#Achilles and the other reds had to listen the whole time

[kiwikipedia]

Love the idea that Oberon shows up to Chaldea lamenting and angsting about things and expecting people to avoid him and stuff but Achilles who had to listen to Shakespeare talk about his works during the Apocrypha singularity immediately sees him and yells “ONE OF SHAKESPEARE’S OCS GOT INTO CHALDEA” and now no one takes Oberon seriously at all

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking of mary stumbling out of shannon’s sick room with blood on her hands, dizzy from the smell of ozone and cooked flesh, the raw and precise circle of ruined tissue. recalling the lacelike tracery of the halo’s mark before, and how it leaked blood and fluid onto her hands as she held shannon, shouting for the others to move. certain that she would die right there. her, both of them.

now, in the quiet, she’s pulling strands of shannon’s hair out of the wound. her back splayed open, showing knots of muscle and the pink-streaked white of bone. blackened where it touched the halo.

looking at shannon’s hand fisted loosely in the sheets, her head turned sideways, eyes closed, breathing tight and irregular.

associations fly at her and shannon is icarus, patroclus, achilles.

but she’s not. she’s sleeping, and it’s not her fault how similar survival is to death.

it strikes her then, in the dark room they wheeled shannon into, that in another life she is standing over a corpse. flipped as easily as a coin and in that world shannon’s body is torn open so they can find what killed her.

mary wipes a palmprint of blood absently onto her shirt, resisting the urge to kneel beside shannon, to touch her face. to remind herself that even if her rib bones are demarcated where little rivulets of blood and plasma have followed the lines of her body, this shannon is alive.

going outside. for air, for the smell of incense, or warm stone. anything that’s not cedarwood overpowered by iron, copper, by the harsh metallic scent of the halo’s absence.

running into suzanne - headlong, grabbing at the sleeve of her habit in blind panic. blinking at the streaky stain it leaves; just a patch of darker color that barely betrays itself in the low light.

‘is she…?’

‘asleep. i have to… i left bea in the-’

torn between them both. watching beatrice stand pale under the candlelight. pews casting shadows onto shadows. holding her hand and listening to the burn of bright light. again, twice. how many times will i lose what i love inside this luminosity?

mary tears away from the memory, feeling a hand touch her shoulder. ‘it’s okay.’ suzanne’s voice is steady. a rock (upon which i will build)

‘i’ll watch over her. go and check on your… on beatrice.’

moving past her, still hazy but looking back. the silhouette of suzanne staring at the doorway like it’s a tombstone.

‘how long does it take?’

suzanne looks at her, but in the dimness mary can’t make out any expression.

‘what do you mean?’

‘for her to heal? i just- it looks bad and i just want to know how long she’ll be…’

(in pain. struck open with her bones visible. a kind of nakedness that cannot be dressed over. thinking of tipping shannon onto her side to drain the wound because it’s only partially cauterized).

there’s a sound like a sigh, or just like the wind. suzanne looks away again. ‘it’s best to focus on what you can do for her now.’ a sad smile, half-glimpsed in the antique lamplight, ‘the worst thing is to be alone with your pain.’

and then mary leaves. she cries the whole way to bea’s room.

suzanne lets the quiet gather again. rolls her shoulders against the prickle of damaged nerves. and then she opens the door.

inside, she finds shannon lying on the gurney like something out of a painting. sheets tangled around her waist, musculature of her back exposed and shining with sweat.

the bedclothes are red and white. someone (mary. who else?) has pulled shannon’s hair into a careful smoothness. away from her face and the wound of her body.

she’s small again.

suzanne thinks of her, years ago arriving with fading bruises, a sort of blunt, scrappy fighting style that made her see - in the darting, brutal motions - a girl accustomed to fighting when cornered. then, in the way she took punches, suzanne saw a girl who knew when she had no choice but to accept a blow.

(she prays this will be the last one. the last hurt they force her to carry)

there’s an old folding chair against one wall and suzanne drags it over, slips shannon’s limp hand into both of hers.

raises it to her lips.

[menelaiad]

hi! what are some of your fav menelaus headcanons??

oh anon you've done it now

tall. like. 6ft tall.

not broad. muscley and clearly strong. but leaner. aga and ajax and the like are certainly wider than him.

has been tall a long time. grew very fast. pissed of aga in the process. has a habit of curving his shoulders because of this. trying to appear shorter than he is.

a follower. hence the shoulder thing. he spent a lot of his formative years just. following aga. listening to aga. he was the second son. he wasnt set up for kingship or anything so he was kinda just left.

protected a lot by aga. i feel like menelaus' kinder nature was allowed to grow and flourish and wasnt CRUSHED by atreus because aga ... protected him. menelaus could be himself around aga.

ginger.

grew his hair fucking super long in sparta like the spartan men. even before the marriage to helen. because of the exile and tyndareus' kindness he just felt like sparta was home. so he kinda ... assimilated himself as soon as he could.

goes freckley in the sun.

he always makes a habit to use helen's name. not an epithet. or a title. her name is Helen.

due to not being prepped for kingship. menelaus can not read or write very well. if at all. he's even dictated to or gets people to write for him. after he became king he probably learnt the basics? but i feel all of atreus' energy went to aga (who also cant fucking read tbh)

i personally think menelaus was kinda ugly. or not like. conventionally handsome. but he's just such a nice freakin dude that people can't help but like him.

menelaus likes birds.

despite his. usually dormant nature. menelaus inherits atreus' anger. and it comes out in bursts. like strong. violent outbursts. like you see in book 3 with paris. when menelaus just drags him around and beats him. it's explosive and heated. it burns hot and dies just as quickly. but that is very atreus of him.

menelaus suffers from aches in his wrist after the paris fight and also he develops a limp from the wound in his thigh where he was shot with an arrow.

emotional. very emotional. with both the good and the bad. feels every emotion very strongly. feels others emotions (agaMEMNON in IOA) very strongly.

sharp features. sharp jaw. sharp nose. high cheekbones.

expressive as all hell. raises his eyebrows. makes faces. he is feeling things and his face will tell you what.

laughs a lot. not afraid to laugh and smile. smiles with his teeth a lot.

his smiles never quite reach his eyes but we'll move on from that.

develops a really close friendship with pat over the course of the war. that stems from them meeting at the suitor thing and they had lil chats then. often laments to him about how different things would be if helen had chose pat instead.

loses his fucking MARBLES when antilochus dies. i feel like the atreus anger would have come out again here.

after pat's death and him returning the body, achilles beats him to shit and menelaus doesn't fight back. he takes the blame ...... and the beating.

unintentionally always one of the funniest people in a room. is funny without even realising he's being funny. makes helen cry laughing several times.

i believe he was meant to marry clytemnestra. or at least that was the OG plan. they have a lot of fond yet awkward memories of each other.

blames himself for aga's death. and by extension - cly's.

iphigenia inherited the HOA red hair. watching her get sacrificed fucked him up tbh.

hermione is so SO SO important to him. especially as she was conceived around the whole 'sterile curse' thing in sparta. she is like a lil miracle to him.

honestly? can sometimes be a bit of a bitch.

gonna stop here cause that got REALLY long. but there's a handful of random ones that i wrote as they came into my head SDFGHJKL

[lapinbunwrites]

Title: A Night in the Woods

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Relationships: Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius & Glenn Govan Fraldarius, Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Glenn Govan Fraldarius & Felix Hugo Fraldarius

Characters: Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Glenn Govan Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius

Additional Tags: Fluff, Family Bonding

Word Count: 3,119

Ao3 Link

Rodrigue couldn’t remember the last time he had a vacation, let alone with his family. With all of them constantly working around the clock, none of them had the time to take a break. Thankfully he was able to find the time to schedule a couple of weeks off from work, but the weirdest was when Glenn’s and Felix’s schedules lined up with his. They hardly wanted to spend time with him now since they were older. He knew this was going to happen with children getting older, he knew this as a parent, but it still broke his heart.

Rodrigue was becoming more and more giddy as his vacation with his boys grew closer and closer. He even had it written on his calendar and circled with a red marker around the date. He couldn’t wait to go up to the cabin in the mountains that he inherited from his mother when she passed away. Rodrigue and his younger brother would go up there all the time when they were children, and he did it as much as he could with his own family.

The night before going up to the cabin, his son’s stayed the night at home since it would be easier for them to get up to the mountains. He was surprised that they both decided to stay the night at home, especially with Glenn. Over the years, after graduating college, Glenn kept his distance from Rodrigue and he never knew why. He could only imagine it was because he was this big name in Fodlan and Glenn wanted to make it out on his own. Glenn probably didn’t want to tack himself to his father, this was Rodrigue’s only guess. Felix on the other hand, they’ve been growing distant since he entered college. It still felt like he was in his rebellious phase and wanted nothing to do with his own father. It broke his heart that his children did not want to do much with him. He was expecting them to come back around again here soon.

Out of habit before going to bed, Rodrigue checked up on his sons to make sure they were asleep. He smiled as he covered them up with their blankets and gave them a kiss on their heads before going to his own room. He didn’t really care that they were adults now, he still loved doing his little habits with his children. He curled up into bed, cuddling with his wife. Rodrigue was sad she wasn’t coming, but she knew why. This whole thing was for him and his sons to connect with each other again, and she was the one to suggest it.

In the morning, it took him a little bit to get ready. Rodrigue made sure that they had everything. When he got into the living room, he saw that both of his sons were ready and messing with their sons.

“Took you long enough,” Glenn said sarcastically, looking up from his phone.

“Sorry,” Rodrigue rolled his eyes. “I just want to make sure we have everything.”

“Oh please,” Felix scoffed. “You know we do.”

“Felix,” Rodrigue sighed. “I don’t want you to break down crying again when you forgot a toy of yours.”

“That was a nightmare,” Glenn egged his younger brother.

“Hey! That happened one time and I was eight!” Felix reminded them both.

“So, I double check to make sure we have everything,” Rodrigue said, walking towards the door with his suitcase. “Let’s get going. The sooner we get there, the better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Felix sighed, putting his headphones in.

It was a quiet ride to their cabin. Rodrigue was driving with Glenn in the passenger seat, sleeping to make up for the lost sleep from working too much, and Felix in the back listening to his own music and messing with his phone. He missed the times when they were younger, before Felix entered highschool. Glenn and Felix would always sit in the back of the car to talk about how they would stay up all night to make a fort and play around. They would sit and talk about how they were going to sneak out at night to explore the woods and catch the woodland creatures.

Their plans always failed, Rodrigue was always able to catch them. He would take their hands, walking back to the cabin. On the way back, his two sons would talk endlessly about how the forest looked at night. How the moon glistened on the mountains and lake in the midnight dark, and it was only accented by the shining stars. But they were both sad when they weren’t able to go up the mountain to see the beautiful view of the woods and their cabin.

Remembering holding little Felix’s hand as he watched Glenn walk ahead of them, it brought tears to his eyes.

“Mmph,” Glenn muttered out, opening his eyes to look over to his dad. “Why are you crying old man?”

“Oh, nothing,” Rodrigue said, using his free hand to wipe the tears strolling down his eyes. “It’s probably nothing,” Felix groaned out. “He’s just a weepy man.”

“Felix,” Glenn said, reaching over to slap his brother’s leg.

“Hey!” Felix shouted. “What was that for?”

“Be nice to dad,” Glenn scoffed.

“You just called him old man!” Felix slapped him back.

“So? This is our relationship,” Glenn catching Felix’s hand.

“Enough, the both of you,” Rodrigue intervened. “What’s with you two lately? You guys have been fighting a lot more recently.”

Both of them just growled at Rodrigue.

“Whatever,” Rodrigue sighed, rolling his eyes, and pulling into the driveway of the cabin. “We’re here.”

Rodrigue sniffed as they all walked into the cabin, not realizing how unused it had been in the past few years. He missed the times when Glenn and Felix ran into the cabin, yelling and grabbing everything in sight to make a fort. It always brought a smile to his face when they were rough housing, it always reminded when he and his brother were young. Now, they weren’t talking to each other and shoving each other in their rooms. Rodrigue could feel his heart break when they went their separate ways.

With his broken heart, he walked into his room, and laid his suitcase on his big bed. He traced his hand over the thick cotton blanket, he faintly smiled as he remembered the good times on the bed. After coming back to the cabin after his son’s failed night exploration, they would get onto the bed and start jumping on it to get out to let out late night jitters. Then they would crawl under the covers, hugging him tight as they all slept. Oh, how nice those memories were. He could only wish he could go back to those times.

Rodrigue laid out all of his stuff, placing his clothes in the plain wooden dresser that was close to his bedroom door. He really needed to dust it, he needed to dust everything. Before he did that, he sat on the windowsill on the other side of his dresser and looked out the window. It was still a very beautiful view, you could see the tall trees towering over everything, but they still let the sun shine through. Being able to see the dirt, flowers, and wildlife was rather calming. Rodrigue smiled, he knew what he could do with the boys.

As he got out of his seat, he excitedly scurried out of his room to go to Glenn’s and Felix. He felt his heart fall to his stomach when he went to check up on his sons. Glenn was dead asleep, curled under his blankets and Felix ignored his knocks and ignored him when tried to get his attention. Rodrigue sighed and decided to go with his other plan, clean up. This vacation wasn’t really feeling like a vacation.

He quietly worked around the cabin, dusting, cleaning clothes, rewashing dishes, and other domestic activities. By the time Rodrigue got done, it was starting to get late. This was the part of the vacation he dreaded, cooking. He had never been a good cook. The last time he had cooked something was in his early twenties and trying to impress his wife. He ultimately burned down his apartment kitchen and she took over the cooking for the past thirty years of their marriage.

Rodrigue knew that his sons weren’t going to help. Glenn was probably still asleep and Felix couldn’t deal with his father being near him when he cooked. His hands began to shake as he opened the cabinets to grab a dutch oven. He clunkily put it on the stove, turning on the highest heat. From there, it was a bit of a disaster. Rodrigue accidentally burned the oil, filling the air with a pungent burnt smell and smoke.

“What the hell?” Glenn said confused as he groggily walked into the kitchen. “Why are you cooking again?”

“We need to eat,” Rodrigue coughed, trying to clear the air of smoke.

Glenn sighed as he helped his father clean up his mess. He turned down the heat and moved the dutch oven into the sink.

“Thank you, Glenn,” Rodrigue said, taking out a fan out of the pantry and turning it on.

“What were you trying to make?” Glenn groaned.

“I was trying to make a beef and sweet potato stew,” Rodrigue replied, letting out the last of his boisterous dad cough.

Glenn rolled his eyes as he looked at what they had. “You were never going to be able to make that.”

“Why’s that?” Rodrigue asked, walking over to his son.

“Because we don’t have any beef, you fool,” Glenn teased.

“Heh, well what do we have?” Rodrigue laughed.

“We have food for a garlic soba noodle bowl,” Glenn smiled, pushing his father out of the kitchen.

“Will you stop pushing me, please?” Rodrigue said, his smile turning into a frown.

“No, because I know you will want to help and you’ll burn down the kitchen,” Glenn insisted, feeling his father use his body weight to stop the pushing. “I will pick you up and carry you to the couch.”

Rodrigue began to laugh again, using his weight to let them both fall to the floor, making a loud thud that Felix could hear.

“What is going on?” Felix groaned, scowling when he saw his father laying on top of his brother.

“Get off of me!” Glenn yelled, pushing Rodrigue off of him.

Rodrigue’s laugh was just as boisterous as his cough when Glenn pushed him onto the wood kitchen floor. He grabbed Glenn’s hand when he offered to help him up, fixing his clothes when he stood.

“What’s that look for, Fe,” Glenn asked, scuffling Felix’s hair.

“Because you guys were making too much noise and annoying me,” Felix lied.

“Awe, c’mon Felix,” Glenn said, moving his arm over his younger brother’s shoulder. “You are more than welcome to join the fun.”

“Hmph, fine. I don’t need this old fool messing it up again,” Felix groaned, walking over to the kitchen counter.

Rodrigue smiled as walked over to the other side of the kitchen counter, sitting on a seat to watch his children cook. It felt relieving to Rodrigue being able to see his sons work together and make dinner together. Watching them chat, catch up, and laugh was bringing a warmth to Rodrigue’s heart.

All three of them were able to talk over dinner, talking about work, what Felix was doing in college, and how Rodrigue and their mother were doing. This is where Rodrigue learned that Glenn was dating someone and Felix was learning the intricacies of the music world. This is where they found out that Rodrigue was planning on retiring. He may be a little young for it, but he was able to save enough money for it and was excited to be able to spend some more time with his family.

“What?” Felix said, shocked. “How does mom feel about this?”

“Ha! Like you can sit down and do nothing,” Glenn said bluntly, drinking the broth of his dinner.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Rodrigue answered Felix, eating the last bit of his food. “And that’s not true.”

“Oh please,” Glenn snarked, placing down his bowl. “Why do you think we are up here? You are going to drag us around town to find something to do.”

“That is not true,” Rodrigue sarcastically gasped.

Felix just rolled his eyes as he finished up his dinner.

Rodrigue laughed as he took all of their dishes to clean. He glanced up from the sink, surprised that his children were still at the table. He would have thought they would have gone back to their room and screw up their sleeping schedule. He felt elated that they were still around.

“Where do you think you’re going, old man?” Felix asked, watching his father walk over to the front door.

“I’m going out into the woods,” Rodrigue replied, putting on his jacket. To his surprise, he saw Glenn and Felix walk over and put on their coats. “What are you two doing?”

“Coming with you,” Felix said, zipping up his jacket.

“You’re an old man,” Glenn said, sarcastically.

Rodrigue choked up as he clinged to his sons. “I knew you boys cared about me!”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, you fool,” Felix harped, pushing Rodrigue off of him.

“Old man,” Glenn huffed, following Felix’s lead. “Let’s just go.”

Rodrigue laughed and opened the door, allowing his children to walk out first. He walked slowly behind his sons, watching them walk side-by-side, and pointing out the different things that they see on the trail. It was a nice change of pace walking with them in the woods instead of chasing them down and bringing them home. It got him thinking that his sons were probably happy they were able to be in the woods at night.

“Where are you going?” Glenn asked, glancing over to his father.

“To the base of the mountain,” Rodrigue replied, catching up with the two.

“Can you even climb the mountain with your old man bones?” Felix asked, sarcastically.

“Felix,” Rodrigue sighed, messing with his hair.

“Hey, now!” Felix yelled, fending off his father’s hand.

“I’m not that old,” Rodrigue said, walking in front of them.

“Why are we going that way?” Glenn asked, trying to catch up with his father.

“Because there is something I wanted to show you guys,” Rodrigue smiled.

“Oh?” Glenn said, his voice perking up. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” Rodrigue said as he kept walking.

Glenn and Felix rolled their eyes as they trailed behind him.

Their walk turned out to be the same as their car ride here, quite. There was much to be said, only seeing the forest for what it was. The nice moonlit walk showing them the way, hearing the rustling bushes, the little sounds from the animals around them, being able to see their heavy breaths in the increasingly cold climate. Their walk became slightly harder as they began walking up the base of the mountain, especially for Rodrigue. He was beginning to fall behind his children.

“Dad?” Glenn said, glancing behind him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Rodrigue replied, feeling short of breath. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” Felix said, stopping. “You look like you’re getting worn out.”

“I assure you, I’m fine,” Rodrigue said, slowly moving his body up the hill, only to fall.

“Dad!” Glenn yelled, rushing over to him. “This wasn’t a good idea.”

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Rodrigue reassured his son. He felt Glenn help him up and allow his son to put his arm around his shoulder. He smiled when Felix took his other arm and put it around his shoulder. “Thank you boys.”

Glenn smiled and rolled his eyes as they continued to walk.

“How much further do we have to walk?” Felix asked, walking slowly with his brother and father.

“Just upon that rock,” Rodrigue replied, pointing towards a rock ledge that was thirty feet in front of him.

Felix nodded and kept at the same pace as the other two.

After a long, slow walk, they eventually made it to the ledge of the woods from above the trees. Rodrigue let out a breath, being able to see it, as he smiled down on the cabin. It was nice to see the dark green trees being illuminated by the moon and the stars. With the dim light, they could see the sky being covered with snow flurries descend upon the earth.

“Wow,” Glenn said, amazed and with a big smile.

Felix didn’t say anything, he was just stunned at the beautiful scenery.

“All my life, I wanted to see this,” Glenn said, his eyes widening as he watched the snow fall.

“This is beautiful,” Felix finally muttered out.

Rodrigue smiled as his boys looked at the scenery, very pleased with himself. It had been so long since he saw their smiles, to see their eyes wide with joy. It brought him so much warmth and pride. He held his sons close, giving them a hug, being happy that they returned it.

“We better get home,” Felix said. “It���s getting past your bedtime, old man.”

Rodrigue chuckled, letting go of Felix.

“Yeah, plus this cold weather is good on your joints,” Glenn teased.

Rodrigue placed his hands on Glenn’s cheeks, pulling him closer to give him small kisses. He laughed more as Glenn fended him off.

“Stop that!” Glenn said, his face heating up as he heard his younger brother laugh loudly.

“Are you feeling left out, little Felix?” Rodrigue asked, doing the same to him.

“Hey now!” Felix yelled, pushing his father away.

“I love you boys,” Rodrigue said.

“We know,” they both said in unison. The both paused, taking a few seconds to try to muster up their words in response to his.

“I know, boys,” Rodrigue smiled, knowing exactly what they wanted to say. “We better get going.”

They both nodded their heads and walked next to their father on the way home. It was a long night that both Glenn and Felix went straight to bed. In his usual habits, Rodrigue went around and made sure that everything was clean. He also checked up on his son’s, retucking them in when they were asleep, and giving them a kiss on their forehead. He took one last long look out the window before curling up under the blankets. Little did Rodrigue know, while he was asleep, Glenn and Felix snuck under the covers and hugged him tightly as they slept. Rodrigue was truly happy to have the children that he had.

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Happy Nagamas to @kakyoindeservedbetter! I am your @nagamas gifter and I gift you with the feels of the Fraldarius'. I love this family so much and dealing with this prompt was an utter joy. I hope you love it just as much as I had writing it! And I hope you enjoy the winter and fill your space with warmth and hot food and drinks.

[vagueandominousvibes]

📚 for the music ask game?

📚 A song or album you could write a term paper on

Oh boy, ok, let me just—

There are so many amazing songs with fantastic lyrics and meaning, full of allusion and meaning and symbolism — 'Achilles Come Down' by Gang of Youths comes to mind, as does 'Spanish Train' by Chris de Burgh (and, frankly, his entire 'Moonfleet & Other Stories' album), 'Telegraph Road' by Dire Straits, 'Suzanne' by Leonard Cohen, 'All Is Found' by Kacey Musgraves ...

But the one I want to tell you about is 'Byssan Lull' (trans.: 'Galley of Riches'), a Swedish lullaby written by Evert Taube. I don't know a whole lot about music theory, so all I can say about it will be based on text and convention. The translation I'm using is this one, because although I understand most of it, I'm not proficient enough in Swedish to trust my own translation of it. If you want to listen to it, my first recommendation would be to get my dad to sing it (he's a bass singer in the local choir, and his rendition is absolutely gorgeous). My second recommendation is Helene Bøksle's cover, which I can't find on YouTube, but know is on Spotify.

'Byssan Lull' has a repetitive structure, where each verse starts with the line 'Byssan lull, koka kittelen full' (trans.: 'Byssan lull -- boil the full kettle'), and is then followed by a list of three. The first verse lists three wanderers, the second lists three winds, the third lists three sailing ships, the fourth lists three figures on a treasure chest, and the fifth lists three religious figures (which, interestingly, was changed in the version I grew up with, and is something I'll come back). From what I understand, the melody is based on the Swedish fiskeskärsmelodin, which is a folk melody associated with lullabies about fishing, rowing, sailing, etc. Taube is to have heard his mother sing this particular melody, and claims to have improvised the song on a summer evening at Skagen. We know that the song was dedicated to a partner Taube had, and that Skagen was where he met the mother of his daughter. 'Byssan Lull' was first published in 1919 alongside seven sjömansvisor (trans.: sailor songs, sea shanties).

I'm neither a sailor nor Swedish, so my brief analysis here may be lacking.

What I love about this song, however, is that it focuses on the seemingly small and forgotten things. First come the three wanderers, of which one is limping, one is blind, and one is implied to be mute. Do they travel individually or in a group? Is there anyone with them? We don't know. All we know is that they seem small, quiet, and far away.

Second come the three winds. One blows on 'the great ocean', one on 'little Skagerrak', and one 'far up on the gulf of Bothnia'. The winds blowing on the great ocean are grand and terrific, known primarily to sailors, and the image of a ship caught in towering waves is a dismal one indeed. Skagerrak is denoted as 'little', and 'the gulf of Bothnia' (Swedish: 'Bottniska viken') is the northernmost part of the Gulf of Bothnia, which in turn is the northernmost part of the Baltic Sea (between Sweden, Finland, and the Baltics). It's remote, removed, and liminal.

Third come the sailing ships. The first one, a barque, is a ship with three or more masts. The second one, a brig, has two masts. The third one 'has ragged sails'. This time the visual grandeur of the ships shrinks and fades into something worn and weary.

Fourth are the figures on the chest: our faith, our hope, red love. After all the melancholic images of the small, the lost, and the weary, this verse shows a turning point. Firstly, the language changes. It's no longer listing one, two, three people, natural phenomenons, or objects, but talks about 'our' faith and 'our' hope. Sure, there's definitely something Christian going on here (which is emphasised in the fifth verse), but there's also something infinitely warming in the way the language goes from external and excluding, to internal and including. Where the first three verses compared and contrasted, this fourth one brings everyone and everything together in 'red love'.

Fifth and final are the religious figures, introduced as 'three good things'. These are God, the Son, and the Virign Mary. What I find interesting about this is that, whereas Taube could have used the Trinity (the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit), he chose to focus on the actual family instead — the father, the son, and the mother. He even emphasises Mary by ending the verse and the song on her name, and I wonder if that is his way of paying tribute to his own mother, the partner he dedicated the song to, and the mother of his child. Aside from this, the focus on the family also works to bring the lullaby back to the idealised love of the nuclear family, once more placing the internal and including over the external and excluding.

The version of this I heard growing up, however, changed the fifth verse out with the following (first line preserved in Swedish, the rest transcribed in Norwegian):

Byssan lull, koka kittelen full, Der skinner tre stjerner på himmelen. Den ene er så blank, Den andre o så fin, Den tredje er månen den gule.

Lyrical translation:

Byssan lull, boil the kettle full, Three stars are aglow in the heavens. The first one is so bright, The second oh so fine, The third one is the moon so golden.

I don't know why it was changed. If dad heard it from his mother, I wouldn't be surprised if she fiddled with it — she was known for fiddling with lyrics and concocting new text to go with old melodies. I don't know that she was overtly religious, either, but I do know granddad did agricultural application of science in uni, so maybe there was a mutual appreciation for early astrophysics?

Who knows. The point I want to make about this is that 'Byssan Lull' is a gorgeous melancholic lullaby that, at least in my family, has survived through generations and been changed to reflect our culture. This, I think, is the nature of lullabies. Because we sing them to our children, and our children in turn sing them to their children, lullabies carry that inter-generational love and affection that, in some instances, is worn down by trauma and miscommunication. They remind us that we come from somewhere, but we can also change them to suit our individual situations. Even if the entire text is rewritten, the melody remains, and isn't that something beautiful to remember?

[superkooku]

I listened to the Vengeance saga

(spoiler alert !!!!!!)

Ok ! I'm awake, I listened to the songs and I saw the animatics... I have a lot of things to say about this saga.

The (very) good

The good section may seem shorter than the debatable one, but it's because the good stuff is approximately the same as the usual and I like to rant.

The music, OMG. As usual, Jorge shows his talent as a compositor but also the whole crew, the singers (TROY and Steven 💖), etc... to this day, I have nothing to complain about the music. It's completely my style, I love it.

The voice acting !!!! Bravo to Steven Rodriguez btw, who sounds cool even when acting the agonizing god (ngl when I first heard him in Ruthlessness, I didn't immediately click with him. But after a while, he became one of my favorites)

The artstyle !!!

Hermes. Just Hermes. He's very fun !

Jorge's sister featuring as a winion was very cute

That one moment when Odysseus drowns and sees the people he lost. Idk if they were dragging him or uplifting him. I'd say they did both while trying the latter option.

The soft emotional guitar sections were especially good.

Odysseus has that cool shonen protagonist energy.

Reusing the wind bag was a smart decision

The MUSIC (yes it was so good I mention it twice)

Charybdis' design. Idk it's very simple but cool

Also Poseidon saying "You idiot" reminds me of Flowey from Undertale. Omega Flowey vibes.

No disappointment story-wise... until six hundred strike.

My favorite songs are Dangerous and Get in the water, in this order.

The more debatable points (aka rant)

No Penelope :( but that was expected.

I already listened to "I'm not sorry for loving you" in it's entirety so the hype didn't come until Dangerous because Hermes.

Rant incoming:

Poseidon's defeat : OK ! Of course, I expected Poseidon to lose so that's not the problem, but... it was way too easy in my opinion.

I figured Athena would come back, or Hermes would fight (Jorge sort of teased it when he explained the gods' powers), or idk some other deity like Aeolus. Those red eyes made me think Ares, though that wouldn't have made sense. But Odysseus defeated him alone. I'm mixed on that.

On one hand, as a narrative choice, it makes sense : the protagonist is active and teaches an antagonist a lesson and Odysseus has an anime moment. But on the other hand, if I put up all these help options, it's because Poseidon is a god !!!!!!

At many times, I felt the story forgot Odysseus was talking to the king of the seas and not the sirens or Charybdis. Way too informal.

He's one of the Olympians and the three kings. The guy slaughtered Odysseus' men with zero problem. If we made a power scaling of the gods, he'd be very high up.

Listen, I'm not gonna pretend mortals hurting or even defeating powerful Olympian gods never happened because Diomedes and Perseus exist.

(Diomedes injured both Ares and Aphrodite during the Trojan war and Perseus defeated Dionysus when they were battling in Argos.)

In the Odyssey, Odysseus never did either of those things to Poseidon. And I feel like he's not so much as a "strong" guy as a "cunning" guy, I would've expected a subtler or more strategic role. A raw powerful victory is something I'd expect from someone like Achilles or Ajax (not against a god but still).

Perseus and Diomedes had other gods to help or at least bless them (Athena and Hera), they were on their side the whole fight, and I feel they'd need more time. There were those whole wars, the battles, the surprise, the armies surrounding them... it was less sudden and more earned.

Plus Diomedes didn't win the war with this, it was just a cool moment and Athena's intervention.

Honestly, without supernatural help I'd have preferred something more akin to Sisyphus, with Odysseus tricking and restraining Poseidon and running away rather than outright defeating him. Plus Sisyphus is sometimes Odysseus' father depending on the version so it would have been a nice call-back.

Idk the visuals didn't help. Odysseus just punched Poseidon, then took his trident and just... stabbed him. Why didn't Poseidon immediately pick up his trident ? Why didn't he get a counterattack?

In fight scenes, I like when it isn't unilateral but there's a progression. Not just "Odysseus is weak" then immediately "Poseidon the GOD is weak".

The idea of Odysseus using the trident is out there but cool. I feel like if there was more of a progression or Poseidon counterattacking and injuring Odysseus or actual supernatural help, then it'd be more believable.

Since it's a song, it needs to be fast-paced and thematically it makes sense. I don't hate it either but yeah, it needs to be better thought out.

I know for a fact that Athena isn't dead 😅 so the suspense isn't that useful. She or Hermes should have at least helped Odysseus so his victory would feel more realistic.

Red blood againnnnn !!

Odysseus' jetpack made me laugh 😂

Nothing against the artists and I can imagine how hard it is to animate (R.I.P to all animators btw), but some fight scenes and movements were wonky and slow. Again, these are independent artists so I can only congratulate them for their efforts, but I got to be honest, it needs some work. This is mostly about the 3D moments, the ones that are probably the most complicated. Still love the effort and the visuals themselves.

Ok, I'm done with the negativity. The saga was nonetheless very fun and I'll listen to the songs on-loop. But yeah, those are my thoughts 😛.

EDIT : I just remembered that Heracles defeated Ares too. But that still doesn't help Odysseus' case since he's literally known for his phenomenal strength.

Bad news : I won't be able to participate in the live stream until tomorrow morning because of something called "sleep"

Good news : The vengeance saga is out in my timezone so I'll listen to it now. I'm not patient enough to wait longer.

(I'll come back to this post tomorrow after the Livestream. No spoilers beforehand 😛)

[sukirichi]

home from war | sukuna x reader

Home from War | sukuna x reader

featuring: sukuna x reader (historical au) with small moments of megumi x reader

warnings: very mild suggestive content, mentions of manslaughter and slight yandere tendencies + a toxic sukuna + angst + not proofread :D

part two!

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from war?

You ponder about this carefully, eyes dark as you let your gaze travel from the opening door. Sukuna comes in, bare chest littered with cuts caked in mud, blood, and dirt, and you see the way the grip around his katana falters just a little bit. The room is dark – it is late at night, after all, and you had stirred awake in your accidental slumber from waiting too long for him to return home – but you see him under the darkness clearly. Way too clearly.

Those markings on his face you so dearly love don’t even seem threatening. You seriously question your sanity at this point because he is the Ryomen Sukuna; King of Curses. It’s no secret that he does as he pleases, taking someone’s life as if it was second nature to him, claiming territories, wealth, and even people as if they were his own.

You should be scared, and in a way, you are.

But not in that way.

You’re scared because his shoulders slump, those once burning red eyes fluttering close as he drops to his knees on the floor. Without wasting another second, you leap off the bed, your arms wrapping around his figure. He reeks of death, and before you know it, you wash his exhaustion away by peppering his face with the pads of your lips.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between skin, his neck nuzzling in your face. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my love. Safely like you asked.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Immediately, you bite down your tongue and blink back the tears that threaten to fall. Safely? You want to snap back, your nails almost raking down his back. This is hardly considered “safely” when his knees wobble as you guide him inside the bath, nearly unable to keep his eyes open as you wipe away his cuts and the other remnants of war present on his body.

“I’m sorry,” his voice echoes in the confined walls. You don’t even realize the tears had fallen until his rough, calloused hands brush a tear away. He tilts your chin upwards to look him in the eye, lips trembling when those devilish eyes soften – reserved for you and only for you – and Sukuna sighs through his nose. “I wish I could stop the war, but — ”

“It’s not possible,” you finish for him, forcing a smile to help ease his worries. At this point, you’re conflicted between wanting to scold him to not leave the temple anymore and just stay with you, but you also know why Sukuna doesn’t do that.

It’s because he wants to keep you safe. As long as you were around, Sukuna would go the moon and back just to keep coming back home to you. Perhaps that was the most painful part – the fact that you knew he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t met you. Sukuna was the fearsome King of Curses, powerful and undefeated even after a thousand years, but he wasn’t omnipotent. Hundreds of jujutsu sorcerers have lost their lives trying to defeat them, and it took about a hundred more deaths before they backed off at the realization he couldn’t be defeated or exorcised.

Until you came.

You were Sukuna’s weakness, the chink in his armour, his Achilles heel.

The moment it was known that Sukuna kept a lover, they just kept coming. The war begun.  Soon enough, your days of rolling around in bed with him, trapped under his arms and weekends spent in whines of each other’s names disappeared.

Sukuna has a temple to defend. A lover to protect. A woman to cherish. A soul to treasure.

It was all because of you, and you know better than anyone else that he was tired. But he’d never tell you that. He would still scoop you in his arms; pull you closer by the hip so he could lay his ears on your chest, eventually falling asleep with the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp while you hum to soothe him. The sound of your heartbeat has Sukuna exhaling rhythmically minutes later.

The notorious King of Curses, bundled up in the arms of his lover, completely relaxes in the privacy of his shared bedroom with the woman he loves most. It was as if the war didn’t happen at all. He sleeps with a small smile on his face, sleepily mumbling your name and reaching up to kiss your smooth skin every now and then.

It was perfect. It was heaven.

But that wasn’t you.

Because you are not her; you are not even human. You listen to all this on the other side of the temple. If you were anyone else, someone like her, then Sukuna’s intimate moments with his lover would be private – something that would be kept and cherished only between the two of them. But you aren’t human.

You are a curse born from people’s heartbreak and grief. You don’t even remember how you came to life; your first memory hazy of nothing but endless pain and so much anger you lost yourself. Until he came.

Ryomen Sukuna; the King of Curses – he adored you.

Finally, he met his equal. A curse equally as powerful and blinded by darkness, hatred, and bloodlust – you were one of the rare curses whose presence he enjoyed, and it didn’t take long before he invited you to his temple and offered a seat next to him.

You are Ryomen Sukuna’s right hand warrior, his greatest partner when it comes to battle. If he was powerful before, people feared you both even more when you joined powers. He didn’t go to war without you. For days on end, you and Sukuna would traverse villages and slaughter kingdoms to fill the emptiness gaping in your hearts, but he changed when he met her.

That fragile, meak, little human that loved him and changed him.

Because of her, even you are forced to join this war against jujutsu sorcerers. It’s been a long war – consisting of ten days and waning red moons. You and Sukuna barely came out unscathed this time, the Gojo clan seems to have something else under their sleeves, and your yukata had been ripped open in pieces while blood washed over your body like water.

You and Sukuna came back tired, weak, almost defeated.

You lay your back flat against the wall, teeth attacking your bottom lip while you pour potions over your cuts. At the other side of the temple, Sukuna is already fast asleep, safe in the arms of his lover. And you? You couldn’t even let out a small noise of whimper. Sukuna’s heightened senses would pick up on it, mistake that it would be his precious little woman in his sleepy daze, and you don’t want him to be further agitated.

Besides, once he realizes that it was just you, he would only go back to sleep.

Because he knew you didn’t need him, not in that way. You were the Curse born from Heartbreak, possibly the only ever person who would know pain and suffering the same way he did, but that isn’t true. Sukuna wouldn’t understand that this is your suffering – to have him within grasp but out of reach, to know that he was always with you, that he loves you just the same, but not in the way you want him to, not in the way you need him to.

To him, you are his beloved friend and partner in crime.

You are not the one who soothes him when he comes from war. You are not the one that gets to feel his harsh tongue soften at the first contact of your lips, to have the privilege of having rough hands that easily tortured others to be gentle as he dips his hands in the dips and curves of your body. You are not the one who gets to see him when he wakes up and he smiles half-lidded. You are not the one who gets to kiss his pain and wounds away, to wipe his tears from his cheeks because looking at you makes him wonder how lucky he is to have you.

Instead, you are the one he brings to war with. You are the one he trusts to keep her safe, to watch his back and guard all possible blind spots during war. You are the one who jumps in front of him when a blast of fire is on his way, and you are the one who heals his wounds in the battlefield when he grows too weak. You are the one he laughs with when you’ve both decapitated the enemy, growing only stronger with each passing day under the belief maybe both of you could rule the world someday.

But does any of it matter?

You always believed that you were okay with it, that having him trust you with his whole life, enough to have you sleeping under the same roof as him, was everything you needed. But after she came, you watched him fall in love, and you felt pathetic.

You could never have him.

You could never have what they have.

Sometimes you wonder, what if you just said it? In those nights where nothing but the moonlight illuminated both of your blood-stained faces, chests rising up and down as it both rumbled with laughter, discarded glasses of alcohol thrown on the ground – it would’ve been the perfect moment, wouldn’t it?

Though deep down, you knew the answer.

Sukuna wouldn’t love you, couldn’t love you. He wanted someone to protect, not someone to fight wars with. He wanted someone to come home to, not someone he wrecked homes with. He wanted to listen to someone’s dreams and passions – all of the things you didn’t have because you were born out of pain, living in pain, and Sukuna was the only thing that soothed you for a bit.

Your breaths came out raspy as your wounds began to close up. The stench of blood remained on your body, the red liquid drying up.

Sukuna wouldn’t want an impure woman like you. It makes sense he loved her. She was as bright as the sky while you were as dark as day, and when she laughed, she lit up the whole room. You don’t laugh, you don’t even smile. The only times you ever got to feel that sort of happiness was when you were still a fresh-born curse, a wild Sukuna more than glad to teach you of his ways.

It’s okay, you lie to yourself, crawling back to your bed while ridding yourself of your clothes. You would shower later; sleep needed to come first. Curses like you don’t really need, but you were too exhausted – inside and outside – that for once, you want to submit to healing.

As you close your eyes, you hear Sukuna stir in their room again. The sounds of faint lip-locking echo in your ears, making you slap your palms on the sides of your head, but you hear it, you hear it, you hear it, you hear it.

“How is Y/N?” she asks worriedly, her dainty, small, and innocent fingers that could never harm a fly brushing against his skin. Warm.

“She’s fine,” Sukuna rasps tiredly, “She’s a little beaten up, but she’s in a better state than I am,” you hear him kiss her on the forehead, a contended sigh leaving her lips. “She’ll be fine, my love. You know Y/N. She is fierce, brave, and courageous. This war is nothing to her.”

“I still feel bad she joined the war just so both of you could protect me.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“She knows I love you,” Sukuna mumbles on top of her head, his hands tracing patterns on her back. Tears flowed out your eyes, your body trembling as you bit your fist, drool flowing down. You couldn’t stop the way you felt your heart torn to pieces. Really, it shouldn’t be anything new to you. You are a curse manifested from heartbreak, after all, but why did it hurt so much this time? “Y/N is a long time friend and ally of mine. She cherishes everything I cherish.”

“But still...aren’t you going to check up on her? I couldn’t even welcome her back. I haven’t seen you both in days and I...”

“Shhh,” Sukuna lulls her worries. “I’ll check up on her right now, although I don’t think she needs it. She’s a strong warrior, after all.”

“Sukuna,” her voice was laced with warning this time, but it later softens, as it always does. “Even the strongest have their weak moments, like how you are with me. Just because someone is capable of enduring the pain, doesn’t mean they won’t appreciate an act of kindness. Y/N has been loyal to you far longer than I have, but you really need to show your gratitude more to her,” she sighs, “Go check on her, my love. See if she’s doing well. If she’s fully recovered by tomorrow, I’ll head out to the market and prepare you both a lovely meal. It’s the least I could do.”

Sukuna chuckles, “My love, we don’t need to eat.”

“No matter. She likes miso soup, doesn’t she?”

By now, you’re frozen in bed. The blood and dirt and your skin have stained your sheets, and your hair is knotted in tangles from endless fighting. Maybe this is the reason why you hated yourself more than you hate her – because deep down, she isn’t really someone you could hate.

It makes sense Sukuna loves her.

Unlike you, she is kind, caring, gentle and full of love. What did you have? Pent up anger, bloodlust, temperamental tendencies and a hobby of withdrawing as a form of isolation because you couldn’t cope with the heartbreak – this is your gift. Your curse.

She is a blessing.

You hear the bed dip feet away, and whispers of, “Be safe, I’ll wait for you,” before a door slides close. Sukuna’s footsteps pad nearer in your hallway, in a place that he had his servants build just for you years ago when you proved your loyalty to him. Back then, you were over the moon when you saw him telling his people he wanted you to have your own room, but now it was like a huge slap on your face that Sukuna cared for you, but he didn’t want you close to him in the way she was.

Your room was on the other side of the temple, at the back, to be specific. While she stays with him in his own chambers, he used his magic to build her a beautiful garden filled with her favourite flowers, while you were somewhat locked away behind it all.

A bitter smile makes it way to your face. Sukuna was coming, not because he wanted to, but because she asked him to.

You want to laugh. Instead, you run out the room in such speed that the sheets fly away from your bed, and the floorboards crack under the force of your movements. When Sukuna raps his knuckles on your door, asks if he could come in (as if he needed permission for that), and you don’t answer, he takes it upon himself to intrude.

He isn’t surprised at your discarded clothes, or how your room remains dark and empty, as if you’d never been there at all. This isn’t the first time you ran away, and this would not be the first time he ran after you either.

He knows you’ll come home.

After all, it was him you kept coming back to – although he didn’t know that.

Breakfast the next day wasn’t any better. She invited you to join them, fretting over the cuts on your cheeks and dabbing at them with a wet towel. She feels like a doting mother who wouldn’t stop worrying about her child who tripped, and again, you realize why he loves her.

The food was good. Like she promised, miso soup is placed in a bowl you painted years ago, and she beams at you expectantly while Sukuna caressed her thighs under the table. Your lips tremble as you take a spoonful of it, letting the warm soup soothe your exhausted body with a sigh. Sukuna peers at you in the same curiosity, head tilted to the side ever so slightly as if waiting how you’ll react.

It’s no secret you don’t open yourself up to anyone other than him. The moment she came to live with you both, he could tell you locked yourself up in your room and even disappeared for weeks under the lie that you were parading in the districts to “look for some fun.”

Sukuna knows you better than you know yourself. He knows it’s a lie, that you’re not someone who “looks for fun” and that you probably just stayed up in the mountains watching the sunrise. He knows you’re uncomfortable with her displays of affection, of how she easily adored you or how she cared for you like you were her sister or even a friend, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

If anything, he only hopes you would treat her the same way.

You don’t finish your bowl. It’s extremely difficult to enjoy the food when Sukuna compliments her on her cooking skills and she turns beet red beside him, nervously giggling that she just wanted to make you feel better. Sukuna bends down to steal a peck from her lips, teasing her that she was his “sweet angel” who had a heart of gold.

They don’t even eat.

They’re just giggling, laughing, kissing, and you understand – you really do. It isn’t every day that Sukuna gets to indulge in the presence of his beloved. But only you are there with him. It’s either he trusts you enough to let his guard down, or you’re unimportant enough that he doesn’t care if you see him completely baby her and spoil her rotten with how he grabs her onto his lap and starts kissing her nose and then her eyelids.

Their cheerful laughter is a great contrast to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces. They don’t notice that you’ve excused yourself, heading out the room and into the back part of the house, passing the servants on the way.

Similar to how they treat Sukuna, they quiver and bow before you, making sure to keep their eyes on the floor in fear you’d slice their heads off. You fight back a sigh. You wouldn’t do that – not when they welcomed you so warmly (or rather, fearfully) and accepted you as their master. You realize that they don’t act this way around Sukuna’s lover. In fact, they light up when she’s around and talk to her freely; everyone was just comfortable in her presence.

You know you’re not her.

You could never be her.

She was a human, and you’re nothing but a lonely, heartbroken curse.

Hours pass by, and no one looks for you. You dare not enter the garden Sukuna made for her even if you also like the flowers, simply because you don’t want Sukuna to be appalled at the thought that someone like you – a Curse who’d killed people and tortured others �� would also be enamoured with something as innocent as daisies.

The lake is peaceful that night. It’s painful to bathe back at the temple because the servants won’t leave you alone. They insist on washing your body for you and that you should lay back, but you refuse to be coddled. The lake is on the other side of the mountain, deep in the forest with smaller curses lurking, so no one would find you here.

The moon shines down bright on you, and for the first time since you’d gotten home, you smile.

It looks so beautiful. So big and bright, yet so haunting and peaceful with secrets you could never uncover. You stare at it as you take off your robes layer by layer, feet dipping into the cold water before submerging completely. The ripples on the lake illuminated by the moonlight makes it even more soul-stirring.

You cup the water and wash your hair, finally getting rid of the invisible stains from the war. You felt clean, refreshed – but your heart still rumbled with hatred and darkness. Hatred that you couldn’t be good enough, hatred that you’re destined to be lonely and unloved.

One of the good things about bathing at midnight is that no one gets to see your tears when it mixes in with the water, and you throw your head back in laughter with your arms extended to the sky. This is who you are – a Curse with no future and no past.

Later, you choke as a sob begins, your fist clenching above your heart. It hurt everywhere.

You wanted Sukuna – so much that you felt like you were going to go insane.

If it wasn’t for him, you’d be trapped in an endless nightmare. But he saved you, cared for you, made you his equal. So why couldn’t he love you? You’ve always been there for him. When people turned against him or plotted a rebellion, you were the one who snuck into clan houses and slit their throats, making their descendants and followers witness the consequence of disrespecting Sukuna.

When he was nearly exorcised by an overpowered jujutsu sorcerer, you summoned an army of thousand lost souls to defeat them, nearly ending up with you losing your head in the aftermath. It was always you – you were always there from him since the beginning, so why didn’t he love you?

You cupped your eyes with your palms, unable to stop the tears from coming now. Your whole body shook with sobs, turning number and number at the cold water. Nothing mattered, nothing mattered, nothing did if you couldn’t have Sukuna.

“Sukuna,” you cried out, pushing your hair back as the ripples blurred in your tear-stained view. “Sukuna, help me, please...” Put an end to my suffering, you inwardly begged. Death is a better option than watching him fall deeper and deeper for her, knowing that could never be you. He’d never look at you that way. He’d never touch you that way. He would never be your lover, and your sobs grew more desperate because you know you are his lover.

God, you loved him so much more than you hated yourself.

This sort of madness had you gasping for air. Death – death is a better option. It is a much more peaceful way to go than to suffer each waking day to have what you want be explicitly stated to be reserved for anyone else but you.

You froze when a pair of arms encircled your waist, his grip strong and vice-like. He turned you around, his large hand coming at the small of your neck to bring you down to his shoulder where you could hide your tears. Until now, he knows you better than you know yourself, and he knows it would shatter you even more if he saw you crying.

“Y/N,” Sukuna begins, and your eyes widen when you see he’s still wearing his robe. He must’ve jumped in the water. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’s wrong?”

Your lips turned blue from the cold. Unable to help the shiver that ran down your spine, your teeth chattered, and Sukuna pulled you closer to the heat of his skin. He sighed worriedly. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, otherwise, I can’t help you.”

“I” You falter. Your heart drums loudly in your chest. He would reject you, break your heart into pieces all over again but – so what if he did? It almost made you laugh. You’re the Curse of Heartbroken Souls. It wouldn’t make a difference if he hurt you now. Instantly, you weaken in his hold, and Sukuna’s hands grip your waist to keep you upright.

“Fuck, Y/N, what’s wrong —”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me,” you repeat, more confidently this time. You pull away from him in the slightest bit, eyes blown wide as you peer up at his appalled ones. His hands squeeze your waist subconsciously, his sharp nails piercing through your skin until it draws blood. It makes you gasp a little, but you’re used to the pain. Right now, you want to be selfish and free yourself from this pain. “I want you to kiss me, Sukuna.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “What the fuck are you saying? I love someone else, you know I won’t —”

“Won’t do what?” You challenge, eyes burning from the intensity and ferocity of each nerve humming to life. “This isn’t who you are, Sukuna. You’re the King of Curses. Or have you already forgotten those days you would accept those female offerings and you’d fuck them until they’re out of their mind, then discard them as if they were nothing but dirty laundry? You were strong back then, majestic, but now you’re fucking weak,” You spat out. You know you’re spurning him on and pushing all his buttons, but somehow saying those words gave you great relief.

Now, it was time to see his patience snap, which shouldn’t take long since his grip had turned bruising on your hips, and he growled under his breath. “Don’t do this, Y/N.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t do this,” you growl back, “You haven’t been the same ever since that pathetic excuse of a woman came. Don’t you remember that she left her husband and children just because she was a whore for you? Because you pleased her better than her human spouse?” You push him away with enough force that it sends him a few feet back, and Sukuna scowls. “She doesn’t love you! She only stays by your side because she was nothing but a filthy rat before and now you treat her like a queen! She’s nothing but a lowly human who —”

“Enough!”

“ —made you believe you’re someone she could love! Don’t you get it, Sukuna? We’re Curses, she’s a human! She will never understand us! You’re lying to yourself if you believe she doesn’t cry herself to sleep at the thought she’s next to a monster —”

“I said, that’s enough!” In a flash, Sukuna was in front of you, clawed hands wrapped around your neck. It would be so easy for him to break you and kill you right then and there, your feet already above ground and your exposed breasts just within his sight. Nevertheless, you only laugh cruelly at his agitation. “You know nothing,” he squeezed your neck tighter, “about what it’s like to love someone. How dare you say that she does not love me?”

“I know, because if you let me, I could love you a lot more,” you choked out, clawing at his arm, but he is unfazed by your efforts.

Sukuna lets go of you. You drop in the water as you gasp and breathe for air, but Sukuna’s wide eyes bring you back to reality. It’s that face, the one that tells you he’s been unaware this whole time, and the sudden confession drops on him like a cannonball.

Like a switch has been flipped off, you revert back to your normal self. Using your arms to shield your body, you run away from him, about to make it to the bank when his voice stops you. “Do you truly mean it? Do you love me?”

You close your eyes. “Yes. I always have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” you pull your hair to the side, squeezing the water out. “You barely believe me now, so why believe me if I said it earlier? It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Then why were you calling for me? I heard you crying. You said you wanted me to help you.”

You whip around, tears furiously flowing down. “I’m going to the jujutsu sorcerers myself tomorrow and let them exorcise me. There’s no point to my existence, Sukuna. I’m tired of all the wars. I’m tired of fighting for someone I don’t even care about. I’m tired of loving you and watching you look at her instead of me, when I’m the one who’s always been there for you. I’m tired of —” you hiccup, embarrassed that he was now watching you break down in front of him. You were a powerful curse, dammit, you shouldn’t even be crying about this. “—I’m tired of not being the one you love.”

Sukuna stands there gaping. You don’t give him another chance to speak as you walk away, seemingly a new habit of yours now. You haven’t always been this way. Patience was never one of your strongest points, but being around Sukuna for the past years taught you a thing or two. That all shatters now that you’ve grown tired, the shame of patheticness crawling between your legs as you retrieve your robes, not bothering to dry up.

He exhales through his nose, claws balled into a fist to restrain his anger. Now he wants to be gentle with you the way he is with her?

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic – you keep chanting to yourself. You’re not there yet, but there have already been rumours that you’re the Queen of Curses, the only one who ever managed to be Sukuna’s equal. Although men feared you, they also lusted after you.

How could they not? You were a sexual prowess, and a fearsome figure in the battlefield. Men are confused whether they want to be with you, or if the mere utter of your name had them fainting. Sukuna, on the other hand? He didn’t care. He didn’t notice you. You’re nothing but a war tool to him, his friend and companion during his dark days when he grew bored and would randomly slaughter homes and enslave people.

He’s not the same anymore. The Sukuna you once knew was gone, and you turned back away from him bitterly, the blue flames licking up your skin as a symbol of anger, hatred, but most of all, humiliation.

That night, you didn’t go back to the temple.

And a small, quiet village who’d been loyal to both you and Sukuna had become the victims of your frustration.

The next day, silence echoes in the hallways of the temple. You couldn’t hear even the soft breathings or whispers of the servants. Your ears perk up once you cross the threshold, dropping your bloody katana and releasing your hair from its red tie. The temple servants must’ve already heard that their relatives died the night before – all thanks to your inability to handle your feelings.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, you’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna: killing people, enjoying their screams, basking in their surrender and painting the image of hope fading from their eyes into the back of your school.

You’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna, but this is the first time you’ve done it alone. You only ever took their lives because Sukuna asked you. Because he assured it was a way to keep gaining strength and to make a name for yourself; that being a powerful Curse was the best feeling in the world and no amount of woman or alcohol felt greater than power.

Sukuna lied.

To him, his heaven was in her arms.

And you? Utterly lost. Broken. With nowhere else to go. As you enter your room, you’re greeted by the sight of a made up bed and cleaned sheets. Even after slaughtering families, your servants still cleaned your room out of fear, and the previous blood from the other day had been wiped away with bleach.

Then, you see yourself from the floor length mirror. White yukata that might as well have been red from the amount of absorbed into the cloth draped over your curves, and your eyes lost what little light it once held. Blood drips from your fingertips and you swipe your thumb over your lip, a small gasp falling to your lips as you recall a little girl, barely five or six winters old, with the exact same lips trembling as she begs you not to kill her parents.

It’s the splitting image of you when you were younger, when you ran around cities unintentionally wreaking havoc out of confusion over your powers. You have no parents. No past. No memory. You just came into existence because of mankind’s grief, and it only made sense you carried that burden more than anyone else.

But you’re not this. You are not a killer. You didn’t enjoy it. You never enjoyed it. Even when Sukuna convinced you that you did, there was no forgetting the fact that you cried yourself to sleep when you were younger at the thought you grew more powerful because you added to the heartbreak of people.

The word heartbreak lights up a bulb in your head. That’s right...you’re the Curse of Heartbreaks – of pain, of grief, of mourning, of suffering.

If you couldn’t have what you want, then why should he? Isn’t it already written in your fate that your destiny is to carry those pain, inflict it onto others, and make them realize they’re wasting their lives believing a lie that love prevails all? That love prevails even someone as irredeemable as Sukuna?

You won’t allow it.

Without wasting another second, you dash to her room. Sukuna’s out to deal with some clan leaders for whatever ritual he wants to perform or out to get more healing potions. The girl never went anywhere else outside the temple because both jujutsu sorcerers and curses are always ready to prance, and she’s smart to not put herself in harm’s way.

But you are harm’s way.

You run so fast through the hallways that you keep bumping into corners, denting the wooden boards and the floor cracking beneath you. You don’t stop until you reach their room, swiping the doors open, and sliding on the doorframe when you see she’s still asleep.

She and Sukuna must’ve stayed up all night performing...activities. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been this weak. She’s a lively and bubbly girl, she wouldn’t have – you freeze in your spot.

Tentatively, you reach over to where she softly snored, tilting her to face you by grabbing her shoulder. She only groans in her slumber before burying herself under the covers. “Sukuna...” her brows furrow as she twitches, probably dreaming about something, and she kicks the covers off with a whine. That’s when you see it. And then you see everything.

A small – barely there – bump on her tummy is half concealed by her lace gown that reveals her skin free from scars, a sign that she’d never really been in battle. But she’s carrying his child, and even though you’re not the one pregnant, you feel bile rise up in your throat.

Your knees wobble and you fall beside their bed, your palms shaky as you place it over her belly. First, you hear a baby cry, and then, a man’s scream.

Sukuna carries his daughter’s form, the little thing bundled up safely in towels while her father coos at her. She’s so small, vulnerable and exposed to the horrors of the world, but she didn’t need to worry about that. Sukuna would protect her, and so would you.

You stand outside the room, a small smile on your face with your arms crossed on your chest. Well, you’ll be damned. You’re not a fan of children and babies in general, but you do admit the infant’s cries sound like music to your ears. It means she’s alive and healthy, and even though her existence is nearly impossible considering her father is a curse, the girl was born perfectly fine and well.

Suddenly, a dark, ominous presence looms over the room. You stand on guard, hands drawing your blade to prepare for whatever or whoever attacked you. You’re not a fan of the kid and or her mother regardless, but Sukuna is left open and vulnerable for attack in this state. He’s too busy fawning over his kid to sense any incoming assault.

However, something doesn’t feel right with this one. That dark, suffocating feeling doesn’t travel. Instead, it’s stagnant and somewhat docile, as if it has no intention to attack, but its threat still remains. It doesn’t even seem like it came from anywhere or it’s about to arrive. Rather...it’s like it was always there to begin with.

Your eyes widen at the realization.

What would happen if a curse...fathered someone else? Would it be human? Or would it be something worse?

You slam the doors open, and everything happens in slow motion. The baby’s mother reaches out to a nearly sobbing Sukuna, eager to see her child, but just as her small, grubby hands wrap around her mother’s pointer finger, it falls. She stops breathing, her arm falling limp, and Sukuna stops cooing. The baby’s cries cease, staring up at her father and extending her small arms to cup his face.

It seems he realized it too, but it was too late.

“Sukuna, don’t!”

The child giggles, her knuckles brushing against her father’s jaw, and the King of Curses lose his grip on her. You watch as they both fall, a garbled scream leaving your lips. The midwife runs to save the child before she’s crushed under Sukuna’s weight, but she too has fallen victim the moment her skin made contact with the baby’s.

No...it’s not even a child or an infant. It’s not even human.

It’s the Curse of Death.

And at her birth, the world would grow dark, darker than what you and Sukuna have already caused the world to be. Her words would sound like a fork scraping against a plate; torturous, excruciatingly painful, and enough to have you begging for death. The simple brush of skin upon skin takes away the energy, power, and life even of the most powerful beings. After all, what is stronger than Death? It was the only absolute truth in the world – which all things must come to an end.

You retract your hand from her body, sweat dripping on your hairline. That thing growing inside her body...it must not be born. Sukuna would die.

With a silent scream, you whip out the dagger and force it upon her stomach. Or at least, you would’ve, if not for the blade that had peaked out your chest and nearly poking Sukuna’s lover’s back. Blood stained the silver blade, leaking into your lap.

You drop your dagger.

“I trusted you,” Sukuna begins calmly, pulling out the sword from your body in one swift movement. He ignores the way you cough out blood, your head shaking as if to deny his words. His face remains expressionless as he wipes your blood on his thigh, dropping the potions to aid her pregnancy beside her on the bed. Sukuna crouches down to your level and pulls you by the hair until he’s close enough that you could see his two other eyes also glare at you. “Have I not made it clear she is to be untouched? Just because you’re unable to handle your petty jealousy, does not give you a goddamn right to kill what’s mine.”

“What grows in her is a monster,” you sneer, struggling against his grip. You’ve forgotten that his sword is imbued with his special curses that would immediately exorcise any weaker Curse, but because you’re on the same level as him, you die slowly, and a lot more painfully.

“That child is mine. It was created out of love.”

“It is not a child!” You argue, “It will be born as the Curse of Death, one that will kill both you and your little lover!”

“And if you’re lying?”

You grit your teeth. “I would never lie to you, Sukuna.”

His brow shots upwards, a smirk creasing his lips. “Is that so?” he shoves you until you slam against the wall. Sukuna treads to you dangerously, his tongue peeking out to swipe at his lips. You know that darkness in his eyes better than most – it’s the look he always wore when he decides to go for the kill.  “Then, since you’re always honest to me, tell me this: do you still love me?”

You don’t even think about it.

“Yes. That’s why I’m telling you to get rid of that thing before you and everyone else dies.”

“A concerned little lamb,” he hums in amusement. “That makes it clear then,” Before you could process what happens next, you take your last breath as Sukuna rips out your heart with his claws. It’s not an actual heart, but rather the core of your Curse manifestation and the gem-like object is crushed under his fists. “Queen of Curses, Curse of Heartbreak,” he drops the pieces of your heart into your lap, Sukuna growing more and more blurry in front of you. “Die the same way you came to life: with a terrible, terrible heartbreak.”

Sometimes, you can’t help but feel like you’d been an awful person in your past life. It’s not that you’d ever done anything illegal or rebellious. Your parents are quite proud of your immaculately clean school record, and your grades are even above average. The school’s faculty absolutely adores you for your preppy personality, always volunteering to help others and taking the lead when no one wants to budge.

You suppose you’re quite a role model, but what no one understands is that maybe you’re always going out of your way to be kind with someone because deep down, you have a nagging feeling you’ve once been a terrible person.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around your legs as you hug it to yourself, whacking your forehead in your knees to get rid of those impending thoughts. There’s really no reason behind it, more like an intuition that you’ve forgotten about something important.

You’re pulled out of your trance when warm, soft hands push your hair back, and a pair of even softer lips land at your shoulders. Immediately, you smile, turning your head to peer at the dark-haired beauty that shyly peeks up at you under his long lashes. He keeps peppering kisses all the way up to your neck until you laugh from being ticklish, and it doesn’t take long before Megumi has you smiling again.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles on your shoulder, his warm hand drawing comforting circles on your lower back. Again, the simple gesture ignites something within you, something about oddly familiar even if you don’t feel like you’ve experienced it firsthand. “You’ve been deep in thought lately.”

“Lately?”

“Hmm,” he moves up your face, pressing a long, solid kiss at your forehead. It makes you relax and sigh happily, unable to help your urge to crawl into his lap and bury yourself in his arms. “Ever since Itadori enrolled here, you’ve always looked at him...quite weirdly. Is he bothering you? You know if he does something weird, I won’t hesitate to feed him to the Divine Dogs.”

That elicits a laugh from you. Now that you think about it, you’ve been awfully quite ever since Gojo sensei came back with that overly excited kid. You don’t know why, you don’t even realize his presence affects you, but you don’t want Megumi to worry about it when you can’t understand it yourself. So you hug him closer until the scent of fresh laundry wafts your senses, and you brush his scalp tenderly.

Megumi purrs.

“It’s nothing you should worry about, I’m sure I’m just tired from exams.” Unlike Megumi, you’re not a jujutsu sorcerer. You came from a totally human family that lived a totally mundane humane life, unaware that curses exist and people actually die from it. If it wasn’t for Megumi saving you that one time in school when you unknowingly stayed behind the same night the Occult Club did and ran into some freaky monsters, you would continue living without any idea of it.

It wasn’t always easy accepting Megumi’s true identity, but you loved him more than anyone else, and so hiding in his dorms while lying to your parents you were going to sleep over a friend’s house has become somewhat a daily occurrence. You’ve even made friends with the lovely Nobara and Maki senpai who welcomes you with open arms – although maybe it’s because you never fail to bring them food from the city and some fashionable items for Nobara.

Megumi senses your hesitance to talk about it, so he drops it and enjoys the feeling of your skin on him instead, your breaths falling in the same rhythm. Tonight, he and his classmates would go out on a mission again because the idiotic Gojo-sensei was away overseas, and as always, you’d stay up late in Megumi’s room, waiting for him to come back right after he promises you you’ll come back safely.

You close your eyes and wrap yourself around him like a koala, and Megumi laughs at how small you are. He doesn’t brush you off, though. He knows you fear for his life despite the fact you trust him with his abilities, but you can’t help it. It’s only natural to worry about your loved one, after all.

For now, he’ll have to keep cuddling and kissing you for as long as he could before he leaves.

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from battles?

You scramble away from Megumi’s bed the moment you’re waken up by the sound of steady knocks. The first aid kit lays on his study desk, which you swipe with sleepy eyes as his baggy clothes crinkle in your smaller figure. It’s rare that Megumi lets you see his state during after battles, but today, tonight, he allowed you to stay even after his mission.

Your steps are nothing but hurried when you slide the door open, his name about to fall from your lips until you’re greeted by a young man with strawberry blonde hair and black marks on his face. It’s Itadori Yuuji, but at the same time, it’s not him...

His cheerfulness and airheaded self is gone, replaced with a much sinister entity residing within it. The man before you sighs, frowning in distaste at your clothes – your boyfriend’s clothes – before he invites himself in and shuts the door behind him.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between your skin and his, his face nuzzling in your neck. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my Queen. Safely like you asked.”

“Wha-?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers so quietly you wonder if you heard it at all. “For not believing you, for not seeing you. It took me thousands of years to realize where I fucked it all up, but I know the truth now. And you were right – you were always right. I hope in this life I no longer break your heart in the same way you soothe mine.”

 - - - - - 

A/N: Sounds like a pretty confusing ending, which it is, and I was gonna leave it at that but because I don’t want anyone to go “HUH?” after reading this, I’m just gonna explain :D Sukuna eventually realized how toxic he was to the reader in her past life, how he convinced her to be a bad person with him then emotionally abandoning her the moment he found his happiness. She was the Curse of Heartbreak, and her powers remained even after she was “exorcised.” 

She broke his heart by showing him how he lost everything after her exorcism and his lover’s death (because he also saw the future that the child was the Curse of Death) and all those years of suffering eventually made him realize that the power of heartbreak was the one that destroyed him. So in the present, when the reader was reincarnated as a human girl, he finally found her and tries to make up for his mistakes because she was actually his first love, he just didn’t realize it because both of them were somewhat barbaric and psychotic. Lmk what you think, I hope you liked it!

[stanknotstark]

Violet Sunkiss (Loki x Reader)

Well it started as crack and then it got out of hand and DUDE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CRACK 😭 you can blame @natashas-favourite-knives​ (what do you think of the title ehhhhh?) for inspiring this piece and @justfangirlthingies and @mellifluousart and @creeping156tin-reblogs​ for encouraging it too 😂

Summary: What started out as a thought of “What if you had a sun burn and begged Loki to change you into a vampire so it didn’t hurt anymore” turned into something completely different...I’m not complaining but apparently I can’t write crack 😂

Loki rolls his eyes at your theatrics. 

“Loki, it hurts, I feel like you could cook an egg on my shoulders!” 

“Lokiiiiii, put your cold hands on-OW, ok, maybe don’t do that again, thanks.”

“Loki, how do you not have aloe vera, you’re a vampire, aren’t sunburns normal for you?” 

“Loki! Could you use your magic to put un-melting ice on my back?”

“Loki-”

“Darling, if you give another inane request I will not hesitate to put you to sleep until the sunburn is healed.” Loki tells you with a glare. 

You smile up at him, from the couch. Then you tilt your head, ever so slightly, baring your neck to him. When you see his eyes fly to your neck you smirk. 

“Loki, it burns really bad, would you change me so I can heal faster?” You ask of Loki, coyly. He doesn’t miss the pout on your lips.

Loki’s eyes flash to yours and he growls. “Do not jest about that, you know how I feel about that.” 

Your smirk widens into a smile. “Please! It really burns and it’s getting itchy! You know I have a hard time not scratching.” 

Loki rolls his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. 

“Sweetheart, if i turned you it would heal your sunburn but if you ever got another sunburn it would be ten times as bad. It is illogical to turn you for something this small, anyways.” 

“Small? Loki, my entire back is going to be peeling in a few days, you call that small?” 

“You completely missed my point.” Loki shakes his head then makes his way to the couch and sits next to you. He takes your hand into his, his long, sharp nails trailing over your pulse in your wrist as he envelops your hand in his. 

“Is that what you truly want? For me to change you?” Loki asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

You want to play with him, he will gladly play right back. 

Loki smirks when he sees your face slacken and you swallow nervously. 

You both have had the conversation. Loki wants you to change so he may have you eternally, you were hesitant and requested time to think on it.

Loki trails his free hand up your side until it rests on your neck, his thumb nail scratching slightly at the pulse in your neck. Loki watches with pride as your mouth falls open and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

Loki takes this moment to pull you to him, his mouth now rests above the pulse in your neck. He lets his tongue flick over your skin and chuckles when you gasp and your hands ball in his shirt.

“I thought you said you weren’t sure yet, darling. Have you made up your mind?” Loki whispers over your now goosed skin. 

“I-uh...” 

Loki pulls from your neck with a smirk. “That’s hardly an answer, sweetheart.” He tells you, inches from your face, in a smug tone. 

Loki watches as you come back to yourself, he doesn’t miss the stubborn flash in your eyes. 

“Unless you have a way to take away the pain and peeling...yes.” 

Loki looks into your eyes with a squint. He lets out a frustrated sigh when all he finds is you being a stubborn brat. 

However, he listens to you and settles a hand on your shoulder. 

“Ow! I told you-Oh....”

Loki smirks as you melt into his hand. He used his magic to cool your heated skin and relieve some of the pain. He could make the burn disappear but he thinks you deserve a little retribution for your actions and demands. 

When Loki is holding you after you melted into his touch, curling into his body on the couch, you let out a small thanks to which Loki smiles at but doesn’t respond. 

A week later you make the request again. 

“God, fuck, ah!” You shout, hopping on one foot.

Loki rounds the corner quickly and raises an amused eyebrow as you hop around, clutching at your other foot. He assumes you’ve stubbed your toe on the wall. 

“Stop laughing at me, asshole!” You shout at Loki who can’t help a laugh at your yelling. 

“Loki, it hurts really bad, can you change me so it doesn’t?” 

That makes Loki huff and leave the area, you smirking at his retreating form. 

It happens again a few days later. 

“Darling, the food just came out of the oven don-”

You take a bite against better judgement and hasfafsafa the food in your mouth till it’s cool enough to swallow. You fan air to your mouth with your hand then pout at Loki. 

“If you change me it won’t burn anymore!” 

Loki purses his lips and stabs his fork into the food he had prepared for you both. “I did try to warn you, if you would listen.” He tuts, ignoring your plead. 

“Loki! If you change me I won’t have to drive to the store anymore, I can just teleport!”

“If you change me I won’t ever get cold again!”

“Loki, change me so my nails get longer!” 

Loki doesn’t ever listen to your demands but he lets you keep making them because he has hopes that thinking about it so much will help you come to a conclusion on his question. Perhaps with your mind constantly thinking about it you’ll become familiar with it and even want to be changed, seriously. 

It happens one day when you’re both cuddling in bed, close to falling asleep after a long day. 

“Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki hums behind you. You lay as the small spoon, your back to Loki’s chest under the covers. He lets his hands wrapped around your waist caress at the skin under your shirt. 

“If vampires couldn’t die there would be more of them, that means while you’re immortal there is something that can kill you, right?” 

Loki blinks as he regards your random but, definitely thought out, question. 

“Yes.”

“What can kill you?” 

“Every vampire has a...an achilles heel, if you will. You don’t know where it is till you’ve changed. If someone were to stab you there with pure silver, we cease to exist.” Loki refuses to let his lips form the word die. 

You’re quiet after his explanation but then you ask, “What’s yours?” In a small voice. 

Loki tenses, his hands that had been caressing you now frozen over your skin. Then he lets out a breath and relaxes. You weren’t going to kill him, merely curious. He trusts you wholly, and that might scare him a bit if he hadn’t come to terms with it years ago.

“The nape of my neck.” 

At Loki’s response you let out a thoughtful hum and turn in his arms to face him. You bring your hands from under the covers and wrap around his neck to rest on his nape. When your nails dig into the flesh and baby hairs there to slightly scratch, Loki shudders, his eyes closing, and pulls you to him, even closer. 

When Loki blinks his eyes back open you look at him with a soft look. 

“Change me.” You demand softly. 

Loki frowns. “Why?” Not sure if your heart was in the right place yet, the whole conversation said otherwise though. 

Loki watches as your eyes flicker over his face. 

“So that way if I ever need to protect you, I can. If a vampire were to come and attack you, try to kill you, I would be a liability. If you change me, that gives you a better chance of surviving.” 

Loki lets his lips twitch, as if wanting to smile. “Are you suggesting I can’t hold my own?” 

Loki feels warmth bloom in his chest when you laugh lightly. “No. Just that I want to help protect you if I can. The cherry on top is that I get to spend eternity with you, I suppose.” You say, your hands involuntarily pulling at the strands of hair on Loki’s neck, nervously at your confession.

Loki lets out a small breathy moan but really looks at you to see if you’re serious. Looking in your eyes he finds nothing but confidence and love. 

“Eternity is a long time, are you sure about this?” Loki asks, giving you one more chance to back out and retain a normal life. 

When you smile at him and nod he feels his face soften into a stupidly in love look. 

“Then your wish is my command, darling.” 

Loki shifts till he hovers over you, sleep forgotten long ago by you both. As he looks down at you he expects there to be a nervous look on your face, a small tick to hint at fear, but instead you look up at Loki as if this is exactly where you’re meant to be. This pulls Loki towards you so he may take your lips in a sweet kiss. 

Loki pulls from your lips and looks at you. “It will hurt when the transformation hits you. You will die,” Loki looks you in the eyes, to make sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into, “And then you will be remade.” 

At your confident nod Loki straddles your hips and rests on his knees. He brings his wrist to his mouth and makes a small cut. As the blood begins to flow from him he holds his wrist over your mouth and watches as the first drop touches your lips before you realize you need to open your mouth and drink his blood. Smart girl. 

Loki lets his blood flow and then you’re surging your arms up to grab Loki’s wrist and pull it to your lips. You suck at his blood with fever and Loki gasps. He hasn’t felt someone drink from him since he himself was changed. It’s a slight sting that’s overshadowed by a euphoric feeling. 

Loki lets you drink from him with small gasps and winces when the pain exceeds the euphoria. Finally you let go of Loki’s wrist and he lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Looking down at you he wants to smile. You’re messy when you drink, your lips are smeared in red, your white teeth also covered in red when they flash from under your lips. 

That’s when you let out a grunt and try to curl up. Loki pins both of your hands above your head and his body pins your body down so you won’t thrash around and hurt yourself. 

Loki does the only thing he can as you thrash from the pain. He whispers in your ear, giving you sweet nothings. 

“You’re so strong, darling.”

“Soon you will be with me for eternity.”

“Even in death you have found a way to be beautiful and invigorating.” 

Loki winces as you let out a hoarse shout, your face scrunched up in pain, tears falling down the side of your face into the pillow below you. 

“Shhh. It’s almost over, you’re doing so well sweetheart. Just hold on for a few more seconds.” Loki says, kissing the side of your face as your body slowly stops thrashing and shaking with a wild fury. 

When you fall completely still Loki pulls up to look down at you. The life is slipping from your eyes. 

“I will be right here when you wake, darling, then we shall start anew.” Loki whispers, kissing your forehead as your eyes lose all life. Loki brings a hand to come over your face and close your eyes for you, then peels his shirt off to clean at the blood on your lips. He unceremoniously throws the shirt somewhere in the room and returns his attention to you.

Loki brings your arms down to hug yourself, he shifts over to lay next to you then pulls you back into the spooning position you both started with earlier. 

He’s nuzzling his face in your nape when you take in a deep breath and return to the land of the living, more like conscious seeing as you were now dead though. His hand comes to settle on your chest. Loki admits, he will miss the feeling of your heart beating under your breast but he wouldn’t trade anything for having you for eternity. 

You both just lay there, Loki letting you get used to your new senses, and you taking in all the new information you’re receiving. 

Finally, when you’ve taken in everything new you turn in Loki’s arms, again, so you may look at him. 

Loki first sees your eyes are bright gold, then he sees your lips quirked up in a smirk. 

“Welcome to the land of the dead, darling.” 

Loki watches as your face goes from smirking to disbelief. 

“That is the most cliché-” You’re cut off when Loki pulls you into a kiss.

You smile in between Loki’s kisses. When he pulls back he looks at you with admonishing eyes. “Give me a break, you drank half my blood.” 

You giggle and bring your hands around his neck. Loki lets a hand grab behind your knee and drag it up his waist. At your gasp and shudder Loki looks at you with raised eyebrows. “I suppose we know where your spot is.” 

You nod, biting your cheek when Loki digs his fingers into the soft skin behind your knee. He loses interest though and rests his hand on the side of your thigh, caressing. 

“As exciting as tonight has been we do need sleep. You will need lots of sleep and blood for the next few weeks.” Loki rests his forehead on yours. He steals a peck from your lips. “Sleep. Come morning I shall teach you everything.” 

You nod and let your eyes fall closed. Sleep isn’t hard to find considering you now feel exhausted. 

“Love you.” You get out before falling completely asleep. 

“And I you.” Loki says, closing his own eyes and chasing after sleep. 

[cursestothemoon]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

iii.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: forced intimacy, suggestive themes, strong language, fighting (verbal and physical), Adrian being a sleazy jerk, Adrian speaking of nonconsensual acts (nothing graphic or intense)

Summary: Fred overhears Adrian and suddenly everything is different, now he needs to go talk to Y/n one last time.

Word Count: 4253

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Patroclus fought with the form and art of Achilles. He wore his helmet and bore his shield, he took long strides to embody the aura of the hero.

But Patroclus was not Achilles.

It was his hubris, his poisonous pride that drove the knife of the enemy through his gut.

And as Patroclus lay dying, his pride trickling out of his fatal wound, he thought of Achilles and he thought of love and war and hubris, and how it was a sick twist bestowed upon the mortals from the gods that all three would be intertwined with an unbreakable bind.

It was in a similar fashion to Patroclus that Fred now lay in the midst of a battlefield deserted, his pride slowly seeping out of his fatal wounds. Only Fred hadn’t been struck down by an enemy. No, Fred had attained his wounds from himself, his pride playing the parts of enemy, sword, and blood in his battle.

The fight was explosive, and Fred was feeling the aftershocks of it all as he remained where he had been for the last ten minutes. Ten minutes since she walked away from him. Ten minutes since he bared his teeth and snarled, a rabid dog taking over his judgment.

Regret is not a big enough word, not strong enough nor capable of expressing the sharp, shredding feeling that Fred felt inside. And as he took a step, the fight played out before him as a scene in front of a director, he had to stop himself from doubling over and being sick.

How could he?

Why would he?

Did he really have such little control that he seemingly blacked out completely and let his jealous rage take over?

With blinding speed Fred moved for the first time in now twenty minutes. He took quick steps toward the tree that he could still see her figure leaning against if he tried hard enough, and hit the bark with a hard punch. He wasn’t sure if the echoing crack was from the tree or his hand but nevertheless he reeled his fist back and layed another blow onto the innocent tree. Two became three, then four, then five soon enough every hit melded into one frenzy of rage and guilt and regret, leaving his knuckles torn, bloodied, and bruised while his chest began to heave.

Fred pulled his fist back again, but instead of a powerful blow it jutted with a stutter before he placed it on the bark to steady himself, his head falling forward making the roughness of the tree hit his forehead as he took in deep breaths. Shoulders slumped and eyes screwed shut, anger faded along with jealousy, leaving behind only his painful regret.

He gathered himself before trudging to meet George on the quidditch pitch, his sullen demeanor, unnaturally pale face, and lacerated knuckles letting the younger twin know that there was no confession of love or making amends between the two.

“Freddie…”

***

Y/n dried her tears and held her head up high as she walked back into the castle, Lily waiting for her by the entrance. She had seen the fight, Y/n knew it too, but neither of them mentioned it as they made their way deeper into the castle and to their dorm. They had made a plan to get butterbeers and Y/n would be damned if she let some fight with a boy get in the way of her enjoying her time with her best friend.

Quidditch practice, on the other hand, was disastrous.

Slytherin and Gryffindor had been scheduled to share the pitch for practice today, a plan made by the two heads of houses who didn’t want to deal with the captains fighting over the pitch again.

Tensions were high on the field as Adrian took it upon himself to make his presence known to Fred at any chance given. The aforementioned Gryffindor was quick to slug bludgers in his direction with a force fueled by hatred.

Angelina and Marcus called practice twenty minutes early, both of them having enough sense to know that someone was going to get hurt soon if the two boys weren’t separated- Marcus needed more persuading but begrudgingly agreed.

“Oi! Weasley!”

Both Fred and George turned to Angelina, the latter with a lighter energy.

“Fred, I don’t know what’s going on with you today but next practice I need your head in the game.”

Fred nodded passively before turning on his heels and walking to the locker rooms. George gave Angelina an apologetic shrug before following after his brother.

To get to the Gryffindor locker rooms it was necessary to pass by the Slytherin locker rooms, an unfortunate layout choice by whoever was responsible for the placement. Fred flexed his hand, fists opening and closing, as he walked past the open door. His eyes darkened with an emotion so strong it bled down to his reddening cheeks. George, the twin known for his more empathetic tendencies, could feel the anger sizzle in the air as Adrian’s voice sounded from inside the locker room.

“-you know I always get what I want in the end.” He chuckled, in conversation with someone.

Fred thought to keep walking, to ignore the conversation and move on from it all, even George was adamant on trying to nudge his brother to keep walking, but something kept him standing there with Fred, just hidden from the open doorway.

“Fred come on mate, it’s just going to rile you up.” George tried to reason with his twin in a harsh whisper.

The boy instead brought a finger up to his lips telling his brother to keep quiet as he tried to listen. This resulted in an eye roll from George, knowing there was no changing Fred’s mind once he was stuck on something.

“Is she any good?” The voice belonged to Marcus Flint.

In the locker room Adrian was leaning against his locker talking to Marcus about Y/n and how everything seemed to be falling into place for him.

Adrian gave a shrug as he thought about the question seriously for a moment before a grin split his face making Marcus chuckle.

“When she isn’t fighting it, yeah Y/n’s good. Ever since she had the falling out with the weasel she’s been a lot… easier to deal with.”

Marcus furrowed his brows, “How’d you mean?”

“Before she used to fight me. Push me away, get mad, yell. But after the whole thing with him she just doesn’t care to fight anymore. I should thank him, just today I had seen him walking in our direction so I made sure to give him a good show.”

“And you’re sure Weasley saw?”

Adrian nodded with a proud smile, “Oh yeah, he definitely saw us. They had a nasty fight too, I imagine it won’t be too long until I can get her alone so I can get her knickers off like old times. After that fight I doubt she’d have enough energy to really try to fight me off. I mean she can only say no so many times.”

Marcus had gone silent, offering his friend a curt nod trying not to show his discomfort for how far Adrian was willing to go.

Just on the other side of the entrance Fred was seeing red.

“I’ll kill him.” He seethed to an equally enraged George, who was glad he didn’t force Fred to leave.

With impeccable timing Adrian walked out of the door, now in front of the twins.

“Pucey.” George called, but Fred wasn’t one for words at the moment.

No, instead he took two long strides toward the sleazy Slytherin before throwing his fist into his face. The force caused Adrian to stumble back a few steps and fall into a kneeling position before he reached for his wand that had been placed in the waistband of his trousers. Fred was quicker, fortunately, and knocked it out of his hand.

“Come on, fight me like an honorable wizard, Weasley.” Adrian sneered getting up to his feet.

Fred, who had left his wand in his locker, shook his head, “Won’t be needing a wand to turn your face inside out, Pucey.”

That was the last statement before he lunged into Adrian a fight ensuing. George stood back cheering on his brother, who clearly had the advantage, only stopping to put a warning hand on Marcus Flint’s chest- he looked as though he was going to go to his friend's aid.

Fred was relentless with his hits, slugging him over and over again. He was blind with rage, arms detailed with ever present viens and the slightest of blood splatter from Adrian’s nose and mouth. The aforementioned boy was trying his best to block Fred’s painful jab’s to any point of his body that could be reached.

“Go.” George spat with venom in a slow drawl, his tone was intimidating. Intimidating and threatening enough to get Marcus to, reluctantly, walk away.

He was like a man possessed, the more Adrian bled the more he wanted to keep going. Fred was adamant on beating his anger into Adrian, his anger with the Slytherin and with himself.. It was happening right in front of him, Y/n was being used right in front of him and he couldn’t see it. He let his insecurities get the better of him and now he was rolling around in the mud with Adrian Pucey who had just landed a single punch to Fred’s jaw making it ache. His bruising jaw was the least of his worries however and grabbed Adrian by the collar of his shirt, lifting him a few inches off the ground before slamming him down again. He repeated this action until it seemed Adrian was slipping in and out of consciousness and his own nail beds were begging for respite from how tightly he was gripping the fabric.

Fred threw him down one last time before standing up over his bloodied body, George coming to his side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You did it, Fred. He’s learned his lesson.”

He got a nod in response and he dropped his hand slowly as his eyes shifted to the groaning boy on the floor. George would’ve joined in beating the boy to a pulp, he was itching to really, but he knew this was something Fred needed to do himself.

The older twin curled his lip in a snarl as he crouched down again, his elbows resting on his bent knees as he spoke.

“Talk like that, do those things again to anyone…” Fred brought a hand to grab Adrian’s jaw and turn his face as he gave his work an appraising once over. “And I’ll kill you.”

He gave his face a harsh shove in the opposite direction making the boy wince before he straightened up and started walking away from the scene, away from the locker rooms.

George furrowed his brow before calling out, “Where are you off to?”

“To find her.”

***

Y/n and Lily were on their way back from Hogsmeade, the thick sweetness of butterbeer still coating their tongues. The fight wasn’t mentioned, not without an attempt from Lily, but it was evident with the way Y/n shutdown, her words coming out jumbled, and fingers wringing together that she did not want to talk about it.

The walk back was filled with light conversation until Lily got annoyed with how her friend was behaving.

“You know your whole act is making me sick.” She stated, her tone neutral.

Y/n was taken aback for a moment trying to figure what happened, “Lil-”

“And when I’m not sick, I’m tired. I am sick and tired of this back and forth game. You didn’t want to talk earlier, that’s fine it was still fresh. But you can’t keep bottling it up like this, you’ll kill yourself.”

The only response she got was a sigh before Y/n started to talk just barely above a whisper.

“He’s just like everyone else, Lily. He believes everything people say about me.” She sniffled but continued to speak, “If I had known that Adrian would… do what he did, say what he did, I never would’ve lost my virginity to him but rumors start and I can’t stop that.”

Lily seemed to be in thought before speaking, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier, didn't do anything. I won’t leave you alone with him, ever, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet and barely heard above the crunch of gravel under their feet.

“And Fred? How do you feel about him?”

Y/n shrugged, collecting herself before she spoke, “It’s over. I’ll get over it. You’d think a person’s feelings would fade after such a...conversation.”

Her friend nodded, “You still love him.”

It wasn’t a question, Lily didn’t ask, she told her. Stated it as common knowledge and Y/n was tired of denying her feelings. Tired of pretending not to care and tired of holding so much in.

“Why?” Her voice was broken as she asked Lily with a hopeless voice, tears starting to freely fall down her face.

“Oh, Y/n…”

The Slytherin embraced her crying friend, more than willing to offer her much needed comfort. She knew it was difficult for Y/n to be this open with her feelings, her tears dampening the crook of Lily’s neck was not a familiar feeling.

“It hurts. I don’t want to have these feelings anymore.”

Lily felt her own eyes well with tears, “Maybe your heart knows something you don't, that’s why it won’t let you let go.”

“Well I wish it would stop hiding things from me.” Y/n laughed as she pulled away from the hug, wiping her face.

The girl agreed with a soft giggle before linking their arms and continuing their walk back to the castle, a comfortable silence falling over them.

Fred was pacing the main entrance of the castle, just in front of the Great Hall, no doubt leaving dirty footprints on the otherwise clean stone floor. He was still in his quidditch uniform, hair tousled from the wind, fists bloody, and dirt from rolling around on the ground was up to his mid thigh.

The echo of footsteps made his head snap up, his breath hitched as he saw Y/n and Lily walking back into the castle together. The dried tears and puffy eyes made his heart ache, regret and sadness flooding all of his senses.

It was knowing that he messed up.

He did this.

It was no one's fault but his, and the real kicker was that even if he apologized, got down on his knees pleading and crying, she had every right to walk away.

She didn’t have to forgive him, he didn’t deserve it and Fred knew that, and accepting that was what allowed him to finally push his pride aside.

“Why do you look like that?” Lily’s voice rang through the entrance, her face scrunched in disgust at Fred’s less then put together appearance.

He couldn’t care less about her question, his eyes were trained on the way Y/n’s breath skipped and she seemed nervous, almost… scared to be near him again.

“Y/n…”

Lily looked between the two, each holding a lovesick gaze polluted with sadness that made her, quite honestly, uncomfortable, but she was able to gage the situation and spoke up, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Need something, I’ll be in our common room.”

Y/n nodded, giving her friend a nervous smile as she left, then looking back at the roughed up ginger standing before her.

“Fred.”

Her tone was stoic and he hated it.

Fred didn’t know where to start.

“I-” The words got lost in his mouth as she looked at him expectantly.

Y/n shook her head, going to walk in the same direction Lily went, “Look, if you’re just going to continue calling me names I’m going to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” His words came out rushed and near a shout as he took a step forward trying to reach out to her, to stop her from leaving.

He watched as the girl seemed to mull things over before giving him a curt nod, “Yeah, it’s fine. What’s done is done.”

She ended the sentence with a new found attitude, he had chosen to act the way he did, now he had to deal with it.

With a sudden surge of passion Fred nearly growled out, “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not done. It’s not over. I was stupid and rude an-and a disrespectful git. I want to apologize for the nasty things I said, you didn’t deserve that, not at all.” Fred fought.

Y/n nodded, “You’re right. I didn’t, so why say it?”

Fred let out a breath as he stepped closer to her, eyes burning with an emotion Y/n had never seen before.

“Because I was jealous, insecure, and stupid. I thought you were going with him… and I knew I’d never be able to compete with that but I- Y/n, I-” He grew frustrated as he tried to find the right way to finally confess his feelings.

Y/n felt her tears build again as she frantically shook her head, taking backward steps away from the wired boy.

“Don’t. Don’t say-don’t do this Fred.”

“I’m- I love you. I’m in love with-”

“No. Don’t say that!” Heavy tears were now rolling down her face as she tried to shy away from Fred who was taking cautious steps toward her.

“Why not? Why can’t I tell you that I am in love with you, Y/n.”He questioned carefully.

She looked up at him with one of the saddest expressions he’d ever seen on a single person, “Because how am I ever meant to stop loving you when you’re saying things like this? How am I supposed to move on and get over you when you’re saying that you’re in love with me. You’re being mean Fred, just let me get over you.”

It was Fred’s turn to shake his head, “I’ll tell you every minute of every day if I had to, I love you Y/n. I love you, I love you, I love you.” The words fell so easily from his lips now, like a sacred mantra.

This only seemed to make her cry harder as she hugged herself with her arms, the sight made Fred want nothing more than to rush over to her, pull her into his embrace and wipe away each tear but he knew he had to tread lightly.

“Stop! Adrian, he’ll-”

Y/n watched Fred clench his fists, now noticing how swollen and wounded they looked.

“You don’t want to know what I overheard him saying, the things he wanted to do, the things he’s done!” Fred exclaimed, his temper making his voice rise.

At Fred’s words Y/n hung her head low, more silent tears falling down her nose. She didn’t know what to say.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice softened as he stepped closer to her, the closest he’s gotten so far.

The comment made a sudden rush of an emotion- one Y/n couldn’t name at the moment- rush through her. Her eyes snapped up to Fred’s soft ones, an index finger pointing at him weakly.

“You were supposed to know, just like you’re supposed to know that I’ve been in love with you. ” She cried, knowing her logic was flawed but making no effort to stop arguing.

“If you didn’t tell me, how…” His voice was soft, the same tone one would use talking to a wounded animal or crying child.

Fred reached a hand out toward her, letting her make the decision of whether or not he could touch her just yet. The act made her let out a humorless chuckle.

“The same way you know everything!” She shouted. “The same way you know that I get uncomfortable when people touch me, the same way you know my favorite color, or how you knew that no matter how annoying you were I’d still wait for you in the mornings before breakfast so we could walk together. You were just supposed to know.” Her voice faded into a sad whimper as she looked at him.

Streaks of freshly fallen tears now lined Fred’s face as he listened to the girl, his girl. With a featherlight touch he placed his hand on her cheek, holding her face and gently coaxing it to angle up so she’d look at him.

“You’re right, I should’ve known.” Y/n nodded at his words before crashing into his chest, holding onto his jersey as she wept into his chest.

Fred held her body to his, using his right hand to caress the back of her head in an effort to calm her before going to hold her face just under the junction of her neck and jaw, his left hand wrapped around her waist holding her flush against himself.

“I should’ve known.” He muttered again, leaning down to place a loving kiss on the crown of her head.

They stood like that for who-knows how long, only the sound of Y/n’s soft sniffles being heard. It was lucky that dinner was still two or three hours away and most students didn’t come back from the Hogsmeade trip until they absolutely had to- which was twenty minutes before dinner.

Still, Fred knew they were lucky to not have any first years walking in on the emotional scene but he didn’t want to push that luck... he also didn’t want to move just yet.

“Freddie…” The soft tone made him absentmindedly run his thumb across her jaw.

“Yeah, Poppet?” His voice was hoarse, quiet and had a touch of sensitivity that made Y/n want to nuzzle into his chest but she stopped herself.

She swallowed before asking, “Did you mean it?”

Fred furrowed his brow, “What, love?”

“When you said you loved me.”

He let out a chuckle as he leaned back to look into her eyes, both of his hands going to cup her face as he spoke to her with a loving smile.

“I said it about seven times and you’re asking if I meant it? Unbelievable woman you are.”

Y/n laughed at his response, averting her eyes suddenly bashful under the intense emotion seemingly flowing through his eyes. Fred put a finger under her chin to tilt her head back up so he could look at her again, this time more serious.

“I am really sorry, Y/n. I shouldn’t have said those things, I hate myself for-”

He was cut off by the inexplicable feeling of having her be the one to now hold his face gently in her hands, as if he was delicate, important, she held him in a way he didn’t think he deserved to be held, not after all the things he’s said to her.

She searched his eyes for a deceitful haze, or glimmer of dishonesty and found nothing. Nothing except for worry, regret, and intoxicating love.

“It’s done, Freddie. It’s over. No use in worrying over it now that we can't change it.”

He gave a look of concern, “But-”

“I forgive you. I said some pretty nasty things too, let’s learn from it and move on.”

Fred’s eyes saddened and she felt herself involuntarily pout at his doe eyes.

“Move on, meaning…”

“I want you to kiss me, Fred.” She stated strongly with unwavering eye contact.

He leaned in slowly, on hand slipping to the back of her head as his fingers combed through her hair. Just before fully placing his lips onto hers, he angled his head up and placed a soft kiss onto the tip of her nose, he moved to the right corner of her mouth then the left placing sweet kisses. Fred looked into her eyes, silently asking if this was what she wanted. When she gave no sign of discomfort or hesitation he closed the gap between them. His kiss was passionate and slow, he wanted to feel her lips, the soft skin, every ridge he committed to memory.

Y/n felt herself get lost in the kiss, her eyelids had fluttered shut and hands coming up to hold both sides of his neck. She let out a whimper as Fred’s tongue found its way into her mouth, there was no fighting for dominance- Fred just wanted to feel her. Y/n found her way to the roots of his hair, giving them a tug making him groan into the kiss. He went to pull away, but she bit his lip carefully before letting it go watching as it jutted back to place.

She rested her forehead against his- given he was bent over significantly to reach her- and Fred could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything, or anyone, so beautiful. With swollen lips, flushed skin, a heaving chest, and eyes looking up at him through a thick set of lashes with a facade of innocence that made his knees weak.

Both of them grinned at each other, Y/n’s thumbs running back and forth over the soft skin of Fred’s long neck whilst he traced the outline of her cheekbones with his.

“I-I, uh…” Fred shut his eyes momentarily as he laughed at his attempts to find the right words.

Y/n smirked up at him before teasing.

“Are you always this articulate?”

Taglist:

italicized are blogs I wasn’t able to tag

@crazylokonugget​ @alluringshawn​ @meph1stophelian​ @lol-idk-oops​ @slytherclaw1996 @anywherebuthere​​ @freddieweasleyswife​​ @honey-honey-5644 @cookiecakeslive​ @lexymoniqu​ @siriusement​ @gloryekaterina​ @cyberangelpeach​ @lucymfer​ @freds-slut​ @s1ut4georgeweasley​@amourtentiaa  @wolfiepirate 

[koifishanonymous]

🪄

i am very curious about this :3

I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON YOU LET ME GET MY PLAYLIST

uh a little content warning i get pretty personal and existential with some of these so

no particular order

1. love, me normally by will wood

''I was nothing before, so I couldn’t have asked to be born // I'll be nothing again, so what am I between now and then? // Is there nothing to fear? Cause shit's getting weird // So to God who made this man, you better have one hell of a plan // And I'd rather be normal, yes, so normal // I suggest that we keep this informal // 'Cause a normal human being wouldn't need, no // To pretend to be normal, to be normal // Well, I guess that's the least that I owe ya // To be normal in a way I could never be // C’mon, c’mon, yeah, I said c’mon, yeah // C’mon, c’mon, yeah, I said c’mon, yeah

C’mon, c’mon, and love me normally"

basically the whole ending to the this song perfectly encapsulate both mmy mental state and my feelings towards love. like this song is the closest thing i have to an explanation. also just the way its sung, desperately and angrily almost just makes me explode

2. i / me / myself by will wood

"I am quantum physics // My witness brings me into existence // I wish I could be a girl, and that way // You'd wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend // Am I pretty enough to love back // No not yet // I wish I could be a girl, and really // I'd prefer it if you would use I, Me, Myself // Am I pretty enough, am I pretty enough // To fucking die // Little old me in a big world // Well I would give you my whole world // Little old me in a big world //I wish // All identities are equally invalid // Don't you think that there's a chance that you could live without it? "

basically the same as love me normally, but for my gender! i scream these lyrics because i wish I was as simple as just being a girl but i'm not and i would rather we lived without the pressure to know who you are, or even be only one things at a time

3. black out days by phantogram

"if I could paint the sky // well all the stars would shine a bloody red"

i dont know how to describe the meaning of this other than that is i had eldritch being powere, i would do this

4. achilles come down by gangs of youth

"You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers (it's not worth it, Achilles) // More poignant than fame or the taste of another (don't listen, Achilles) // But be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker (you're worth more, Achilles) // You will not be more than a rat in the gutter (so much more than a rat)// You want my opinion, my opinion you've got (no one asked your opinion) // You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts (no one asked for your thoughts) // Be done with this now and jump off the roof (be done with this now and get off the roof) // Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you // I'm talking to you"

i relate to achilles a huge deal and to her this song for the first time, was like both patroclus and agamennon were whispering to me. this bit especially broke me

5. iris by the goo goo dolls

"and I don't want the world to see me // cause I don't think that they'd understand"

pretty straight forward, I've tried to open up to so many people and ive only pushed back and made to hear their problems, so I genuinely don't think they understand. good reason to not show mysef, but also because i dont know myself

6. art is dead by bo burnham

"I am an artist, please God forgive me // I am an artist, please don't revere me // I am an artist, please don't respect me // I am an artist, you're free to correct me // A self-centered artist // Self-obsessed artist // I am an artist // I am an artist // But I'm just a kid // I'm just a kid // I'm just a kid, kid // And maybe I'll grow out of it"

i really like creating things, and usually jm not even good at it and I cant help but feels thatbeing an artists has lost all meanibg. people only seem to make art with some sort of end goal and i want to be able to make without the pressure of having a job or school or every other problem in the world

7. sweet hibiscus tea

"And I'm not your protagonist // I'm not even my own"

i can 100% tell you that this is not my body, i am not me. i want to be the main character so bad but i know i'm not

8. people watching by conan gray

"I wanna feel all that love and emotion // Be that attached to the person I'm holding"

i struggle with developing close connections with anyone, i hide nyself and only create a facade you cannot get close to because its a curtain with nothing behind it

9. cardigan by taylor swift

"And when you are young, they assume you know nothing"

this is lyric hits hard because whatever i say gets dismissed, blamed on hormones, or childishness or some other teen "problem"

that all hahah i went a little overboard, and somehow still have more

[usedtobe-angstyoikawa]

Found you

Oikawa Tooru x gn!reader

Summary: you fell in love with him at the wrong time, slight enemies to lovers trope

Warnings: angst (disappointed but not surprised)

Word count: 1909

a/n: sorry I’m a sucker for pain and I’ve been CRAVING unrequited-love-kinda-heartbreak for the past week so yeah sorry again. Also I just finished reading the song of Achilles and didn’t cry so I NEED this

———————————————————————

You first thought he was an asshole. Always wanting to be the center of attention, being the teacher’s pet but talking shit about them as soon as they turned around to continue with the lesson. He was the typical perfect boy who everyone loved, so sweet, so polite, so talented. Or so they thought.

You changed school during your third year of high school and started going to the same one as your childhood friend, Aoba Jōsai High. Kyōtani (aka mad dog) wanted to join the volleyball team but didn’t want to go alone ‘cause he knew he’d screw it up and go back to training by himself. So, you offered yourself to go with him and apply for the manager position. Boy was that the worst choice you’d ever made. Not only did you have to spend lots of time (worth of studying) in that stupid gym but you also had to deal with their self centered captain. The first thing he said to you was “hey cutie where’s my hug at” (a/n: I’m so sorry but he would) you wanted so badly to punch him in the face, but you knew better so you just rolled your eyes and ignored him.

He kept flirting with you every now and then but he grew tired of your indifference pretty quick and started behaving like the spoiled child he was. He’d argue with you during practice over some stupid shit or blame you for having given him really cold water to drink during the last match on purpose just to make his throat sore and sabotage his performance. You were petty and didn’t let him off with this behavior so easily, you’d point out every wrong answer he gave during class just to piss him off or boo him every time he’d miss a serve.

The team seemed to find your relationship with Tooru entertaining. They’d make bets without the two of you knowing, wondering who’d win the next argument or how long it would take you to punch their captain in the face.

After a few months as the team manager you grew closer to the boys and started to listen to their personal problems, giving them the best advice you could think of in order to help them out. They became your friends. Even Oikawa came to you every once in a while to ask for your opinion on some ugly outfit he was thinking of wearing to some party, only to then clarify that he was asking you so he’d do the opposite of what you’d said.

Eventually the bickering ceased and you two started to get along, greeting each other when you crossed in the hallways and making small talk when you were the only ones left in the gym. That last one happened very often. Oikawa was known not only for his good looks and popularity but also for his hard work and volleyball skills. You’d seen him staying at the gym practicing until god knows what hours of the night, Iwaizumi always being the one trying to get him to stop but failing.

One night it was just the three of you, you were about to leave when the two boys started screaming at each other. You’d seen this exact same scene before, Iwa begging him to stop and Tooru yelling at him for not being a good friend and support him. But this time it was different, Iwa was tired of this and didn’t know how to help his stubborn best friend so he exploded.

“ You are a stupid, selfish asshole ” were the words that left the boy’s mouth “ You’re so blinded by your goals that you don’t realize how bad the people who love you are suffering. All because of you and your stupid need for perfection. And I’m tired of this shit”

After that he left the gym and headed home, leaving you alone with Oikawa. The boy seemed to ignore your presence as well as his friend’s words and continued with his practice. He served over and over again, running out of breath with every hit. You didn’t really understand what the big deal was, why he would overwork himself or why Iwa was so mad at him.

“Hey, shittykawa ” you called, expecting him to ignore you. He turned around, volley ball in hand and nodded his head at you.

“What? You gonna yell at me too?”

“No, actually I just wanted to ask you what is going on. I’m still new to this whole manager thing but I’m pretty sure part of my work is to make sure you guys’ heads are working all right, and yours seems to be a bit fucked up ” it wasn’t until the words left your mouth that you realized what you had said. You looked up at him and waited for the argument to start. Again, you were surprised.

“I know, I can act like an idiot when I’m hating myself” his answer was meant to be sarcastic but his face said otherwise.

That day something changed between you two. You sat in the middle of the court and Oikawa opened up to you. He told you about his dreams and goals and how close he had gotten to achieving them, only to have them snatched away because of some mistake he had made. Kyōtani had told you about the match against this Karasuno team and how the lost had affected them, but you felt there was something he wasn’t telling you. Now you understood. Oikawa blamed himself for it. And that wasn’t all, he also talked about the amount of stress and pressure he had put himself under and how tired he was of giving it all only to be beaten by more talented people. You watched him cry and throw balls at the wall, screaming about some first year student who was a better setter than him even though he had worked ten times harder. He was mad, furious but also exhausted. You didn’t really know what to say so all you did was listen to him. Once he had calmed down he apologized for his behavior and walked you home.

That night you couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t expected to see that side of him, you hadn’t even considered that maybe that annoying egotistical self was just his shield, a mask. Ever since that night you started being nicer to him, asking him how his day was going, if he had drank enough water, etc. You were becoming friends.

It wasn’t long until Oikawa’s fans started rumors about the two of you being a couple, the team would make fun of him but he’d just brush it off and deny it. He was Oikawa Tooru, the great king, he couldn’t date someone like you. That’s the lies he’d tell himself but the truth was that he had found a good friend in you and was scared to loose that.

Late night talks in the gym became a regular, he’d always walk you home after practice (along with mad dog ‘cause he was your neighbor) and every now and then you’d have lunch with him. At first it felt nice, you liked being friends with Tooru and being able to help him out with his problems, letting down his walls and showing you his true self. It was close to the end of school that you started to feel weird around him. Suddenly the gym seemed a bit smaller than it used to be, the air felt a little dense too specially after watching Oikawa train intensely, sweat running down his neck. It’d get harder to swallow and talking to him without going blank was a challenge, something was wrong with you but you couldn’t tell what.

You didn’t tell mad dog about it, knowing he wouldn’t really have an answer to give you, so you kept it to yourself and waited for it to go away. It didn’t. You started to think about him on a regular basis, wondering what it’d feel like to hold his hand in yours or to cup his face and give him a soft pe- wait what, oh shit. Could it be? Could you be in love with Tooru?

One night, while he was walking you home after practice you decided to put your feelings to the test. Without really thinking much about it you got your hand out of your pocket and grabbed his hand. It felt cold, harsh, it wasn’t soft at all like you had imagined but you still liked holding it.

“ What are you doing?” you looked up at him with a boring expression on your face, his cheeks were... red?

“ I’m holding your hand” god you were stupid.

“Yeah, I can see that. Why?”

“ I don’t know it just... looked cold, I’ve heard you have cold hands and so I thought I’d help you out” it sounded like a better excuse in your head.

“ Oh, eh okay, thanks I guess?” He gave you a small smile and squeezed your hand, holding it tight until you reached your home.

After that incident you decided you were definitely in love with him. That same night Oikawa realized his feelings towards you were purely platonic, he loved having a friend outside of the volleyball team who could see him for who he really was and would not be afraid to judge him, you cared about him and weren’t afraid to show it. He remembered the words you’d said to him that night at the gym after his fight with Iwa.

“You’re lucky to have someone who cares so much about you, I can really tell he loves you. I know you probably can’t see it right now, but all those things he said he only did cause he’s worried you’re gonna get yourself hurt. He loves you”

He loves you.

The graduation day came and you all cried, laughed and hugged each other. You had planned to confess your feelings to Tooru once the ceremony was over, but before you could get a change it all went to shit. It’s like it all happened in slow motion, him grabbing your hands and pulling you into his arms, making you feel so warm inside.

“ Thank you for giving me a second chance, you’re such a good friend” Ouch. “ I need your advice once more, please?” He looked at you with his puppy eyes and you couldn’t say no. He took you away from the crowd of students and guided you through the halls, finally sitting on the steps of the stairs.

“Okay, so, what is it?” A part of you hoped this was a love confession, the other part knew that it wasn’t.

“ I’ve been thinking about what you said to me that night at the gym” he started “ The night I had a fight with Iwaizumi” his checks were turning red, he was playing with the rings on his fingers, and suddenly you understood. This was a love confession, except he wasn’t confessing to you.

“ You love him” Tooru looked up at you and smiled, you’d never seen him smile so bright.

“ I think I do, but I’m scared. He’s my best friend you know, there’s a lot at risk. I couldn’t bare to loose his friendship over some crush.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “But I’m sure this isn’t it, it’s not just a crush” Ou-“ I love him” -ch.

Next part

[iguessilovebakugou]

In Search of Silver Linings, We Discovered Gold ||  Bakugou x Fem!Reader (x Shinsou) ||  Happier pt 3 ||  Series

I really feel like Sleeping At Last’s “Two” resonates with Shinsou in this one.  But also for the Reader towards Bakugou just like...in general.  Also, I would suggest Gang of Youth’s “Achilles, Come Down” as well. And Lauren Aquilina’s “Fools”. 

One day I’m going to make a playlist for this fucking series - and then you bitches will be sorry.  

I’m sorry it took so long to get this part out.  I feel like nothing I would write would live up to what I did 2 years ago now.  So I really hope that people like this one just as much as the others. 

Part One!  Part Two!

Word Count:  7.7K TW:  Smooching, Death Mention

“Hey, you okay?”

It should be so easy to explain to them what you were feeling.  They where there with you.  They went through the same thing you had, right?  You were right there with Ochaco, sat right by her side and watched her tell Mr. Aizawa...you should be able to just...

“Yeah,”  You offered Asui a bright smile.  “Just...tired.  These make up classes are just...they’re really killer, you know?”

The dorm had been quiet by the time the raid team had made their way home from their extra classes. Everyone had already gone to bed, the common area devoid of life by the time you had settled on the couches. And you were happy for it.  Ever since...well, it had been a bit harder to be around everyone.  It was hard to come to terms with the fact that after everything that had happened, happened.  And you were supposed to just...move on from it.  Keep going forward.  No time to process.

You pulled out your phone to check your messages.  You had hoped Shinsou would have at least texted you - but you had been left on read.  You tried not to be upset about it and instead, pretended to go to another app and check your messages there.  You even got comfortable and put an arm behind your head - yep, perfectly relaxed and not at all wanting to break down on the inside.  

Tsu’s big bright eyes stared down at you.  You wondered if she felt the same - if Kirishima, Izuku or Ochaco felt the same.  You wondered if sometimes, during class, they just lifted their heads, looked around at your classmates and felt...so out of place.  The only way you could describe it was like stumbling in the middle of a skit being performed in the middle of a park, and no one seemed to quite realize you weren’t actually an extra.

But you didn’t want to run the risk of looking at her.  If she looked at you, she might realize that you hadn’t come to terms with what happened - with Nighteye, Lemillion, with that poor girl, Eri.  And that wouldn’t do.  That might lead into her asking what was wrong.  And what were you supposed to do then?  Answer her honestly?  Come to terms with your feelings like a rational, level headed adult?

You?  Nah. Never.

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Once you were certain her back was towards you, you risked a glance in her direction.  

Your body ached, your eyes were sore, and your mind felt blank but busy at the same time.  You weren’t sure where to begin with everything, where to start with trying to catch up.  But this had become your norm, and as sad as it was, it felt like your body was accommodating to the drama that had become commonplace in your life.  You watched as she met Ochaco at the base of the steps leading up to the rooms.  She seemed surprised when you didn’t move to join them, turning to give you a concerned glance and a lip pout - for extra measure.  

You smiled, lifting up your phone and giving it a little wave.  “I think I’m just going to hang out down here before heading to bed.”

“Oh,”  She muttered softly.  “Okay, if you’re sure?”

You knew she wasn’t buying the act - whatever it was - in the slightest.  You knew Nighteye’s death hit her hard.  A lot harder than you.  As it should have - you had tried to use your quirk to defend her and Nighteye, only to be overpowered and rendered unconscious when it mattered most so you weren’t technically cognizant when she had made her getaway.  But it must have been terrible, holding a man in your arms as he died.   And yet here you are moping about it.  What gives you the right?

“Yeah, I’m sure.”  Another smile, this time a little wider.  “Got some videos to watch, don’t want to run the risk of waking anyone up.”

You turned, ending the conversation there.  You stared at your phone, sitting on the home screen and not bothering to look back once you heard them make the ascent up the stairs to their respective rooms.  It had been getting harder and harder to sleep these past few days and you couldn’t spend another restless night staring at the same four walls anymore.  Watching the same videos, rereading the same texts, you would go insane.  With an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone to the side.  Hands found your face, fingers rubbing your eyes while reclining back, letting out a slow, low groan.

The lights in the common room were dim, just enough to find your way in case you stumbled down here in the middle of the night.  It was a small comfort, you figured to yourself, to have this moment alone.  To sit in the quiet and listen to the sounds of your friends around you, of the dorm settling snuggly down for another night’s rest.  And there you were, sitting by yourself in the common room.  Trying to decide if you were still mourning for a man you spoke to maybe a handful of times before you watched him get impaled on a spike or if you were ready to move on from it all.  Your head fell back limply against the edge of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to push any semblance of thought from your mind.  You just needed this one minute, one second for your entire world to just...stop running away from you.

If I could just get to him in time, maybe I could, I could help.  I could save him and be a hero and...

God, how dramatic could you get.  At least you hadn’t held the man in your arms as he lay dying.

With a sigh, you sat yourself back up and went back to your messages, pulling up the chat with Shinsou.  You hoped he was free.  Maybe even free enough to talk.  The empty feeling finding home in your chest was becoming too much.  You could use him, right now.  Maybe you could convince him to leave and come over.  You could watch a movie and just talk until you passed out.

Like friends did.

And if he was there, maybe it would so much easier to stay asleep. 

Hey.  We just got home.  Hope you’re...

Nope, delete.  Didn’t sound right.  

Hey!  You free right now?  I can’t sleep so

Nope, too eager.  

Shinsou, you loser get your ass over here

Nothing was coming out the way you wanted it to.  Nothing had ever sounded right.  You had so many things you wanted to say and yet never seemed to have the energy for it anymore.  Is this depression?  Do you have depression?  Do people who have depression know they have depression without being diagnosed with depression?  

You bit your lip, chewed on it until it grew sore and red and angry.  You needed your friend.  Your best friend.  Your only friend.  You missed hanging out with him, missed being able to text him weird shit and get a selfie of him looking bored at the camera just cause he knew it would make you laugh.  Cause you knew the weird shit you sent him made him laugh.  You wanted to see his face, to hear his voice.  You wanted it to go back before the dorms, back before whatever extra curricular thing he was doing.  But it wasn’t like he was doing this on purpose!  He was busy and you were just being fucking dramatic and needlessly stupid you didn’t even see Nighteye die but Deku did and he is holding himself together so much better and you would be okay if...if...

Why were you fucking crying now???????

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

“Hey.”

Given the recent events in your life, his gruff voice shattering the quiet of your isolation should have been expected.  Nevertheless, it still sent your heart skyrocketing into your throat.  You thought everyone had gone to bed and you could be a miserable wretch on your own time.  You jumped, sending your phone clattering to the ground and sliding under the coffee table.  The giant...granite...coffee table.  “Ah, shit, shit...”  You fell to your knees, trying to make a grab for it.  “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“I thought I would find you down here.”

Shinsou had hardly heard from you since the night you got back from the raid.  He had seen the news that something had happened.  When you didn’t answer his morning text, he just hoped you were just being your normal self.  When you didn’t show up at lunch, he feared the worst.  He paced his room, hardly ate, did nothing but refresh his news feed to see if your name flashed by as a causality.  He figured no news was good news but waiting to hear from you was the hardest thing he ever had to do.  And the fact you hadn’t told him you were going in the first place and had to find out about it by overhearing one of your classmates mention it?

Ample payback it seemed.  Secrets had become your duo’s new norm - and he hated it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were told not to say anything to anyone.  I’m sorry, Shinsou.”

Your voice had sounded so off, so different in what little words you spoke.  Silence had never been so poignant until he experienced it from you.  As he laid in bed and stared at the phone on his pillow, his heart broke with each toss and turn he could hear from you.  He sat quietly, for that whole 2 hours as you tried to make sense of what you had just been through that day.  But you never said more than a few words and, even so, those were just a mask to hide the rest of the truth you wanted to keep hidden.  He listened, patiently, as you tried to place it all in order so you could begin to move past it.  

He hoped he had helped - in what little way he could.  In what minute way you had allowed him.  You were closing off and he so desperately wanted to cry out for you.  But he stayed quiet.  

And he felt entirely useless. 

He didn’t know exactly what happened; only what little information he had heard from Mr. Aizawa and even that had been bits and pieces.  Confidential, he said.  Bullshit, Shinsou thought.  If he was going to try to begin to figure out a solution to...whatever it was that plagued you, to lift your spirits, he needed to know exactly what happened.  But, when Shinsou had asked if you had been involved, if you were alright...?

“You’re friends with her, right?  She didn’t really seem to want to talk about it when I asked her after the fact.  But I figure that’s just because I’m her teacher.  Maybe you should be the one to check in on her instead.  She might actually open up to you.”

Open up to him.  

And that was the problem wasn’t it?  Something that always seemed to stand right between the two of you, pushing you in separate directions - opening up to each other.  It was a thought that occurred to him as he watched you spin your spoon around in your soup, but refused to eat.  The two of you had no problems talking, especially you.  You talked a lot, and he...didn’t.  You suited him fine.  More than fine.  

But what is talking if you’re not saying anything?  What was the point of being friends if you couldn’t even rely on each other to keep a secret, to lean on each other when everything seemed so fucking terrible.  Had he done you a disservice, hiding things from you?  Had he given you the impression that you couldn’t come to him for something so small as a crush on...ah, for something really small?  Had you transitioned from “don’t want to bother him with something silly” to “I can’t talk to him anymore period”?

Shinsou had always been the more straightforward one.  Where you seemed to be an endless supply of needless conversation and seemed to always dance around subjects, Shinsou was the one who could give it to you as plainly as possible.  And you knew that.  You knew him better than anyone, could understand him better than anyone.  

So when he didn’t give it to you as honestly, as plainly as he could have, it would stand to reason that you would be sent tumbling.

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

The text had come as a surprise.  Shinsou had been trying to sleep, but it was a rare commodity those days.  His mind swirled with thoughts of you.  Of how much he missed just you.  Your laugh, your stupid jokes.  Everything was starting to feel so hollow when he heard that soft ding from across the room.  To say he scrambled towards his desk where the phone lay charging was an understatement.  

I really miss you.

You were screaming for him and he hadn’t heard it.  You were sinking further and further and yet here he was, wondering and waiting for some sort of sign on what to do.  How he could fix it - but later.  He’s not strong enough now.  He’s not ready.  After he’s done with Aizawa.  After he’s a hero.  After after after.  Always cautious, always testing the waters.  

I just wish you were here.

You never waited, never paused, never hesitated.  When Bakugou was kidnapped, you rushed home and came up with a plan of action.  When you wanted to talk to him, you marched from your dorms, almost got into a fist fight, just to talk.  You were reckless in all the best ways.  In all the ways that made him want to scream, to touch you, to praise you, to love...to love you.

“I would be able to sleep if you answered your phone once in a while.”

He gripped his phone and hated that he had to draw one hand up to wipe his eyes.  Hated that his chest ached and hated that you even had to ask him.

“I wish you would have answered me.”

No more.  You would never have to ask him again.

He couldn’t pull his shoes on fast enough.  Before Shinsou could stop, rethink if this was a good idea, he was outside and making his way towards your dorm.  If he couldn’t help you now, when you needed it the most, when you were asking for him to pull you out from the waters...

His heart didn’t have the right to ache for you as much as it did. 

The two of you had done this so many times, Bakugou was surprised that you weren’t in the kitchen when he finally got down stairs.  The moment he got to the ground floor and saw you hunched over on the couch, his body froze.  

He had been hoping to have a bit more time to think of what he wanted to say.

“Is it just me, or has she not been the same since coming back from the raid?”

“No, I noticed it too.”

“Should we ask her about it?”

The frog grew quiet for a moment.  Bakugou had to strain to hear her response from down the hall.  “I think she’ll open up when she’s ready.”  She said softly.  “If we try to push the issue before then, it might just make matters worse.”

“Yeah,”  Uraraka responded, “I guess you’re right.  Still...I’m just worried.”

Worried.  For you.  

He didn’t want to think about why he was down in the commons, so late at night.  He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that seeing your shaking shoulders, hearing the fast gasps you were making, ripped his very state of being apart.  He watched you, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like it.  He didn’t like that you were in this state at all.

“Hey.”

He expected you to jump - it was a good thing that you did.  He would drag you out of whatever rut you were in, kicking and screaming if he had to.  

You got to your knees, cursing under your breath and scrambling for whatever you had been holding.  Probably your phone.  Bakugou stepped around the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Figured I would find you down here.”

You didn’t pay him any attention.  In fact, as you tried to reach under the coffee table, you kept your head turned - enough to where he couldn’t see your face.  You kept cursing, kept trying to reach desperately.  He watched you for a moment, feeling the frustration rise up inside of him.  You were ignoring him.  Like he wasn’t even there.  Like he wasn’t standing in front of you.

“Hey!”

“SHHH!”  You snapped to attention, pressing a finger to your lips.  He tried not to stare for too long.  “Do you want to wake the whole dorm!?”

“You should be in bed.”

Your stare lingered on him, for just a moment.  He refused to break eye contact first, refused to back down from the daggers you were sending his way.  You let out a huff, going back to searching for whatever it was that you had dropped.  “Couldn’t sleep.”

Bullshit.  He could tell.  It was a fact that he didn’t like to pay much attention to: tiny mannerisms that caught onto his attention like a hook.  You generally were so bright, hardly ever short.  Low energy, but not tired?  Sure.

He waited another minute.  “The others just got home.”

The slight pause.  Heh - you were like a book.  So easy to read.  “Oh.”  You said so matter-of-factly.  In another beat, you were back to searching, still focusing your gaze on the far side of the wall.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“So unless you got sent back early, I doubt you’ve even had a chance to try and sleep.”

Your fingers clenched, your fist shaking against the granite top.  Your body pulled up and away, resting in a rigid position.  But you were still refusing to look at him; in fact, to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to see anything,  you put your face in your hand.  Still, you didn’t say a word, didn’t argue with him.  So he continued:  “I’m just saying, if you’re going to lie, at least keep track who you tell what.”

You didn’t respond.  And he wished it didn’t make him as angry as it did.  He wished that he had been able to stop the rage that bubbled in his stomach.  But he couldn’t.  He didn’t want you to hide anything from him.  He wanted you to feel comfortable telling him when something was hurting you.  After he laid it all bare for you a few weeks ago, you couldn’t be bothered to at least confide in him what the hell was going on in your tiny little world?

“...tch.”  Bakugou fingers slid under the edge of the coffee table.  “Grab the other side.”

You paused, turning to stare at him.  His eyes met yours and he saw so clearly how blood shot they were, your cheeks blotchy and burning.  You sniffled once, pushing a strand of hair back into place.  “Uh...wha?”

“Do you want your crap or not!?”

“Oh, yeah, uh...”  You pushed yourself up.  His eyes followed you as you stationed yourself on the other side like instructed.  “On three.  One-”

He didn’t bother waiting.  Up he lifted and you scrambled to meet him half way.

Just a little to the side - and the bright screen of your phone illuminated the living room.  It was closest to him, causing him to flinch just slightly when the glow blinded him.  He moved to grab it for you -

Before Bakugou could realize what was happening, your fingers brushed against his.  You both paused, your digits flinching away from him every so slightly.  He didn’t know if he should continue making the grab for it or if he should pull away.  He didn’t want to.  Your skin was so soft and warm and...

He could feel your eyes on him and almost was able keep his gaze away.  Almost able to hold off temptation.  But you were like that, weren’t you?  The light had dimmed, casting a soft glow over your features.  He wanted to look anywhere else - anywhere but at you.  But your eyes held his, demanded that he hold your attention.  He hated the soft sound that escaped him.  Hated the way his heart hammered in his chest as you stared at each other, fingers still touching ever so slightly.  

He shouldn’t feel this way about you.  But he did.

Bakugou pulled back with a grunt.  He could feel your eyes follow him as he stood back up and stepped away, away from you.  Why did you do this to him?  Why did you manage to make him the worst of himself?  Lord Explosion Murder - reduced to a sniveling little puppy, eager to please because a girl he kind of thinks is pretty sometimes makes him feel like he’s going to throw up.  

His fingers shook.  He shoved them back in his pockets to hide the evidence.

You plucked the phone off the ground and immediately hit the lock screen to turn the light off.  You were once against standing alone in the dark, though he could see you plainly.  Neither of you said a word.  He wished he could say something, not scream it but just say it.  His mind strained to find something meaningful to say to you, something catching or just enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts.  But you had the knack for words - he didn’t.  All he could do was leer at you, waiting for you to start conversation.  You always had something to say.  

You silently slipped your phone in the pocket of your skirt.  

There was something different about you.  A wall that was keeping you from him.  Maybe the girls’ concern for you had weight behind it.  You still didn’t look at him, eyes downcast.

He had hoped, that night in the kitchen, that things might have been different.  That maybe...someday...

“You got your damn phone.  Now go to bed.”  He turned on his heels and made his way back towards the stairs.  He was done.  He helped you out enough.  

Sometimes you were too much.  Messed with his head and pulled his mind in so many different directions, he forgot which way was up because right there with you was where he wanted to be. 

“Why do you want to be a hero?”

Your voice cut through the silence of the dorm like a knife.  He hadn’t expected you to speak up now, though it fit you.  Question, make him stay; just when he decided to leave.  And of course, because you asked him to stay - he would.

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Humor me.”

He regretted coming down here to talk to you.  He should have just stayed in the comfort of his room.  “Why?”

“Humor.  Me.”  

His eyes narrowed.  Even if you wrapped yourself around him, brought him to his knees and groveling in your steps, no one spoke to him like that.  He spun around, snarl behind gritted teeth.  Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?

Then he paused.

You were watching him and the hollow expression on your face shoved the rage back down into his stomach.  With just a glance, you quelled that fury.  Another noise, another shock. Then your eyes softened and your shoulders slumped.  You remembered where you were, who you were talking to...no...no, you had never been afraid to talk to him like that.  Never afraid to meet his attitude head to head.  So what was different now?  “Please,” You added on, quietly.

What the hell happened to you?

Why did he want to be a hero?  

“To be number one.”

“Is that it?”

I don’t know anymore.  He didn’t like this line of questioning.  Bakugou was a smart kid - he could tell this conversation wasn’t going to be like the last one the two of you had.  No tea, no gentle touches.  The wounds were infected now and he felt shame burrow deep.  You had something you wanted to say, but something else was keeping it trapped, holding you back from being honest with him.  “What are you getting at?”

You fell quiet, letting his eyes take you in.  With a sigh, you turned and sat back down on the couch.  Your body folded in on itself, your hands grasping your arms, shaking fingertips digging into the fabric of the white dress shirt you were wearing.  “Nothing.”  You said finally.  “Just...thinking.  About things.”

You thought a lot about a lot of things.  Perhaps a little too much for too long.  You were receding back into your thoughts, pulling away from him again.  While he didn’t enjoy the feelings that being around you brought, losing you to your own headspace wasn’t something he would do tonight.  Or...any night.  His feet carried him back to the couch.  With a groan he sat down beside you.  “Well, then say it out loud.”

You let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sneer.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

It took everything in him to not reach out and grab you.  “I’m being serious.”

“I know.”

He just wanted to fucking help you.  “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Like you had helped him.  “Whatever the hell that’s going on.”

A moment passed before you pulled your eyes back to his.  Finally, you were back in the present - back in that room with him.  Suddenly, you were aware that he had stationed himself beside you, so close your arms were a breath away from each other.  And there was a moment of panic in your eyes.  

You smirked, “Oh, are you playing therapist now?”

“Shut up!”  He bellowed.  “And tell me what the hell is going on before I change my mind!”

Your laugh was bitter, but it was something.  You used your hands to push your hair back out of your eyes, “...okay.”  You started...then fell quiet again.  He could hear you swallow the regret, the shame, the fear.  He watched as you struggled to put to words everything spinning around you.  “I don’t think I belong here.  At all.”

There were a million things Bakugou would have thought you could have said.  That...wasn’t one of them.  He had never thought of you not here.  What would that look like?

“I look at everyone here: Kirishima and Uraraka and Tsu and Deku...and I just can’t seem to find a place to put myself.  Among the rest of our class.”  His brows furrowed as you spoke.  He watched as your expression shifted with each word - angry and bitter and lost and upset.  “Like, you all are able to keep your heads held high, keep looking forward and never seem to let things drag you down.  I...I just don’t think I can do that.  So...”  You shrugged, swallowing harshly.  “Maybe I don’t deserve to be here if I can’t handle it...not like everyone else can.”

This wasn’t about the raid - that was just a catalyst.  It obviously struck a chord with you.  

“That’s stupid.”  

Another laugh.  This one tear filled but honest; and so, so bittersweet.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you’re absolutely right.  It’s pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, you idiot.  It’s stupid because you’re wrong.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.  Then, in a second, your eyes narrowed, your lips thinned and your expression darkened.  He couldn’t help but feel the pride bubble in his chest:  You had realized you weren’t going to avoid this.  Not with him.  Not when he could help you.  He closed his eyes, figured it best to keep you out of his sight until he finished.  

“Look, you moron.  If you want to be angry or sad about whatever the hell happened back there, fine.  Do it.  But what good is wallowing in your own self pity if you’re not going to do anything about it?!”

Your voice shook as you spoke.  “Okay fine - then what should I do, Bakugou?”

His eyes snapped open, lips parted in surprise at the question.  There was an edge to your expression, daring him to answer.  Daring him to suggest something.  Blow it up?  Yell at it?  Fight it until it gives up?  But where would you start?  It wasn’t a real person - you couldn’t threaten it to back down.  Eyes scoured the floor for a response, searched desperately to find something - a strand of advice - to give you.  But he had nothing.  

“Yeah,”  You moved, pushing yourself off the couch.  You snatched your bag with such force it almost swung around and hit him in the face.  “That’s what I thought.  You don’t have an answer either.”

Shit.  Shit. He watched you as you skirted past his legs, intent on burying everything again.  If he let this go - let you go - you might actually do it.  You might actually leave UA - leave everyone in Class 1-A, leave your dream, leave...him. 

“It’s fine.”  You added, making your way towards the stairs.  “I’ll be fine.”

But he knew that was a lie.  Everything about this situation was a lie.  You wouldn’t be fine if he let you go upstairs, left you along with those thoughts of inadequacy, and if you kept falling lower and lower...?

“Hey.”  

You paused in front of the elevator...then pressed the button, it’s soft white glow sending panic down Bakugou’s spine.  The only thing he could see of you in the dark was the back of your head, the way your chin dipped just so lightly to your chest.  You weren’t going to respond if he didn’t do something.  He didn’t want this conversation to end - not like this.  What would All Might say?  What would Kirishima say?  What would Deku say?

What would you say?

“You never told me:  Why did you agree to go on that raid?”

There was a moment of pause before you turned and glanced over your shoulder at him.  There was a confused expression on your face, your eyes scanning him to try and figure out just what he was playing at.  “I told you why I wanted to be a hero.”  It was a challenge.  Stay and face this.  “Now tell me why you went on that stupid raid.”

“Don’t get too worked up about this.”  Mr. Aizawa - no, Eraserhead - had said.  “The Big Three are one thing:  They’re strong enough to hold their own out there with the Pros.”  He called you all out by name.  Asui, Uraraka, Kirishima and you.  “You didn’t volunteer for this and you’re not obligated to participate.  It’s your call.”

It had been your call.  Your decision.  The Pros wouldn’t have shoved you into a situation you weren’t ready for.  The four of you had known that it was not necessary for you to go above and beyond what you had already done.  It was going to be dangerous, and you needed to not only be physically capable, but mentally as well.  

You should have waited, weighed the odds, thought about it for a moment longer.  

Your call.  Your choice:  Save a little girl who was in danger or back down.  Be a Hero or refuse to answer the call.

Well...the choice was simple than wasn’t it?

You hadn’t been capable.  You screwed up.  Once again jumping deeper into a situation than you should have.  You weren’t like your friends.  

You weren’t like them at all.

“Mr. Ai- I mean, Eraserhead!  After everything we just heard, I can’t imagine not helping out, sir!”

Someone who could raise their head and keep it held high.  Who could look danger in the eye and refuse to back down.

“Yeah, if you’re going to let us be apart of this, I’d like to pitch in however I can!”

Who saw someone and danger and threw themselves into the line of fire.  Who reached out a hand and kept holding on, long past the last scrap of energy was gone. 

"If I can use my power to help that girl even a little bit, then count me in Eraserhead!”

They were heroes.  You weren’t like them.

You stood up, nodding earnestly.  Your look was stern, your eyes hard as you looked at Eraserhead.  You were equals - at least in this moment.  “Yeah,  heroes save people - so I’ll do my best to make sure that girl is safe!”

You could feel Bakugou’s eyes pick you apart and put you back together.  Looking at him made you sick, made you want to crawl into yourself and rot.  But...with a soft sigh, your eyes casted up, trying to keep the tears from falling again.  You had thought you had done all your crying.  God, his face in the dark was a slight comfort.  His eyes practically glowed in the low light of the common room.  His dark t-shirt hung around his shoulders, his hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction.  And he just watched you.  No malice, no rage, just...waiting.  

Waiting for your answer.  

Why did you agree to join the raid?

To save that little girl.  Because that’s what heroes do. 

But...

“After my fight with Deku, you sat with me.  You didn’t have to do that either. So why?”

Arms gripping your hoodie, squeezing you for dear life.  His whole body trembled under your touch.  Tears as he begged for forgiveness that you couldn’t give him.  But you wanted to - because it would mean his pain would be put at ease.  If you couldn’t give him what he needed, what he longed for, you would at least be there for a moment longer than the tears would fall.  You just needed him to know he wasn’t alone.  You needed Katsuki Bakugou to know you were there for him, no matter what.

“And with the League attack?  You weren’t with Kirishima and them.  You went off on your own, to try and save me.  Why?”

They wouldn’t see how hard he worked.  How much he wanted to be a hero.  And if they hurt him, if he refused and the villains hurt him?  If they took that away from him…?  All of his hopes and dreams?

No.  No, you weren’t going to let that happen.  

You had to bite you lip to keep it from shaking.  Bakugou was listing off all your fuck ups as if they mattered.  As if they were helping his case.  As if they were something you should be proud of.  You considered telling him, making him aware that even in those moments, you still failed:  you got knocked out during the raid, during the fight with the villains, and that you hadn’t done much besides give him a hug in the kitchen.  You weren’t doing much.

Deep breath, look away.  His face was too much.  It was too honest, trying to grab at you and hold you still.  He could almost convince you that you did something besides hinder those who had a better chance of being a Hero.

“You do half the shit you do because you’re a good person.  You want to help people.”  Movement caused you to glance his way.  He turned to sit back down on the couch.  “As stupid as it is, I guess it’s pretty admirable.”

‘Pretty admirable’?  He - Katsuki Bakugou - thought it was admirable.  You opened your mouth, but after a long moment of silence found you had nothing to say, so you closed it again.  You hated that even without speaking, you were losing this fight.  “So does everyone else.”  You replied weakly.  It didn’t make you special.  It didn’t make you any different.

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“Than wouldn’t that mean you belong here with all the other losers looking to be a Hero to protect people?”

Ding!

Behind you, the elevator opened.  

A soft gasp escaped your chest.  So...that’s what he was doing.  Leave it up to him to talk you around into a circle before shoving your argument back into your face...no, he hadn’t been nearly as harsh as you had expected.  He was speaking so softly to you, being as gentle as he knew how - which granted, wasn’t much, but appreciated none the less.  One shouldn’t look a gift explosion in the mouth.  

You looked at the elevator over your shoulder, stared at it’s open doors.  

You let them shut.

For the first time since that raid, you smiled.  Really, honestly smiled.  You set your bag down against the wall.  The walk back to the couch was the lightest you had felt in a long while.  You sat down next to him, resting your hands on your knees and one by one, you tapped your fingers against your skin.  With a deep breath, you felt your shoulders relaxed.  You weren’t surprised he was able to help.  “I guess...technically...using that logic...you’re not wrong.”

Bakugou scoffed, closing his eyes and tossing his head back.  “Of course I’m not wrong.”

You chuckled, shaking your head.  “How could I have ever thought to argue with you? Truly a futile effort to begin with.”

His smirk was quick, a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth before he grunted and looked away.  The prickly exterior he generally used to conceal himself was growing back into place and you couldn’t help but laugh.  You had been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you almost forgot how much he made your heart skip.  As you looked over his profile, you realized that you were entirely thankful for Bakugou and not just in that moment.  You had been so stuck in your pit, sinking lower and lower that you didn’t think you’d ever get out of it.

But like everything, he broke the glass ceiling and shot through.  Only this time, he snatched you up and pulled your head to the surface.  Even if for a moment, you could breathe because he was holding your head above the water.  

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder with yours, nudging him warmly.  He ruined expectations again by waiting a moment before doing it back to you.  

He was so warm, his skin amazingly soft.  It lit your chest aflame and your cheeks grew pink - but you didn’t move.  The two of you leaned against each other but said nothing about it.  How did you find yourself here?  You had been close to him before but this was different in a way that didn’t seem to make any sort of sense.  And...you kind of like that it didn’t.  Because it didn’t have to.  You realized that sometimes, when it was just the two of you, as few as those “sometimes” may have been, you simply wanted it to just...be.  

You shouldn’t want to be so close to him, not now.  Would it be in poor taste?  Would he think less of you if he knew?  Did he know?  Did he feel the same way?  You were certain that if he looked over at you, looked into your eyes he would...at least see something.  You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but it was enough to cause your knees to knock and your chest to ache.  And you wondered if he would see how much your fingers longed to reach out and touch his body, draw him close and...  

But that didn’t matter.  Not now. 

You looked down at your hands.  If you...wanted to try...wanted to see if...this was something you could have, you would have to take the first leap.  Bakugou wasn’t going to do it.  He wasn’t going to be the one who dove head first.  But was now the perfect time?  Would there ever be a perfect time?  After having him strip your defenses, tear you down, build you back up - should you wait?

You spared another look, hoping that you might find confidence in his being.  

Your eyes met.  He was looking at you too.

No.  No, you weren’t waiting.  Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t someone you waited for.  If you were going to do this, see if he felt the same way you felt - all the crazy heart skips and lingering glances when the other wasn’t looking - you had to do this now.  

Gathering all your courage, you moved your hand and offered it to him.  His eyes tore away from your face then down at your open palm.  The universe held it’s breath, watched eagerly...as he slid his fingers between yours.  His calloused digits scratched at your skin lightly, his palms were a little clammy and...

Bakugou held you firm, grasping you tightly.  Desperate and scared and you remembered everything that lead you to this moment.

“That Bakugou kid likes you.”

Wild hair haloed in the setting sun peeking above the tops of overgrown trees.  Everyone around you disappears when his arms wrap around you.  He holds your hands, guiding the knife as he helps you chop.

“Out of all those losers, I was glad you were there.”

It felt like something was dragging you to him, tugging your body towards his.  He wasn’t stopping you, he wasn’t yelling or screaming or pushing you away.  He just watched, eyes narrowed and darkened under his hair.  Was he waiting to see what you would do?  Was he too scared to move on his own?  You reached out, gliding your fingers over his sandy blonde locks and brushing them out of the way so you could see his face.  Fingertips drifted down and over his cheek, trying to offer the same warmth he filled you with.  

Defiantly, a daring look in his eye, he pressed his cheek into your hand.  If you’re going to do this, then mean it.  Everything about him made you want to scream, drove you mad.  He always fought - and you saw now, that this whole time...he was fighting for you.  Fighting to let you know.  Had you been so entirely blind all this time?  

You wanted to say something, to let him know that you saw.  But words were wrong, thin, pointless and empty.  Nothing you could say would ever be enough to let him know how you felt.  So you would give all of you and hope that it was enough for him.

Without waiting another moment, you pressed your lips to his.  It was a deep and heavy action, one that he met with passion only he could muster.  You closed your eyes and lost yourself into his taste, the heat of his lips, his very presence.  It was a rush, one that sent you spinning - derailed all train of thought.  All that mattered was him.  All that lived in this universe was you and him.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you up and over him and you were happy to follow.  You didn’t dare break away, to lose the contact that you obviously both had been longing for.  Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting and tangling.  Never once did he pull away - quite the opposite.  He met you, every press of your lips, every motion of want and desire, laid bare in front of both of you.  And as you felt his finger graze over the skin on your back, dipping under your dress shirt to set the nerves there on fire, you realized both of you were utter fools.

It’s an awful thing: knowing you’re not enough.  Wanting something so badly, but no matter how much you long for it, it still slips through your grasp.  Of knowing that nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome.

He should have stayed in his dorm.  He should have never looked at his phone.  He should have never told you about Bakugou.  

He should have never let you get so close.  

It was by chance he glanced at the window looking into the common room, hand poised in front of the door.  At first, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at - two shadowed masses, one on top of the other.  But then, he saw your face.  His heart wrenched when you pulled away from Bakugou.  A scream locked in his throat the way you smiled at him, soft and loving.  He hated the look in your eyes as you ran your thumb over his lips, as he slid his fingers into your hair to pull you back for more. 

Something Shinsou couldn’t have.  Someone he wasn’t enough for.

He didn’t linger on the steps for too long.  He feared you would see him and then - then you would have to talk.  He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that, not with Bakugou behind you.  

The walk back to the dorm was a long one and he was surprised he made it into his room without incident.  It was late enough though, most of his classmates were asleep and the rest had retired to their rooms.  No one knew he was gone.  His mind was utterly blank until the locked clicked shut.

He didn’t realize he had punched the wall until his hand pulled back, sliced open.  Blood pooled and ran down his arm.  But it wasn’t enough.  It didn’t stop him from replaying that scene in his head over and over again.  The way you two were looking at each other, the soft touches, gentle smiles...

He slumped to the floor and let out one pitiful sob.  

What was he supposed to do now?

Author’s Note:  I honestly watched Cats the 2019 musical and then wrote Shinsou’s part because I’ve been having a pretty good week honestly so I wasn’t in the headspace for honest disappointment.  

I just needed something to remind me that happiness is fleeting and something terrible and awful will usually come and destroy what you know and love most in this world.  Drag your joy through the mud until the only thing left is a shell of what once was.

...who let’s Hooper direct shit?

Anyway.  I do think I’m going to lead into a part 4 for this one.  I don’t know.  I’ll let you guys decide if you want something more lol since I’m interested in continuing it.  Especially given the newer chapters. 

Also eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, kissing scene.  First real one on this blog anyway and not a kiss mentioned in passing.  And look, it only took me a year or so to do it. :)  I’m a fantastic mod of this blog who gives people what they want and doesn’t focus on stupid shit in the slightest why are you guys here you should have left me on the street corner where I was standing

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[winter-fox-queen]

Kisses Like Wine Part 2

Summary:  We go back before the first heist to see things from the Theif’s point of view.

Warnings: None really. Blank canvass — this is from his point of view, but I am careful not to describe “you”

Special thanks to @hnt-escape for brainstorming and encouraging.

A few weeks before the first theft…

The theif looked up at the looming fake battlements of the castle, wondering, not for the first time, at the quirks of rich men. He knew from the blueprints that he’d managed to secure that it was a complete replica of a French Castle (Spanish castles were better, in his opinion, owning an actual one himself) combined with the latest technology.

So much money, and for what?

He went back to sweeping up grass clippings, bagging them up, studying routes in and out.  This was the part he enjoyed. The planning. No one looked at the help…the rich would spend thousands on security, but the help would always be an achilles heel.

He puffed out his cheeks, leaning on his rake as if taking a breather. It was not entirely an act. The in would be easy. The out…well. If it was easy, what would be the fun?

He crossed the yard to a patio, where the three children of the house were finishing up lunch.  The eldest brother, Terry, his sister Marie, and you.  The youngest sister. You didn’t match the others, and he knew it was because you had different mothers.

It was interesting, watching People he’d studied from a distance. How close the eldest two were. How they ignored the youngest, who took it calmly. Looking at the garden, enjoying the day, reading a book. They were about what he’d expected, from their social accounts, from everything he’d pulled together. You. You were different.

It entertained him, how easily you ignored being ignored. Like it was nothing.

The eldest two were studiously pretending he was not there, sweating away with a sharp tool that cut away weeds from the edges of the paving.  But you.  You smiled over your book at him.

For a second he wished he wasn’t dressed as he was, clad in a sweaty, filthy blue cotton tee shirt that had been washed too many times, sandy hair in a shaggy style that changed the shape of his face, theater makeup that changed the depth of the skin around his nose to make it less sharp, contacts that muddied up the color of his eyes.

When Terry and Marie left the table, you brought over a glass of water and a leftover cupcake on a small plate.  “No sense it going to waste,” she said when you protested.

“Thank you,” he accepted the water, drinking carefully.

“You’re new, aren’t you?  I think I’ve met all the people who usually do the yard work.”

Of course you would know them.

“Yeah.” He shrugged.  “I used to work with another company, but the guy retired. I feel lucky to have landed a spot.”

“Do you like it? I know it’s hard work, but I know that some people like it because it’s outside.”

“It pays the bills.” He needed to get out of this. This much contact was not safe, even in costume. But he found himself…liking this. Liking sitting on the ground while you sat on a bench next to him, looking at him like he was…real. People looked at him all the time but he was good at not being seen.  You were not looking, you were seeing him. It felt nice and terrifying at the same time.

“So…no then.”

He smirked and broke the cupcake top off, shook his head.

“I probably wouldn’t like it, either. But jobs are not easy to find.”

He arched his eyebrow, mouth too full to make a comment, and you blushed. “I know. What does a girl who lives in a castle know about employment rates?”

Your name was called, and your head came up sharply, as if analyzing the tone. The next call was not so sharp, and you shoulders relaxed. “Excuse me. It was nice talking to you…thanks for letting me bother you.”

“It wasn’t a bother,” he said meaning it. You smiled over her shoulder and rushed off.

The next time he saw — well, heard — you with your family, he was hidden in a wall, fiddling with some useful bit of neglected wiring when he heard your voice again. It made him smile as he worked, strain to hear, until he actually heard what was being said to you.

Then there was the time he was a footman.

Then there was the time he was there to repair some molding.

And each time he heard you talking to your family, he was treated to conversations of such insidious smugness that he wanted to punch someone.  He listened to you getting yelled at for flirting too much.  Not flirting enough.  Buying a — to them — cheap and ugly car. Spending too much money.

And a lot of it was delivered in loving tones, as advice to help you have a better life.  Because they were so, so worried about you.

And you took it calmly. Nothing seemed to bother you. As he looked up at you from his vantage point on the floor, this time dressed as a red-headed brawler with a black eye — he wondered if you were a saint.

It made him furious.

He almost left the job. He was getting too close. Sometimes literally. Like the time you almost backed into him in the dark.  He was making an…adjustment to security…when you came wandering down the hall. He stood stock still as your steps slowed, as you paused in a puddle of faint moonlight and looked around the shadow clad room.  You turned away, took a few steps backwards as if you knew somethingw as off but could not place it.. You were close enough that he could feel your warmth. He drew in a small slow breath, you smelled of vanilla, cinnamon…he was not sure.  Sweet. Comforting.

He wondered what you would do, if he drew you into his arms, if he showed you who he really was.  Took off all the masks.

You left. So did he. Safe in his bolt hole he poured himself a drink and thought, I need to run.

He’d spent a lot of time on this job. He was careful. He was good. He had never been caught. He never left so much as a hair for them to trace him with, just built upon his legend, his reputation, to wear like armor and keep him safe. Meticulous. Smart. Distanced. These were the things that kept him alive.

And one of his rules was never, ever to fall in love. The first time had ruined him. The second time had almost killed him. He had sworn there would not be a third time.

But he found himself thinking of you. All the research he had done became a guilty secret, he knew everything public about you, just like he knew the rest of your family. He spoke to the servants and he listened, he watched. He knew, probably, more than he needed to. What did knowing what books you’d read on Goodreads have to do with the job?

He closed his eyes, as if to ward off a blow.

A wise man would leave now, before this became something real. Before his stupidity got him caught. There were people much nastier than Interpol or the CIA who wanted him. One mistake and the whole house of cards would fall.

He didn’t leave. If he was a wise man, he would have stopped being a theif a very long time ago.

Besides, he thought, I’ll just steal the crown an the Star and be on my way.

And a kiss. Just one kiss. A kiss and then disappear and never be seen again.

So when he he held you against him in that tower room, hand around the soft pulse of your throat, body pressed so tight and yeilding against him, and the words “Come find me” tumbled out of his mouth, it should have been a surprise.

But it was not. It was like the kiss — a slice of perfection, a decision, a revelation. He wanted you more than the jewel in his pocket, the stolen crown.

And he never, ever denied himself anything that he wanted.

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[ueberdemnebelmeer]

here’s my own wrapped because the amount of times i listen to something isn’t necessarily related to how much i like it or treasure it (+ fav albums / tracks of the year used to be a popular tag game on 2016 tumblr and i miss that), so here we go:

2021 RELEASES

💿 “magic still exists”, agnes — don’t you love it when an album’s tracklist is arranged into a seamless flow but its songs don’t blur together in your head? a package of 4 impeccable interludes and 7 delicious pop tracks

💿 “my mamma”, la rappresentante di lista — who does electropop like them, who? no skips album 😘👌

🎵 “coraline”, måneskin — while zitti e buoni was special in its own way (those sanremo stages, the delirium of the esc grand final, this post & many other highs) and i like teatro d’ira vol.1, coraline is the best their discography has to offer (so far). i play it sparingly; there’s something about its palpable rawness as your car’s speakers blast it while you’re the only vehicle for a long stretch of the motorway at twilight...

🎵 “t’amo”, mahmood — his 2nd album wasn’t exactly *bad* but it was a disappointment compared to his debut imo. this song though ❗❗ when the chorus where the choir sings no potho reposare hits...

🎵 “year to year / 29”, yaeji & ohhyuk — a textured double single, a conversation between two artists.

🎵 “飞天 (flying apsaras)”, lay

DISCOVERED IN 2021

💿 “shabrang”, sevdaliza.

💿 “the beirut school”, mashrou’ leila.

💿 “gore”, lous and the yakuza.

💿 “the moon and the melodies” — cocteau twins.

🎵 “all is full of love”, björk — i gave another chance to further tracks of hers i had previously discarded, too (& i have a feeling i’d love homogenic once i put in the effort), but “You'll be given love / You'll be taken care of [...] / You have to trust it / Maybe not from the sources / You have poured yours / Maybe not from the directions / You are staring at / Twist your head around / It's all around you" absolutely stands out (maybe because it personally doesn’t feel like a platitude)

🎵 “我愛你”, cody lee (李) — a bop with a great video, too (thanks @elipsi​​ for the rec)

🎵 “mesecina / moonlight”, goran bregović — makes me belt out gibberish that should resemble serbian & go absolutely apeshit, i love it so much!

🎬 “bless your heart”, serpentwithfeet — its absolutely gorgeous mv was directed by andrew thomas huang, the same guy behind fka twigs’ cellophane & the “kiss of the rabbit god” short film

@cybermaenad​​​ thank you so much for your led zeppelin primer 💜💜 (“achilles last stand” is def among my 2021 highlights)

chaoyang trap’s episode on taiwan’s influence on chinese music yielded many names i’d never heard of before (thanks @elipsi​​ for that playlist, you know the one)

arca — pots! and! pans! reggaeton in the year 3000! the maximalism of it all!

K-POP TRACKS FROM 2021 WORTH LISTENING TO EVEN THOUGH YOU BLACKLISTED THE TAG

“vanilla”, kai (the whole EP actually but i’m restraining myself)

“lullaby”, woodz (+ his “only lovers left” EP but i’m restraining myself)

“bad love”, key (the whole EP actually but i’m restraining myself)

“advice”, taemin — *obviously* 

“don’t call me”, shinee

“moonshot”, n.flying

“lazy”, woosung feat. reddy

“spider”, hoshi

“bittersweet”, wonwoo & mingyu feat. leehi

“crush”, seventeen

“metamorphosis”, mrshll it’s actually k-indie but shh

“bad sad and mad”, bibi

“red lipstick”, leehi

“nakka”, akmu feat. iu

[raith-way]

stories i would write if i had 12% more inspiration [1/?]

Fandom: Twilight Series

Main Original Character: Antonia “Toni” Swan

Side Original Characters: Alana Santos, Gabriel Lassiter, Sara Castle

Main Pairings: Toni Swan/Jasper Hale & Bella Swan/Edward Cullen

Side Pairings: Carlisle Cullen/Charlie Swan, Esme Cullen/Tanya Denali, Alice Cullen/Rosalie Hale, Emmett Cullen/Gabriel Lassiter, Jacob Black/Alana Santos, Sam Uley/Leah Clearwater, Paul Lahote/Sara Castle

Summary: Having her younger sister living at home is a dream come true for Toni, even if things do start to get a little stranger in her small sleepy town. She keeps running into Doctor Cullen’s kids, Bella is having nightmares and wakes up speaking riddles, and Toni isn’t a fool. She finally gets Jasper Hale into direct sunlight and has all of her theories proven as his skin changes right before her eyes. Where the sun touches his skin, unhindered by clouds or shade, there’s tendrils of smoke starting to curl through the air. Her sister’s nightmares aren’t just nightmares. This is real. Vampires are real, and everything is going to change.

Part I – Viridian this battleground is deadly but you wear blood well for one so gentle.

Bella returns to Forks, and Toni befriends Jasper Hale. Things are going great, until Bella starts having nightmares and insisting that something horrible is coming for them. Something monstrous. Balancing Bella’s warnings with her every day life gets a little tricky, but having a new friend to talk to about mundane everyday things helps. Until she starts to really listen to what her younger sister is saying. The first time she sees Jasper start to burn in the sun, just small wisps of smoke, she faints. Luckily, vampires have quick reflexes and he saves her from cracking her skull right there behind the diner while on her lunch break. Before she can fully process that Bella is apparently psychic and that Jasper is an actual vampire, there’s a ballgame like Bella dating a vampire is completely normal and then her sister is running away from home. When Toni chases after her sister, who is being chased by a real-life myth, she gets there too late to help her sister and just in time to see the destruction. Vampires save her sister’s life, but that doesn’t mean she has to like all of them. As far as she’s concerned, they’re all on thin fucking ice.

Part II – Amaranthine and this was always your nature to give light in the dark

Toni greets the summer with forgiveness in her heart, and she rekindles her friendship with Jasper. She also still insists on calling him kid, as a petty punishment for stealing off with her sister in the middle of the night. On the night of Bella’s birthday celebration disaster, she tries to comfort Jasper and then tries not to take it too personally when he rebuffs her. The next day, when he stops by the house to tell her that his whole family is leaving, she takes it very personally. That anger is put on the back burner as she searches for her sister, and she’s beyond relieved when Sam comes out of the woods with Bella in his arms. Even if her old friend won’t speak to her or even look her in the eye. With the Cullens gone, Bella’s nightmares reach new heights. This time, Toni listens to every riddled warning. Makes notes to be afraid of the color red and to not be afraid of the moonlight. Thankfully, Bella spending time with Jacob seems to help some. Jacob is the kind of solid support that her sister needs, a normal friend, until he turns out to be a werewolf. Sam and Leah, her high school friends who just stopped talking to her one day, are werewolves. There’s also a guy that keeps coming into the diner and asking after the Cullen family, which puts Toni’s teeth on edge. Then Bella takes off, again, and Toni’s world becomes red. Like the hair that flashes across her vision, the mark on the side of her throat, the matching punctures circling her dad’s wrist, the scarf wound around diner guy’s neck, the shining pendant of one of Bella’s classmates. Suddenly, it seems like no one in their sleepy little town is entirely human. Bella returns, saving one nightmare and walking into another one.

Part III – Titian to shatter when needed

Toni is no longer human, neither is her dad. With a little bit of magic and tragedy, their changing process was halted. Dhampir is what she is now, not quite human and not quite vampire, and she doesn’t have much time to adjust. Her poor dad is still trying to reconcile the whole vampire thing, with Doctor Cullen’s help, and Toni spends most of her time with Jasper while trying to understand what she’s become. Diner guy has become Gabriel and is always around, but she doesn’t care if they’re the same species because he still sets her teeth on edge. (She’s also avoiding her sister, who wants to be a vampire because she’s seen herself as a vampire for years before she ever realized her nightmares were actually visions. Toni doesn’t want to be around for Edward’s brooding when he discovers that Bella doesn’t want to be a vampire for him. Bella wants to be a vampire for Bella, which means talking her out of changing is going to be impossible.) On top of the changes, there’s an army being built and Bella is convinced that there’s going to be a fight. Toni believes her sister, she knows better than to doubt her at this point, and things get even stranger. The vampires and werewolves start working together, Sam and Leah actually start talking to her again, and her (hopefully human) best friend returns to Forks to take over her family’s funeral home. The witch that saved her life won’t glance her way, which gets awkward considering how much time teenaged Alana spends around Jacob and the wolves. Also, Jasper fought in the Civil War? She almost decks him when he mentions being in the south at the time, with plans to claim she was just testing her strength, when he tells her about joining the Union and sneaking into the south to help others escape. The history lessons are fun, almost as fun as punching werewolves in the face, but the fun doesn’t last. The fight arrives, Bella’s nightmares becoming reality once more, and her sister is still so frighteningly fragile. So human. Even Toni and Charlie are practically human next to newborn vampires, but they join the fight anyway. Anything to keep Bella safe, now that they can. The fight ends in their favor, but the fight wasn’t so black-and-white. One vampire is spared, a girl younger than even Bella, and Toni and Charlie are tasked with getting Bree to safety before the Volturi can arrive. They manage their escape, they win the day, and Toni still has to listen to Bella scream at night about the monsters coming to rip them apart.

Part IV – Sable they say that the biggest stars burn brightly and die quickly.

Bella gets engaged, and Toni takes the plunge and kisses Jasper. She’d resisted during all of their tense moments, when they were pressed close and a movie would have had them bridge the gap, and waits until a quiet moment. It’s just the two of them, talking like they always do, and she kisses him like it’s something she’s done a hundred times before. In that moment, the pain of having vampire venom halted in her veins feels almost worth it. To have this moment with her best friend. Bella gets married, Toni gets to laugh at Jacob pulling at his best-man tux, and Jasper makes it look like she knows how to dance. (If she accidentally walks into a room to see her dad crying and the good doctor tenderly wiping his tears away, it’s a secret that she’ll keep for eternity.) While her sister enjoys her honeymoon, Toni gets to learn what makes Jasper laugh and what gets him to say her name in that way that makes her knees feel like jelly. Life is finally peaceful in their quiet sleepy town, until Bella walks into the Cullen’s house with a very visible baby bump a few weeks later. Toni stays by her sister’s side, mainly to attempt to get her to change the awful baby names that she picked out, and she watches as all their alliances start to fall apart. Witches don’t trust the unknown. Werewolves don’t trust the unknown. Vampires don’t trust the unknown. The only problem is, Bella’s baby isn’t an unknown. Alice can’t see the baby, but Bella can and Toni trusts Bella. One night, Bella wakes up laughing and tells Toni that everything is going to be perfect. The baby is going to be healthy, and Bella is going to be what she was always meant to be. Again, Bella is right. Things look dire for a while, her dad can’t go more than half an hour without a panic attack, and then there’s Nessie. (Toni refuses to say the entire name. It’s either Ren or Nessie.) Bella wakes up, and their family is whole. While the others marvel at her sister’s control, Toni isn’t surprised at all. Because this is who Bella was born to be. They get moments of bliss before the nightmares start again, Bella doesn’t need sleep to suffer through nightmares, and the Volturi come for them. For Nessie. Alice. Edward. Jasper. It’s a fight, it’s always a fight, and Toni doesn’t back down. She meets other vampires, what she thinks of as real vampires with their blood red eyes, and snaps her teeth at the ones who think she’s lesser for only being half of what they are. (She believes her human half is what makes her special.) Her only solace is with Jasper, and then the fight comes. Watching lines of black cross the white snow frightens her, but Toni stands her ground next to her family and she fights. They fight, and they win.

Part V – Mazarine achilles was the sun but baby, you were always a supernova

They get to see Nessie grow up, to see their family expand, and Toni is so happy that she feels like she could burst with it. Even Jasper smiles most days, and they start their life together. He shows her all the places she dreamed of seeing and never believed would be possible, and they frequently meet up with other members of their family. Edward and Bella, in France, traveling with Nessie and Bree. Jacob and Alana, in Spain, after the kids have enjoyed their own extended honeymoon. Sam and Leah and Paul and Sara, back in Forks, keeping the quiet town safe. Esme and Tanya and Garrett and Kate, under the beautifully dark Alaskan sky. Alice and Rosalie and Emmett and Gabriel in London, laughing in the streets. Carlisle and Charlie, in Brazil, where Toni and her dad can stay in the sunlight all day long without the fear of burning. Years pass, beautiful memories and beautiful moments, and Toni cherishes Jasper’s every sigh and laugh. When Bella finds her, with tears in her glowing golden eyes, Toni knows that this is it. Bella has dreamed of the monsters that would come for them since they were little girls. They’d glimpsed the monsters, and that had been a mistake. The monsters had seen them in return, knew what to expect and had time to plan, and Toni takes her sister’s hands and promises her that this time will be different. This time, they’ll kill them all and show them what real monsters can do.

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Achilles Come Down-- Damien (WKM) x Reader

Prompt; Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

Warnings; slight swearing, bit of angst, nothing too bad

Word Count; 1.8k

Notes; not my best work because i have a ~brain injury~ but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so i went ahead and wrote it lol

Your eyes fluttered at the sudden bright light shining from above. A gasping breath racked your chest as you instinctively grabbed the fabric covering your abdomen. It was dry, no trace of the hot, sticky liquid that it held mere moments before. With a moment of hesitation, you sat up to survey your surroundings. Your brows knitted together. You were sitting in an open field, surrounded by tall grass, but weren't you just at Markiplier Manor? A flock of birds startled you from your thoughts as they flew overhead. You watched them dip in twirl with the wind until your eyes landed on a more captivating subject. "Damien?" He faced the opposite direction, sitting quite a distance away. His head turned when he heard your voice. A smile crept across Damien's features, and he was quick to wave you over. You pushed yourself off the ground and made your way towards him. There was something... off. He was sitting on the edge of a cliff, legs dangling over the side. His hair was ruffled, and his shoulders were slumped. But you found your gaze returning to his face. His warm, loving eyes and his soft smile made you fall in love all over again every time you looked at him. He gently bumped his shoulder into yours when you took a seat beside him. 

"I'm glad to see you here. Well, I'm not glad that you're here, but I'm happy to have you with me again." You raised a brow, and Damien pursed his lips. "What I mean is, I'm glad you're safe now. That's what matters."

"Where are we?" You glanced down at the dark waters splashing below. It appeared nearly as dark as ink, making its depths undetectable. Something about it unnerved you. You wanted to move somewhere else, but Damien appeared to enjoy sitting on the cliffside, where he could see the water. His jaw tensed at your question. He stared into the water. You placed a hand on top of his, hoping to calm some of the thoughts running rampant in his mind, but he stayed silent. "We're dead, aren't we?" A joking tone laced your words, but there was truth in them. You thought back to your last moments in the manor. You could have survived the gunshot alone if taken straight to the hospital, but you had little to no chance once you stumbled over the banister. Damien chuckled, finally returning his focus to you.

"You're not too far from the truth. We're sort of in-between realities at the moment. We're certainly not alive, but we're not quite dead either. It doesn't make sense. Hell, I'm still wrapping my head around it too, and I've been waiting here for you for a long time now."

"How long has it been for you? It was hardly an hour that I..." you faltered, struggling to find the right word, "appeared here after you vanished." Damien shook his head. 

"Time passes much differently here. An hour out there could easily be a decade here." Guilt hit your chest like a bag of bricks. He truly waited all that time, just for you? Damien caught the sadness welling up in your eyes. He cupped your face in his hands, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "But that doesn't matter. I wouldn't trade a second of it because it means I now get to be here with you. Don't tell me you forgot our vows?" You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips. 

"We'd always be there for each other, and if one of us died first, they would accompany the reaper until it was time to escort the other to the other side. Quite ironic, given our current circumstances."

"And everyone thought we were just being dramatic!" His comment brought about another round of laughter, easing the guilt from your heart. Damien got to his feet and pulled you up with him. He stared down into the water once more. "Why don't we enjoy the time we have here before we brave the other side? Let's go for a swim. " You followed his gaze with a grimace. The waves below were calm, but the water still seemed unwelcoming. Something in the back of your mind warned you not to trust it. Damien wrapped his arms around you, laughing. "Don't tell me you're scared! Nothing can hurt us here. We're finally safe." Your eyes widened as you heard footsteps approaching. Damien went rigid. Neither of you moved until the newcomer made a dramatic gagging sound.

"Look at you two so in love. It's so sweet it almost makes me sick," he deadpanned. Your jaw dropped. Mark was here too? Damien squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, biting back all of the words he truly wanted to say. You tried to move away from Damien to get a better look, but his grip around you tightened.

"Don't. He's not real," Damien whispered in your ear. There was a sense of urgency in his voice that made you freeze. 

"Sharing secrets now, are we? That's not a very nice thing to do to a friend, especially when said friend was murdered," Mark whined. "Since we're in a secretive mood, I feel inclined to tell you that Damien is lying to you, (Y/N)." You glanced over at your partner, whose face had darkened. You could practically sense the smug smile on Mark's face. He took his time walking closer to the two of you, wanting to make sure that he held the spotlight. "You're not safe. There is no 'other side.' He's using you to revive himself and Celine." Damien cupped your face, forcing you to look at him rather than Mark. 

"Don't listen to him. I love you, (Y/N). I'd do anything to keep you safe. You know that." Damien glanced behind you into the open water. He opened his mouth, but Mark interrupted him. 

"How many times have you sought my counsel? How many times have I given you my thoughts? And when have I ever steered you wrong?"

"(Y/N), love, listen to me. I know you're scared, but we need to go. We're going to have to jump."

"Don't be dense, (Y/N)!" Mark shouted. "I know you hear those warning bells in your head. If you go into that water, you'll never come out again."

"It's safe, I promise. I'd never do anything to hurt you. We'll be in a better place." Damien's voice was filled with desperation. His eyes searched yours, urging you to trust him. You swallowed thickly.

"You'll be with me?" Damien offered you a comforting smile as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. 

"Of course. Do you think I'd let you go alone? If you jump, I'm jumping. There is no me without you." You slowly nodded, and Damien released his hold on you. You finally caught sight of Mark. He was in his signature red bathrobe, and he was shaking in anger. What caught you off guard were his eyes. They were inky black and unforgiving, much like the water below.

"He's offering you acclaim and the taste of a new life, but he can't deliver. Don't waste yourself on this cliff, (Y/N). You'll be trapped in your own personal hell if you jump." You shook your head, standing by Damien's side. He took one of your hands into his own.

"I'm sorry, Mark, but I trust him. Even if you're right in the end, I have to stand by him. Love is a dangerous thing. I have to accept that." You looked at Damien and nodded. He counted down, and the two of you stepped off the cliff's edge. Mark stood above, watching as you both sank into the dark water. He shook his head, knowing what was to come.

The water seemed to suck all of the warmth from your bones as soon as you touched its surface. On instinct, you thrashed you get back to the surface, but you continued to sink. Panic settled into your mind. You couldn't get back up, and you couldn't find Damien. He let go of your hand once you both hit the water. Now, it was rushing into your lungs with a fiery burn in its wake. Your mind felt heavy and muddled. You could form a coherent thought. The last thing that filled your mind was regret. 

You hit the tiled floor with a loud thud. Your eyes snapped open as a violent cough shook your whole body. You rolled over onto your hands and knees, coughing. You could practically feel the water all around you, but you were completely dry. You blinked, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings. You were in the manor's foyer, except everything looked a little dimmer. Sitting back on your heels, you inspected your hands. They had a slight translucency to them. Is this what the 'other side' was? Were you a ghost? "Damien?" you called out, getting back to your feet. 

"Oh, good, you're awake. I should apologize. I didn't realize the process would be so... painful." You furrowed your brows, glancing around. It sounded as if he was standing right beside you, but he was nowhere to be found. You finally caught sight of the old mirror hanging on the wall Instead of showing your reflection, it showed Damien standing with an apologetic look on his face. You carefully approached. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Damien, but what's going on?" He sighed, avoiding your gaze.

"I'm protecting you. With Celine's help, I created a sort of pocket dimension inside this mirror, and we put your soul inside." You put a hand on your forehead, struggling to grasp the situation. "Don't worry! I'll be able to visit you, just as I'm doing now."

"Okay, but when can I leave?" Damien's face fell. He stuttered for a moment before finally going quiet. "Am I trapped here, alone?" your voice was barely above a whisper. Damien's eyes widened. 

"No, no! Of course, not. You're not alone. As I said before, I'll be able to visit you through the mirror."

"Am I trapped in here?" 

"I don't understand. I'm only trying to protect you-"

"Damien!" you shouted, tears flowing freely down your face. "Please, answer me." Your voice cracked along with Damien's heart at the sight of you. He nodded, looking away. You grit your teeth, suddenly overcome with anger. "You had no right! You didn't tell me this would happen. You told me that we would face the unknown together, but instead, you fabricated your own little birdcage for me to sit in for the rest of eternity."

"(Y/N), please-"

"No, Damien." Your sad laugh echoed in the empty foyer. You ran a hand through your hair, pacing. "What happened to always staying by each other's side?" you scoffed, "I should've listened to Mark. I shouldn't have jumped with you."

"I did this because I love you."

"Well, maybe you should have loved me a little less."