night then any of our others.” 

“Why do you want to know?” He asked me sitting his beer bottle down in front of him. 

I take a drink from my bottle. “You told me this was going to be a little different than our others. I wanna know how?” 

At first we thought we'd always be enemies for as long as my father wanted to help destroy his way of life. He showed me the ranch one day when I was curious and wished to see it for myself. From that evening on some spark was born that we couldn't deny. Kayce reaches down into his pocket while getting down from his stool. “I was thinking we did this back at the ranch. But here works too I guess if you don't need some big spectacle.” 

“Kayce, I'm serious. You could propose to me with a lollipop ring for all I care and I'd be happy  - wait, are you actually proposing?” 

Sure enough before my eyes Kayce John Dutton lowered himself down on one knee. “Y/n, I love you. I didn't think I would give my heart to anyone else after my divorce and then you came around. I thought we were going to tear the other apart by how much we fought. But somehow we've made it past that. So will you marry me?” 

“Yes. I will-” 

“Y/n, is that you?” My entire body froze where I spun on my feet seeing a familiar guy walking up to me. 

I gulped nervously, bolting away from Kayce only uttering one name I wished I could forget. “Dylan…” Spinning in my boots throwing my hair around in the air leaving the young Dutton on a knee in front of me. 

“Y/n!” Kayce called my name getting up from the ground. 

Rushing my way through the hallway to the bathroom I pushed through the door. Shutting it behind myself I plastered my body up against the door. “He can’t be here now…he said he would never live out here.” 

“Y/n, hey are you okay?” I heard Kaycee’s voice on the other side. 

I croaked feeling a tightness in my chest beginning to form. “I’m fine, Kayce. I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Did I do something wrong. I should have listened to Beth when she said proposing was too soon for us.” 

I snapped at him. “No that’s not it.” 

“Then what has you freaked out?” Kayce asked with concern in his tone. 

I slowly turned around on my feet staring at the door figuring he was standing on the other side of the wooden door. “I saw my ex Dylan say my name out there. I never thought I’d see that abusive asshole again in my life.” Threading my fingers into my hair I knotted it up, sniffing through tears I didn’t want him to hear me sobbing. 

“Y/n, listen to me. Please let me in. I can hear you crying darling.” Kayce spoke to me and before I knew it he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He stands in front of me gently closing the door behind him so we had privacy and locked it too. “Y/n?…”

I parted my mouth open slightly, mumbling out his name until I broke down sobbing. “Kayce…” 

“Woah hey hey. Come here, darling.” He paused, opening his arms out for me. I raced into his embrace clutching the fabric of his brown jacket in my finger tips. 

I cried into his chest for the next few minutes until I lifted my head up and he wiped the fallen tears on my cheeks. “What if he’s here to try and win me back?” 

“That won’t be happening, baby. I love you and I’m hoping that you feel the same and I can slip a ring on ya. That sends a clearer message than anything…but only if you want to.” 

I squeezed his hands in mine realizing I never told him my answer. “Yes, yes I'll marry you Kayce.” 

He smiled reaching inside his jacket drawing out a ring. The ring was simple with one jewel in the middle that I got to look at when he slid it on my finger. “Don't worry about Dylan if he tries to come over and touch you I'll set him straight.” Kayce holds out his freehand and grabbed the door to open it with his other hand. 

“Thank you, Kayce.” I placed my hand in his and we walked back to our seats. The evening went fine till we tried to leave so Kayce did end up knocking my ex on the ground with a punch. Thankfully no charges were put on him since we later found out from the sheriff that my ex Dylan was plastered drunk. 

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[glittervame]

(Theodore nott x Fem!Reader)

(It's sorta long and I didn't really know where I was going with this it was kind of a spur-in-the-moment type thing)

As Y/n, the shy Ravenclaw girl, hurried down the dusty, candlelit corridor of Hogwarts Castle, her emerald-green robes flowing behind her like the wings of a bird, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of unease creeping up on her. It wasn't often that she found herself feeling this way, especially since she was always so good at hiding her emotions. But today was different; today, as she turned the corner and nearly collided with Theodore, a shy Slytherin boy she barely knew, her heart started to race, and her cheeks flushed with a blush she couldn't control.

Theodore, on the other hand, seemed to be having quite the opposite reaction. His normally steely-gray eyes widened in surprise, and his black hair, usually slicked back so perfectly, seemed to stand on end. For a brief moment, they locked gazes, and in that instant, Y/n felt a strange tingling sensation course through her veins.

Just as she was about to say something, to break the silence that had fallen between them, Theodore's face turned beet red, and he mumbled an apology, quickly stepping aside to let her pass. Y/n watched as he hurried down the hall in the opposite direction, his shoulders slumped and his head hung low. Something about his demeanor struck her as familiar, yet she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She knew that she should probably just continue on her way, but for some reason, she found herself lingering in the spot where they had crossed paths, staring after him until he disappeared around the corner. Deciding that she had wasted enough time already, Y/n forced herself to turn and head toward her next class.

The next time they ran into each other Y/n gave him a cookie apologizing saying, "You know you're such a sweetheart" with a big smile, then going on her way. Theo watched her leave with a blushing face and couldn't help but smile at her thoughtfulness. He had to admit, he was starting to like her.

Over the next few days, they would bump into each other more and more, always exchanging small talk or sharing a joke. It was clear that they had something in common, but neither one of them was aware of it, them being oblivious in all.

They had become friends, quickly taking interest in each other. When they had time away from their friends they would always hang out with each other. Theo would try to find ways to spend more time with Y/n.

Theo had never felt this way about anyone before, he was falling for her hard. He wanted to tell her how he felt but he was too shy and didn't want to ruin their friendship. Y/n was starting to feel something different too, but she didn't want to admit it. She enjoyed spending time with Theo and didn't want to ruin it by bringing up her feelings. She knew that if she did, it might change everything between them.

The days turned into weeks, and the more time they spent together, the harder it became for either of them to deny the growing attraction they felt for each other. They found themselves constantly looking for excuses to be near one another, whether it was studying together in the library or simply walking side by side down the hallway.

One day, as they were sitting on a bench outside near the greenhouses, Theodore's friends decided that they couldn't take it anymore. They had seen the way he looked at her, the way his cheeks flushed whenever she was around. They knew that he was falling for her, and they were tired of seeing him suffer in silence.

Mattheo, one of Theodore's closest friends, took him aside and confronted him about his feelings. At first, Theo tried to deny it, but Mattheo wasn't buying it. He could see the truth written all over his friend's face. After much prodding and cajoling, Mattheo came up with a plan to get them together.

Meanwhile, across the quad, Y/n was having a similar conversation with her friends. They had noticed the way Theodore looked at her too and had been waiting for her to make a move. When she didn't, stating that the two of them were just friends, they decided that it was time to step in and help her see what was right in front of her. So they team up with Mattheo and his friends to make it happen.

That night, while Theo was studying for an upcoming DADA test he found a note neatly tucked into a pocket of his bag. 'Kiss the girl' was written in very swirly red ink, the note itself was anonymous but Theo new where It had come from. Rolling his eyes he chose to ignore it and shoved it into his book.

The next day, they were walking to potions, Theo always felt calmer around Y/n like he was right where he needed to be.

"Hey, you want to study in the library for a bit? I mean, if you want. I know it's sort of early for us to be hanging out alone, but…" Theo trailed off, not wanting to make it seem like he was forcing her.

Y/n smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "I'd actually like that," she said softly. "I mean, we spend so much time together anyway, it's not like it's anything new." She laughed lightly, trying to play it off.

The two of them walked to the library in comfortable silence, their shoulders brushing against each other every now and then. When they found an empty table, they sat down side by side, opening up their textbooks.

After a few minutes of studying, Theo couldn't help but glance over at her. He thought she was pretty like that, the way that her lose hair framed her face or the way her rosy lips formed a frown when she was concentrating too hard. Or maybe it was the ways her freckles looked in the flickering candle light. Without thinking, he reached out and gently pushed it back behind her ear.

Y/n looked up at him, their eyes meeting. For a moment, neither of them said anything. There was an intensity to the air between them that had felt before but both chose to ignore. Theo's heart began to race, and he felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her right then and there.

But before he could muster up the courage to do anything, Y/n spoke. "Theo…" she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I think I need to tell you something." Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and she bit her lip nervously.

Theo looked at her, his heart thudding against his rib cage. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, and his stomach felt like it was tied in knots. The words just tumbled out of his mouth, he couldn't do anything about it, "Y/n before you say anything, I just want to say that I really like you and I've had a great time hanging out with each other."

This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for, and dreading, all at the same time. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever she was about to say.

"Theo…," she started again, in a warm toan "I… I think I feel the same way about you." There was a long pause as her words hung in the air between them. Theo felt like time had stopped altogether. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Finally, he found his voice. "You do?" he managed to croak out. "You mean… you like me?"

Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. "I… I really like you, Theo. I've liked you for a while now. I just didn't want to… I didn't want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward."

Theo felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was glad that she felt the same way. "Can I….," He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers, their first kiss. It was soft and tentative, he grabbed her chin gently pressing against her lips a little harder before pulling away.

They were both flushed and breathless. Theo couldn't help but grin like an idiot as he looked into Y/n's eyes. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, running a finger down her cheek.

She laughed softly, her cheeks still red. "Me too," she said, before leaning forward and kissing him again.

[strawberryforks]

your favourite nuisance // red hood x vigilante!reader

summary: you have another run-in with the red hood. this time you’re the one doing the annoying—defeating his target before he even gets to the scene. your vigilante name is striker!

warnings: violence, swearing

word count: 1036

a/n: striker!reader is such a fun character to write and i will probably continue to do so! that said, request/asks are open and encouraged as always!

you get the villain red hood was after. by the time he arrives to the fight, they’re being carted off by police. they’ll be headed to arkham, instead of carted off in a body bag destined for the morgue and the red hood–you add a ‘the’ because it makes his name sound more threatening, and right now, stalking towards you, he looks threatening. at least a head taller than you and wearing that stupid mask that should make it infuriatingly easy to hide his emotions–but he wastes that opportunity. his body language gives him away every time and you swear you can almost see steam billowing out of his ears like some ready-to-explode, red-with-rage, cartoon character. “red hood,” you acknowledge. “nice to see you.”

he starts shouting and you ignore him. you turn into an alleyway, keeping your back to him as you walk away. in gotham, there are very few people you would trust to stand behind you, to watch your back and not jam a knife in it. you’re really surprised when you realise red hood, the red hood, is one of those people you trust. you laugh a little, shaking your head all the while. glancing into a puddle, you see red hood’s reflection storming after you, getting closer and closer. you don’t change your pace. you aren’t trying to avoid a confrontation, you actually don’t care at all. as far as you’re concerned it’s inevitable. you knew what you were doing taking down a villain red hood laid claim to. you knew what would happen, how he’d react and you did it anyway. You’re not trying to avoid confrontation, you’re just trying to move it away from the reporter who had been lingering beside your crime scene, wanting the scoop. you happily gave her the details you could, but didn’t want your generosity being a mistake.

you didn’t want to go home and find yours and red hood’s faces in the paper. not for fighting. not for anything else. drama was something you tended to stay out of and this was different, okay? you weren’t being dramatic, you were simply having fun. red hood was as much a rival as he was a friend. you would never ever voice that, but it made it no less true.

in another puddle you see his hand raise. Before he can grab your arm and force you to look at him, you spin around. you face him but only because you want to (not because, never because, if he really wanted you looking into his eyes he would be able to make you and that could be incredibly embarrassing)

you smile up at him, all fake-niceness. you pat his shoulder, “aw, don’t worry red. i’m sure you’ll get ‘em next time. if not, i left some of the small fishes for you.

“what the hell striker?”

“get over yourself, red. you’ve ruined my day more times than i can count, it’s time you see how it feels.”

he scoffed. “more times than you can count? you’re going to have to go back to school sweetheart because vigilantism doesn’t pay the bills and if you can’t count to twenty eight not even the supermarket near crime alley will hire you.”

“twenty eight? has the red hood been counting our encounters?” you laugh, being flooded with all sorts of ridiculous mental imagery–red hood scribbling in a pink notebook, red hood writing with a dry erase marker on the fridge, red hood, get this, looking forward to seeing you. jeez, you’re laughing so hard your stomach aches.

“do you journal? ‘dear diary, today i saw striker for the fifteenth time! i stole her thunder, ruined her night, and she went home and cried into ramen. ah, such a productive day fueled by tears, the blood left on my suit from the needless slaughter i just love to partake in, newspaper headlines, and assholery!’ is that about right?”

“shut the hell up.”

“i don’t think i will. besides, you don’t want me to. you’d be bored and have nothing to write about.”

“i wouldn’t be bored. there's a clear difference between bored and peaceful. also, i don’t write about you. i don’t even like you, striker.” okay, ouch. the big guy might as well have punched you in the nose because that one hurt a surprising amount.

you recovered quickly, never letting your mask (metaphoric) fall, your actual mask you didn’t need to worry about. it was as secure as secure got. covering your nose and mouth, all that could be seen was your eyes and on nights where you knew things would get messy, you wore goggles, rose tinted ones, that blood couldn’t stain, that you had commissioned from a seller on etsy. “you do too! i’m your favourite nuisance.”

“you aren’t.” he says immediately. hating you is one of his reflexes, how sweet. “you’re like my third favourite nuisance.”

you raise an eyebrow. just one. it’s as accusing as it is amusing.

“second…” he trails off. “alright, goddammit. yeah, you’re my favourite nuisance. happy?

“fucking ecstatic, actually red.” you grin and if you had to guess–he rolls his eyes.

“that villain,” back to business, as always. you straighten your spine and prepare for the scolding of a lifetime. you tilt your chin up and glare at his mask. “that was my target and you know it. that said, you did a good job.”

“if he hangs himself in his cell at arkham i’ll know it was you. i’ll be pissed–wait, red, there’s no way that you just said that. that was so a compliment. the only thing missing and making you seem awful was the fact you forgot to say ‘thank you!’ wow, regardless, i’m proud. honoured, even.”

“next time let me handle it.”

“you’re welcome!” you say in a sing-song voice. one that’s way too cheery for the other vigilante’s liking.

“striker?”

“yeah?”

“you really are a nuisance.”

“i like to put the emphasis on ‘favourite’ but sure, that works.” you slide past him in the alleyway, heading out. you stop on your tippy toes to whisper your goodbyes and don’t miss the blinding camera flash or the gawking reporter at the entrance of the alleyway.

[butterflypeatea3456]

Soft yan!Ser Criston Cole x Reader x Soft yan!Rhaenyra HC

Part 1

Warning: Unhealthy relationship, minor wounds, you know the drill

Criston Cole only had eyes for the princess. Not the young ladies she often accompanied, especially not you. The one he met because of her. The girl who was often linked arm and arm with Rhaenyra. He didn't notice the toothy grins you'd shoot at him, or your challenging gaze whenever you were forbidden to do something. Or the small pricks in your fingers and hands. The sample sizes of fine fabrics you always had stuffed in your pockets. He was a loyal guard to the heir of the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra first laid eyes on you while pouring wine into a Lord's cup. It was hard not to notice the only other women in the room. There you were standing behind your uncle's chair, in a soft bluish-purple gown. It was a relatively simple dress so to speak, but the design, the colors, and jewels made it a work of art. Her gaze traveled up your figure till she met your eye. It her by surprise when you walked over, greeting her warmly, by holding both her hands.

Former Lady Alicent, now Queen and you were never particularly close. Content on spending time together whenever Rhaenyra was involved. You'd be a fool not to notice the growing rift between the two since Alicent married the King. You spent many nights consoling Rhaenyra, from the loss of their friendship, the stress of being heir, and fears that her father was replacing her. And that one day you would leave her through death like her mother or fade away like Alicent. "You truly are the only one I have left"

You pulled Criston aside more than once to make sure you both were doing your best supporting her. The amount of care you showed warmed his heart. A part of him yearned to be as close as Rhaenyra was to you. But would be improper and fuel rumors that could hurt you both. Your family might take you away from King's Landing, and that wasn't an option. "Of course my lady we need to stay close by"

When rumor's started flying around the castle about Prince Daemon taking Rhaenyra's maidenhood, the first thing you did was confront her. She confessed as soon as you pressed her, that it was not Daemon she bedded but Ser Cole. Small jabs of jealousy pricked at you, but deep down you could not tell who you were jealous of. But that didn't stop you from defending her at every turn. Whether it caused a scene or not. Those actions set Rhaenyra's love for you in stone. You were the only one that fought for her. You didn't look at her any differently like Alicent had, or was furious like Visery's.

Your defense of Cole was more subtle. Knowing very well what breaking his oath and laying with the princess would mean for him. Though Criston did very much notice your soft passive aggressiveness when you first found out. He tried not to let it get to him until he couldn't. Finally, you fessed up when he confronted you alone in the halls. Leaning in your warm breath tingled his ear as you revealed what you knew. His heart dropped, you knew of his worst deed. Seeing the dreadful look on his face, you swore secrecy to him. Going as far as to prick your finger with a sewing needle. His gloved reached yours as he planted a soft kiss on your hand. But it didn't stop the small seed of anger at Rhaenyra for ruining his good image to you.

You don't know where things went wrong. But somewhere along the line things went very wrong. It was like the trio of you, Criston, and Rhaenyra evaporated overnight. As cordial as they both were in front of you. It was hard to ignore the bitter looking being thrown around. And the fact that they were no longer speaking. You were practically with Rhaenyra 24/7 afterwords. And Criston started appearing by Alicent's side more and more. In your heart you knew that things would never be the same between you three. And it was only a matter of time before things reached a boiling point.

[atc-tatiana]

Some silly head-canon for the proxy

(None of these characters are mine)

Creepypasta(Yandere proxy xreader)

Okay let’s start by saying this, Brian is no more he is no longer with us. But Hoodie is, and he will have some scars on his body and face. Then the second one Tim aka Masky, he has both personality still. Tim a clueless man that still thinks that he can disobey the operator. A silly man indeed. And with Masky he is very aggressive to other people that don’t look familiar. Finally Toby, he is not childish and he certainly isn’t obsessive with waffles. Toby is very cold and very clueless but won’t talk about it. And Toby has slenderman and Masky and Hoodie has The operator. Okay let’s get start with the head canons with these killers.

Tim(Masky)

Okay Tim would most likely be the one you want to stick with all of the time. Tim will know how to defend you even if he has to get into fights with those two. You expect he’ll help you escape but no. And he feel guilty for forcing you to stay with them. The good thing about him is that he will let you out( You don't have to make puppy dog eyes to convince him to let you walk outside.) Everything about him is more lean and you can get away with a lot with Tim.

Masky a phsyco path, and I’m not lying. Masky is much more serious and he doesn’t understand why you would want to leave. He like to think of himself your number one lover. He is less impatient with you so if he tells you to do something, you have to do it. Or he’ll ignore everything you need, or want. He did it once before leaving you alone with your thoughts an in empty stomach and room.

And how he looks now after all those years, is a little different. Tim still has a dad body but more muscle wight, he is much more stronger then he used to be. But still very cute. Masky still have to wait his turn to go and see you. Tim Will probably never spend his time in that cabin with you. The guilt will just break him.

Hoodie

A man that is just a ticking time boom, but very calculating. All these years loneliness, trying to survive, and losing a part of him. Don’t you think he would grief over his lost and his fuck up life. He did but now he is in control of this body. No more blacking out or waiting for Brian to surrender to the operator.

Hoodie is just someone you don’t want to push hard. He doesn’t know humans emotions as he used to. So he might mistake excitement with sarcastic. Or sadness with anger. He’ll will threaten you with his gun if he feel you being ungrateful of his love or the things he gets for you. But don’t worry he keeps his gun unloaded, but you don’t know that. But he is not as bad, when he actually sees that you are sad he’ll pull you up and confront you. He will(if you are good.) will read you a story. He is very nonchalant

Toby

Toby is a killer, who just doesn’t understand why he kept you alive. You ruined his cold heart and you made him insecure about everything. His now long hair is always covering his huge gush. His body still lean but with a bit of muscle, his hair is long. And he can control his mental health more then he used too. But he still have heavy mood swings. You have to watch out for that, he’ll probably break your lambs or even try to bite the side of your face so you could match him.

Toby is always trying to impress you with giving you flowers. Or trying to dance with you in night. He’ll even watch other people outside or on a movie to impress you. Sometimes you’ll get to see him and sometimes you’ll never see him for a whole month

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #9

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: mild disordered eating

Only a few hours into the night, Kit woke up hungry. 

He had noticed that humans ate less than fae, but he’d gotten used to nothing at all. He thought he could manage on a light diet, but Kit had not seen luck for over a year.

He got out of bed, picking up his discarded clothes. 

Mistress had said he could eat when he needed to, and Kit’s stomach felt empty and demanding. 

He didn’t want to wake anyone. Kit was lower than a servant; he had no right to ask anything of the staff. And they might talk.

Kit stepped out into the hall.

Sir Maxus and a lady knight stood outside Iris’s door, dressed in leather armor.

“Where’re you going?” asked Maxus.

Kit hesitated. “The kitchen,” he admitted.

“I’ll walk you over.”

The silence was uneasy and awkward. 

Kit at least knew that Brennan: 

1. Didn’t trust or like him

And

2. Was very loyal to Iris

He didn’t know anything about Maxus, who was only behind Brennan in how often he was assigned to the queen.

“So…” said Maxus, “do fae have knights too?”

“I suppose. It’s not exactly the same duties, but the Prince has knights.”

“Prince? No king or queen?”

Kit shrugged. “Not for a long time.”

“Oh.” 

The torches on the wall sconces danced, casting warm light out into the hall. The castle was quiet and still, and Kit looked out the windows to see the stars.

The kitchen was just as silent, and Maxus leaned against a counter, watching.

Kit rifled through the storage. He found a cut of meat, wrapped up and fresh, and it made his mouth water. It was just one of many similar cuts, and they wouldn’t miss it, right?

There were berries in a jar, and the best find was a covered pitcher of heavy cream chilled in the dairy.

Kit poured some cream into a ceramic cup before putting the pitcher back. 

He didn’t bother with cooking, or finding cutlery, instead tearing off strips of meat and eating it raw.

He savored each bite. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was eating after a hunt, in peace. At home.

But Maxus’s presence ruined the illusion. 

Kit shook out the berries into the palm of his hand, and he ate the whole pint.

He slowly sipped at the cream, until it was gone.

Kit wiped the juices of the meat off the marble counter, and washed the cup and jar as best as he could.

Maxus walked him back to the royal wing without comment.

___________________

Iris didn’t say anything in the morning. He half expected Sir Brennan to confront him, but it seemed Maxus didn’t report his midnight meal.

Kit decided not to mention it to his Mistress. She had given him permission to eat, after all. Plus, Iris was so busy with other things and thoughts; she didn’t need more to worry about. 

Especially something unusual that could cause gossip.

___________________

The next night, he woke up hungry again.

Maybe it was a good sign that his appetite was returning in full swing. He didn’t even get dizzy in the kitchen the night before.

Maxus and the lady knight were stationed in the hall again.

Sir Maxus walked Kit to the kitchen.

“Aren’t you eating enough during the day?” he asked as Kit tucked into a loaf of bread, cheese, and more delicious cream.

Kit put down the cup. 

“I- I mean, I’m not judging or anything, I’m just wondering. You look really hungry.”

Kit looked away, fidgeting.

“Is the appetite a fae thing?” Maxus asked gently. “You guys eat more than we do?”

Kit nodded, his ears turning pink. He didn’t want to say it out loud. He was a foreigner, and even though mortals were just as strange to him as he was to them, it was unwise to draw attention.

He was at their mercy, after all. He was a slave.

“Maybe you should talk to Christine? To get bigger portions or something?”

Kit shook his head. He knew Iris’s aunt already judged him for declining wine, and someone had put salt in his food. Either on purpose, or an accident, it didn’t matter. Mortals just did food differently, and he was the outlier. 

He imagined the looks he’d get if his plate had twice the amount of the people sitting next to him.

“It would embarrass my Mistress,” he whispered, unwilling to break the serene quiet of the kitchen.

“If you say so,” said Maxus, unconvinced. “Still, just… write Chef a note or something, so she doesn’t wonder about the missing stuff.”

Kit nodded. “Yes, sir.” He could do that.

They walked back after Kit cleaned up, in silence.

___________________

“You’re looking better,” commented Iris the next morning.

“Hm?”

She gestured to his face as she ate her toast.

“You have some color in your cheeks. That’s good, right?”

“Oh. Yes.”

He did feel better. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but he didn’t feel so bad when he got up in the morning. Magic was still out of reach, but it would surely come soon.

Kit picked at the crumbs on his plate. He eyed the small pitcher of cream that came with the coffee pot on the breakfast cart.

Mistress left to do her makeup, and Kit waited until she was out of the room to drink it down.

He snuck a spoonful of sugar, the only thing better than cream, and a thought hit him.

He was keeping secrets, wasn’t he?

Even if it was just the hunger in his belly, it was something he was keeping from Iris.

The deal demanded loyalty. Painfully vague.

What was loyalty to the deal? Could he even stay quiet about this? Would the deal’s magic force him to reveal it?

He wished he was in the position to negotiate when he accepted the terms.

“Ready to go?” asked Mistress.

Kit nodded. 

There wasn’t a painful jolt of magic, or a strong compulsion to blurt out his secret, but a warning pricked at the back of his mind.

The deal’s magic had decided it wasn’t betrayal. Probably because he had permission to eat, and Iris hadn’t told him to tell her when he ate.

Still. He was on thin ice.

Kit bit his lip as they passed the royal portraits on the wall.

Maybe he’d tell her. Eventually.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale

[posletsvet]

Something about the stories of Trigun & Hadestown

Something about the story of Orpheus and Eurydice being retold for generations. Something about the story of Trigun getting to be told in three different versions (four, if you consider that there are two mangas).

Something about red flowers being the key symbol in Hadestown, with Orpheus singing dead trees to life and bloom in a gesture of undying hope. Something about Rem's sacrifice turning the blossom of a red geranium into a symbol of determination and kindness.

Something about the lost gentleness and bliss of spring. Something about the lost paradise of the once prosperous Earth, which forced the mankind to eplore the frontiers of distant galaxies.

Something about the souls of the dead in Hadestown living with their heads bent down, silenced by their own fear and indifference. Something about the people of Gunsmoke doing the same, believing there's no other choice but to succumb to violence and afraid to raise their voices and speak out against it.

Something about both stories commenting upon how humanity is sacrificed for the sake of survival.

Something about Hades, the King of the Mine, being crippled and blinded by his greed and loneliness and despair and jealousy untill he can't see nor recognise anything other than the needs of the Underworld, but really just his own. Something about Knives being driven by the fear he hides deep within himself, only caring about Vash and their sisters and claiming it's the good of the plantkind that he aspires to achieve, but in actuality just nurturing his own old hurt.

Something about them both loving to the point of obsession and suffocating the ones they love with how they portray what is best for them.

Something about Persephone being blinded by a river of wine, living in an Oblivion and trying to drown her sorrow in alcohol. Something about Vash's issues with alcoholism deteriorating upon the realisation that him going to confront Knives is a march made towards ruin and despair, his goals as good as suicidal.

Something about the Fates always singing in the back of your mind, defining the outlines of people's lives. Something about Knives and Vash's sisters in a hive mind deciding on the fate of humanity in relation to their kind at the end of the story.

Something about each of the two narratives showing how life and love endures, even in trying times.

Something about hunger and biting the hand that feeds because you're starving for more. Something about taking what you can get and making the most of it. Something about the people of No Man's Land pushing the plants to their physical limit and sentencing them to agony of the last run because they see no other option.

Something about 'What you gonna do when the chips are down, / Now that the chips are down?' Something about the pods of the project SEEDS crash-landing on a barren and desolate planet.

Something about the chorus singing 'Cast your eyes to heaven / You get a knife in the back!/ Nobody's righteous, / Nobody's proud, / Nobody's innocent'. Something about how Wolfwood dies the instant he finally commits to Vash's ideals, for the first time in his life choosing to believe.

Something about Orpheus teaching Eurydice that there's still hope for the better. Something about Wolfwood starting to regain his trust in humanity through Vash.

Something about Orpheus being capable of seeing how the world could be, in spite of the way that it was. Something about Vash stubbornly refusing to stop believing there's inherent goodness in every person's soul.

Something about how Eurydice is destined to die in each telling of the myth because the story is non-existent without Orpheus' loss of her. Something about how Wolfwood is doomed by the narrative, being a dead man walking since the very beginning.

Something about Orpheus leading his one true love out of Hell. Something about Wolfwood leading Vash in instead, guiding him to his end.

Something about Orpheus singing 'Wait for me!' on his way down under the ground. Something about Vash rushing to that smoking ruin which the Hopeland Orphanage became in order to help Wolfwood, fearing that he's late.

Something about Orpheus looking back. Something about Vash bringing his century-and-a-half long run from every and all attachments to a hault and finally stopping to look at the person before him, for the first time in his life allowing himself to believe in a future spent together with someone.

Something about Orpheus losing Eurydice the moment he turns to cast a glance behind him. Something about how the next thing Vash learns after admitting that he wants to spend his tomorrows with Wolfwood by his side is that Wolfwood is dying.

Something about Orpheus reaching the end of the road out of the Underworld all alone. Something about Vash ending his journey the same way.

Something about knowing how the story ends and still beginning to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time. Something about how 'far from here, in a distant time and place, the same song of humanity... still sang'.

Something about love. Something about grief. Something about tragedies.

Something about how, after all, we're still singing.

There's something profoundly meaningful to be said about all this, and maybe some day I will be insightful and witty enough to put my scrambled thoughts into neatly-organised, clear-cut sentences, but for now it will be like that.