#Also..... you 'could stare at my art for hours and be content'? THAT? KILLED ME I will be rereading your message a couple of

[toomanywordsnllines]

There's something about the way you colour that scratches my brain in the perfect way. I could stare at your work for hours and be content

Anon.... crying in my room (positivly) (so positivly) because of your message :') That's such a nice thing to hear :D!! Thank you for taking your time to send me a lovely message!! Because it absolutely made my entire day (and week....and month....) Have this lil (old) Soap as a Thank you <3

[exhaustedwriterartist]

A little D&D snippet

An aftermath to a current fight that I’m hoping happens in the D&D Campaign that I’m in. The reveal that happened right before we ended left me flabbergasted, so this is how I'm coping:

All the context I will give is this-

Marcel is the character I play in the campaign. She is a Phantom Rogue Wood Elf. The daughter of the Guild of Rogues Leader. In this campaign anyone with fey-blood is considered monstrous, dangerous, and an outsider to most people, so she has a scarf covering her face and ears to not be so exposed. She is 57, but according to elf standards, she is still only 14 to 16. Oh, and she has a curse that no one has been able to break since she first got it when she was 9. (concept art link here)

And before the events of the battle we were in, a fellow player’s character named Tirien, ingested the remains of an evil god and basically unlocked medieval Siri… and never told the rest of us, so we all assume temporarily dying did something to his mind.

Content warnings: 

Mentions of death, injury, abuse, and slavery. (I think I covered everything?)

Post Battle:

She just stared. Why wouldn't she? Her best friend, who had never taken off her mask in the nearly 30 years she had known her, didn't have a face. 

Marcel didn't have time to process that in battle, as they all would have been vulnerable to another barrage of bullets if they stopped to stare. All she knew at that time was that man had broken something important to Amaryllis, and that they were both pissed by that. Lamorak had also noticed during the battle, but turned her attention back to the fight, though Marcel could tell she was shocked.

Now that the battle was over though, Marcel turned to Amaryllis. The surface of her friend’s face was smooth, and there was nothing indicating scars of any kind. 

This is what she didn't want me to see. 

Not that she didn't try to see. When she was in her 20's, she tried to find ways to get Amaryllis to take off her mask. But, much to her chagrin and what must have been Amaryllis' certain frustration, she never could. As she got older she accepted that she may never see her friend's face; her company and friendship were all that mattered to Marcel.

She was overwhelmed with all that had happened within the past few hours. Not long before Marcel’s group was in this battle, she had struggled with a panic attack. The thought of what little security she thought she had was gone as a heavily injured Tirien had nonchalantly and casually mentioned the name of that wretched hag who had put her under so much pain and suffering. Not only that, but that the hag had known where Marcel was for the past 43 years.

The curse seemed to react as intensely as she did, because it flared at hearing the hag’s name. When she recovered enough strength to go down to the bunker with the group, she didn’t feel like talking any more. But now as she stood in front of her friend, Marcel had finally found strength to speak.

"So... This is what you didn't want me to see when I first met you"

There was no answer, and she didn't expect one. She knew she sounded blunt, but she had to break the silence. She could sense her friend's discomfort and uneasiness despite not having an obvious indication of such emotions.

"I understand why you did it, Amaryllis, and I know many in the Guild would have had a different reaction than my father or me." 

Still no answer. Lamorak limped closer now, she was confused as well as shocked. She looked as if she had questions but couldn't find the words to say.

Something Marcel said caught Amaryllis' attention.

"This doesn't phase you, Ms. Hagrishard?"

"I'm a little shocked, and I have questions, but I'm not frightened or anything along those lines..."

Marcel paused before talking again. 

"I witnessed so much in that coven, so much horror and-- torture. I saw the effects of it... And how it deformed, dismembered, and killed my friends and family. So no, Amaryllis, I am not phased."

She couldn't believe she was talking about it again, especially after having a panic attack from the new knowledge of her past an hour earlier. Her scars still ached from the attack though the pain had dulled down as the pain from the bullets took over.

Lamorak, upon hearing her say this, turned to her in horrified confusion.

"What on earth are you referring to Marcel? When would you have seen such a thing? You hardly look older than 15." 

Marcel let out a tired laugh. She didn't think she would have shared anything about herself to Lamorak so soon, but knew it would be better to tell her than to have to hide it.

"I'm surprised you even think I'm near 15 years old, most people assume I'm even younger. However, I'm actually 57 years old, though I am still considered a child." 

Lamorak looked incredulous, but held her peace. As Marcel began to speak again, she slowly took off her scarf and moved her hair away from her ears.

"When I was 8, many wood elves from my village deep in the fey forest, including myself, were kidnapped by hags to be used in their experiments and were enslaved in their coven. I managed to escape when I was 14, and was found by my adopted father. I'm not sure why we were taken in the first place, but I do know that I will never forget the living hell I endured and at what hands I have been cursed with."

Marcel fell silent. It still hurt to speak of, and even more with her curse flaring in her weak state. This was the most she had divulged to anyone since she told Amaryllis over 20 years ago. 

Lamorak stood there silently, going through many different expressions of shock as she not only learned that the young girl she had been traveling with for months was much older than herself, but a tortured fey-touched. Marcel had forgotten how prominent and inflamed her scars must have looked, because her friend winced at the sight of them. The open air felt better on her scars, though she felt more exposed and vulnerable.

The only thing Lamorak could manage to say was, "I suppose your comment of how long you've known Amaryllis makes sense now."

Marcel gave a weak smile. Well, at least she's not attacking or anything like that. That was always the gamble in sharing her fey-identity with new people.

"I can explain some things to you... later."

She turned back to Amaryllis, who, while not expressing it that obviously, was surprised that Marcel had actually shared something so stark about her past with someone they had only known for a season. 

"Do you want to keep this secret hidden, my friend?"

Amaryllis nodded "As much as possible."

Once again Marcel had begun to unwrap her scarf as she had tried weeks earlier, but Amaryllis stopped her. 

"While I do want this hidden, Ms. Hagrishard, I don't wish you to be exposed either. I remember you told me how much your curse affects those scars, and my main mission is to keep you safe."

"Yes, but-"

"I'm sure there is something down here we can find, or you can carve that mask that you wanted to make me if that proves to fail."

Lamorak snapped back to their present plight at the mention of the dwelling they were in. 

"Tristen! He must still be down here!"

With that she ran off down the hall they had first encountered the man Lamorak had called "Brandelis."

Marcel put her scarf back to its proper place, but didn't cover her face back up. It had bothered her that Amaryllis had never called her by her first name once, and for the entirety of this journey, Amaryllis had taken so much damage in her place. Yet she knew it was because Amaryllis respected her father, as well as her, and would rather see herself hurt than her Guild Leader's only daughter.

The two of them turned towards a commotion in the foyer the boys had been in. It sounded like Ulric had performed one of his "special operations" on Joade and his reaction to those results. There was a distinct smell as well, as if someone had burned bacon or another meat. Marcel wasn't sure if that was because of Ulric or because of the fireball Tyrien had cast that engulfed the room earlier.

Their fight with that dragon-like creature must have taken longer than theirs. Marcel turned back to Amaryllis.

"Do you want to see how the guys are doing, or should we go after Lamorak?”

“It is up to you Ms. Hagrishard. I will go wherever you do.”

Marcel paused. The others did not seem bothered by Marcel's fey ancestry and the way they approached situations was... unique to say the least. But how would they react to Amaryllis without her mask? The last thing she wanted was for them to mock or jive with her friend, though she was sure Amaryllis would just punch them if they did. 

However, she remembered how desperate Lamorak had been to find her dear friend. 

"I think we should help Lamorak. She shouldn't be left alone in the state she's in. It will also allow us to look for some kind of face covering if you would rather not let the guys know." 

"Then we shall. I do admit I would rather not let them see, but I don't know how much control we have in that, especially seeing that Tirien apparently knows things he shouldn't."

"True." 

Marcel and Amaryllis began to follow where Lamorak had run off to. There was still an uneasy feeling between them, but Marcel couldn't figure out what the reason really was. 

"Amaryllis?"

"Yes, Ms. Hagrishard?" 

"I want you to know that this doesn't affect how I see you. You are my friend, and always will be."

They were both limping from their injuries, but Amaryllis seemed to hesitate slightly when she said this. She didn't answer.

"I do have questions though, and I hope you trust me enough to answer them. But you don't have to. Especially not now."

"Perhaps... later"

Marcel smiled softly. She was used to not seeing Amaryllis' facial expressions anyway. She knew exactly what her friend was feeling by other movements. This didn't change Marcel's bond to her friend for the worst; it only made Marcel want to help her dear friend if she needed it. It made her realize that Amaryllis, like herself, had seen things she wished she hadn't.

She would ask later. But now, finding Tristen was at the top of their priorities.

[dewcrafter]

Tea and sketches (pt. 4 of the painter)

It's been a week since I met Omi Omi, his name is Sakusa Kiyoomi but i'm sticking to calling him Omi Omi which he doesn't seem to mind and it turns out he actually had a name for me throughout the years and it was lotus because the first drawing he ever drew of me was me smelling a lotus, samu says that one of the lotus's meanings is rebirth which got us both thinking about our art and throughout the week we've been looking through old art, getting Omi Omi's dad and my mom to dig out old art that wasn't easy to find but we got enough to really show that we were really drawing things from our perspective and with the pieces together it showed a beautiful story, well that's just my opinion I don't know how Omi Omi feels about it all but he seems content "lotus?" said Omi Omi, catching my attention 

"yeah?" I asked looking up from the green tea I was zoning out at 

"we should make a painting together" he said, making my mind race for what we could paint together "yeah! What should we paint?" I asked curiously 

"why don't we paint this" he said looking away and to his koi as he threw some food in for them "that's a great idea!" I said smiling at him as I pulled the lotus tea cup to my lips to take a sip, he had a very cute lotus tea set the cups we're all blue with little lotus plants and petals with fish in the background while the tea pot was shaped with a lotus flower as the top with fake vines covering the handle and the body of the teapot faded from the flower head to underneath the painted water showing a koi and the stem of the beautiful flower "you really like the teapot huh?" said Omi Omi making me look away from it's beauty to an even lovelier sight 

"yeah, everything in your house is so mesmerizing" I said looking away at the surrounding area "I can't believe you paint and also do ceramics and it's so cool how your the definition of perfection at both" I said thinking back to his collection of ceramic fruit cups that are literally the cutest things ever. 

After tea we went off to a a very popular art store called Sekaido Art Supplies and there we bought a 20x40 in canvas, after getting the canvas and stopping by my house for some extra paint and my easel we went back to Omi Omi's house and sat down on a tarp he put on his floor and got to work sketching our sides of the canvas, often getting up to stare outside and put together all the pieces of the scene. 

After hours of talking and sketching we found that the sun had set and it was getting dark so I grabbed my things, said goodbye to Omi Omi and headed home on the walk home I thought about Omi Omi and how he calls me lotus, the nickname I like it and it's very cute but talking to him reminds me of how in three months i'll be joining the volleyball team MSBY black jackals in osaka which is really exciting and all but i'll be not only leaving my twin in tokyo but also now Omi Omi and I guess suna too but it's also so exciting to get back into volleyball again I finished up my thoughts when I got home to see the lights still on which was weird because samu was usually totally out of it after work so I walked in to make sure he didn't pass out on the floor from overworking himself "atsumu!" he said when I opened the door "where have you been!? It's been more than 6 hours since you left the house to go hang out with Sakusa and you're only getting back at 11?? Are you serious i've been worried if he killed you for goodness sake" he said storming over to me making me huff out a little laugh "you sound like ma" I said not really caring about his concerns "yeah yeah whatever" he said annoyed "don't ever come home this late again or I swear ima file a police report" he said crossing his arms 

"chill out samu I can handle myself perfectly fine" I said walking into my room and setting my things onto my table "what were you two even doing today?" questioned samu as he leaned against my door frame like a whore "drinking tea in his lovely backyard and feeding the koi and then he came up with the idea to paint a portrait together so we went to the store and bought a canvas and then while you were at work we dropped by and grabbed some extra paint to store at his for when we get to painting and then we started our sketching of it" I said happily 

"jeez what's with that love sick grin of yours" said samu frowning making me glare at him 

"well I bet it's the same smile you give sunarin when it's just the two of you" I fired at him 

"yeah okay so what's got you so into sakusa?" questioned samu 

"everything!" I said plopping down on my bed, getting the hint he walked over and layed down with me "did you hear the nickname he gave me!?" I questioned excitedly 

"yeah it's lotus" said samu sticking out his tongue and making a gagging gesture 

"yeah it is and it's ADORABLE" I said "just hearing him say lotus and knowing that i'm lotus is just so-" I said kicking my feet in happiness 

"yeah well suna calls me Hibiscus" said samu in his stupid i'm better than you tone 

"okay and? Lotus is a way cuter nickname" I said rolling my eyes 

"well lotus only means beauty, purity, prosperity and eternity while the hibiscus means love at first sight, beauty, love and emotional healing" said samu gloating about it 

"well at least lotus sounds way prettier than hibiscus and isn't a mouthful" I said shoving him lightly "yeah whatever you gremlin" he said sliding off my bed and walking off to his own, closing the door on his way out "GOODNIGHT SAMU" I yelled after him 

"GOODNIGHT TSUMU" he yelled back. 

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

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Alive and in Love - Chapter 3

Cassian Andor x reader

A/N: Here’s part 3. I just don’t know how awful is this because I am barely alive so forgive me if this sucks. Anyways, hope you like it.

T/W: Language, Blood, graphic descriptions of sensitive content, killing stuff, bad writing, mainly bad writing, let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 2,818

Taglist: @stanny-uwu​ , @hollymac79​ ,  @triumph-of-form-over-content​ ,  @michelle-l-a-k ,  @lovepeaceorelse​

Part 1 , Part 2

The next morning you woke up earlier than you’d like but instead of trying to rest you thought.

He was right. You never had a particular reason to act like this, you didn’t have a reason to hate or dislike each other. In the beginning, it is true that as the best agents there was rivalry, but this was not the main reason, that was the excuse, what you had convinced yourselves it was.

All the times you had worked together you had decided to keep things professional, forming attachments both dangerous and forbidden, but now you found yourselves in a position where this couldn’t continue.

Maybe it was because he knew so much about not only you but your family, as you discovered, yet you knew nothing about him. You had your secrets, secrets that you fought to keep hidden not for your safety but for the others, but as time passed you wanted to learn more.

But you couldn’t find the reason. You couldn’t find the reason even if you wanted to. But even if you found it it would just complicate things more.

You regretted, all of this but you knew that there was not an easy way of getting out of this. That’s why living was a curse. You couldn’t love, couldn’t be free, and your only protection was the agency you worked for.

Sighing in defeat at your own thoughts you got up and opened the window so the sun could light your room. Another day alive, a curse. That’s what was it.

Coffee seemed a good option at the time but when you went downstairs, to the kitchen and found the two men talking quietly you regretted it. You wanted to clear things up but for a reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

“Good morning” you walked past them, your eyes trying to avoid his stare. He replied firmly, having the exact same feeling.

What you don’t know is that he stayed up late yesterday, thinking the exact same thing, why did you do this. Only that he knew. He knew but wouldn’t admit it because he knew that it was meaningless.

He had come to a realization that he didn’t hate you, no. He liked you, more than you think. But he had his secrets too, and he knew that he had to stay away from anyone to keep them safe.

In other words, you were both trapped, your past hunting you. You didn’t hate each other but couldn’t be anything more.

You finished making coffee and sat on the table with them, eyes avoiding each other’s stare.

“The art exhibition is today,” Cassian said and took a sip from his cup, “They will all be there, plus a wealthy man called Frank Adler”

“Isn’t he the one who is said to have an influence on one of the ministers?”

“Yes, he is. That’s why I think they will strike tonight. Don’t forget that Alexander has a vision he wants to share”

“You mean to enforce” you corrected him.

“Correct. We need to go armed, though. I don’t think they will hesitate to strike, even if innocent people are involved. What do you have with you?”

“I have my gun upstairs,” you said and got up, pulled some books from the shelf, and took the box that was hidden “And these” you handed it to Cassian who opened it and revealed a gun, bullets, and two communication pieces, “Does this covers us?”

“That will be fine” he stood up, “We’re leaving in the afternoon”. With that, he left you and your brother who also excused himself to go to work.

You sat alone in the kitchen, alone in your thoughts.

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

The next hours you and Cassian avoided each other, only talking when necessary.

You had tried to gather all of your strength and courage and go ask him what he meant but every damn time you opened your mouth to speak nothing came out. He had tried too but the same thing happened and you ended up avoiding each other and your thoughts.

You were getting dressed in your room when you heard a knock on your door, “Are you ready?” Cassian’s voice was heard from the other side.

“Yeah, just give me a moment” you replied. Taking a deep breath you opened the door.

“You’re beautiful”. These words surprised you, he had never complimented you before. “You’re not bad yourself,” you said and headed to the exit of the house.

You heard him chuckle, “You’re really generous with your compliments” he followed you and you smiled at yourself.

At least the ice was breaking.

You got in the car, he was driving of course, and watched him as he drove. Thankfully, the square was about ten minutes from there so you didn’t have a long trip ahead of you.

“About yesterday,” he found the courage to say but you interrupted him,” I wanted to talk to you too”

“I was just going to say that” he took a deep breath and continued, “I didn’t mean what I say”

“Me neither” you played with the hem of your dress, the thought alone of looking at him right now was too much.

“I do trust you. I just wanted you to know it” his voice was now soft, a voice you hadn’t heard before.

“I know it” you tried to smile and finally looked at him. Your words lifted a weight in his chest, relief taking over worry. “I trust you too”

You both knew that these words meant something more but you wouldn’t acknowledge it just yet. Instead, you stayed in comfortable silence, the things you had admitted enough, for now.

When you arrived the square was already crowded with people, music playing in the background the sun lighting so slightly the sky. “This is where the fun begins” he whispered in your ear as he placed his hand on your waist, gently pulling you closer to him.

You’d lie if you told me that you didn’t like his touch, his breath against your neck as he spoke. But you were just colleagues and that’s all that mattered, you reminded yourself.

You encountered many acquaintances, asking them politely about their jobs and their family. To them, you and Cassian were introduced as an engaged couple who met each other at your work, an office job for a publishing company. They never asked more questions, either not caring or respecting your privacy.

You pretended that you were looking at the paintings and the sculptures that were exhibited, but in reality, you were trying to find your suspects. It was only an hour later when Cassian leaned closer and whispered “The brothers are here. Six o’clock” you discreetly turn in the direction he had told you and saw them, drinks in hand talking with Frank who as it seemed had arrived with them.

You were trying to get a better view without getting caught but it seemed impossible. You were scanning the space, hand around Cassian’s elbow when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Y/N? I can’t believe it!” scared of who this female voice would belong to you turned around and tried your best not to show your discomfort at the person in front of you.

“Jessica! Long time no see” you pretended that you were happy to see her. In fact, you felt terrible.

You both went to the same high school and let’s just say that she made life hard for you. Of course, she always pretended she saw you as a friend but you knew that she was a reason these years were a living hell.

You left Cassian and hugged her, “How are you?” you asked politely even though you had no interest in learning.

“Oh, you know, I studied at college and now I am working in dad’s company, it’s hard but you know, I am the best there. I live in a big house in New York but I am thinking of moving out to somewhere better” Classic Jessica. She continued talking about her career in photo modeling and you started feeling insecure just as all these years ago.

“But, how are you doing?” she asked after a while with a tone that showed that she didn’t expect you to have achieved anything.

“I am working at a publishing company as an assistant manager” you faked a smile.

“Oh, that’s great. You always liked reading books, even though we all believed you were boring. Really, are you with someone? I bet you’re single”

“Actually” you heard a voice, his voice from behind you, “We are engaged” Cassian wrapped his arm around your shoulders protectively. He had heard your conversation and couldn’t help himself from stepping in.

At Cassian’s appearance, Jessica’s jaw dropped and you smiled shyly. Before she could say something a man appeared.

“Jessica dear, this is Mr. Smith. I was talking to him about your career in-” The man’s voice stopped when he realized that his daughter wasn’t alone. He greeted you politely and-

Shit

Cassian’s hand tightened around your shoulder at the sight of the man who was along with Jessica’s father. He was Adam Smith.

“I see you’re talking with your friends. If you excuse us-” her father started and Cassian interrupted him, “It’s ok, we were about to leave”

“Nice to see you, Jessica,” you said goodbye and moved to leave but someone stopped you.

“I am sorry, miss-” Adam said to you and you froze in place.

“L/N. Soon to be Andor” you faked a smile and your hand found Cassian’s.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he observed you better.

“I didn’t have the luck to meet you before, sir”

“Then I must be mistaken. Pardon me, and nice to meet such a lovely woman” his tone was suspicious in the beginning but friendly, or at least he wanted to sound as such in the end.

You and Cassian left and only after you were at a safe distance you breathed out, “This was close”

“This was very close. And if he knows you from somewhere then this complicates things more”

Two hours later nothing important had happened and you decided to grab a drink. On the way, you saw the two brothers talking quietly, secretly almost and you approached them pretending to look at a painting next to them.

“Is everything ready?” one asked and the other replied. “He is in the storage room behind the cafeteria. Or at least what’s left of him”

At the sound of these words, you almost dropped your glass.

“At least he will stop being such a bad influence on the government”

“Are you sure Alex knows what he is doing?”

“We don’t have a choice but to trust him”

So they had regretted it. When you made sure that they didn’t have to say anything more important you left, heading off to find Cassian. When you told him what you heard he took your hand and guided you out of the crowd, where you could talk without anyone hearing you.

“Are you sure what you heard is right?”

“You said you trust me”

“I do. But if this is real tonight is going to be hell”

“I know. I already let my brother know and he said that he would transfer the information to the chief. If that’s real then we’ll have to find him and arrest them” you said but heard footsteps. You turned in their direction and saw the shadow of someone coming closer and closer.

Immediately Cassian pushed you against the wall and started kissing you, making sure you were covered and the man couldn’t see your face.

In the beginning, you were surprised by his action but then the feeling of his lips against yours, his hands wrapped around you made you forget everything and you realized what you felt all along.

You loved him.

You continued kissing even though the man was long gone, but you didn’t care.

He finally pulled away, both breathless from the kiss, and looked you in the eyes.

“Cassian-” you whispered but he cut you off, “I know. But not now,” he said softly and cupped your cheek, apologizing that he couldn’t talk with you now. But you understood.

You nodded and you quietly went to the storage room the two brothers had talked about. The door as you’d imagined was locked but before you could act Cassian took out his gun and shot the lock, thankfully the music too loud for anyone to hear.

You took out yours too and slowly walked into the dark. You took out your phone and lit the place, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. And then you saw him.

“Y/B/N, are you on the line?” you talked through your communication piece.

“Yes, what happened?”

You felt a tie at your throat as you spoke, “They were right”.

The sight in front of you was-how could you even explain it?

His corpse was tied on a chair, his inside was out and his head was chopped off, only hanging by one small piece of skin.

“Cassian-”

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” The chief’s voice spoke through your communicator, “Leave now!”

By her tone, you could understand that something serious was about to happen. “Ma’am we found him and-”

“Their men are coming in your direction, leave now!”. Your blood froze at the sound of her words.

“They are coming” you turned to Cassian who was examining the body.

“There’s something here” He took a piece of paper from the corpse. It was clear that whoever had done this wanted you to find it.

Before you could reply you heard more footsteps and closed the flashlight. You were standing in the dark.

You held your breath as the door opened and closed again. You didn’t know how many had entered but you knew that the exit was too far for you to reach without being noticed.

You tried to take a step but the floor beneath creaked revealing your position. You stopped in place and two gunshots were heard along with two screams.

You and someone else had shot but the screams were not yours and that’s when your mind thought the worst.

“Cassian” You shouted and then another gunshot was heard, the bullet missing you by a couple of inches. Another one followed and a hand grabbed yours. “It’s me” he whispered and dragged you out of the room.

“You’re fine” you breathed in relief but it didn’t last as three men appeared out of nowhere and started shooting.

You shot the first one and Cassian shot the other two but before you could run away two hands grabbed you from behind and then you felt the cold metal against your temple as Adam held his gun pointed at you.

John appeared from the corner, his gun pointing at Cassian. “Drop your gun or your partner dies” he ordered so he did.

That’s when you understood it. They knew who you were. But at this point you didn’t care, you couldn’t care because in your mind there was only one thought, one name.

Closing your eyes you tried to think of a way out of this. But there wasn’t.

“Please” you whispered, “Don’t do this”

Your last hope was that your brother and the chief had heard from the other side what was happening.

“You fools really thought that you could kill us?” John said as he approached slowly, gun still pointed at him. “You can’t stop us. You are involved in this as much as we are. And either we’ll all die gloriously or like traitors. Kill her” he said first to us and then to his brother.

You were convinced that there was no way out of this when the last shot was heard.

Only that it didn’t hit you but Adam, his blood spraying all over you, his lifeless now body falling to the ground. John turned to find the sniper and Cassian hit him on the head.

You were just standing there shocked, trying to progress what had just happened when you felt two hands on your shoulders gently shaking you, “We have to go”

You followed the order, finally coming back to your senses. “Are you ok?” you asked and he nodded, “I am fine”

“Where’s the car?” Jyn appeared next to you, she was the sniper you realized. You ran, avoiding meeting anyone, and only when you were safe at your home you took a breath.

They knew.

But all you cared about now was him because you loved him. But you knew, you both knew that from now on things would be too dangerous.

[angstama]

god knows you tried | manjiro (mikey) sano

pairing: bonten!mikey x reader 

genre: angst

warnings: heartbreak, attempt suicide(?), original characters/manga plot (pls do not read if you haven’t read the manga D: ), mentions of religion, implied sex (no smut ok!)

summary: god knows you tried your best. if only mikey knew how hard you’re trying too then perhaps this love wouldn’t hurt as much as you thought. 

 words: 1823 words 

 a/n: i think this sucks but... i hope you enjoy it! <3

god knows you tried.

you watched the ex-toman boys eagerly catching up with takemichi quietly, hands resting against your chin as you took in the rare sight in front of you with a sad smile etched on your lips. this was the happy ending that mikey had sacrificed for everyone but himself. 

“a penny for your thoughts?” mitsuya asks, plopping down next you on to the stone steps. that’s right, it’s june 19th 2018, toman’s formation day anniversary and everyone had gathered around to re-open the time capsule from twelve years ago. “hm? nothing much. just missing a particular someone.” you hummed, dragging your fingers across the ground to draw a heart. mitsuya nods understandingly, knowing not to pry any deeper anymore and for that, you’re thankful. 

crouching down, you hesitantly picked up the the blue coloured envelope you left behind twelve years ago. unsure if you’d wanna read the contents of the letter your naive self written back then. with a deep breath, you slipped open the cover. revealing a photo of candid photo of you and mikey leaning on each other asleep with your mouths wide open taken by emma. 

dearest y/n, 

i wonder what you’re doing right now? 

are you perhaps finally studying in film? 

has that idiot manjiro finally proposed to you?

 or are you the one who proposed to him? 

“y/n, you’ll be with me for a long time right?” mikey asked, staring at the very sky that you both loved oh so very much with your hands intertwined. having grown up with each other since young had pretty much given you both the illusion that the two of you will always be a part of each other’s world. and you hoped with every inch of your heart that mikey wants it to be that way forever. “of course. you’re my heaven and home mikey. i wouldn’t go anywhere else without you by my side.” you squeezed his hand in assurance, knowing that at this very moment, mikey was at his most truthful and vulnerable self with you. 

whatever it is, i hope that you’re living the happy life with him that you’ve been dreaming of. 

signing off, 

toman’s honorary member, y/n l/n. 

everyone was silent. even hakkai who had been making fun of everyone’s letter kept quiet. the boys knew how much you loved and you still love mikey. each opting to give you the concerned and sympathetic look. you could feel you heart breaking even more for you knew you weren’t doing anything that you had hoped for back then. 

you felt mitsuya’s comforting hand softly grabbing onto yours. “well that’s depressing,” you chuckled softly, wanting to get rid of the awkward tension in the air as soon as possible. “let’s grab some ramen, i’m starving.” and with that, you let your feet drag you away from the heavy atmosphere with your head hung low. 

perhaps the hurt wouldn't be as painful if you weren’t the only one who knew what kind of path mikey had chosen to go down. you see, when mikey turned his back against all his closest friend, you had the privilege of staying as his only constant thanks to your stubborn nature but even with that, you weren’t enough to keep him away from his dark impulses. mikey chose the path to destruction and the only thing that you could do was watch from the sidelines and be there when he shows up at wee hours of the night to borrow your body. but you didn't mind. it was during these most intimate moments with mikey that you finally get to feel a piece of him again when he spews the words of “i love you” so effortlessly. 

god knows that you tried. 

“mikey those aren’t good for you.” you frowned, snatching the capsule away from his hand seconds before he could flush it down his system. “what the fuck y/n?” the angered male snaps. you felt yourself falling and back colliding against the hard ground. opening your eyes, you see mikey pining you down with nothing but void darkness in his eyes. “i’ll fucking kill you if you do it again.” mikey taunts, he was serious and you know it. 

“then kill me mikey.” the words slipped out of your tongue instantly. you were tired. tired of trying. you don't know what else can you possibly do to help mikey anymore. mikey says nothing but got off you. he dusted himself and without sparing you single glance, he showed you his back again, walking out of the door where sanzu was already holding open for him. “get her home.” you heard him say. 

it’s been a week since you guys opened the time capsule. nothing much had happened since then except you’ve been spending more time with hina considering how she’s often over to mitsuya’s studio for gown fitting. you admired and envy her love story with takemichi. but who were you to complain? you were lucky enough that mikey still wanted you around. so it shouldn’t hurt so much when you sae her adorning the beautiful wedding gown that mitsuya had spent months on tailoring. 

you let out a tired yawn, stretching your arms above your head as you finished touching up the last few bits of editing on your laptop. you looked over at the calendar on your table, a pink heart circled over today’s date and smiled. “mitsuya, i’m gonna knock off first okay?” you announced, tidying up your table and reaching out for the bag of the familiar favourite deserts of a certain male. 

mitsuya nods, “thank you for your hard work y/n”. he flashes you a smile, eye slowly trailing to the white plastic bag dangling from your side as you waved goodbye, back facing him and walking away. “you’re going to see him aren't you?” you stopped in your tracks. “i know he never left you. plus you got a bag filled with dorayakis and taiyakis. that’s pretty obvious.” mitsuya chuckles. you always knew mitsuya to be perceptive but it never once occured to you that your best friend who is also your boss would ever catch on to the secret you’ve been hiding for twelve years. 

“how did yo-” 

“be careful y/n.” mitsuya waves you off, going back to whatever he was doing. a fond smile creeps onto your lips as you watched mitsuya working hard. “thank you mitsuya. for everything. really,” you whispered, but loud enough for the dual dyed coloured hair boy to look up again when you walked away. 

you made your way towards the secluded vip section of the club through swarms of body swaying around you until you saw the familiar tall pink haired male standing outside the golden door. 

“hey sanzu,” you greeted, barely audible over the loud booming music. you were about to push the door open when sanzu towers over you immediately, denying you of your entrance. you looked at sanzu in confusion, “it’s me, y/n. i’m here to see mikey.” you said loudly, voice straining to over power the background noise. “ i know. but mikey will not be seeing anyone right now.” he retorts back. 

surely mikey knew that you were visiting tonight right? after all it’s your anniversary date. you tilted your head at sanzu. not fully understanding what he’s saying. to say that you’re feeling absolutely livid would be an understatement right now. you’re too tired, angry and broken hearted to process anything anymore so you exploded. you only wanted to see your boyfriend. was that a very difficult request? 

“sanzu,” you said lowly, eyes staring blankly into his and as if on cue, you brought your knees to his precious manhood before making another high kick at him, bringing him down. it was a technique that mikey had taught you when you were younger and attending martial arts lesson together with baji. god you missed baji so much. 

“y/n because you’re short, you can do this instead.” mikey suggested smugly, kneeing poor baji’s little friend before swinging his legs much more harder than he intended to at baji’s profile when he bent forward. the main point was to get your opponent to lean forward so that your legs could reach high enough to create an impact on their skull. you eyes lit up in excitement, “wow! that’s so cool! let me try it!” you jumped impatiently. turning towards mikey to execute the exact same move. “wait n-! AHH,” mikey’s eyes widened, and before he knew it, you had completely knocked him over. 

that day, as mikey and baji lied down with pain still intact barely moving an inch, shinchiro only gave you a thumbs up and praised you for taking down the invincible mikey. you were the only one who could do that. 

“sanzu, i’ll see my boyfriend as and when i’d like to.” you said curtly, eyeing sending daggers at him lying on the ground before stepping over him to swing the door open, revealing your petite self to the other bonten’s executives and hostess who were staring at you in surprise. 

you don’t see anyone else but your lover who’s currently sitting in the center with two pretty hostess sitting by his side. you don’t hesitate and begun walking  towards him. “get your hands off my man.” you said calmly. there was tension in the air and from the corner of your eyes, you could see the executives slowly getting up to leave as if on cue. 

“aren’t you as stubborn as always,” he raises a brow as you settled down next to him, pouring the bag of dessert on the glass table in front of you. you smile softly, grabbing a packet of taiyaki and handing it to him before grabbing one for yourself too. “happy 14th anniversary mikey.” you mumbled softly before grabbing a bite.  14 years, that was how long you two had been together for. “mhm. happy 14th anniversary y/n.” mikey hums, allowing you lean in close to him and resting your head on his chest. 

you take in the scent of mikey for you knew that this is going to be the last time you’re going to be able to hold mikey close to you. you didn't want this moment to end but you were too tired to continue on and see what's going to happen the next when you go back to just another normal day. you held tightly to the gun you hid in your bag, shutting your eyes tightly. 

“hey mikey,” you called out. you never thought you’d see it again but you saw a flash of endearment in his eyes when you called him. “i love you so much, promise you’ll take care of yourself alright?” you smiled warmly before pulling the gun out of your bag and putting it against your head. 

god knows you tried. 

god knows you did your best and now you’re going home. 

bang!

[worth-more-than-two-thousand]

Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know. 

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry! 

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes. 

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run. 

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder. 

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand. 

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will. 

Oh, if Fives could see him now. 

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?” 

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space.  “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha. 

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?” 

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. 

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame." 

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!” 

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.” 

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?” 

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling. 

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.  

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. 

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands. 

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear. 

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.” 

Or not. 

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at. 

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking. 

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”   

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp. 

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’ 

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone. 

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could. 

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all. 

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town. 

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy. 

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment. 

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away. 

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to  the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days… 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’ 

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious. 

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building. 

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers. 

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock. 

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock. 

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself. 

He looked ridiculous. 

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death. 

What if she was with someone new? 

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all. 

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open. 

Two Y/C/E eyes met his. 

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face. 

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him. 

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter. 

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand. 

He guarded his heart. 

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back. 

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?” 

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.” 

“...good.” 

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten. 

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear. 

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear. 

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty. 

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes. 

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling. 

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing. 

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were. 

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation. 

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face. 

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.” 

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3     Chapter 4     Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7   Chapter 8

Summary : Times are changing. After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all….. He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.

: Pairing : Taehyung x OC / Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content

Chapter 9

“I believe you owe me an explanation....” My father’s voice was soft and steady, his gaze piercing as he stared at me. I could feel my skin thrum with distaste and the urge to take a shower was strong. I wanted to scrub my skin off, Eun Woo’s touch somehow lingering and heavy on me.

“Give me my phone back.” I said instead and my father shook his head.

“No can do. Those men you met? Paranoid bunch. They thought you and Eun Woo might have been recording something and they wanted me to check your phone. i had to reassure them and so, just for good measure, I destroyed it.” 

I glared at him.

“I’m still waiting for an explanation. Two weeks ago you couldn’t stand the sight of Eun Woo.... And now here you are, at my Yacht club , claiming you’re dating the man. What are you trying to pull?” My father prompted. 

“There’s nothing to say. I just... I lost my job at the preserve and I can’t really look for anything else right now Eun Woo is just helping me out.” I whispered.

My father looked surprised. 

“That’s interesting, I see your pride isn’t as strong as it was when I introduced him to you at the preserve.”

I kept quiet. 

"Good. I’m not surprised that you’ve come around to be honest. You are your mother’s daughter after all. Gold digger that she was, at least she left you some of her good looks for you to cash in one, yeah? ‘.

My breath caught in my throat, lips wobbling as tears sprung .

“But still.....the fact that you would whore yourself out to a bunch of animals, to keep him? It makes me wonder. What exactly is going on here, that I’m missing” ”

Taehyung , I thought miserably. I wanted him so badly right now that I felt like I would shatter if I didn’t get away from here. 

I glared at my father, feeling disgust well up at the mere sight of him. 

“I’m not going to do any such thing.... I’m just helping you . Eun Woo told me you’ve been looking to finish the deal and those men wanted to see me at the resort on the seventeenth. You should be thanking me right now.  . ” I said defiantly and my father’s eyebrows rose. 

And then he chuckled. 

 “I feel like you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew. But just remember, this is your doing and if things go south, i am not risking my entire reputation to rescue you. ” He said firmly. 

“I can take care of myself.” I said shortly. I clenched and unclenched my fingers , trying to ground myself. 

It was so amazing, how blind my father could be. He hadn’t suspected Eun Woo at all. Merely chalking him off as a perverted wolf who wanted to make a bit off money at his resort. Eun Woo was smart as well, being obtuse and sounding foolish on purpose, playing into my father’s belief that wolves weren’t intelligent. 

. And this would be his downfall, I thought vindictively. The way he continually thought that wolves were foolish. That he was somehow smarter than them....

“I am not sure if I trust you entirely so I’ve asked Eun Woo to keep an eye on you, till the seventeenth. You can stay with him at his apartment.  ” My father said thoughtfully

I kept my gaze down. 

“At first i considered calling the whole thing off but apparently , Eun Woo’s onto something with the whole beta wolves being into voyeurism. Perhaps that’s a whole new avenue I could look into.... Those men out there....I’ve been showering them with gifts and women for months and this deal wouldn’t come through. But Eun Woo sweeps in, dangles you in front of them and suddenly they want to finish this deal in five days? Apparently,  you’re  the secret weapon I should have been using all along?”

I glared at him.

He looked thoughtful as he stared at me. And then he nodded, features hardening. 

“So be it... You can go fuck that wolf in front of those men and I’ll get my work done. Always knew you weren’t unlike that mother of yours....” He smirked.

I felt my heart clench at that. My mother had been nothing but innocent. I recoiled when he made to stroke my cheek and he laughed again. 

“He’ll come pick you up in a couple of hours . Take a shower and fix yourself. ” He gave me one last look before leaving. 

The door slammed shut behind him and I sank to the floor. I stared around the room... groaning. 

And then my eyes fell on the small pink phone, sticking out of my bag. My dad had taken my phone but not this . It was the pair to the toddler phone that I’d bought Luna so many moons ago. After my fallout with Taehyung I hadn’t used it at all but it had remained at the bottom of my bag. It would only connect to its pair, but no matter. 

Grinning, I pulled it out, dialing quickly. If nothing else, at least dear , sweet Luna’s voice would cheer me up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you’ll make all the arrangements?” Eun Woo watched Taehyung carefully, the Alpha wolf sat behind his desk flanked by two of his closest men, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin. The betas were built like fucking walls , both of them narcs in the force. They stared at him, eyes narrowed in distrust and for the first time Eun Woo felt the first inklings of regret.

Taehyung for his part looked like he believed him.  A laptop stood open in front of him, and the wolf had a Bluetooth device in his ear, obviously watching something on the screen. Eun Woo wondered if he had even listened to anything he had said. 

“So that’s it? You offered them the resort and they said the deal’s going down.” He asked casually and Eun Woo nodded , realizing that Taehyung had been listening to him after all. . 

“On the seventeenth. Yoon Jae hyun’s going to be there.”

“And Mirae...?”

“Well, just as a guest...I did imply we were seeing each other so it would be less suspicious if she were also around.” Eun Woo willed himself to sound normal. 

Taehyung didn’t look suspicious but there was no telling with the beautiful alpha, who had mastered the art of keeping a straight face while destroying his enemies. And Eun Woo was well aware that if the alpha found out how he had used the girl, he would definitely be topping that list. 

“Very well. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. You can go now. I’ll contact you soon.” Taehyung said shortly , his gaze flitting back to the screen infront of him. 

Eun Woo nodded, before standing up on shaky legs, his heart pounding, instincts telling him he was in danger. But he pushed away the thought, grabbing his bag and leaving the office quickly. 

Taehyung watched him leave, claws out and digging straight through his desk to stop himself from launching across the room and tearing the wolf’s throat out. He could smell her on him. And his wolf wasn’t happy about it. 

“Fucker’s got balls, lying to your face like that.” Namjoon commented mildly, staring at the laptop, where for the past hour or so, Taehyung kept replaying the CCTV footage from the poolside camera on the yacht club. 

Taehyung stared at the screen, watching the sheer discomfort and disgust on Mi Rae’s face and he’d never been filled with so much bloodlust in his life. The urged to rip the wolves to shreds, to tear them limb from limb, it simmered in his blood. 

The potent rage in his veins stunned him because he’d never felt anything like it before. If he’d had any doubts about whether his wolf had made the right choice, choosing Yoon Mi Rae,  it was gone. The sight of those men, ogling what was  his  and his alone, it made him want to kill. 

They had to die. And he had to do it.  

Simple as that.

And he would. 

He would run them through with his claws and watch the life blood drain out of their frail, fragile bodies. 

it took him some effort to compose himself. 

“How long has he been running this little racket in his resort?” Taehyung asked casually, feeling inordinately foolish. It was unlike him to be so neglectful over something so incredibly important. How on earth had Cha Eun Woo managed to run something so illicit and horrendous right under his nose? 

He blamed himself.

 He’d trusted Cha Eun Woo, for one hot minute. Forgotten that the wolf's loyalty lay solely with himself.

Namjoon sighed, placing a file in front of Taehyung. Taehyung flipped through the pictures , stomach turning. Eun Woo had huge sprawling rooms , with beds in the center  fitted with restraints and handcuffs. Comfortable arm chairs and couches dotted the rest of the room, men lounging about as they watched the action unfold.  Women,  drugged and barely conscious,  lay on most of them and apparently, alpha wolves indulged themselves with the women.

It was the most disgusting thing he had ever encountered in his life. 

And the bastard had actually dared, actually had the fucking thought of dragging his  mate  into it. 

The mere thought of it made Taehyung laugh out loud. 

Cha Eun Woo was out of his damn mind. 

 There really was no other explanation for it. Or maybe he’d been so blinded by his own wealth and power that he’d forgotten that Taehyung was ten times as powerful as him. 

Well, whatever the reason, he clearly had a death wish. 

And Kim Taehyung was going to grant it to him. With Pleasure. 

“It’s new. or we would have caught wind of it before.” Seokjin said apologetically, “ Probably a few months at the most. He mostly uses the men to get tax exemptions or do get ordinances cleared for his resorts or you know, get out of adhering to construction regulation and stuff like that. In return for letting them watch alphas knot human women. ” Seokjin’s face was scrunched in disgust. 

“And when I let him meet Yoon Jae hyun and his cronies, he saw an opportunity to expand his clientele and he took it. “ Taehyung hummed thoughtfully. 

“Mi Rae’s with her father....” Namjoon said thoughtfully.

“Knowing that son of a bitch, he’ll probably force her to go through with it.” Seokjin shuddered.

“Well, let him bring her there. We’ll get her out. And arrest the whole lot of them.” Namjoon said with a shrug. 

Taehyung stared at them for a second. 

He had been determined to do this by the book, at first. But watching Cha Eun Woo molest his girl, while a bunch of impotent , old bastards ogled her....well, that really changed his mind about how he wanted to deal with these motherfucking idiots. 

“No.” Taehyung said casually.

Namjoon and Seokjin stilled.

“Tae?”

“We’re not arresting any of them.” He said casually. And then he gave Seokjin a slow, calculated smile. 

Namjoon’s eyes widened as realization set in. 

“Tae-” He began , looking worried but the Alpha merely stared at him.

“I’m going to trust that my two best men are going to make that happen for me?” he drawled, eyes flashing red in a way that said it wasn’t really a request.  

Seokjin groaned.

“Fine. But we’ll still have to get an arrest warrant and all that. Don’t want the guy to be hailed as a victim or a martyr after I kill him. that always pisses me off.” He said distastefully and Taehyung hummed.

“I’m going to leave that to your capable hands, gentlemen. “ 

“We’ll get things ready then. “ Namjoon said casually making to move away and Taehyung nodded, watching the two betas move to the door. 

“Good., oh and one more thing....” he called out , making them both turn. 

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asked , confused.

“Cha Eun Woo... he’s mine. Bring him to me when you’re done with the others.” Taehyung whispered. 

Namjoon grimaced but Seokjin merely grinned. Ironically, although he looked soft and almost feminine in his beauty, Seokjin was the meaner one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung came home to see his daughter giggling uncontrollably on the couch, her phone pressed to her ear and he was confused.

The only one who could call her on that phone was him and-

His eyes widened, realization hitting him hard as he all but pounced on the couch, wrestling the phone out of Luna’s hands before he could think his actions through.

“Rae...” He breathed in disbelief.

“Taehyung?” Her voice came out surprised and relieved and he felt like he was flying. It felt like liquid honey in his ears, the sweet cadence of her tone filling him with sweet blessed relief. He hadn’t even realized how badly he had wanted to hear her voice, to get some confirmation that she was alright. 

“Dada dada dada...gimme gimme ...I wanna talk to Rae Rae...!!!” Luna bounced next to him, tugging on his arm and he struggled to keep his balance. 

“ How did you call? I’ve been trying to reach you and-”

“Dada!!! Please...i haven’t spoken to her in ages...lemme talk to Rae Rae...!!” Luna’s voice was shrill and unrelenting. 

“My dad got my phone.... I’m supposed to be with Eun Woo” He could almost see her rolling her eyes as she said that and he felt fondness bloom inside him at the though.

“Dada!! Lemme talk!” Luna was beginning to climb him now and he flinched when her tiny little claws came out, easily piercing the silk of his shirt and digging into his arms. 

“Damn it! Luna will you let me talk to your mother for one damn second?!!!!!” Taehyung shouted, frustration spilling out of him before he could tamp it down.

Luna froze on his arm. 

It took him another ten seconds to realize what he just said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart thudded straight up to my throat, my lungs constricting so hard that I almost choked. 

I gripped the phone hard, fingers shaking as i tried to process what I’d just heard. 

“Shit... Oh shit..” Taehyung swore and I startled. 

“Don’t swear in front of her...” I hissed automatically . “ Taehyung what the fuck-”

“You’re swearing now!!” He shouted.

“Can you blame me?” I shouted back, my heart pounding. “ I’m not...what the hell do you mean mother?!!”

“I’m sorry... I don’t know why I said that.. It just slipped out.. i... you’re my mate and ... I know you told me not to call you that but I’m sorry , that’s what you are and she’s my daughter so I guess I just.. “

“We’ll talk about this later. “ I snapped, too tired to deal with his twisted feelings. “You have to get me out of here! The last thing I want to do is spend another minute with Cha Eun Woo. ” 

“God, Rae... are you alright? ..”

“I’m fine but can you get me out of here? I wanna get out of here!” I whispered. 

“Are you in your dad’s apartment? Is he hurting you?”

I sighed in defeat, knowing exactly what was going to happen.

“Let me guess....you want me to stay with the pervert till you finish saving the world.” I groaned.

“We need him at that resort on seventeenth. This whole thing is beginning to infuriate me and I’m going to end it. For good.” Taehyung’s voice carried a hard edge to it that made me wince.

“Are you gonna be there?” I asked, worried. 

“I am.”

I bit my lips.

“Did Eun Woo tell you how he got those men to agree to come there?” I asked hesitantly. 

“He didn’t but I know. Don’t worry about, I’ll deal with that....”

“If he didn’t tell you how did you know?” I asked, confused. 

Silence.

“ i planted a bug on him. And I had spycams set up around the pool.” 

“I didn’t like what he did.” I whispered. “ I don’t... I know its for a reason but the way he touched me I... I didn’t like it...” 

Taehyung didn’t respond for a few seconds.

“ Mi Rae , what he did was so far out of line that I can’t even begin to tell you how angry it makes me. But, don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of him too. ” He said finally.

I felt myself itch with the need to get away. To reach Taehyung. And Luna..God, listening to her voice after so long....listening to her happy , joyful delight.,..

“I want to see you.” I begged, dignity forgotten. “ I want to see you and Luna.. Taehyung get me out of here!! Please.!!!” 

Taehyung groaned. 

“Baby, listen to me... just leave with Eun Woo for now , he won’t touch you, I’ll make sure of that.....”

“No you can’t make sure of that!!” i snapped. “ You don’t know how it felt to have his hands on me.... I.... I can’t bear the thought of him near me... Please, please, get me out of here.” 

A steady beeping made me jump and I stared at the phone in my hand. A red light blinked steadily on the upper edge made my heart drop. The battery was running out. Of course it was . I hadn’t used this in days. 

Tears sprung before I could tamp down on my own misery,

"Tae...Can you hear me?” I choked out. “ Tae... I can’t explain it. I feel weird.... I feel miserable and scared and to be honest, I hate my own skin right now.... Ever since he touched me... I feel like ....”

Another series of beeps and the call ended. My fingers were shaking as i stared at the phone in misery. 

This whole thing was spiraling into something scary and unpredictable and for once, the fear refused to ebb. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Taehyung...we can’t...”

“Call him.... We’re moving this thing up to tonight. I’m not waiting a whole four days to rip these bastards to shreds.  ” Taehyung roared, clenched fist coming down on the mahogany surface of his table with enough force that Namjoon heard the tell tale sound of wood splintering.

He flinched. 

Taehyung was enraged and the beta wolves felt like they were walking on literal eggshells. 

Seokjin held a hand up, trying to calm the infuriated wolf. 

“Okay... Okay...listen , we can’t just go in guns blazing and just kill some of the most  prominent men in the country, Taehyung. That’s not how it works.  ” 

Taehyung tried to keep his temper in check but it was impossible. God, the way she had sounded on the phone. Cha Eun Woo was lucky he wasn’t in front of him right now... Taehyung was going to tear him limb from limb for this. 

“So what, I just hand her over to him for the next five days?” He snarled. That wasn’t going to happen. it would be one thing if she was comfortable with it, but there was no way he was letting Eun Woo within fifty feet of her, not when she sounded so upset. 

“This is what happens when you ignore your fucking biology and act like a whole entire idiot. “ Seokjin snaps. “ There’s a reason people spend days locked in after mating!! Your bond is fragile and sensitive. Just because you don’t want to fuck her into the wall anymore , it doesn’t mean your bond is settled. She’s probably feeling just as worse....and she likely has no clue why ...” 

Taehyung felt his head throb.

“She’s human...she won’t feel the bond...” He muttered.

Seokjin scoffed.

“Are you serious, Tae? The mating bite connects you to her. You know that right? Yes, its not going to be as potent as it is for us , but human mates can sense the bond. The reason she’s so desperate to see you right now is because you carted her off with another wolf, before the bond could even settle. A wolf who for all intents and purposes sexually assaulted her.” 

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d been avoiding that thought , tried to downplay what Eun Woo had done, just for the sake of his own sanity. But Seokjin was right. What Eun Woo had done was just that and Taehyung had literally given him the license to do it. 

“I need to see her .” He whispered softly. 

“I’ll go get her.” Namjoon replied gently.. Taehyung stared at him, frowning.

“How?” he asked, shortly. His mind felt so foggy, so unlike himself. He was usually the sharpest man in any room, solving problems before they even cropped up, ever missing anything. But right now, he couldn’t think beyond getting her back in his arms.

“With them... I’ll go with them and tell Eun Woo I’m going to bring Mirae here..... Will that be enough? We’re this close to ending this for good, Tae. Don’t ..let your instincts mess this for you...”

Seokjin scoffed.

“Shut the fuck up, the pair of you. Taehyung stop thinking with your dick for a second and consider what we’ve been doing..... This raid has been in the works for three whole years. We’re not going to do something stupid now. Namjoon and i will go see Eun Woo....Give him a taste of what will happen if he touches Rae.... and then we’ll be back here.” 

He smiled then, wide and beautiful and even Taehyung felt a cold shiver run up his spine.

Seokjin continued, 

“ Five days from now, we’re going in, collecting enough evidence to bring the bastards down and then, to satisfy Taehyung’s bloodthirsty soul, we’ll rip a few throats out too. How’s that sound?  ”

it sounded fucking fantastic especially the last bit. 

“What if you piss Eun Woo off and he calls off the whole thing...?” Namjoon protested and Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“The mutt’s playing in the big league now. He was the one who offered them the whole show, think they’ll take too kindly to him backing out all of a sudden? Probably won’t..... He’s gonna have to stick with it. If for no other reason than to cover his own ass. ” 

“You’re not leaving Rae with him. I want to come with you guys....” Taehyung said firmly. 

“Oh, God. No. Absolutely not. I’m not burying Cha Eun Woo’s decapitated body tonight. That’s just not going to happen.” Namjoon held his hands up.

Seokjin grinned.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, Namjoon is right. You don’t have to be there. Don’t worry, we’ll be thorough. Make sure he understands we aren’t playing around. And we’ll think of something with your girlfriend. We can’t bring her to you.... Jae hyung has eyes on you , you know that. We’ll make sure she’s somewhere safe.  ” 

“You know you can trust us , Tae. We’re going to make sure this fool gets what he deserves.”

Taehyung nodded, skin still thrumming with discomfort. He wasn’t going to feel better until he saw her, but it looked like he had to wait for a while. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at the two wolves flanking Eun Woo, each one holding him up by one arm, his knees bent at an odd angle. He looked unconscious . 

“Sorry. He wasn’t supposed to pass out but the fucker’s just a huge ass coward. Didn’t even last five minutes.” 

“Five minutes of what?” I whispered, staring in mild horror at the blood dripping steadily from the man’s temple. 

“Five minutes of us demonstrating what happens to people who covet things that don’t belong to them.” Seokjin smiled brightly. 

“Jungkook’s on the way here.... You know him right? Taehyung told me he’s a friend of yours.  He’s going to let you crash with him for a couple of days  That okay? “ 

I stared between the two of them.

“Are you sure? My father....” 

“Oh your father won’t know, sweetheart, don’t worry about that.  You know the original plan was for us to just warn this fool and he would come to his senses . But he chose to be an idiot and mouthed off about fucking anyone he wants to fuck.... So, Joon and I are going to keep him away from you. We owe Taehyung that much.” The wolf had a breathtaking face, impossible to look away from. 

“Can’t I go to Taehyung?” I said stupidly and they exchanged looks.

“No wonder he’s whipped. She’s gorgeous.” Namjoon muttered under his breath. 

Seokjin elbowed him sharply.

“Uh.. no. That’s going to be difficult because ....well, for starters its going to be pretty suspicious if you randomly show up at the Official residence of a Minister.”

 I flushed.

“He’s not staying at his condo?” I asked hesitant.

Seokjin shook his head. 

“He’s taking office in a few days, Yoon Mi Rae, ssi. He’s under the limelight right now. Which is why we think it would be safer for you to stay elsewhere. Your father is probably watching him closely.” 

I closed my eyes, feeling jittery. I startled when arms wrapped around me, warm and firm. 

“hey..... you alright?” The taller, dimpled wolf gave me a concerned glance and i realized I’d swayed a little. 

“I’m sorry... I’m fine.. I’m just...”

“It’s the bond.” Seokjin said gently and I stared at him.

“Bond?” I muttered, confused. 

“He claimed you. It sounds archaic but you do belong to him. Your body recognizes that even if your heart or mind doesn’t. “ He sounded almost apologetic.

I groaned.

“So I’m going to feel this way...”

“Anytime someone else gets close to you, yes.” 

I remembered how averse I had been to Jungkook touching me in the tub, that morning after. 

“So this isn’t real? I want to be with him but it isn’t real...and I can’t be with anyone else either -”

“Hey...Hey...listen. That’s not what I’m saying. Just the fact that the bond formed is proof that you guys have something special. If you weren’t into each other his wolf would have rejected the bond at once. But I’m just saying, for a few days, maybe indulge your baser instincts and stick to him, yeah? Once the bond settles , you can make better decisions without being physically affected by them.” Seokjin said gently. 

I sighed peering over at Eun Woo.

“What are you going to do with him?”

Seokjin hesitated.

“Take him to our place probably. Can’t risk him running around wrecking havoc. Don’t worry about it. Five days max. This whole thing will blow over and you won’t have to see him again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You okay?” Jungkook placed a pair of towels at the foot of the bed, looking concerned as he stared at me. I sat on the bed, knees drawn up and arms folded over them staring at him. 

“I’m so screwed.” I whispered. 

Jungkook smiled.

“It always feels that way.... at first. Don’t worry, you guys will work this out.” 

“I’m scared. My father ...he... he’s always been a bastard but... I never saw him as someone dangerous. But I think he is. I’m scared he’s going to hurt Taehyung.” I said softly, finally voicing what I’d been worried about all along.

Jungkook gave me a sharp look.

“That’s not going to be easy. Hyung can take care of himself. I’m an alpha myself and you won’t see me going against him. Everyone knows he’s not someone you should underestimate. “

“But I’m still worried..... I... I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I’m glad you don’t want me dead anymore.” 

Taehyung’s voice sent a jolt of electric current straight up my spine. I scrambled, turning around to the window in shock. 

The alpha sat perched on the window sill, looking entirely unbothered for someone dangling a good fifty feet off the ground. 

“Hyung , what? Get in here!!!” Jungkook hissed, reaching for him, but he was already throwing his legs over and dropping to the carpeted floor with ease. 

“Don’t trust you enough to leave her with you for the night, Jungkook-ah...” He said casually, but his eyes danced with mirth. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“She smells like you now hyung.... I’m not going there ..”

Taehyung gave me a surprised look. 

“She does?” 

“The bond’s settling then.” Jungkook said. “ This is my cue to leave. Where’s your security detail hyung? Tell me I’m not going to get shot in my sleep for kidnapping the Minister for Supernatural affairs.” 

Taehyung chuckled.

“They know where I am... I’m only here for the night. I have stuff to do in the morning.” He turned to me holding his arms out, “ You okay?”

I threw myself at him without a second thought. 

It felt like gears slotting together perfectly, his arm around me calming the simmering discomfort under my skin so quickly that I went limp. 

I closed my eyes, gripping his tight, letting my eyes fall shut as I inhaled the musky , woody scent of him. I heard the door close softly behind Jungkook and Taehyung ran his palms up and down my back.

“I may possibly be the worst mate in history.” He commented mildly.

I snorted.

“There’s no competition there. You win, hands down.” I muttered. He pulled back to stare at me, hands coming up to gently cup my face.

“I’m going to kill him.” He said softly and I frowned.

“I thought he was only doing what you asked him to.” I said , frowning.

Taehyung gave me a sharp glance. His hands slipped to my wrists, tugging me to the bed. I settled on the mattress and he took his shoes off carefully. 

“God, no. Do you really think I’d do something like that?” He gave me a wounded look and i bit my lips.

“How would i know? All you told me was that you needed Cha Eun Woo to help you”

Taehyung hesitated.

“He’s been running a brothel in that resort. A brothel were old or impotent wolves can watch alphas knot human women..... Its been going on for a while. i never knew. He’s been hiding it really well.” 

I felt my jaw come unhinged. 

Suddenly, the way he had talked about how I would look, having sex with an alpha wolf, the way he had described it to those men, it made sense.

“He told them ... he made it seem like I was one of those women.” Bile rose up in my throat.

Taehyung reached out, fingers lightly gripping my waist and tugging me closer.

I hesitated, not sure what he wanted but he scooted back to lean on the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him and he held his hand out again.

“Come here.” He whispered gently.  “ i can think better if you’re in front of me” 

Seokjin’s words echoed in my head ,   maybe indulge your baser instincts and stick to him, yeah? Once the bond settles , you can make better decisions. 

I crawled over on my knees. 

Taehyung reached out , gripped my waist with both hands and lifted me straight up into his lap like I weighed nothing. i yelped, knees hitting the mattress on either side of his waist as I tried to spread my thighs wide enough to accommodate him . 

He kept his hands on my waist, grabbing the hem of my blouse and tugging it out of my skirt. He slipped his fingers in till he grazed my bare skin, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against the heated flesh. 

“Feel good?” He whispered softly. 

I tilted my head, regarding him thoughtfully.

“When have you ever made me feel anything but good, Alpha Kim?” I smirked, my tone dripping with sarcasm. 

The fingers on my waist tightened, hard enough to bruise and I choked  , gripping his shoulders , feeling the hard jut of his shoulder blades beneath my fingers.

“Behave.” He warned softly, “ I’m trying to start this right.”

I sighed.

“Start what?”

“This.. You and I. Together. As more than just friends.” 

I straightened, surprised.

“Taehyung-”

“I came here tonight, not because I had to...not because I needed to... but because I  wanted to.  I want you to know that. I’m here not by obligation but because I wanted to see you. Because I care for you.” He stared right at me but i couldn’t help but be wary. 

I looked away. 

“That's not what you said the last time we met which was literally this morning...” i protested. 

“ Rae, I was so fucking scared. I’ve been living inside my own head for too damn long. I’ve always had these....fucking rules inside me. Rules that i couldn’t bring myself to break. I don’t break the law, I don’t get involved with humans, I don’t trust humans, I always do stuff by the book..... But today, just...seeing what happened at that pool...... I realized I’ve been so fucking blind. ”

I swallowed.

“That’s not your fault...”

“It is... “ He said shortly. “ I’ve been so caught up with keeping my own rules, with fighting humans that I forgot that not all wolves are saints either. I’ve been so focused on your father because he’s human that I didn’t even consider that the men actually funding and dueling this entire drug racket...they’re wolves like me. That it isn’t humans who exploit us but men in power. Men in power who twist the law and use it as leeway to do whatever shit they want. “

“You couldn’t have known.” I said weakly.

“I could have. If I’d wanted to.  Two months ago Cha Eun Woo built a beach side resort in Jeju Do, very close to some endangered coral reefs I remember reading about it and wondering how he could have possibly gotten a permit to do that shit. But then i never followed through with it. And I wonder if it was because I considered him a friend. A friend whose favor I would need in the future. And what does it say about me, if my moral values are so selective? I can’t act high and mighty about bringing your father down while I’ve been letting Cha Eun Woo run a fucking sex trade right under my nose.” 

I pressed a palm to his face, my heart breaking at the sheer exhaustion on his face. 

“You can’t fix the entire world, Taehyung. You’re not meant to single handedly solve every problem in the country...... “ I whispered.

He shuddered.

“But if i don’t , who will?” He stared at me. “ Someone has to make an effort right?” 

I nodded.

“Yes... You’re right. And you’ve done enough. You’ve done more than your fair share. And you can do so much more, if you let yourself relax. If you let yourself breathe when you’re drowning you can swim so much further.” 

He stared at me. 

“My daughter.” He choked out. “ She really thinks you’re her mother. “

I bit my lips in distress. 

“Tae, I’m so sorry-”

“ Her mother died when she was barely three....So she doesn’t remember her much. She only remembers her scent which was yours.... She... She really wants you with us, Rae.”

“You shouldn’t have said that on the phone. What were you thinking calling me her mother...” I whispered, shaking my head. 

“  I think I  saw you as Luna’s mother. the moment you held her that day, in the dock , in the rain. The way she relaxed in your arms...The way her face lights up at the thought of you... I... I want that for her. I want her to have that...forever.” 

I let myself look at him. 

“And what about you? What do you want? “ 

He held my gaze for a long time. I felt my heart begin to pound, anticipation clawing up my spine. 

“a bowl of patbingsu would feel great.” He said seriously. 

It took me a second to realize what he’d just said. I punched his shoulders, not in the mood for jokes at all.

“Sorry sorry...that was bad timing.” He grinned. 

“The worst. Are you asking me out or not?” I demanded.

"I am asking you to move in.” He said softly. “ As my mate.” 

I couldn’t bring myself to speak. 

“It may seems too much , especially for a human but I’m a were and I want you in my house. Want your scent there, mingling with mine and I want my daughter to see us together. I want you to be...the woman I love.” 

“Don’t throw the L word around like that . It scares me..” I muttered and he smiled.

“I’m not a teenager Rae. The L word as you call it, it doesn’t scare me. I have a daughter, I know love in its purest form. And I’m not afraid of saying it either.” 

“Well, I’m just not sure if you even mean it.” I said desperately. 

“I do mean it. I love you and I know that because I broke every rule I’ve been keeping for the past twenty years , just because of a five minute video clip of another guy touching you .” 

I shook my head.

I felt overwhelmed. 

Somewhere beneath that chaos, I was happy, of course I was. But for now, the exhaustion and weariness won out, and I edged closer, resting my head on his shoulders. 

He hugged me closer and i felt the gentle press of his lips against the top of my head. 

“Let’s sleep.” I whispered. “ I’m so tired.” 

He hummed.

“Would you like me to leave?”

I shook my head. 

“No. Stay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, to find myself on my side his arms wrapped right around me, tight and firm. I wondered how numb his arm must be, and wriggled a bit, swallowing the dryness in my throat.

He grunted and gripped my waist, stopping me from moving.

“You need to stop grinding on my dick, darling.” He choked out. I froze, face flaming. 

“Sorry... I...”

“It’s alright. What’s wrong?” He whispered, fingers brushing my hair back. 

I stared at the wall in front of me, lightly stroking the arm wrapped around my waist. 

“I feel better when I’m with you.” I whispered. “ Even when i barely saw you, those months in your home in the preserve...I always felt better when you were around. It was irrational, how much I liked you and wanted to be with you, seeing as I didn’t know much about you at all... And It makes me wonder, if perhaps you and I, perhaps  we aren’t that different.” I said. 

He hummed.

“How so?”

“Maybe wolves aren’t the only ones who can sense their mates . Maybe humans can too....maybe we sense it but we’re just too scared to act on it.” 

“Why should you be scared...?”

“Because sometimes, even your mate rejects you and that stings.” I smiled. His grip tightened around me.

“I will spend the rest of my life atoning for what I put you through...” He kissed my neck and I trembled. 

“It wasn’t a sin.” I said laughing at how serious he sounded. “ It was you being true to yourself . i appreciate that.” 

“But I hurt you. I hurt my mate. As a wolf that is unforgivable.” 

“Well , then you’re lucky that I’m not a wolf, aren’t you? Because I’ve already forgiven you.”

He tugged me around gently till I was on my back, before climbing on top of me. 

“Can I kiss you?” He brushed the hair off my face.

“I don’t know. Can you?” I grinned at him. 

He growled. 

“brat.” 

He pressed his lips against mine, a soft and gentle touch that lasted for just a few seconds before he drew back. 

And then he leaned in again, this time , lips parting, soft and wet as it closed over mine, tongue sweeping across the seam of my lips, begging entrance. I relaxed into the pillows , letting him take the lead. 

Taehyung kissed like he did everything else, firm and hard but somehow careful and gentle.

 The soft press of his fingers on my chin as he tilted my face for better access, the way his tongue licked into my mouth in soft kittenish licks, the way his teeth nibbled on the plushness of my lip, only for his tongue to lick and sooth the sting right after....

His kisses tasted like scotch and honey, like spring water in the middle of summer , cool and refreshing nd reaching so far inside me that I ached for it. He was strong and warm against me, his hair felt like spun silk beneath my fingers . i traced the contours of his face , the sharp edge of his jawline, the softness of his perfect brows and the sharpness of his collarbones. 

My mind was reeling by the time he pulled away. 

“Can I fuck you ?” He asked softly and I jolted at the filthy words in that deep earnest tone.

“I don’t know Can yo-?”

He didn’t let me finish. Groaning as he sat up, gripping the hem of his t shirt and peeling it off. I watched as he shimmied out of jungkook’s sweatpants ,before straddling me again. 

“Take that t shirt off for me.” He smiled and I quickly shrugged it off. 

“Mmm.... beautiful. I love your breasts....such pretty pink nipples.” He said casually and i choked a bit when he reached down, thumbing at the hard nubs till they pebbled up under his touch. 

I threw my head back as he bent over, peppering kisses all over my jaw before moving down to lick my nipple, lips closing over the nub for one second before nipping at them with his teeth. I felt the hardness of his erection against the softness of my stomach as he grabbed my panties, tugging them off me.

“I like it rough.” I whispered into his ear and he growled, reaching forward and grabbed the hair at the back of my head, yanking me away from his face. 

“Then let me fuck your face.” He said casually, scooting forward and pressing his cock right up against my lips. I took the hard length of him into my mouth. He tasted tangy and familiar , from the texture of his skin like silk on steel , to the way slight saltiness of his precum on my tongue. I loved the way his fingers gripped my hair, just a little too tight for comfort and a little short of violent. 

I moaned in disappointment when he pulled out a little, but only to place himself properly , one hand gripping the head board for support. Bracing himself against the headboard, Taehyung threaded one hand through my hair, gripping carefully till heat seeped through my entire body at the sting of it, and then he began thrusting into my mouth gently, pushing past my teeth and deeper into my mouth. I inhaled each time he pulled out, trying to tamp down my gag reflex, as i took the entire hot, wet length of him inside my mouth. 

He picked up the pace, letting go of the head board in favor of gripping my hair in both hands, holding me in place as he fucked into my mouth till my eyes watered. 

I felt myself  dripping wet with arousal and I tapped his thighs. He pulled back to stare at me.

“You alright?” 

“Fuck me.” I choked out, throat fucked raw and voice breaking. “Need you inside me now-”

He didn’t wait for me to elaborate, grabbing my waist and turning me over at once.

“Hands and knees., grab the headboard.” He growled and I scampered to obey. 

“Good girl, Now just hold on let me make you feel good, yeah, baby?” 

I felt a soft, wet kiss right on my spine, before fingers gripped my hair again , tugging me back just as he slid right into me. 

The shock of it made me stop breathing, his cock so thick and hard it felt like I’d been split open. 

“How does that feel baby? ...” He whispered, bending over and kissing my neck. “ Am i making you feel good” I fought to get words out and then groaned when he slid back in , a little rougher and a little faster.

He stopped again, pulling out and hitting my thigh, the sharp sting making me yelp.

“Roll over, sweetheart.” He whispered and I blinked groggily, rolling over to stare at him. He grabbed a spare pillow, folding it in half before pushing it under my hips. 

i blinked in confusion as he loomed over me again, this time grabbing my leg and throwing it over his shoulder. before pushing back in. deeper this time, the tip of his cock hitting so deep that I felt a sting of pain that made me wince.

He caught the look on my face and smiled, apologetic.

“Sometimes, too big isn’t too good. You’re a little small for me, I’m hitting your cervix. Let me fix that.”  He fixed the pillow again and this time when he pushed in , it was pure pleasure, his cock brushing my g spot with ease and making me clench around him like a vice. He moved to his knees, still inside me and I groaned in protest when his weight lifted off me. 

“Wanna see you cum, angel..” He whispered, using his thumb to press and slide over my clit in smooth, little strokes . I could feel my wetness leaking all over the place and I felt my throat go dry when he scooped up the dampness, before tracing the slick wetness all over my nipples and bending low and licking it all off.

“Taste so sweet, my baby...” He whispered, “ Wanna try?”

I barely registered what he said, eyes fluttering shut and I yelped when he lightly flicked my lips.

“Open your mouth..you should taste how good you are...” He grinned wickedly. 

Before i could reply he was already slipping two fingers between my legs, collecting more of the heady slickness. I moaned as he slipped the fingers into my mouth, smearing it all over my tongue , the spicy sweetness foreign and yet arousing against my tongue.  I felt my eyes widen as the taste filled my tongue, making me clench harder around him. 

“Tell me you taste good...” He pulled back and rammed again inside me , is fingers moving back to my hair and gripping tight.

“I.. i taste good..” I stuttered.

He grinned in appreciation and held my hips, swiftly flipping us over till I was on top, his cock slipping out of me because of how wet and messy i was. I struggled to pace myself and yelped when he casually grabbed my hips, lifting me up and bringing me down till I took the entire hard length of him inside. 

“Wait...stop.” He said suddenly and I froze. And then he was sitting up and turning me around making me kneel, facing away from him and i finally noticed the large dresser mirror, right across from the bed. 

I met his gaze through the reflection, swallowing. 

“When I watched you put on make up today, the way you stared at me through the mirror and put me in my place.... I was thinking I should do this.... .stare at you through a mirror someday and put you in  your  place. Didn’t think it would be so soon, baby.” 

I panted as he moved behind me, using his hands to lightly part my thighs. And the he was pushing closer, sliding into me and I gasped, gripping him tighter as he used one hand to fondle my breast while the other wrapped tight around my hip, bracing me for his thrusts. 

It lasted less than two minutes. I came unraveled, my mind exploding in glorious white hot pleasure and his warmth washed inside me, filling me and dripping down my thighs till i fell back against him, boneless and spent .I fell forward on to mattress, my limb jelly and he groaned, draping himself over me. 

“Hope that was sufficiently rough and filthy for you, my dear.” He whispered. 

I could barely think, let alone string words together so i stayed quiet, letting him pull me closer and hold me tight. 

i shifted as he moved to settle his head on my breasts, his arms and legs draping over me while his breath fanned hot and cold against my sweat slicked skin. 

His phone buzzed right next my head and he frowned. 

And then he laughed, turning to show me the screen

 From Jeon Jungkook :

I’m in the next room hyung!! Fucking stop. !!!

 I grinned despite myself.

Good Lord. 

~~~~~~~~~

 Author’s note : 

Ummm...hi?

Guess this isn’t ending in ten chapters fml.

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@bumb1e–bee

Some of you sent me an ask to be tagged but i couldn’t tag you guys...probably because you’ve made your profile private.... So I’m sorry about that.

[gffa]

I swore for about ten entire minutes that I wasn’t going to do a set of recs for THE OLD GUARD, I was just going to watch the movie, indulge in a bit of fanart, and then I would be done. But then I was like HOW ABOUT I HAVE SOME FEELINGS INSTEAD? and here we are. So HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND REASONABLY ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND BABY IMMORTALS.  COME YELL ABOUT FEELINGS WITH ME, FANDOM. THE OLD GUARD RECS: ✦ An Unrecorded History by xpityx, joe/nicky, 1.1k    Joe closed the book and dropped it none too carefully on the table. He would have liked to have thrown it away—to prevent anyone else from reading it—but it was far too easy to make copies of books in these times, so he knew it would be no use. 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In which some people are laying low for a while, in more ways than one. ✦ A Most Forgetful Death by RC_McLachlan, joe/nicky, 1.2k    “You’re an incurable romantic,” Nicky says, and though his expression doesn’t so much as twitch, Joe can hear the laughter languishing between the words, can feel it on his tongue and rubbing up against his teeth when Nicky meets him halfway to smear a kiss against his mouth. ✦ Luce e ombre by sheafrotherdon, andy & nile, 1.2k    The discomfort is so new that it startles her, and she searches her memory to remember a time before she was immortal: a time when a cut, a scrape, a bruise hurt for longer than a moment, long enough to interrupt sleep. The memories don’t come ✦ When I Am with You by takethisnight_wrapitaroundme, joe/nicky, NSFW, 5.4k    “You… would like to waste a thousand euros’ worth of champagne by pouring it all over me?” Nicky has to repeat it aloud to make sure he’s heard right. While spending some quality time together on vacation in France, Nicky has a surprise for Joe. And Joe, as it turns out, has a surprise for Nicky. ✦ the common tongue of your loving me by spokenitalics, joe/nicky, NSFW, 1.4k    “It’s just— Do you ever wonder how much we’ve forgotten?” Nicky asks, eventually. “How many names and faces and places have just… faded away from our memory?” ✦ i have loved you for a thousand years by owilde, ~1k    It’s him. Again. Yusuf shields his eyes from the blinding desert sunlight, staring into the near distance where a man is stood, alone, a harsh silhouette cut against the bright blue sky and peach-coloured sand. ✦ this is why by retts, joe/nicky, 1.2k    Small as it was, they had their own room in the London safe house, which was a good thing because Joe was prying open Nicky’s mouth with his fingers. Not with his tongue, much as Nicky would prefer it, but with three calloused fingers sneaking inside his lips as if Nicky wouldn’t wake up from the intrusion. He was on his back, Joe pressed closer to him than his own shadow. The slant of moonlight from the window illuminated Joe’s dark eyes as he bent over Nicky. Joe sucked in the corner of his mouth, a tell that he’d never shaken off all these long centuries. ✦ I Found Peace in Your Violence by j_gabrielle, joe/nicky, 1.5k    5 Times Joe and Nicky kill each other + 1 (of many) times they killed someone together ✦ life is very long by kaydeefalls, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker & quynh & copley, 7.1k    Andromache tells him: “The Greeks used to have seven different words for love. Well. More, probably. But I remember seven.” She shrugs. “There are many ways to love one another, and life is long. We’ve time enough for them all. It’s the only thing that makes it worthwhile.” Nicky and his immortal family, over the centuries. ✦ take a breath by BeStillMySlashyHeart, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 1k    Once they are safe, Nicky and Joe take a moment together. ✦ Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (saellys), andy & nile & joe & nicky, 2.5k    “To the Art Institute of Chicago,” Andy echoes, “so that my breasts may be culturally appreciated in perpetuity.” She tips the bottle and lets out three drops. As they fall to the stone floor, Joe and Nicky rap their knuckles on the nearest pieces of metal: the other lantern for Nicky, the oxidized helmet for Joe. One rap for each drop. In another time, they might have struck their swords on shields. ✦ how we live by retts, joe/nicky, ~1k    Life, though, brings pain. Goddamn pain. Bullets that struck his cranium and pelvis – the big bones in the body – are forced out. The rest went through him, carrying organ tissue and muscle with them. Those lost bits have to be regrown. Bones realign and the ribs in his lungs retract so they can breathe again. So Nicky can breathe again. And when he breathes, he thinks, Yusuf. ✦ Paradeisos by Enneara, joe/nicky, 2.9k    Traveling through Greece with Yusuf after fleeing the Holy Land, Nicolò suffers a crisis of faith. ✦ The Language of Love by 1derspark, joe/nicky & andy/quynh & booker & nile, 4.5k    Or five times Nicky hears Joe speak his language and one time Nicky returns the favor. ✦ Le Vite by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 8k    Nicky breathes out. “What did I miss?” he asks, staring out at the hills. “Why didn’t I see this coming?” After everything, after finding Nile and losing Booker and Andy’s new mortality, Joe is pissed off. Nicky is just tired. ✦ The god of my idolatry by Petra, andy/nile, NSFW, 3.4k    “You said you were worshipped as a god.” “I was.” Nile steels herself and asks, “Would you like to do it again?” Andy laughs and throws back the contents of her glass. “They don’t teach you pick-up lines in the Marines, do they.” ✦ love is not over by retts, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 1.3k    'Babe, do you know what this reminds me of?’ asked Nicky. Joe licked his lips and tilted his head to the side, gaze intent on the mole on Nicky’s cheek. 'What?’ 'The first time you drew me.’ ✦ Case Analysis by skeeno, joe/nicky & andy & booker & copley, 3.4k    It’s not totally out of the ordinary for the people Copley meets in his line of work to be extraordinary. But he’s intrigued by these four. ✦ compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R, joe/nicky & andy & quynh, 11.9k    ‘You are a shame to your countrymen and the lowest of the low,’ Yusuf said, ‘and your mother copulated with a dog.’ ✦ Everything in moderation (even moderation) by BakedAppleSauce, joe/nicky, NSFW, 6.1k    The novelty has worn off, of course, but it’s not the novelty that keeps anybody coming back, anyway. Novelty never sustains anything. ✦ What the Water Takes by xpityx, andy & nile & quynh, 1k    Here is a secret she will never write down. ✦ Stracciatella by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 4.8k    “None of us have any evidence of the ways we have died,” Nicky continues. “But you remember the fall, don’t you? You remember the first time you died, the way your blood spilled out as your throat was slashed. I remember the first time I died, when the love of my life drew his sword across my neck as I drove mine into his chest and we both fell to the sand.”

[ramp-it-up]

Scene Stealer

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Minors DNI, a little angst, some language, a smidge of jealousy, but mostly just fluff! No smut! 😃 All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs for the Show Runner AU.  I really love these two. Hope you enjoy, Loves! 💚

Read the previous part, Sundancer .

Hi lovely! Idk if your still doing requests right now? If you are can I have a fluffy/soft-ish moment between Rafa and reader? In the Showrunner AU and reader is actively filming a scene and Rafa's being difficult, lol

Your relationship was the talk of the town, especially since you accompanied Rafael on the red carpet of his latest win; it also happened to be your first nomination.

Ever since you went public, you were content with being ‘partners.’ You, especially, said there was no need for anything more. You didn’t want to tie Rafael to you, because you didn’t own him. 

Art was the most important thing, not a conflict diamond and a piece of paper.

Rafael quickly agreed. After all, it had been his manifesto. You two had a perfect understanding. Until you got this role. 

This gig required you to dance, and you hadn’t used your classical training in a while. You were nervous as hell.

“Who does music videos with this big a budget any more?”

You just rolled your eyes as Rafa as he delivered the shade. He would never outright say that he didn’t want you to do it; he always supported you, but you could tell it bothered him.

There was a slight tension in the air in the days leading up to filming, but you both pretended nothing was up. You were busy with rehearsal, so you brushed the thoughts of this shift in your relationship aside.

Maybe he was a little tight because you told him that the singer could definitely get it during a cast party before you two were a thing. Except in Rafael’s mind. 

Rafa had taken mental notes on everything about you, and this one he didn’t forget. But, he loved you, and he was going to ride for you.  Right?

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

On the day of the shoot, Rafa pulled up to the studio at about 1:30. He agreed to meet you there when you invited him for moral support.  You’d been there since 11 am.

He shook his head to himself as he was shown to your dressing room, lamenting the fact that he didn’t bring Diggs, because he would be the one needing moral support today.

Rafael knocked on the door and heard you say, "Come in!"

He walked in and saw you in a big, poofy, but short wedding dress. A more elaborate ballet tutu, but still definitely a wedding dress. Rafael was thrown for a loop, so he just stood there, taking you in.  He felt like he was breaking a rule, looking at you in this dress.

You looked absolutely amazing.

The make up artist was working on you, but you turned around and grinned when you saw him in the mirror.

Rafa felt like he needed to sit down. 

"What do you think?"

Rafael actually couldn't think. He looked down and noticed that you had your pointe shoes on. They matched your skin tone perfectly and extended your lovely legs. 

He began to feel warm, a heat which began in his chest and radiated throughout his entire torso. But he was a thug.  He tried to express it.

"You look beautiful...." 

His throat was dry. What the fuck was wrong with him?

To you, Rafa looked a bit like a fish, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

"What?" You cocked your head at him.

Rafa recovered and moved toward you. ‘Keep your cool,’ he thought.

You  shrugged at him, turned back around to the mirror, and continued. 

"I would never actually wear anything like this. It's too poofy and big. Too princess-y. Not my style." You grimaced.

"You look beautiful." It finally came out.

Rafael smiled, feeling an overwhelming desire to kiss you. The makeup artist exited and Rafa was left staring at you in the mirror again. You were a vision. 

He cleared his throat, deciding to lighten the mood.

"Can I climb under that dress and do what I want to do?"

You threw your head back and laughed. Once again, Rafael was caught in your spell.

"I'm working babe, but we can arrange something later..."

‘Whatever you say, my love,’ Rafael thought. 

But what he said was, "Cool."

--------

When filming started, Rafael stood out of the way behind the camera to watch. It was a church scene and apparently what you had to do was dance down the aisle to the altar for the wedding scene.

You were lowkey checking for Rafa, and everytime you looked over, he was glowering at you, the set up, or back seat directing. You could read him like a book, and he was not amused or positive about this.

That only made you more tense and out of the zone. You began to regret inviting him.  What was his problem? Was he jealous? He was being an ass, and you were going to tell him about himself later.

You ignored him as you stretched to get ready for another take. You were not going to let him ruin this for you.

---------

Rafael saw you and melted. He watched, mesmerized, as you danced toward the star of the video. Rafael’s heart clenched when you reached them and kissed them lightly on the lips. 

It happened at least six times for the different takes and angles, and Rafa had visions of dragging you away from there, but he remained calm.

Rafael had no idea that his emotions were so loud. All pretense, all acting skills, all professionalism went out of the window the moment he saw you in that wedding dress.  

He just did not think this production was up to the standard of you. And he caught on to the interactions between you and the star of the video between takes. It was not cool

You  ran through a couple more takes and finally it was time for the last scene, the love scene.

You were whisked back into your dressing room for a wardrobe change. Rafa paced up and down in the hallway to calm himself down. After a few minutes he thought it worked.

Until you came back out.

You were in the sexiest black nightgown he'd ever seen. And those heels. You looked hot as fuck. But when he looked into your eyes, it was clear that you were terrified. 

"Rafa, I don't think I can do this. I'm not feeling it…” Nerves were getting to you. 

“They are sooo not like I thought they were. They're kind of…. There’s no chemistry. And I’m a hack actor if I can’t do this…”  You bowed your head, ashamed.

Rafa hooked his fingers under your chin and brought your head up. He looked at you sternly. He was angry. But not at you.

“Energy up. Expectations down.” 

You tried to respond with a brave smile, but you were really about to burst into tears. Rafael grabbed your hand and pulled you back into your dressing room. He made sure to lock the door.

You thought you knew what he wanted.

“Rafa, we don’t have time for that, I…”

“C’mere.”  

Rafael hushed you and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his embrace. His large hand was on your lower back, and he held your other to his chest, beginning a slow dance to music only he could hear.  

You looked up at him quizzically and raised your eyebrow.

“Rafa, what…”

“I know that we talked about not seeing the need for marriage in this crazy world, and that we are married to our art, but take a little mind excursion with me…”

You fell into rhythm with him as he began to whisper-sing “Hideaway.” 

…See you’ve had the wrong plan

been sipping the wrong wine

Ay ay… let me put you on my vibe.

“Imagine we’re dancing at our wedding…”

You snapped your head up and looked in his emerald eyes. They twinkled down at you.

“I said, ‘imagine.’ This is just an exercise.”

“I would write a new song just for you and sing it while we’re dancing and get you wet for me but make you wait until after we party all night with our friends to get some.”

He smiled down at you and you were with it, getting into the fantasy. You swayed with him a little longer and smiled back up at him. Rafael’s stomach flipped.

So of course he twirled you away from him and back into his arms. His hand moved down your back to your ass.

“Seeing you in this would be the perfect wedding present. Imagine me waiting on you, not wanting to wait any more to touch you, taste you. Make you a mama.”

You stopped and stared at Rafael.

“….That’s quite the imagination you have there…”

Rafa stared back at you. “I am a creator. I create wild musings.” He turned you around to face the mirror. 

“Use it.” 

He put his hands in your satin covered hips. 

“Pretend you’re a woman who would want that. Marriage. A husband who would cherish you and try to make you happy.” 

Rafael bent down to hug you from behind, pressing his cheek aside yours.

You gazed at your reflections in the mirror. In that moment at least, you were that woman.

Rafael kissed your neck. You closed your eyes and you felt it before you opened them, but when you did, he had stepped away.

“Now go out there and pretend that person is what that woman wants.” Rafael looked at you in that way one more time before he cleared his throat and looked down.

You straightened up and walked toward the door. 

“Thanks for the fantasy, Cash.” You looked back at him.

Rafa winked at you. “Anytime.”

——-

Three hours later, after you’d killed the scene and production had wrapped, Rafa waited for you in the parking lot, smoking and dialing Diggs on the phone.

“Whattup. D. I need you to talk me out of buying a rock.”

--------

Tag List:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch

[doitwritenow]

Supreme Super family gets sucked up into WandaVision(let's imagine Tony's alive in this or is from the multiverse). Ironstrange think they're married with a high school kid. Tony is a science teacher, strange is town doctor, and peter is a regular kid. No memories of they're real life. Rhody, Pepper, and Aunt May and Morgan could be added to this too if you wanted.

OHHO! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this; I had to finish the show, for one thing, and then my brain started going all sorts of places with the prompt... and well. I have on heck of a ramble coming, so buckle up! 

(Also, spoilers through the series, so watch out!) 

— — —

It starts with a question on Vision’s job application.

That’s all. So simple, so innocuous, so innocent. Vision is casually recording information that he doesn’t yet realize he can’t remember, and he arrives at a line that asks his family history. It’s nothing complex, left on the application only because Wanda’s subconscious had glossed over the question. So does Vision’s, as a result. But he wants this job. They want to fit in, and so they answer the question truthfully.

Vision writes ‘Stark’, unaware. ‘Tony Stark.’

And pop. Just like that. 

On the edge of Westview, there suddenly is and has always been a small, well-kept mechanic’s shop. It’s run by an aging man with a bright mind and a brighter smile. He’s lived here since he came back from the war, but no one knows for how long. And he has no memory—no memory at all—of what came before. 

Of the round scar in the center of his chest. 

He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know; he’s just a side character, after all. Just the answer to a line on a job application.

Just so that something, anything, about Vision’s life here isn’t a lie. 

-

Yeah, so Tony gets manifested within the Hex—but because he’s one of Wanda’s creations and not someone being mind-controlled, he is able to exist with agency within Westview. He has no reason, however, to believe anything is amiss; he’s been resurrected only to play a character, and his memories and surface-level motivations only extend to the limits of that character.

But Wanda has other regret. Wanda has other anger and understanding and forgiveness and gratefulness, and she knew Tony Stark, once. 

She knew his worst nightmare—and it’s easy to craft a soul from that, really.

(But it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Tony has no reason to pull down the walls of that hidden spirit. He’s content in his role, just like Vision. So it’s fine. 

… Right?) 

-

Agatha stands at the base of a towering barrier with her hands on her hips. One side of her mouth is quirked up into a considering, scheming smile, and her magic probes out around her curiously. This is the source of the power she’d felt; she’s sure of it. The spell work… the instinctual, unconscious spell work is so intense she can almost taste it.

How is it possible? What’s the secret? 

Agatha must know. And besides; this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her since the seventeenth century. 

She’s about to reach out, about to cross into the heart of the magic, when she hears it. A footstep. Quiet and dark and making no attempt at stealth. 

Agatha grips her magic. “Who’s there?” she demands. 

Someone steps out of the trees. A human, Agatha thinks, though you can never be sure nowadays. He wears a hood of green and his hands are dark where they hang at his sides. 

“Witch,” the figure declares.

Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” says Karl Mordo. “I rather think you can.”

-

Okay, cut to New York. Stephen Strange is exhausted, wrung dry trying to keep the edges of the universe from deteriorating now that the stabilization factors of the Infinity Stones have been destroyed. One task runs into the next, one morning into the night. One future into all the others. 

But Stephen likes the work; it keeps his mind in one place. He’s always alert these days. Always listening. 

So when someone calls out to him from New Jersey, he can hear.

It’s Mordo luring him in, of course, but he doesn’t know that yet. After Dormammu, and certainly after all those futures, Stephen has too much experience for Mordo to hope to get the better of. The old Master is still dedicated to his ‘too many sorcerers’ shebangerang, though, so he’s employed help. Maybe he can kill two birds with one stone. Two world-threateningly powerful magic users with one stone. 

Stephen follows the call, because of course he does. It sounds like a call for help; what else is he supposed to do? The kelpie situation in the Thames can wait. Wong waves him off, tells him to be careful without much hope of Stephen listening, and takes over the Sanctum for the few hours Stephen intends to be gone.

(It’s not for a few hours.)

-

But there’s someone else we should mention before we see what Westview has planned for Stephen. See, a certain spider-kid has just had his identity outed, and his only allies once called themselves Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill, Peter discovers, are not Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

“You’re aliens?” Peter demands, his hands warding the space in front of him. 

Of course they’re aliens, part of him sighs. Of course. Why wouldn’t one more thing just go crazy in his life? Why let him remember what ‘normal’ even felt like? Why the hell not? 

“Er, yes,” says not-Fury. “My name is Talos. But we do still want to help you.”

Helping Peter doesn’t go according to plan. See, the Skrull try to approach SWORD for Monica Rambaeu’s help regarding the kid who saved their lives, but Monica has disappeared. 

Talos only turns around for two seconds. Really, it’s only a moment. But when he turns back, Peter Parker has disappeared, too.

-

“Woah.” 

Stephen stops, a hand coming up to shield his third eye as he squints into the absolute maelstrom of power swirling in a hexagonal wall in front of him. It doesn’t feel like the Order’s magic—not like something of the Mystic Arts. It’s something far more human and gritty. Stephen’s perception can’t extend through it. He frowns.

He takes a step forward, the Cloak swirling around his ankles, and begins to stitch his mental walls into place. His wards are strong, even unconsciously.

That’s probably what saves him, in all honesty. 

Two strong, human hands plant themselves in the small of Stephen’s back and shove him into the barrier. Stephen opens his mouth to yell, raises his hands to cast a spell— but blue and red are surrounding him now. Devouring him, now. They lick at his mind, slamming against unbreakable walls.

But they are unbreakable too. 

Stephen disappears. 

-

(Mordo used a portal to get behind him and knock him into the Hex, btw.) 

It’s those hasty mental walls that keep Stephen from being completely consumed into the Westview spells. He is not fully mind-controlled, nor is he left half-animated and frozen like most people near Ellis Avenue. But there is one main rule of Wanda Maximoff’s Westview, and that, Stephen can’t escape completely. 

‘No one remembers outside.’

Stephen doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything at all. 

-

Tony Stark finds the man lying on the side of the road. He’s just finished dropping his kid Peter off at the Westview high school (it hasn’t occurred to him that it’s weird how he never sees the boy’s classmates. Or that Peter never seems to have stories from school. Or that the kid is always waiting in the exact same place that Tony dropped him off at whenever Tony comes to pick him up. Tony has no reason to think too hard; he’s just a side character—right?). 

“Uh, hi?” Tony pauses, the car puffing it’s irritation when he stops it too quickly. He cranks down the window and leans out. 

The man blinks, slowly, at the sky. He sits up hesitantly, like he hasn’t noticed Tony, and rubs his hand across his face. He pulls it away after a moment and frowns at it. Tony wonders why he looks so confused—it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the man’s hand. No scars or anything. 

“Hi, sir,” Tony says again. “Are you alright?”

The man jumps. He looks over at Tony—and there’s something weird about his eyes. Something… really weird. (Color, says a voice in the back of his mind that he hasn’t heard for a very, very long time. That’s color.)

“Who are you?” Tony asks. He parks the car completely now. 

The man looks down at his hands again. “I’m—” he begins. He’s frowning again.

“Come on now,” Tony encourages. “How hard can it be?”

The man tugs at the scarf around his neck—and it must be windier than Tony thought, because the edges of it are swaying as if of their own accord— and swallows. 

“I don’t know,” he says.

-

So of course Tony brings Stephen back with him. He prods at the man until Stephen manages to blurt out ‘Doctor Stephen Strange’ for no reason either of them can remember. But it makes Stephen relax, a little, to have it on his tongue. 

Tony catches Stephen staring at him after that. A lot. When he asks him why, Stephen has no clear answer; just a vague “you remind me of someone.” For Stephen’s part, all he knows is that seeing Tony gives him an indistinct sense of relief. Like he’d been missing someone deeply, and has now found it again. 

Still. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Just like he can’t quite put his finger on why his hands don’t hurt when he tries to write…

-

Vision visits Tony, sometimes, whenever he remembers, or whenever someone in the town mentions the old mechanic. He brings Wanda. They have fun, but Vision always goes home feeling slightly baffled. And Tony always feels like something hurts, deep in the center of his chest. 

Vision likes his adopted younger brother. (And Peter gets along just fine with the twins, too, when they come along, so Wanda doesn’t change anything about it). But when the man with the bright eyes stares at him with just a bit too much calculation on his face, Vision starts to be reminded of… things. Of suspicions. Of Geraldine and how she had no home and no history. And he doesn’t quite look Wanda in the eye that dinner. 

“What do you do?” Wanda asks, her voice a little hard, a little suspicious. Vision tries not to wince. Whatever it is she’s not telling him, this man at his father’s dinner table reminds her of it. 

Tony flips his fork, balancing it like one might a wrench. “Stephen’s a doctor,” he says.  

Wanda’s face flickers. “That’s funny,” she says blankly. “Because no one in this town ever needs one.” 

-

For a while, Tony Stark didn’t see anything amiss here. He was created, was consistent, was emptily and vaguely pleased. But Tony Stark is Tony Stark, whatever character he’s been told to play. Tony Stark wants to help people. 

And this man, this strange doctor with the eyes that would sometimes go blank for long minutes and the tears that would stain sharp cheeks for a reason he claimed not to remember, needs help.

So Tony Stark begins to scratch at Wanda’s walls. 

-

 “What do you mean he’s here?”

“I mean your little plan didn’t work,” Agatha says. She stands on the edge of Westview, speaking through a mirror of magic to the man outside. She’s liking this sorcerer less and less the more she works with him—but he has been rather helpful so far, so she continues to put up with him. 

“Does he remember?”

“No,” Agatha says. “The dad that Wanda made up for Vision has taken him in. It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

“Hm.” Mordo’s mouth twists. “You’ll finish the job?”

Agatha shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure. When I get around to it.”

“You don’t want to wait. Deal with Strange now, before he remembers how to be a threat.”

Agatha laughs. It’s brittle, fully conveying her hostility. “Ha, my good sorcerer, listen. Unless you want to come in here and do the job yourself, you’ll let me handle this my way.”

Agatha’s way involves getting to the bottom of things, of course. And that’s rather convenient… because Vision has begun to try to do the same thing. 

— — — —

Okay that’s all I have for now? The other bits are still solidifying in my mind, and it’s basically all Horrible Angst. I hope this scratches a little of the itch of your ask, though! Feel free, anyone, to add onto this if you’d like! I really enjoyed the show, and I think it has some really awesome AU potential. 

Thanks for the ask!!!

[robin-josephette-biden]

A Statement Through Horror: BDG and YouTube

In his video announcing his departure from Polygon Bryan David Gilbert [BDG] stated, “I want to make things that one day people will make a show like unraveled about.” [Paraphrasing here]. Since that announcement he has made some of the most interesting and engaging comedy videos on the platform. On Bryan’s channel, there is a section called “bdg’s scaries” that contains three videos. The first how to make jorts was released April 27, 2019 and will not be part of this analysis, as we are focused on the other two videos. These two videos are Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss which was released on October 25, 2020 (two months before his final Unraveled video and departure from Polygon) and Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97 which was posted March 3, 2021. If you have not seen these videos yet you should stop reading immediately and go watch them both (honestly everything on his channel is amazing, especially the surprisingly compelling and personal Dances Moving! series) before continuing to read this as I will be spoiling both of them. The position of YouTube celebrity has been the source of a good bit of commentary as short form online media has become more and more central in our culture. Bryan has created two videos that I feel do an excellent job of exploring the relationship between youtuber and audience. I should also point out that this is merely my interpretation of these videos and is in no way BDG’s intended message. I’ll start by going over the first video. Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss opens with BDG outside an apartment building, standing in front of a black car. BDG points up at one of the windows and says, “Three years ago I was living in that apartment right there. Third floor, leaky windows, cockroaches, the worst.” I do not know if the real life BDG actually lived in that building, but the 3 years timeframe does line up neatly with his beginning to work at Polygon. BDG continues to bad mouth his old apartment and mentions how he has turned it all around stating, “But just last week I paid off my very first Subaru Impreza. And I own my own house in Nebraska.” This radical change in life-style he credits to, “. . . [working] from home, [making] my own hours, and [being] my own boss. And you can do it too.” I think that it is interesting that BDG’s career up to that point mirrors that of his character, going from newly graduated content creator making small videos in his apartment to one of the most popular creators on Polygon. And all that being accomplished through work that many (rightly or wrongly) would not see as fitting into the mold of the traditional 9 to 5. The idea of making millions working from home, at your own pace, and with no boss is intrinsically tied to the mystique of the YouTube celebrity. Moving into BDG’s office he explains that he makes $20k a month working on spreadsheets. A massive spreadsheet appears behind him that is dated, 01.12.88 (nothing of note happened on January 12, 1988 and the only thing that happened on December 1, 1988 is a large cyclone that struck Bangladesh, January 12, 1888 is the day of the Schoolhouse Blizzard which struck the midwestern US and killed 235 people (remember this for later)) and is filled, seemingly randomly, with garbled nonsense symbols. Many of the cells are the same as other cells and there are empty cells scattered haphazardly throughout the spreadsheet. BDG explains that he got this strategy from Dorian Smiles. In exchange for working on these spreadsheets BDG receives $10k - $20k a month (an amount that lines up pretty damn well with the amount he should be getting through his Patreon page currently, I don’t know if this was true when the video was made though) from Dorian. Wanting to know where the money is coming from BDG asks his bank and they explain that he is wiring the money to himself from another account he has. He grows confused as to the nature of this work and the disproportionately large amount of money it brings in, explicitly mentioning his confusion as to how the money is coming from someone with, “. . . my name and my voice.” and sets about to find and confront Dorian Smiles. BDG sets off for Center Nebraska, which is close to where Dorian lives (a small town in the northeast corner of Nebraska). He states that Dorian’s address hasn’t existed since 1888 (that’s a familiar year isn’t it?) when it was supposedly condemned during an enormous blizzard and is, “. . . just woods now.” The video then transitions to BDG walking through dark woods while his narration talking up the Dorian Smiles program continues becoming increasingly broken. He comes across a figure sitting in the woods that is convulsing strangely, when he calls out to it the figure turns and is him (heretofore named Dorian). Dorian slowly puts his hands over his nose and mouth while staring at BDG at which point the narration cuts out. BDG copies Dorian and when Dorian removes his hands in a flourish, BDG does the same to reveal that he no longer has a mouth. The video quickly cuts back to BDG in his office talking about the program, he asks the viewer, “Why don’t you join me?” and then sits back and smiles while that line repeats without him moving his mouth. The most pressing mystery is who Dorian Smiles is. I think the most likely answer (and one I know I am not the progenitor of) is that Dorian is a reference to The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde, the story of a young man that has a portrait that ages and takes on the ravages of the debauched life its subject lives while Dorian himself does not. BDG would therefore be the unwitting recipient of that blessing, reaping massive rewards while his double, Dorian, lives in poverty and solitude. I like this explanation for Dorian, but I find it to be far more mechanical than thematic. On a metatextual level you could read that Dorian represents the character of BDG. The person that is in all of BDG’s videos, and the one with whom so much of the audience forms a parasocial relationship. In this lens the parallels with BDG’s own life make more sense. By this point in BDG’s career it is not difficult to imagine him feeling stifled creatively at work (I feel comfortable saying this given how soon after this video came out that he departed Polygon). His character had grown too large, potentially becoming alien to him, no longer reflecting the art he wanted to make and so he made a video about a distorted version of himself stealing his voice. In this way the video becomes a statement on his artistic integrity and his desire to test new boundaries and go in different directions. In hindsight, with the knowledge of his departure and then success after leaving Polygon, the video becomes almost heartwarming (if it weren’t terrifying) in the same way that a before and after picture of someone improving themselves can be. We will return to the Dorian Smiles system, but now we must move to the second video, Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97. I’ll save you the blow by blow breakdown and aim for a quick summary instead. This video is a simple stationary shot of an old CRT tv. A VHS tape is inserted and a video of a man teaching his, evidently young, son how to use a camcorder plays. It is relatively wholesome and corny in that way that all home movies are and when it ends the tape rewinds and the segment plays again, this time with a few deviations. Over replays the father becomes aware of what is happening and begins trying to reason with Jake through the camcorder begging him to stop watching the tape and move on. The father is menaced by a large shadowy figure that does not speak or move when confronted. Eventually the father resorts to simply taking the camera and recording his own screams of pain. On the final rewind the father simply says, “Attaboy.” before calmly walking out the room and into the dark hallway, a doorway opens at the other end, filled with orange light, and the father walks through and down stairs. The final shot of the video is of the television, showing the hallway, as orange light begins to flicker in the background of the left side of the TV. The sound of the father descending the stairs transitions from the TV to diegetic and a shadow appears briefly in the light. On one level the video is clearly a statement about loss and about trauma. Jake is losing himself by watching these videos on repeat, trying in vain to relive a happier time. In that desperate desire to regain what was lost he is distorting it, making it into something it isn’t, hurting it. At the beginning the father says, “Never ever press the rewind button, otherwise you might record over a precious memory. We always keep the recording going forward . . .“ I think there is an additional, and more personal for BDG, reading however. The father is the modern character of BDG, and we, the audience, are Jake. He is pleading with us to leave the past behind and move on. This was only his 3rd video that he posted after leaving Polygon. It is a plea from him to leave the old character behind and stop trying to make one into the other. To stop obsessively comparing the new videos to the old. To let the future be the future and let the past be the past. He is telling us that his new work will not be like the old, that he has progressed past that and that now his viewers need to as well. The detachment and confusion of Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss has transformed into a desire to move forward. But he needed to ensure that his audience was ready to come with him, and so he made a video about loss and the dangers of sinking too far into it. I know that there are some of you that feel I am reading too much of what I assume to be BDG’s thoughts and emotions into these interpretations, and I am the first to admit that I might be. In no way am I trying to say these are the only interpretations of these videos or even that they are correct. I think there is so much more of an artist that they put into their work than they realise. I do not know the mind of BDG, only he does, but these videos made me feel that I had a glimpse into the feelings of a man whose work I admire. These videos are either longer or a drastically different tone to the material he has put on his own channel and as such they stood out to me. They felt different, and they seemed to ask for a different level of scrutiny. On some level maybe BDGs videos can not be divorced from the story of BDG as a content creator, the same as any modern internet semi-celebrity, or indeed any artist. I guess there was also a part of me that wanted to answer the call to action I heard when BDG left Polygon, to unravel his work. I hope in some small way I’ve been able to do that.

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

[asweetprologue]

drown all my shadows

Octoberfest 15: Lost (whumptober #20) - Last one!!

Jaskier wakes in a fog.

His immediate first impression is, in a way, a lack of impression. The world around him seems featureless. He’s standing, though he doesn’t remember standing up, or walking here in the first place. The fog is thick around his thighs, sending up slow, curling whisps whenever he moves his hands. It’s not much better elsewhere, filling the air and turning the world into an opaque canvas of white. He can’t see beyond his own outstretched hand, everything lost in the gloom. 

It’s unnerving. The world is dampened around him, like there’s cotton stuffed in his ears. Jaskier doesn’t know how he got here. He and Geralt had been together - on a hunt? There had been a cabin - a woman? a witch? - and they’d given chase, following her into the woods beyond… 

He remembers nothing else. His memories are as foggy as his surroundings. One moment he’d been running after Geralt through the forest of craggy, blackened trees, and then next thing he remembers is opening his eyes to this barren landscape. The silence around him is so intense he can hear his own heartbeat rushing in his ears, deafening. 

Half just for something else to listen to, Jaskier says, “Hello?” His voice falls flat in the fog, eaten up by the mist. No one answers. “Geralt? Hello?”

There is nothing. He does a once over of his surroundings once again, but in every direction all he can see is white. It’s almost like being in a box, surrounded by walls on all sides. Feeling panic starts to worm its way into his chest, Jaskier takes a few steps forward. He can’t explain why he feels dread curling through his stomach. It’s just fog, he tells himself. But it doesn’t feel like fog. It feels empty and oppressive and cold, clinging to him and tugging at his clothes and his feet. Something equally cold and empty echoes through Jaskier’s chest, a spot of fearful loneliness that he has always worked hard to keep at bay. 

With no other recourse, he walks. 

There are no features to the landscape that he can distinguish. The fog is endless; he may as well not be moving at all, for all it changes. The ground under his feet is a plain gray dirt, but he has not stumbled upon a single plant or animal since he’d started walking. It feels quickly as if hours have passed, though it also could have been only moments. There is no way to mark the passage of time or how far he’s walked. There’s no sun in the sky; the fact that he can see at all suggests that it must be there, but the fog has swallowed it along with everything else. He can only put one foot in front of the other, occasionally calling out to anyone who might be near. 

It could have been minutes or hours or days, but eventually something does change. He thinks he’s imagined it, at first, but as he moves closer there’s no mistaking. There is a shape in the fog, something just slightly darker than the rest of his surroundings. He can’t make it out, but Jaskier moves towards it with a burst of enthusiasm that borders on fear. As he nears, the fog dissipates enough for him to make out the outline of a figure.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jaskier says, relief sweeping through him. Even if this person is as lost as he is, at least there will be someone with him. Anything to help assuage the nervous, lonely thing inside him. “I thought I was the only one out here, are you alright?” As he approaches, he can see that it's a woman, her yellow dress faded with age. Jaskier practically runs to close the last few feet between them, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. The dress is soft under his hands, but extraordinary cold. At his touch, the figure shifts like water under his hands, turning in his direction. 

She has no face. 

Jaskier screams, but the sound is consumed by the fog like all the others. He falls back, scrambling away on his ass. The thing that looks like a woman but has no face does not follow him, standing perfectly still. The flat expanse of smooth skin where her features should be does not change in the slightest or react to him in any way. Jaskier stumbles to his feet and runs back into the fog, desperate to escape the horror of it.

His heart does not stop pounding, no matter how much distance he gains. It’s impossible to tell if he is gaining distance. And it isn’t long before he stumbles across another figure, practically running into it. The man is the same, utterly devoid of features, a personless person shaped thing. Jaskier feels the terror gripping him wind tighter and tighter as he turns and immediately finds another faceless figure in his periphery. The shells never react to him, but for some reason that is more frightening than if they’d tried to attack him. 

Jaskier runs, not stopping to assess the shapes he sees blurred through the fog. He’s panicking, he knows, but he can’t stop. He’s alone in this horrible fog with these empty people. There’s no escape; no matter how far he runs, there’s no thinning of the mist. 

Finally he collapses, curling into a tight ball in the thickest part of the fog. Gasping into his knees, Jaskier thinks, frantically, that he might be trapped here forever. Who would look for him? Who would even know where this is? No one at Oxenfurt would think anything of his disappearance, his family haven’t seen him in decades. He has fans who will forget him, patrons who will mourn the loss of his art but move immediately on to newcomers. As he thinks, Jaskier feels the fog closing in tighter around him, kissing his cheeks and clutching at his shoulders. It’s so cold, in a bone deep way that scares him as much as the faceless people. No one will remember him, no one is looking for him -

Geralt, he thinks. Geralt will look.

It’s such a relief he almost cries with it. No matter what Geralt has said in the past, they’re friends, and Geralt is the most noble man Jaskier knows. Geralt would not write off his disappearance. Geralt cares about him, and he will find him. Geralt will come. 

And suddenly, as if summoned by sheer will, Jaskier finds a familiar hand thrust into his face. 

Geralt’s eyes are wide when Jaskier looks up, and it’s so good to see him, so good to see anyone that Jaskier fails to spring immediately into action. Impatiently, Geralt shakes the hand in front of him. “Jaskier,” he says, insistent. “Take my hand.” So Jaskier does. 

Instantly the fog retreats, as if blown back by a strong blast of aard. The forest comes into focus around them, the spindly arms of the trees reaching up towards the pale blue sky. Jaskier is pulled to his feet, Geralt’s hands settling on his upper arms as he is given a thorough once over. “Are you alright?” Geralt asks, gruff but clearly concerned. 

Jaskier feels a bit faint, weak in the wake of his terror. “Ah,” he says faintly. “M-Mostly, I think. Yes. What was that, Geralt? Where was I?”

Geralt frowns, glancing around the forest around them. It’s quiet, but in the way forests often are in the fall. If he strains, Jaskier can hear the rustle of animals rooting through the fallen leaves that coat the ground around them, the soft calls of birds and the chirp of squirrels and chipmunks. “The witch was kidnapping people,” Geralt says. “Do you remember?”

Jaskier nods slowly. It’s coming back now, without the fog leaking into his brain and obscuring his thoughts. “People from the village. We chased after her, when she ran from the cottage. She -”

“Hit you with a spell,” Geralt finishes. “Yes. It put you in some kind of… in-between place. Managed to get her to tell me what it was, before I killed her. It feeds off of people’s loneliness. She used it to strengthen her magic.”

“There were others there,” Jaskier says, feeling nauseated as he remembers the blank stares. “They had no faces.”

“Already gone. Eaten up by her magic,” Geralt says, gently. He’s smoothing his hands up and down Jaskier’s arms now, a grounding gesture that Jaskier is grateful for. “It wouldn’t have happened to you. I found you easily, once I got her to tell me the spell. People care about you. The spell only feeds off of lonely people.”

“I knew you would find me,” Jaskier says. He feels tired, exceptionally so. Like the fog sapped up all of his strength, both physical and emotional. “Fuck, Geralt, it was awful.” Unable to help himself, Jaskier leans forward until he’s resting his forehead against Geralt’s shoulder, fingers tangling in the familiar leather armor. 

To his surprise, strong arms come up to hold him tightly. Jaskier sighs, relief sweeping through him as Geralt’s warm palms press into his shoulders. “It’s alright,” Geralt says, in the same tone he uses on Roach when he’s trying not to spook her. Jaskier would take offense if he didn’t feel so much like he might be spooked. “I would never have left you there.”

“I know,” Jaskier says, tired but content. “I would never forget you. I’m never lonely with you.”

Geralt squeezes him tightly, once, before releasing him, though not entirely. One hand still rests on Jaskier’s shoulder, just at the joint of his neck and collarbone. “We should get back to town. Are you alright to walk?”

“Yes,” Jaskier says, though exhaustion rests in every bone. “Bit of a fright, that’s all. I’m perfectly hale and hearty.”

To prove this, Jaskier turns and starts away, not even sure that he’s going in the right direction. A hand catches his wrist as he does, and he turns back to Geralt with a questioning look. He’s met with a soft expression, one he’d rarely seen before on the witcher. “I’m glad,” Geralt says. “That you’re not lonely.”

Jaskier finds himself smiling, warmth flooding through his chest to finally chase off the cold from before. “Never with you, dear. Never with you.”

[harryspet]

dimensions | peter parker

[Warnings] peter parker x reader, dark peter x reader, historical au, royal au, prince Peter, mentions of noncon sex, physical abuse, spanking, alternate dimensions, fluff, hella angst, alternate peter is basically ramsay bolton

A/N: This is an angsty idea from an anon “Angst thought: Peter's got a girlfriend he super likes but she gets switched with an alternate dimension's version of her who alternate him was the worst to (like one of your dark Peter fics bad) and she's terrified of Peter now”. I decided to make this like a historical au but it can basically take place at anytime in history.

THIS CONTAINS TRIGGERING MATERIAL AND ADULT CONTENT

main masterlist

word count: 2.7k

Wine dripped from his lips as Peter stared at you like a hungry wolf. What a beautiful prey you were. He was so lucky that he had decided not to kill you like the rest of your family. 

The kingdom you came from was made of sunlight. Sun dripped from the sun and kissed the skin of your people. You were a peaceful people. You had never seen war until you came to know Lord Parker. 

In Lord Parker’s part of the world, there was no sun at all. His fortress sat on a hill between a dark forest and a storm-ridden sea. His followers were loyal but this was because the family ruled with fear. They conquered and pillaged for power and your kingdom was just another line on his roster. 

You were nothing to him. Nothing except a toy. 

You scrambled backward, your back hitting the headboard of the bed you shared with him. Peter’s eyes trailed over the bare skin of your legs and up to the white nightgown you wore. He loved you in white, the contrast to your skin, and the innocence it represented. 

No matter how he tried to beat it out of you, that innocence was still there. 

Peter pulled the sheets all the way back and your body began to tremble, “My sweeting,” His words were kind but his intentions were anything but. He had his claws around your heart and you felt any wrong move would lead to him ripping it from your chest, “I recall informing you that you should refrain from speaking to my servants.”

Nothing. There were no words on your lips. 

Had Peter already diminished your fire? He thought he had mastered the art of pushing you all the way to the edge but not allowing you to fall over. 

The room was filled with grays and black, the only light in the room came from a few candles in the corner. You could hear the waves beating against the cliffs from outside the window. You let the cold hit your skin, allowing you to feel something other than sadness. 

Peter’s hands touched the mattress as his body leaned in closer, “You want to run from me, do you not?” You were frozen now. He cocked his head to the side, an evil grin decorating his handsome face, “That is why you asked your guard to help you escape. You thought he might take pity on you? Do you think the honey between your legs is that sweet? That any man would risk their lives just to taste it?”

Breathe, you had to remind yourself. Why had you done that? You should’ve known not to trust anyone. Anyone including those with sweet, forgiving eyes. 

Peter sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the large mattress. You recalled the memories of the last few nights. On your wedding night, he had forced himself inside of you with a force you couldn’t bear. You still ached between your legs. 

“I do try to be good to you. I try to be a good husband but … it seems the Gods have cursed me with anger …and your behavior lights that flame inside of me. Is it so much to ask that you be honest with me? To tell me what I hear is not true?”

Nothing. Again, no words escaped your trembling lip. Peter was starting to grow annoyed. He liked it better when you were screaming. 

“Answer me!” He screamed, causing you to hit your head against the wood as you flinched back, “You dare run behind my back!” Peter pounced, unable to resist the sweet touch of your trembling flesh. You resisted, but that only made the member in his trousers grow even more excited. 

Peter dragged you by the curls in your hair, forcing you to scramble forward until you were positioned across his lap. 

“My lord, please! Please, don’t!”

Peter smiled wide as he held you down, his elbow pressing into your back. “There she is! I knew my sweet princess was a fighter,” He pulled up the skirt of your dress, revealing your bare bottom. He could still see the evidence he left behind hours ago dripping down your thighs, “Continue to scream for me, my sweeting. I do enjoy your voice.”

You cried out, trying to wiggle from his grasp, as he landed several hard spanks to your bottom. You could feel it turning colors beneath his touch, the burning pain flowed through your body, “Please, please, I won’t do it again!” You begged, “I’ll be good!”

He didn’t stop until your bottom was raw and his own hand was bleeding. Tears streamed down your tired face, a complete look of defeat crossed your features, and ultimately satisfied Peter. 

“What is your name?”

You didn’t even remember anymore, “Nothing. N-No one. I am nothing but yours, My Lord.”

He dragged you from the bed though every step you took was like feeling fire against your skin. 

“No ones coming to save you!” Peter shouted as he dragged you out of the room, past your guards, and to the outside balcony that overlooked the entire fortress. Everyone was used to causing the scene with his cruelty so no one even batted an eyelash as you were pulled around like a ragdoll. 

He pressed you against the wooden railing, making you look out into the snow-covered court. The snow that was now soaked in blood. He was in pieces but you recognized him. It was the young guard you had talked to you. Stupidly, you asked him when the guards normally changed shifts in the compound. 

His legs were separated as well as each of his arms and then …. his head. His eyes were still open. “We cut off the head last,” As you closed your eyes, he pulled at your hair tightly, “He learned what happens when you try to steal my treasure. Treasure I bravely sought and retrieved on my own.”

It was all your fault. 

He was gone before Peter even stepped into that room. 

Your body was only protecting itself by shutting down and causing you to faint. Peter caught you as you fell into his arms.  

+

You awoke on a soft cloud. Everything smelt of sweet vanilla, even your hair. You touched your hair and found it longer and much softer than usual. Your eyes could barely adjust to the blinding light in the room. When were thing’s ever this bright on Lord Parker’s land?

Had he finally set the place ablaze with you trapped inside? The thought of it was delightful. You even considered closing your eyes again but, the room you were in, gave off an entirely different feeling than the fortress. 

You sat up in the bed and your mouth gaped as you took a look around. You stumbled as you stood up on the bed. The room was ginormous, even bigger than the over-sized bed. It reminded you of the great hall in the manor you grew up in … except it was a bedroom made of gold. 

You looked down at your body. This was not the white gown you were last wearing. There were no stains of blood or tears down the chest. There was also no burning on your skin, on your bottom or around your neck. 

You paused as the tall gold doors opened to the room. You stared as he entered, clad in a royal suit of blue, and wearing a smile. A smile? You had never seen him with a real smile, “Did you use to jump on the bed when you were younger?” He asked a tone you weren’t quite used to. It sounded pleasant, like there was happiness on his lips, “That was my favorite too.”

Had he slipped hallucinogens into your drink? Or was this just a nightmare of your own creation?

As he moved closer to the bed, you panicked, moving down to your knees, “M-My Lord,” You addressed him, your head tilted down. 

Peter paused, taking in your appearance, and his smile turned to concern, “Your Lord?” Peter asked softly, moving towards you. He reached for your hand and, although you didn’t pull away, he felt you shaking, “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You lifted your head, facing the demon, “W-Who is Y/N?” Peter searched your face for some symbol of amusement. He thought you might be pulling a prank on him but it was now clear that something was very wrong, “Where did you take me?”

Peter pulled away his hand, realizing he was only causing more unease, “I didn’t take you anywhere. This is my home. Our home. Should I call in the physician ...”

“We don’t live here …” You looked around the large room again.

“Y/N, do you promise me that this is not some sort of game?”

You shook your head quickly, “No games, My Lord.”

“My name is Peter. I am not your Lord …” Peter’s voice trailed off, his mind racing with concerned thoughts and confusion. Peter beckoned you with his hand, “Why don’t you come with me, Y/N? We will have a talk with May.”

A trick. This had to be some elaborate trick then. 

“I only talk to you, My Lord,” You assured him, “I won’t speak to anyone else, I promise.”

His eyes seemed to sadden. Sad? You’d only seen anger from him before, “Y/N, you can talk to other people. I am your husband but I do not control you. You have friends. You have a family.”

A sick joke then. You stared at him dumbfounded, before shaking your head, “You killed them. They were not worthy. You spared me despite my unworthiness.”

“I-I never-” Peter stopped himself, realizing that it was becoming useless to argue at the moment. You seemed to flinch at the slightest raise in his voice, “Walk with me, please?”

You were hesitant but you crawled from the bed, your bare feet touching the cool, marble floor. The fortress was grays and black. The fortress was soot and wood. This was a palace and the man before you were dressed like a prince. 

Peter noticed the distance you kept from it. Yesterday, you were madly in love with him. You held each other through every royal meeting and you spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms. He remembered how nervous he was when Tony announced the plans for his marriage but, the moment he saw you, he realized his luck. He was even luckier that you felt the same. 

You glanced around the long hallways with tall white walls and ginormous windows that gave a view of the sun over a calm sea. 

“What city is this?”

As the name of the city left his lips, your heart stopped. It was the same city you were kidnapped and taken to but you saw no sign of the darkness that you remembered. Had the darkness all been a bad dream?

+

The woman named May attempted to explain everything to you. She noticed your uneasiness around Peter and kindly asked to have a moment alone with you. You were frightened to speak out of turn, for fear of Peter punishing you, but the woman encouraged you to talk to her. 

She knew all about the kingdom you hailed from, about your family and your peaceful people. They were all alive, Peter’s forces never led an attack against them. In fact, your father and King Tony arranged the marriage between you two. Peter was a Prince. The prince of a kingdom that did not wage war against innocents.

She checked your vitals, not noticing anything that was physically wrong with you. You didn’t even have the scars anymore.

Despite all of this, the thing that made everything sink in was seeing your family. Both your mother and older brother had not returned back to your kingdom, and you were able to embrace them after believing you had lost them forever. 

+

Peter wasn’t sure what to think of everything. So much had changed that he wasn’t sure if he was looking at the same girl anymore. He didn’t want to be a villain to his own wife. He regretted that the bond that they now shared was indestructible. To divorce was a sin and they’d both be shamed by their countries. 

“I can find somewhere else to sleep tonight …” You looked up to Peter, seeing how he was trying to hide his sadness. Your chambermaids had prepared you for bed, bathed you, and put you into fresh nightclothes made of the softest silks. 

“It is your room,” You told him quickly, “I should not deprive you of the comfort … the comfort of sleeping next to your own wife.”

“I can tell you do not want me to, my love,” His words made your heart pang. Love. Did Peter love you? At least, did he love the old you? “I will allow you to have all the time that you need. I do not wish to be the source of your nightmares.”

Peter had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to change that fear she felt. 

“Please stay,” You told him as he made a move to leave, “I do not want to be alone.”

You had spent the entire day with your family, and now you just didn’t want to fall asleep in the silence. 

Peter thought for a moment, deciding his plan of action. You couldn’t help that your breath caught in your throat as he approached where you laid on the bed. He didn’t reach to touch you, only to grab a pillow. 

He laid it on the ground beside the massive bed and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the hard floor. You rolled over in the bed, looking over the edge at him, “The floor is no place for a prince, your grace.”

Peter instantly shook his head, “I do not know what you mean, my love. It feels great down here,” You could tell her was lying and a small grin pulled at your lips. He was willing to sleep on the floor just so you could be comfortable?

“Peter?”

Peter couldn’t help how his heart fluttered when you simply called him by his first name. He liked knowing before that you liked him as a person, not as an authority figure. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

“What kind of things did I use to like?”

Peter didn’t expect the question, but as the memories rushed, he couldn’t help but smile, “You loved your family. You always talked about them, about your people. You wanted everyone to know that you were a princess of two, great kingdoms, not just my own. You made sure they were never forgotten.”

You continued to listen as you pictured it. You hadn’t realized they were memories of your own. 

“You liked to garden. It reminds you of your time with your grandmother. You love the life you can create, the beauty you can make.”

A tear slipped down your face as you remembered the older woman. 

“You liked it when we went out on the boat and rode in the bay. You liked the sound of the ocean and the sun on the skin. You hated that we kept the fish we caught. You hated how they had to die and you insisted that we give them to beggars on the street.”

You realized that this wasn’t some past you that Peter was talking about. The girl he was talking about was still you. She just had a better chance at life. 

“You loved looking at the stars. You smiled for days when I showed you the telescope my father purchased from that French merchant, I swear it.”

“Peter, I-I am sorry,” Peter noticed you were crying and shot up from his spot, reaching to hold your hand, “You are nothing like him. You are nothing like him.”

“Do not cry, please,” Peter begged, rubbing soothing circles on your skin, “There is nothing to apologize for. Whatever this is, we will get through it.”

As his thumb brushed the tear from your cheek, you saw him clearly. You could look into those brown eyes and know he’d never hurt you. 

+

Hope you enjoyed! (Also sorry, please don’t ask for a second part)

[shackermanwrites]

Lifetime

Summary: When everything's falling apart in your life, and you don't know what to do anymore, maybe asking the universe for something isn't a bad idea after all. In which Sol Reader finds herself in another reality after begging the universe for something. Everything is going well not until she was put into Levi's squad.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Warnings & Content: Angst, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe, War, Politics, Sad, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Reality Shifting.

A/N:  This is a y/n story, but I will still put a name since I am more comfortable with that. Also, for those who don't know what reality shifting is, it is basically moving your subconscious to another reality, and that's where I got the inspiration to write this. There are also no titans in the story except for the 9 titan shifters. The story will revolve around the war between Paradis and Marley.

Lifetime Masterlist

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

The sound of chirping birds and a peal of faint laughter from the other room are the first thing you had noticed as soon as you woke up from sleeping. You can’t recognize whether it's already morning or noon because of the sunlight beaming through the grass yet being danced by the wind.

You were taken aback by the beautiful scenery in front of you as you sat on the bed and stared at the large window beside your bed, yet soon realized that you don’t know where you are.

You started to look around to observe your surroundings; there are two teacups and a small saucer that contains crumbs of bread sitting on top of the bed stand beside your bed, which explains the faint smell of tea and woods that smells refreshing to your nose.

The room is quite spacious and clean considering seeing a bunch of toys scattered on the floor; who lives here, you thought to yourself. You slowly got up from the bed despite feeling nervous, you can’t recall this room, but you feel like this is not the first time that you have seen this room, let alone the feeling of being inside that house is somewhat familiar to you.

You carefully tiptoed as you went out; you don’t know what is happening, nor where you are right now, yet you did not find yourself panicking.

“Careful with that and don’t make a mess, okay?”

You followed the voice that seems to be coming from the kitchen, the voice was followed by a giggle that appears to be from a child. As soon as you reached the end of the hall, you slowly peek to see that your guts were right, the voices you heard were from the kitchen.

A table with four chairs and a child sitting on one of it back facing you is the only thing you manage to see so you decided to peek even more and there your eye saw a black-haired man that seems to be cooking as he slowly stirs the pot in front of him, you assume that he did not notice your presence.

Yet the child did; the moment you turn your gaze back to the child’s back, she was already looking at you with a slight smile painted on her face and a lovingly look that she had given you.

“How was your nap? You fell asleep while reading earlier in the living room, you must have liked the tea I made earlier” You looked at the man that has stopped chopping potatoes to look at you.

You locked eyes with him and you noticed the similar eye color of the child, you suddenly felt the urge to run into his arms and cry. You wanted to feel his embrace. You felt home as soon as you saw him, almost like you completely forgotten that you don’t know where you are, but somehow you felt safe, especially around him.

“yeah, my sleep was okay” you gave him a soft smile to lighten up the mood

As you were about to walk over to him, your vision is suddenly getting blurry, and everything was spinning, and your vision goes black.

-

“Hey, wake up, Sol” you felt a hand on your shoulder trying to shake you from your deep slumber.

You slowly open your eyes and crap was the only word you could think of when you realized that you fell asleep in class, not just any class but one of your major subjects this semester.

You look around and see your professor shuffling a bunch of cards that have your class names on it, ah random recitation again if your hunch is correct which made you groan in annoyance.

You aren’t the type of student to burn yourself out just to ace your subjects, but you are managing to pass them, and luckily for you, your grades are much higher than what you are expecting, although you are still not sure if it just because you’re still in your second year in college.

Initially, you were supposed to take up a course related to arts because ever since you find art, specifically drawing and painting, it is your safe place. You love to draw and paint ever since you were a child. Still, you had to bury those and convince yourself that doing all of that was just a hobby, so instead, you took a course related to medicine.

Going back to your senses, you immediately smiled at your friend beside you, that’s now scanning through her notes. You’ve been friends with Petra since the first day of freshman year since the two of you met in an embarrassing way. Both of you were wearing the same necklace that day, so people assumed that the two of you were dating. After that incident, she always sat next to you in class and eventually became friends with her up until now.

“so, since none of you failed the exams, the project that is due after Christmas break will be moved at the end of the semester” the room was quickly filled with cheers and chatters after hearing the announcement of your professor.

“so? You have plans this Christmas break?” you looked at Petra while she stuffs her notebooks inside her bag with a smile on her face, you can’t deny the fact that she is indeed beautiful.

“Yeah, I might go back to Germany tomorrow morning since Christmas is in five days, so” you scratch the project on your to-do list in front of your bag before putting it inside your bag.

Petra gave you a brief look before smiling at you for a second “yeah, I think you should, it’s been two years since you were home, right? Hey besides, I’m right around the corner here, so if you decided to come back early, let me know.”

“Yeah, I will, anyway. Aren’t you late for your job?”

“oh, dang it, I am, I got to go first, sol. My manager will kill me.”

You can’t help but giggle at her reaction when she realized that she’s late. “sure, take care and call me tomorrow.”

You could only watch as she leaves the room in a rush. You let out a sigh and grab your bag to leave the room. Your parents are the reason why you choose to pursue medicine instead of arts, the moment they knew what you want to do for the rest of your life. You immediately saw how disappointed they are, so instead, you took a course you think they can be proud of.

Medicine isn’t that bad, especially being trained and learning how to be a medical technologist, It's fun to learn, and you are adapting and finding yourself enjoying as you engage more and more. Yet, deep inside of you knows that you’re just pushing your doubts and negative thoughts aside, and that includes your passion.

The dorm isn’t that far from your university; it will only take a maximum of 4 minutes when walking. You removed your coat and shoes and decided to slump down on your bed. You don’t have the energy to take a shower considering that you just did two hours ago; you’re still okay, you thought.

You honestly can’t stop thinking about what Petra said earlier, home. It must be nice to feel that you're home.

Your parents are acceptable it is just that they don’t care about what you feel and think, maybe its because you’re their first child and they are still learning when they had you, but the way they treat your little sister says otherwise. Although, you love your sister you can’t deny the fact that you sometimes feel jealous, you just want to be a daughter and a person to your parents, you mentally slap yourself.

It would be best if you weren’t thinking like that.

You let out a loud groan while staring at the ceiling.

“I should probably pack my bag now if I’m leaving early,” you mumbled to yourself.

You quickly got up from the bed and grabbed your suitcase under your bed, and you don’t know how long you will stay but just in case.

You filled it up with your clothes and toiletries neatly. You can be organized if you’re in the mood, and that is something Petra can’t do; the girl is just messy and unorganized, which is why you’re glad that you’re there for her.

“that should do it, I did a great job.”

Once again, you slump down on the bed, face buried on the pillow, you’re tired physically and mentally drained, once again you thought about home, this is why you don’t like it when you’re doing nothing, it leads you to overthink.

You closed your eyes and thought about the things you want in life, which slowly leads to imagining them and making up scenarios as if that is already happening. “I just want to go home, home is where I want, this is bullshit but universe please I just want to be home, no matter what the cost is, no matter what the cost” you beg in your head, you grew up not being heard but deep inside of you clings on a hope that the universe might listen to you.

You stayed like this for almost half an hour; even though you are flinching, you didn’t move an inch. You had to convince yourself that you're probably just tired. Your eyes are getting heavier every minute, and you were about to fall asleep when you noticed that something’s not right, you felt dizzy and cold, yet you decided to push those thoughts and drifted to sleep.

Little did you know, the universe is always listening.