#I cannot believe this is the first thing I see logging on this morning I deserve a medal

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Please, I beg you, tell me the fact they're starting the season with a sinking ship means nothing. That it is absolutely, 100% is NOT foreshadowing? I need reassurance.

I've been up since 4am so forgive me if this isn't the kindest response, but you are reading way, way, way too much into this and being very silly.

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Ten - By First Light

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Masterlist

It was well past midnight when you returned to the keep. There was a fresh gash in your side.

The job you were sent on was supposed to be simple. Just a wolf spotted near a farm owned by an elderly couple. They couldn’t afford to hire a mercenary themselves, so they came to the Jarl for assistance.

And who did he send out? You.

And what did you find? A pack of wolves. Easily seven of them. You took care of them, of course, but not before one got a nasty swipe at your side.

No, you have not been able to sleep yet. Your brain feels like it’s being squeezed by a giant’s hands. Your eyes feel sunken into your skull.

It certainly is not helping your general attitude, either.

With one hand pressing into the wound, you limped slightly into the keep and towards the throne room. You always reported to Chan first thing before going to wash up.

The gash wasn’t too deep at all, it was more annoying than anything. With your healing abilities, it will most likely be closed by the morning, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a bitch.

It looks much worse than it is. To anyone passing by, you look like you’re bleeding out.

Silence fills the hallways of the keep. Your boots drag along the stone with uneven steps. 

“Fucking wolves,” you grumble under your breath, “Demons straight from The Void.”

There’s only been one instance of Chan being asleep when you’ve gone to report in from a mission. Tonight apparently makes two.

But the throne room is not empty, no, there’s one person standing at a table.

Minho’s back was towards you, he was sitting at a chair at the end closest to you. If there was a plate of food in front of him, you couldn’t tell.

You’re about to turn to leave but he speaks up.

“He’s asleep.” He says without turning to look at you.

“I pieced that together.” Your voice comes out much weaker than you intended.

‘Damn this wound.’ You think to yourself.

This makes Minho turn to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. His eyes quickly scan your figure, hovering on the hand that’s holding your side.

He tongues his cheek and turns back around.

“I did not think a simple wolf was too much for the all-mighty mercenary.” He chides.

You roll your eyes and sneer at the back of his head. “One is not. Once the number climbs to about six or seven it becomes a bit difficult.”

Minho nods his head and picks up the tankard in front of him, taking a long swig.

You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I will speak to him in the morning then.”

The way to your room is through the throne room. Meaning you have to walk past Minho.

A log crackles in the fire.

Taking a deep breath, you take painful steps towards the doorway across the room, each intake of breath feels like needles in your side.

“Should you not be going to see Felix?” Minho calls across the room.

You do not stop walking. “Do not pretend to care.” You roll your eyes, not that he sees it. “I will be fine by the morning.”

“You’re bleeding on the floor.”

“I am fine.” You grit. “Goodnight, Minho.”

Minho sighs.

“Some days I believe you to be intelligent, others you prove yourself to be witless.”

A shot of anger goes through your chest and you finally stop walking. You turn in place, hand still holding your wound tightly.

“Do not speak to me like that, Minho.” You growl. “Have we not had this talk before or are you the witless one who cannot remember a conversation that was had a month ago?”

You make sure to put extra venom into your words, teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed. The room grows warmer as your blood boils.

Minho stares at you from his seated position at the table. Even from a distance you can see the anger flashing in his eyes with a dangerous glint.

You were playing with fire here.

“Has it only been a month?” His voice low, “Did it only take a month for you to find your way into a second court member’s bed?”

Your jaw drops and your eye twitches, “What has possessed you?” You ask incredulously.

Minho sticks a grape in his mouth, one eyebrow raised in a cocky manner. “First the Squire, now the Rogue. Who is next? The Mage?”

The Rogue? Is he referring to you leaving dinner with Seungmin two days ago? What is he on?

Hotter and hotter your anger boils. Every time you think you’ve taken a step forward with Minho, he launches himself ten paces back.

You’re so shocked at his words that you can’t even form proper words. Where is this coming from?

“I— what are you saying?” You sputter.

Suddenly, you can’t even feel the wound in your side. Your attention is on the advisor and his wild accusations.

“I watched you leave dinner with that dopey smile on your face. Do not pretend to be ignorant.”

Is he serious?

“Seungmin wanted to tell me something pertaining to an assignment he completed but did not want any prying ears to hear it!” You bark at him, taking a step in his direction. “What is this all about?”

Minho rolls his eyes and looks at the wall to his left, away from you.

“You spend every moment of your spare time with another man, what is one supposed to think, Y/N? I am not stupid, no one in this court is.”

“Why do you see me as no more than a common whore? Have I not proved myself worthy of being among you? Or do I need to run my sword through your chest before you finally listen to me?”

Minho snaps his head over to you, a sneer on his face. “Is that a threat?”

“Typically when someone insults my honor, I do not sit there and take it.”

Minho rolls his eyes, “You do not sit there and take it? Pity, and here I thought the men gave lay to you for a reason.”

That was it.

In a blink, you marched over to where he sat at the table, with one blood soaked hand and one clean one, you grabbed the pristine collar of his shirt and yanked him from his chair.

Both of your noses were only about a centimeter apart. Your eyes were full of venom and hatred.

“I am not a whore. I am a mercenary who has fought tooth and nail to be the woman I am.”

Minho’s one hand plants on the tabletop and the other grabs your wrist in a vice grip. His eyes are glaring at you with an equal amount of anger and something else you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Why is it the moment I speak with a man you point your finger at me calling me a tramp? Every member on the Jarl’s court is a man. Am I supposed to keep to myself and never speak to a soul?” You tighten your grip on his collar and his does so as well on your wrist. “Why can you not treat me with the respect I deserve?”

The two of you stare so closely into the other’s eyes. Minho’s teeth are bared in a growl like state.

“You know,” you say with an evil smirk, “If I did not know any better, I may even say that you were jealous, Lee Minho.”

A wall of emotion flashes through his eyes, his pupils dilate and an actual growl tears from his throat.

Faster that you can blink, you’re turned around, an arm wrapped around your neck. He’s placed you in a sleeper hold from across the dining table.

Your back screams from the awkward angle. The wound in your side feels like it’s leaking even more.

“Jealous?” He gnarls in your ear. “Let us make one thing crystal clear. I am not jealous, I am angry that you believe you could simply seduce your way into my men’s beds when you had nothing nice to say about Miroh since your arrival.”

You struggle against his hold, his grip on your neck only tightens. “Do you not think that if I hated Miroh that I would have left a long while ago? What is holding me here? Nothing. Are you only seething because it is not your bed that I am trying to land in?”

His breath is hot against your ear, he exhales with each movement that you make against him in an attempt to keep you there. His hold may be like concrete, but you sure were giving him a rough time.

Minho squeezes your throat and a cry falls from your lips at the pressure. He’s one step away from cutting off your oxygen.

Thrashing against his arm, you pull and pull on his forearm but he doesn’t budge. “Do you truly not see the respect I have for this hold? Do you not see that I regret that way of thinking? But what else was I supposed to think when it was all I was fed my entire life!

“The Jarl is starting a war to free the Elves of Erbus. I am prepared to sacrifice my life in order to see that happen and you think that I am simply acting as a cock warmer for your court.”

With one last thrash, you finally yank yourself away from Minho. Your body turns and you stare daggers at him.

He’s looking at you differently, there’s still plenty of anger, but his eyes are moving all around your face. Both of your chests are heaving from exertion.

Minho opens his mouth to say something but a door slamming open takes both of your attention.

Your hand flies to your sword and Minho turns his entire body towards the door, hand at the dagger on his belt.

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw what it was.

The messenger slumped against the door, his hair wet and greasy. His entire body was covered in dirt and soot, every article of clothing on his body was ruined.

But that’s not what made your heart sink.

Blood streamed down the sides of his head on both sides. He’s holding his stomach the same way that you came in doing, but both of his hands were completely stained red.

His hair draped in front of his face, but the skin you could see was beaten and bruised.

Blood is oozing through his fingers and leaving puddles on the floor.

The messenger lifted his head as much as he could. Both of his eyes were swollen and black. His lip was split and there were several gashes and chunks missing from his skin.

Bile rose in your throat.

You hadn’t seen someone this horrible looking since…

“He’s an Elf,” you choke out, “we sent an Elf to Erbus.”

“Get Chan.” Minho commanded, taking large steps towards the door where the messenger fell to his knees. “Now, Y/N!” He barked and your feet were moving.

“Guards!” You heard Minho scream as you sprinted out of the throne room, “Someone get Felix! NOW, GET HIM NOW.”

As fast as your feet allowed you, you sprinted through the keep. You had never been inside Chan’s room, you had only known where it was.

You were peeling around corners, the exhaustion you felt previously nowhere to be found.

An Elf. They sent an Elf.

His ears. They cut off his ears. Your throat tightened and you willed yourself to run faster.

As soon as his door was in sight, you screamed. “My lord!” You yelled, as soon as you got to the door, you started banging on the wood as hard as you could with your fists.

“My lord! Get up! My lord!” Over and over again you bang until the door is ripped open by an extremely startled Chan.

His hair is tossed and messy, eyes wide and alarmed with his mouth open in shock.

Chan’s eyes are wild as he looks your body up and down. He stops at the wound on your side, but you don’t give him enough time to say anything.

“The messenger, my lord.” You pant out desperately. “He was an Elf, my lord. He is back. He was an Elf,” you repeat and tears well up in your eyes even more. “My Lord, they— they—“

Chan doesn’t give you enough time to finish. His face shifts to a look of absolute horror, his face pales and he stumbles back a step.

You reach forward as quick as you can and grab his wrist. “Minho sent me to fetch you, please. My lord we have to go,” you beg him and pull his wrist.

Chan’s face hardens, but he makes no move to take his wrist from your hand. You pull him out of his room and down the hall.

Within a few seconds, he snaps out of his stupor and the two of you run through the halls together. After rounding the first corner, you drop his wrist.

“Where?” He barks.

“I know not if they brought him to the healing ward or if he’s still in the throne room.” You respond.

This time, it’s Chan’s turn to snatch your arm, he pulls you into a side hallway and both of you continue running at a decent clip.

It was now that you notice his lack of clothes.

He’s shirtless and only wearing a pair of soft cotton trousers. By the sound of his feet hitting the stone, he’s barefoot. The only thing covering him is a deep red silk robe around his shoulders, but it’s not tied in the front.

The robe billows behind him as the two of you run.

Within a minute, you’re bursting through the doors of the healing ward.

His choice in coming here was the correct one. 

Minho and another guard are standing against the wall while a disheveled looking Felix does everything in his power to close the wounds on the messenger’s body.

Minho’s hands and clothes are covered in blood and his eyes are wild.

Both of Felix’s hands are emanating a yellow glow as he attempts to use restoration magic. His palms pressed to either side of the messengers head, cupping where his ears should be.

The messenger appears to have passed out. His body limp in the bed, not even his fingers twitching.

You and Chan walk into the room, you stay closer to the door and Chan marches over to the bed, looking down at the messenger.

A gasp tears from Chan’s throat and his hand flies over his mouth in pure shock.

“What happened to him?” Chan demands.

Sweat is dripping down Felix’s face mixing with his own tears. Violent sobs are wracking his chest.

“I know not!” He cries, “I have never seen anything like this before. This cruelty is beyond even what you would find in The Void.”

The light surrounding his hands keeps flickering.

“He is so young, Chan. I’m trying, I am but his wounds are beyond my skill.”

“Then get Hyunjin. You,” he points to the guard. “Go!” Chan commands to the guard who takes off out of the room.

“Hyunjin won’t be able to do anything, Chan. There’s nothing else we can-“

“Try, Felix.” His voice is so stern, yet it’s cracking. Chan reaches down and grabs one of the messenger’s arms gently yet tightly.

Your throat tightens and the tears that were sitting in your eyes finally fall.

They did this to him. They tortured this boy. He couldn’t have been older than twenty winters. This poor boy who was just doing his job.

They cut off his ears, beat his body until he couldn’t move.

“Chan I do not think-“ Felix cries but Chan cuts him off.

“Keep going.” He begs with a hard, even voice. “Keep trying.”

“Chan it is not working!” Felix cries back.

“Fucking— Keep going, Felix!“ Chan bellows, his voice catching at the end.

“It is not WORKING.” Felix screams.

Chan turns away from the bed with his face hidden in his elbow. The Jarl walks away and towards the wall opposite of where Minho stood.

“I cannot.” Felix cries, his eyes staying on the boy’s broken body. Tears are streaming down his face and onto the sheets. “Chan, he is-“

Felix is cut off again by Chan slamming his fist into the wall. A roar tears from his throat and his head falls against the stone next.

Silent sobs wrack your chest, you try to stay as silent as possible. The tears falling from your cheeks down to the stone floor.

“Chan.” Felix calls out with a shaky voice.

The Jarl makes no move, he keeps his head against the wall.

The soft light of magic that was coming from Felix’s hands flickers out. Hard, violent sobs come from his throat as he reaches over and grabs the messenger’s hand.

Almost every finger is broken and bent the wrong way. Felix holds it as if anything as gentle as a breath would break them more.

His knees buckle and he falls to the floor, still holding the messenger’s hand.

Minho is silent as he walks over to the bed. Carefully, he reaches over and parts the messengers tunic towards the top.

Sobs fill the room.

“What are you doing, Minho?” Felix asks through cries. He stands up shaking from the floor to watch his movements.

As soon as his sentence comes out, a startled gasp follows it. Both you and Chan look over.

Minho’s face is pulled into the angriest expression you’ve ever seen him muster. Those dirty looks he gave you in the throne room are nothing compared to this.

You and Chan both took careful steps towards the bed.

A gasp left your throat just like Felix’s when you saw it.

Chan’s declaration of war.

It was nailed into the messenger’s chest. Blood soaked each entrance wound.

You felt nauseous, the world was spinning. His cruelty knows no bounds. Your eyes squint shut to try and stop the tears from flowing even faster.

The floor seems to tilt and you have to sit down on the bed behind you to try and get your bearings.

Chan was eerily silent. But you just knew that he was positively seething.

“Minho. Please go wake up Changbin.” His voice is entirely too even, too calculated. He is past the point of anger.

You open your eyes and look over at the Jarl. His eyes are fixed on the letter still on the messenger’s chest.

“I want our soldiers ready to march by first light.” His voice strong and calm. “Sisk Killoran will know terror before the end.”

[jekyll-doodles]

For the oc emoji ask!

💤🌺🎁 all for rubedo.

🌺 HIBISCUS - do they have any allergies?

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

[Excerpt from Early Interview Log of SCP-035-B.]

[ [writing notes.] ...Alright. Moving on, do you know any allergies you may have? Things that might make you sick or itchy, but not other people."]

SCP-035-B: [sitting still, head titled down, gazing at the table. Face obscured by a smiling mask.] …...... [slightly shakes head.]

["...right. Good. Thats good." [Writes down response.] "The reason I ask is so we can ensure your safety, of course. You know that, right?"]

SCP-035-B: ...

["...035-B?..." [both remain silent for a few moments] "...Your... Your friends, they mentioned you've not been sleeping well lately."]

SCP-035-B: ... [looks up at interviewer.]

["They mentioned, in particular, that they found you this morning hiding in your closet. Can you... explain?"]

SCP-035-B : [looks back down, speech barely audible] …C-can't sleep... N-not safe...

["Ah. Do you- did you feel safer in the closet?']

SCP-035-B: N-no... never safe... It, it knew.. knows where I hide... lurking outside, waiting...

["035-B, you are safe here. SCP-2264-4 cannot reach you or your friends anymore."]

SCP-035-B : You don't know that! It could drag us back at any moment!

[ "035-B, you need to calm down. If 2264-4 wanted to do that, why would it wait? Why not kill you now if it could?"]

SCP-035-B : [hugs onto self, shaking head, voice trembling] Y-you do not understand... its g-game has no end, no relief with death... I-I tried... but it just brought me back... e-every time... [The red fluid associated with subject starts to drip from the eye holes of the mask. Interviewer makes a note of it.] ... I couldn't bear it anymore... whispering... l-laughing... touching... not again, i-i can't...

["Thats... quite enough. [Interview allows subject to calm down before speaking again.] Why don't we stop here for today so you can rest? [Interviewer calmly begins collecting the papers.] I believe I may have some possible solutions for your nightmares, some modern medicines, if you're willing to try it. You don't have to decide right now, and can think it over and talk to your friends if you need."]

SCP-035-B : ... B-but what if... what if they aren't nightmares?

[ [stands and walks to the door.] "We have solutions for that too. But lets try the medicine first, if that's ok. See how effective it is."]

SCP-035-B : [silent for a few moments, then slowly nods and stands up. Holds his hands-- which are covered by his sweater's sleeves-- against his mask before following the Interviewer out into the hall.] ... o-ok...

[End of Excerpt.]

[Note: This behavior of covering up parts of the mask after it leaks seems to be out-of-habit. That or, perhaps, it is a new habit formed to ensure the fluid does not come into contact with others. Either way, effectively cleaning the contaminated clothing is now a problem to solve.]

[alicent-apologist]

Hi my loves!

Um so 2024 is continuing to be a bit difficult for me so I have little time for writing. However, I have not forgotten and I'm working on my fics bit by bit.

For now, here's a small snippet of Chapter 6 of Something's Coming (so out of breath), where we go back to the Vale and see things from Lady Jeyne's point of view.

It's still a bit rough and unfinished but I hope you guys like it!

Lady Jeyne I - 3rd Moon 129 AC

Prince Jacaerys was not what Jeyne had expected. For one, there was nothing Valyrian about his looks. He had more in common with the Royces and their First Men heritage than the Targaryens and Velaryons. As a prince, he was … inadequate, if Jeyne was to be honest, which she tried to be. Uncouth, overly expressive, no sense of duty – all things she had called him when complaining to Jessamyn. He showed a distinct lack of care and knowledge of his subjects. To not even know who Jessamyn was, when Jeyne was sure the gossip had reached even the Umbers in the North and the Ullers in Dorne! How isolated had her cousin kept him in Dragonstone?

And such a waste to betroth him to Laena Velaryon’s daughter, when the Velaryons should have already been in their pockets…

‘Jeyne, please, I can hear you thinking already,’ Jessamyn groaned, hiding her face in her pillow.

Jeyne rolled over to face her, tucking one of her errant blonde curls behind her ear. It made no difference to the tangle of hair spread across the pillow but it was a sentimentality Jeyne revelled in.

‘How can I not? With such a distinguished guest in our halls?’ Jeyne asked lightly.

‘Your halls Jeyne,’ Jessamyn snapped, suddenly wide awake and turning to glare at her, ‘How many times must I ask you to be careful?’

‘Oh yes, I’m sure this is what will allow my cousins to overthrow me,’ Jeyne said rolling her eyes.

‘Lord Arnold came very close,’ Jessamyn said, flinging herself out of their bed and flouncing over to the fireplace to tend to the smouldering logs.

‘And now he languishes in our sky cells,’ Jeyne replied placatingly, lifting herself from the bed as well – any chance of a good morning had fled with Jessamyn’s mood.

‘Your cells Jeyne!’ Jessamyn said through gritted teeth. She gave up her pretence of tending to the non-existent flames so she could glare at Jeyne.

‘You cannot say anything like this in the presence of the lords,’ she continued as she chose what Jeyne would wear for the day, ‘It’s bad enough that the princeling has no Targaryen, Velaryon or Arryn in him that can be seen. Baiting the lords will not help the cause you have taken on as your own.’

‘He does look extraordinarily like a Strong,’ Jeyne mused, ignoring everything else Jessamyn said, ‘It’s almost uncanny how he seems to have no traits from his mother. If he hadn’t arrived on a dragon, I might not have believed a word he said.’

Jessamyn sighed and indicated to Jeyne that she should sit in front of the vanity so Jessamyn could brush her hair.

‘We could still pretend we don’t,’ Jessamyn said with a wry smile as she gently ran her fingers through Jeyne’s hair to separate out the tangles, ‘Send him on his way with that beast of his and lock ourselves in the Eyrie for the winter.’

Jeyne let out a delighted laugh.

‘Send all the servants down and lock ourselves in this room for as long as the Eyrie is isolated.’

She let herself image it for a moment and indulged in the heat she could feel stirring in her core – Jessamyn was more than enough to keep her entertained for however long they would be trapped. Hells, Jessamyn was all Jeyne would need her entire life.

She closed her eyes as she felt Jessamyn place a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

Jeyne sighed, letting go of the fantasy as she did.

‘The boy has been determined to win over the lords of the Vale, ever since he stopped hiding in his room -’

‘He was grieving his brother,’ Jessamyn interrupted chidingly as she pulled Jeyne’s hair back into a severe braid.

‘He would have served his brother better by learning how to be a prince instead of crying about his death -’ Jeyne cut herself off with a hiss of pain as Jessamyn stabbed her with a pin.

‘Instead of complaining, you should learn how to do your own hair,’ Jessamyn smirked, raising her brows in challenge.

Jeyne rolled her eyes but it wasn’t worth the argument. Instead, she stood and gestured that Jessamyn should sit so that Jeyne could brush her hair. She loved how her hair went from a tangled cloud to soft golden curls which cascaded down her Jessamyn’s back.

‘Lord Corbray, Lord Belmore, Lord Hunter and Lady Waynwood should arrive in the next few days,’ Jessamyn said as she picked up Jeyne’s dress so she could help her lace it up.

‘And Lord Elesham, Lord Coldwater and Lord Pryor have written back to say that they cannot make it,’ Jeyne continued for her, ‘So there is no need to set up any rooms for them.’

‘Thank the Gods,’ Jessamyn replied, as she finished tying off Jeyne’s dress, ‘Lord Royce is spitting mad at the very thought of allying with Prince Daemon and we’d have had to put one of them in the rooms next to him.’

‘Without him we would have never been able to stop your cousin, Jeyne,’ Jessamyn warned, ‘Tread carefully.’

‘In this world of men, we women must band together,’ Jeyne said lightly, helping Jessamyn into her own dress.

‘Don’t be coy Jeyne, not with me,’ Jessamyn said softly, turning so Jeyne’s arms were around her waist and her own were around Jeyne’s neck, pulling her close, ‘Queen Rhaenyra is flouting Andal law by claiming the Iron Throne as her own, and it is by Andal law that you are the Lady of the Vale.’

‘But she is Queen Aemma’s daughter,’ Jeyne whispered, closing her eyes and letting Jessamyn’s presence soothe the pain her cousin’s death still caused her, ‘And I loved Aemma with all of my heart.’

They stood there for a few seconds, revelling in the closeness that they could not indulge in outside the safety of their room.

‘To war with dragons we go then,’ Jessamyn sighed, stepping back and smoothing the imagined wrinkles in her dress.

Jeyne took a deep breath, locking all her sentiment deep inside her chest so she could be the ‘Maiden of the Vale’ that her lords expected her to be.

[kkeidawrites]

KNY: S&C

Chapter 6: Beliefs

A small cross was plotted by the wisteria tree, a nice and quiet place for the fallen demon to rest. Aicha says a small prayer in their native language and both women begin to pray.

Once they were done, Amara pulls out the small ball from her small pack and rolls it around her left palm for a moment, then bends down on a knee in front of the grave. Placing the small ball in front of the cross, Amara stares at the cross for a couple of seconds then stands to full length again.

“Do we return to Urokodaki?” Aicha asks.

Amara rubs her neck, closing her eyes to think for a moment. They did complete their task, however, it made her wonder if they had returned too early would Urokodaki be suspicious of how quickly they had finished?

“Let’s stay the rest of the night and then we head back to the hut.” She tells her sister and the younger twin nods.

Returning to their campsite, the twins sit in silence, both contemplating as to their visual of demons and their behaviors. Was the demon king losing control of his own creations, or was there another reason?

So far, there have been two demons that they have met where their bloodlust was either satiated or they run away without even trying to get an ounce of blood from the first human they see.

Amara was at a cross roads with what she felt was the right thing to do and what was best for the situation. She wanted to kill all demons in the world, no hesitation but, the fact that she was beginning to feel guilty for wanting to kill Nezuko earlier.

Why did she suddenly feel like this? Why did it make her guilty of something that she so heartily believed was the right thing to do?

“Sister?” Aicha calls and Amara looks up at her twin.

“I think there has been…a change in my beliefs.” She explains hesitantly.

“Change?”

��Yes.” Aicha nods and crosses her legs.

“After we fought that demon I…I am unsure what is the right choice for the next time we run into one. If demons are beginning to grow some kind of mindset-a conscious mind then could it be true that they aren’t all evil?” Her sister inquired.

Amara was quiet for a moment. Her sister was asking all the right questions but Amara, herself was unsure how to answer them.

“So far we have only fought one demon who has pleaded for a mercy kill however, we cannot be careless and lose sight of the next demon that isn’t the same way.” Amara says.

“Of course but, what if what we were taught is not all the way true? Like we are missing something?” Aicha questions and Amara leans back on the tree behind her.

“I am not sure Aicha. We have the right to change our views on things if we believe that they are not right but…in this case I am not sure what to believe is right or wrong. I am just amazed that Nezuko is one of the first demons to refuse human flesh and his trust for her is so strong that it reminds me of us.” Aicha smiles at her sister and Amara returns the favor. “She and her brother share an interesting storyline.” Amara finishes and Aicha nods.

“Then if Tanjiro and Urokodaki-san trusts Nezuko, then I can respect their decision.” Aicha says.

Amara nods in understanding and crosses her arms, resting her head back on the tree and falling to sleep.

The next morning, the twins wake up early to return to the hut and during the trip down the mountain it would seem that they were both still in deep thought on their conversation last night, Aicha especially.

Aicha was introduced to demons at a very early age and the first of her siblings to face one. Of course, the entire situation was different from what she had experienced in the past but, when it came to wanting to neutralize Nezuko, a turned demon, she couldn’t go forward with the fight.

She wasn’t sure if it was her sister’s reassurance, Urokodaki-san’s sudden reaction and protection of the brother-sister duo, or her body freezing altogether.

By midday, the women return to the hut and find Urokodaki with an axe on his shoulder and three cut logs under his right arm.

He turns to the twins and the women bow in greeting to him.

“You’ve done it then?” He asks.

“Yes.” The women say in unison.

“Hm. Come inside, I’m sure you’re both hungry.” He walks inside of his hut with the twins following behind him, placing their bags neatly by the door.

Aicha looks around the hut to see that two futons were placed on the outside of the guest room.

“Where-?”

“Tanjiro has started his first mission in the northwest. He wanted to stay as long as possible to tell you both farewell but, the mission seemed urgent.” The man says and Aicha nods.

Urokodaki sets the piles of wood beside the door and moved to the cabinets to grab three bowls.

“Safe travels to them both.” The twins says their prayers and Urokodaki kneels by the small hanging pot over the burning fire place. He lifts the covering of the pot and inside boiled miso soup. Urokodaki slides over a bowl of steamed rice and parcels it into three bowls next to him.

The twins sit across from Urokodaki and he hands them both the bowls of rice then a smaller bowl of miso soup.

They all eat in silence, the twins offering their bowl for more miso soup. Urokodaki had no problem refilling their bowls as he only made enough miso and rice for at least a family of five.

“When you destroyed the demon,” Urokodaki begins as he sets aside his bowl to sit at his side.

“What have you noticed?” He asked and the twins looked up at him in question, then realization occurred.

“You knew the demon was that way?” Aicha asked.

“I have heard from the village that it didn’t harm anyone as far as they were aware. Only ones that were harmed were the livestock and butcher shops. Still, it was causing unnecessary mayhem.” He says.

“What have you learned from this experience to what you have been taught?” He questions and the twins are quiet as they think of their next answer.

“I learned…I learned that I don’t know if what I’ve trained for and believed in, is true anymore. I feel that…that there is just something that is amiss inside of me that I can’t explain it. I know that all demons are evil and have their own vendettas however, upon meeting Nezuko and the demon from last night…I have too many questions with no answers.” Aicha says. Amara nods to her sister’s answer, agreeing with her.

“The questions I can’t even formulate or begin to understand is what is making me confused about everything. I’m afraid that if I let my guard down on another demon because their backstory seems ‘believable’ then I wouldn’t be able to protect myself or the people around me.” Amara speaks up and Urokodaki nods in understanding.

“Your concerns are understandable and your questions valid, however…it would seem that it is up to the both of you to decide whether or not that you follow through with your beliefs and if what your next actions are the correct ones.” He teaches and picks up the tea pot next his his foot.

Pouring himself some tea, he slightly lifts his mask to take a couple sips then sets it back down in front of his knees.

“Your beliefs don’t have to control your life it is all up to you to make the right choice in the end. Sometimes, a decision can be wrong and there will be consequences but it is the fact that you had made the decision to somehow interfere with the situation that makes it either right or wrong.” Urokodaki says and the twins nod in somewhat understanding.

“Now then,” he gets up from his spot and focuses on the twins.

“It is time for your next lesson.” Is all he says and heads to the door with the women following behind him.

That night, Aicha and Amara were writing a letter to their family and rubbing some salve on their wounds that they received from their training earlier that day.

“We descended the mountain today, it was filled with booby traps but it was to hone our surroundings much better. Sound familiar mother? I feel down a spike pit a couple of times because I couldn’t remember where it was placed.” Aicha chuckles as she uses the paintbrush and ink to write her letter.

Amara rubs the salve on her right arm over a sore that was smarting and groaned in pain.

“Should I tell mother about Tanjiro and Nezuko?” Aicha asks.

“I think just telling about us is enough for now. I’m not sure how she’ll react if she finds out that we actually met a demon and did not exterminate it.” Amara suggests.

It was too early to tell anyone else about Nezuko and Tanjiro, it’s best to keep their secret between them because who knows how much trouble that all parties involved would be in.

“Would you like to add anything?” Aicha asks and Amara looks up at her from her spot near the wall and nods.

Crawling over to her sister’s side, she takes the paintbrush from her hand and begins to write while Aicha sets up their futons for bed.

Two weeks pass by, finally after the grueling training and survival process, Urokodaki told them that they were ready to continue their journey to the Northeast.

He stands outside with the twins, both donning new clothes that they were given by their friendly salesman Sakoni from the village. It was his way of saying he appreciated the help and the other villagers gifted them some food as well.

Amara sports a haint blue kimono with white and light blue coloring on it. Gakuran top with five buttons open showing off left side of breasts, and a white/grey tube top shown beneath. A black skirt with a slit on both sides of hips along with haint blue socks that stop over the knees and kyahans.

Aicha wears a dark blue and light blue colored kimono, with dark blue gakurans that has short sleeves. A dark blue skort, black stockings and kyahans. Her and Amara’s hair was styled in passion twists, Aicha’s were pulled back into two buns with a few twists hanging on the side of her face.

“As of today, you have made it clear that you are ready to take care of yourselves. I have taught you everything that I could possibly teach you about how to survive and kill demons, now it is time for you both to continue your mission.” Urokodaki says as the twins listen to him intently.

“If you need my help, you know how to find me.” He says and the twins bow to him. Urokodaki bows as well and crosses his arms as he sits back up.

“Head northeast, there you will find the Butterfly Mansion. Once there, ask for Ubuyashiki Kagaya and show them this,” he hands two envelopes to Amara.

“It will explain everything for you and then some.” He explains and the twins nod.

Again, they bow to the old man then they pull him into a hug earning a confused noise from him then returning the hug.

Once they let go, the twins fixated their attention to the northeast taking that first step toward a new journey, confidence bubbling from their energy and a determined smile on each of their faces.

Their next stop: The Demon Slayer Corps

[followthemuse]

I'm at the nurse's station, inputting patient data into the computer system. The lights flicker, but I pay it no mind. It happens often enough that it doesn't bother me anymore. It's not scary anymore. That really is the only downside of being the only one who works the graveyard shift in a nursing home - the amount of odd noises and strange occurrences that happen throughout the night.

Just then, I hear a tiny meow. My breath catches in my throat and I look around. The light has completely stopped working now. Damn these phosphorescent bulbs. The only light in the area is the dim glow from the computer screen. I'm still searching for the source of the meow, but it's impossible to see anything. I shake my head and return to my work. I send out an email to my supervisor, letting her know about the light blowing, knowing it will be morning until she opens it.

After I finish logging the data, I decide it's time to do a quick check in on all of the residents. I stand up from my chair, phone in hand, using the flashlight on it until I get to a better lit area. As I'm turning off the flashlight, I see a black shadow scurrying into the darkness. "That's odd," I think, but I don't think too much of it. It's probably just my eyes playing tricks on me. I shake my head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

I check on Mrs. Jeffers first. She's a sweet old lady in her 80s. Her family lives halfway across the country, so instead of moving here, or moving her there after her husband and caretaker passed, they made the hard choice to have her live with us. I crack her door open slightly, just enough to see inside the room. I hear her oxygen machine beeping, and I see her form lying in her bed, curled up with the blanket she sewed for her husband a long time ago. I shut the door as quietly as I can, wiping a stray tear from my eye. Sometimes working here can be a bit too much, seeing how much loss these people have endured in their lifetimes.

Meow. I spin around to look behind me, but again, there's nothing there. I search the dim hallway, looking behind and underneath carts and wheelchairs, but I come up empty. "Calm down. It's just the stress of the final day before I'm off. I'm sleep deprived," I say aloud, trying to rationalize what is happening. There's no way that it can be the same thing. I refuse to believe that this is the Harbinger.

Just then, I feel something brush up against my leg. Pulling in a shaky breath, I look down, but there's nothing to be found. But I can feel it. I can feel it weaving back and forth around my ankles, jumping up slightly every once in a while, like a cat who's asking to be pet. A tear rolls down my cheek. No, this can't be.

Meow! I press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor, eyes closed, tears fully flowing now. No no no no. I'm not ready. I shudder, trying not to hyperventilate. This cannot be happening. I'm only 29. I open my eyes, but the sensation is gone, and I no longer hear the meowing. I take a deep breath and stand back up, trying to collect myself.

I run my fingers through my hair and wipe the tears away. Before I check on anyone else, I decide to stop by the restroom. I turn the tap on as cold as I can get it and splash water on my face, trying to calm down. I grab a paper towel to dry my face, and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I try to process what's happening.

About a month ago, staff and residents alike have reported seeing a fluffy grey cat roaming the facilities. It would only be quick sightings, and it was never consistent. After someone reported seeing the cat, however, one of our residents would be found in the morning, having passed in the night. The other nurses and I nicknamed this mysterious cat "The Harbinger", since it was spotted right before we lost someone. I, personally, have never seen the cat, which I found surprising.

I didn't totally believe it, I just thought that a resident was keeping a secret cat in their room. The place I work for doesn't allow animals in the building, due to heath hazards and some residents having allergies, but that hasn't stopped family members from bringing beloved pets to their relatives.

I pull my phone out again, and send a quick text to one of my coworkers, Elizabeth. I ask her if she's ever seen the Harbinger, or if she's ever heard the cat meowing. It's currently 3:33 in the morning, and I'm not sure if she'll reply. I send the message anyway, and then send her another text. "I think I saw it. I'm not sure. I saw a shadow in the east wing hallway as I was starting rounds, and have heard meows, but I just don't know. Please call me." Send.

I throw my paper towel into the trash, and go to finish my rounds. Everything is relatively normal after this, and I go sit in the day room, which is far away from any resident rooms. I'm still shaken up over what happened when I started rounds, but I just look forward to clocking out at 7 AM. By now, it's 4 AM, so there's only a few hours left of my shift. I turn the TV on and put it on the lowest volume possible and put it on something. I don't even know what I'm watching, as I'm too distracted.

On top of the TV sits the Harbinger. I noticed the tail first, fluffy and hanging low in front of the screen. I stifle a scream. I look into its eyes, which are a strange, electric blue, seemingly glowing in the dim room that's only lit by the screen of the television. The cat cocks its head to the side, and then to the other side. It chirps and jumps off. My breath quickens as the cat approaches the chair that I'm sitting in, and then it jumps up into my lap.

It settles into a comfortable position and lies down, starting to purr. I don't know what to do. Tears are streaming down my cheeks again. This cannot be real. It can't. I lift my hand slowly and begin to stroke the cat. I can feel its fur on my fingers. I can feel the vibrations of the purring. I sigh and say aloud, "What are you doing here, little one?"

The Harbinger looks at me, lazily stretching and yawning. I get the feeling that she's a girl, and that she's here to let me know everything will be okay. She stands up and turns around in a circle a few times before getting comfortable again, all the while, still purring. I don't know what to make of this.

I'm so focused on the cat that I don't hear him come in. I don't hear the glass of the security door break. I don't hear the squeak of his shoes on the linoleum. The tears have stopped at this point, and I'm mindlessly petting the Harbinger, allowing her purring to soothe me. I only notice that someone has broken in when it's too late. . . when his hands are around my neck. I immediately try to pry them off, but the grip is too tight.

I lean my head back to see the face of my ex-husband, the one whom I thought I had escaped. He found me. The Harbinger is still in my lap, purring and chirping at me, as if to say I'm right here. Everything fades to black.

You work in a nursing facility where a cat inexplicably visits patients the night they pass. Tonight they won’t leave you alone.

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

It’s been a fun week at work. I’ve been fixing bugs here and there. For some reason I enjoy this type of work. I spent a decent amount of time looking at memory graphs for object retentions problems and fixed a couple of good ones this week. That always feels great!

As for Stream for Mac, I started off the week in a bit of a funk but thanks to some amazing Mac devs I was put back on the right path. Stream for Mac development is moving forward once again. Fingers crossed I can keep up the momentum. 🤞🏼

Nikita Prokopov A.K.A. Tonsky

So all this time I was living under impression that, for example, if the average web page size is 3 MB, then JavaScript bundle should be around 1 MB. Surely content should still take the majority, no?

Some of the examples Nikita gives seem ridiculous. It makes me wonder if backend processing that spits out pure HTML will ever become a thing again?

Harry Cheadle • Eater, Seattle

But Tony Delivers doesn’t need to be anything bigger than it already is, which is one guy on a bike showing up to deliver food, probably smiling, probably asking how you’re doing, a bolt of disarming kindness in a city that even before we all got addicted to screens was known for being standoffish. That seems worth $5.

Tony has become a Seattle hero! I can’t believe he’s able to survive on $5 deliveries but bravo for making your own little niche!

Nish Tahir

I’ve been learning more about common attacks that appear in my Nginx logs to learn more about what happens beyond the log entries.

Nish is geekin’ out again. I wish I had his brain. The things I could accomplish! 🧠

Gunnar Anzinger

Also, do not worry at this time about acquiring the resources to build the house itself. Your first priority is to develop detailed plans and specifications. Once I approve these plans, however, I would expect the house to be under roof within 48 hours.

This piece is ridiculous in all the best ways. The paragraph I chose to feature really hit home. Yes, yes, take your time. We need it in two days. 🤣

Claire Elise Thompson • grist

If you like the idea of a perpetual three-day weekend, you might be one of a growing cadre that supports the concept of degrowth: a school of thought aimed at shrinking economies and moving away from GDP growth as a metric of success, while instead emphasizing universal basic services and social well-being.

With the rise of AI companies believe they can replace us with software for many types of work.

I think that’s cool! Let’s replace workers and figure out a way to allow folks to do whatever they want and still receive a paycheck. Like, perhaps, Universal Basic Income, Single Payer health care, and free university for everyone! Of course the rich people won’t like that idea.

Trust me when I say I could find plenty of things to work on.

Michael Szczepanik

It’s time for the NATIVE mobile development to end.

I don’t agree. I’ve been working on a project that involves React Native and I see the value in it, but that doesn’t mean native development should go away. Your mileage may vary. For me it’s native or bust for my personal projects.

Mike Elgan • Computerworld

More to the point: Most companies cannot show actual monetary benefits from RTO mandates. But most employees can show actual and significant monetary costs from RTO mandates.

This is an interesting take on the cost to employees to return to work. I’ve never thought about it in those terms. For me it’s always been about the flexibility working remotely gives me. I save between 40-60 minutes a day by not commuting, I can have afternoon coffee with my wife, and if I need to work late it’s so much easier to stomach because I’m already home.

If WillowTree asked us all to return to the office full time, I would. I just prefer working from home.

Jacob Phillips • Evening Standard

The Kremlin has said it will use its “entire strategic arsenal” and fire nuclear missiles at London, Washington, Berlin and Kyiv if it is made to give up the areas of Ukraine it has invaded.

We need to get our act together and get more aid to Ukraine. The GOP loves their orange American Dictator who, in turn, loves Putin so they’re keeping aid from Ukraine. What happened to all those Patriotic Republicans with their flags and love of all things military? They’re too cowardly to stand up to Trump. It’s really shameful.

Chris Evangelista • /Film

Stephen King Hates The Only Movie He Ever Directed

I liked Maximum Overdrive for what it was. It’s a popcorn movie. Get your popcorn, soda, find your seat, and sit back to watch the mayhem unfold. It delivered and I had no idea Stephen King directed it.

[rossalotus]

Chapter 3 - Prejudice 101

Good morning darlings, it is a fine Monday morning in Sydney, Australia and I come to relate my experiences during the last week. I’ve wrote this on Friday but only had time to sit and read it now so please bear with me.

I told you about the Garfield reference guy and he is the main character of today’s story. We scheduled a date for Saturday night at a bar we both knew.

In the meantime we talked a lot and he seemed fine and he asked me if I wanted to add him on Discord to play TFT together on the afternoon before the date. In case you don’t remember, I had put on my profile that I’m a Master in that game and so I said yes. We enter Discord and as soon as I hear him talk, I have the feeling this will lead only to friendship. My brain goes: “Oh, I’ve seen this type, the needy type, I can’t take this.”

Of course, I immediately reprehend myself for that thought since the only reason I had it in the first place is because I have a friend who looks just like him and is like that. So I wipe away that first - wrong - impression from my mind and start listening to him again, getting to know him.

Then, we log off and I take a shower and get ready for the date. I wore a cute skirt and an even cuter cape and over the knee boots. Maybe I overdid it? Maybe. But the bar is a nice one, people would dress up too and it’s always nice to cause a good impression on a date, right?

Well, I get there and the boy is late. Shania Twain wouldn’t approve of him but Carol is horny af and so she does. I look around and realize I’m not overdressed at all, everyone looks similar. 

Good.

Then, I see him coming from the other side of the bar. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie and I immediately reproach myself for judging him for his clothes and here I’ll stop the story and talk about Prejudice 101. 

I have spent years and years judging myself for my thoughts and feelings, believing myself to be a bad person because of them. But here I am, twenty years after the first time I felt like that, to tell you how unfair and ridiculous that thought is. What we think and what we feel doesn’t define us and, in a way, it doesn’t really matter. Stopping, evaluating and rethinking is what defines you. In other words, what you can’t control doesn’t matter, it is what you can that does. Your actions, your judgment. So if you, like me, have been reproaching yourself for things you can’t control, even when you know you acted so that those things don’t matter, find yourself hereby freed from that guilt by yours truly. Again, it is what you can control that defines you, not what you cannot.

With that in mind, during the few seconds between me seeing him and him walking towards me, I rationalized that some people just don’t feel comfortable wearing some kinds of clothes and that is not a bad thing. It could mean he wanted to be himself near me and if clothes were an obstacle for that, he decided to let it out of the way. And I appreciate it. By the time he was two steps from me, I had already disregarded the whole clothing thing.

And then he got into my orbit enough for me to sniff him and that’s when I knew this wouldn’t be anything more than friendship.

Let’s start by making it clear that this is not a homeless person or even someone going through a hard time economically speaking. He owns his own home and his own car (or so he said) and I’m sure no one with enough money to buy a home in this economy would ever buy one without a shower.

He didn’t smell bad per se but he smelled like someone who hasn't taken a shower in a while. Or someone who wore those same clothes for days in a row and didn’t wash them. Sure, I can forgive being late, I can forgive not wanting to wear clothes that make you uncomfortable but is meeting me so insignificant to you that you won’t even shower? Really? Not significant enough to wear clean clothes? To wear a little bit of perfume? Come on.

I was there already and super hungry so we ordered food and talked and though I thought the talk was ok, it wasn’t that nice or interesting. He drove me home at the end and I asked how much I owed him for the date. 

He said: “It depends. Will we have dinner again?”

I first thought we could be friends and I shouldn’t judge people from a first date. Maybe the talk wasn’t that nice because he was nervous. So I replied yes.

This was Saturday night. From then onwards, he kept on texting me every day, at every hour. I didn’t have much to talk about since I was just working and it started annoying me. By Wednesday I was so annoyed I couldn’t take it and just texted him saying I knew what I said on Saturday but I changed my mind, he could send me the amount I owed him and I would transfer. He sent me the bank details and asked if we could still be friends. At this point, I didn’t want to be friends either and so I just replied saying I had already transferred and we didn’t talk again.

So much energy wasted on this, I wanted to give up on apps. Then I remembered that if I do give up on them I will probably not ever have sex again or find love or anything so I went back to swiping but in these three days no one with whom I matched started a conversation.

Hopefully this week I’ll have a nicer story to tell.

[thenovelartist]

And there was only One Bed - Tears of Themis Headcanons

Premise: There’s only one room left in the hotel, meaning the guys have to be roomies with MC for a night.

Luke

Err… his cheeks are red now.

He’s having to check with MC if she’s okay with it. Not that they had much of a choice.

They take the room, only to discover one bed.

And forget his crush on her; that’s the least of his problems.

He knows she shifts in her sleep.

“You take half and I take half?” MC offers. “Like when we were kids?”

He sighs, lamenting his fate. “I��m so gonna end up on the floor.”

“Sorry.”

When it comes to who showers first: rock, paper, scissors.

He’s the least phased of all the guys by the whole “share one bathroom” situation. They grew up together. They sometimes used to have quick conversations through the bathroom door, normally just a question or two about what they wanted for dinner or if their phone went off and it was their parents.

Which happened this time. “There was a vending machine down stairs. You want anything? And if you mention that diet, I’m getting you two of your favorite candy bars.”

“Just one and only one.”

“You got it.”

(@gavin-plz-call-me once called them the “King and Queen of No Boundaries” and I will never forget it.)

Eventually, Luke makes sure MC’s settled in for bed while he’s planning to stay up a little and figure out tomorrow’s game plan.

Until she literally drags him to bed.

He can’t protest against her.

Contrary to what he thought, he did not end up on the floor.

But it was kinda hard to sleep when the girl of his dreams decided his chest was her new snuggle pillow halfway through the night.

He’ll cave and roll with it. Be selfish just for tonight and hold her there.

Come morning, she apologizes for disrupting him, he dismisses it. And both their cheeks are red.

But it doesn’t phase them. Give it half an hour, they’re back to normal.

(Bonus: “So, kid. Let me get this straight,” Aaron Yishmir started. “You spent the night with her, and you’re still not gonna tell her anything?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“You’re hopeless.)

Vyn

Well… this is a predicament.

However, they come to some awkward agreement that if it’s the only place to sleep for the night, they’ll take it and figure it out as they go.

However, things only go from bad to worse when they learn there’s only one bed.

There were very few times since becoming an adult that Vyn ever found himself at a loss. And this was one of those times.

“Um… are you comfortable splitting?”

His glasses almost fell off his face at MCs suggestion.

Before he can even think about suggesting to take the chair, MC is putting up a blanket wall. “Like this?”

Er… aha…

Oh geez, this woman…

He caves to that deep, ugly part of him that’s begging “yes” and agrees.

Then comes the new revelation there’s only one bathroom, which rose the question of who was going to shower when.

He just lets her take the first shower while his mind is still storming.

During that time, he realizes this may be the only time he has the privacy to actually record his voice diary.

It’s a total disaster. He’s in mental turmoil and can barely think straight.

But MC is acting normal, meaning he’s got to try to act normal.

Normally, he takes his showers in the morning, but he takes it at night this time just so he can have another moment of privacy to get his thoughts in order.

This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement…

Bedtime rolls around, and poor, unsuspecting Vyn believes they are each going to stay on their respective sides of the bed.

However, Author has a headcanon these two both sleep like dead logs.

Morning rolls around, and they’re still both asleep, only they’re totally entangled.

MC wakes up first, laying on top of Vyn.

And when she freaks, flailing and falling off the bed in the process, that’s when Vyn wakes, too.

It was… an interesting morning to say the least.

They come to the agreement to never speak on it again.

(Until a few years down the line after they’re together and can look back on that day with amusement.)

Artem

When the person at the front desk said there was only one room left, Artem about had a heart attack.

He cannot possibly share a room with MC. That’s super improper.

Will call around to any other hotel in the area, but no avail.

MC will literally have to drag this poor man up to the room.

“It will be fine, Artem.”

Except, it wasn’t. There was one bed.

Cue almost heart attack number 2.

He almost left to go sleep in the car. MC had to restrain him.

“We can share right? Like, if we—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Not even if we put a blanket—”

“No. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

There was no convincing him to sleep anywhere else.

And MC tried.

Eventually, she had to surrender. “Fine. Then do you want the first shower?”

Oh… there was only one bathroom… that they’d be sharing…

Cue almost heart attack number 3.

Will legitimately leave the room while she’s showering. He just feels too awkward and like he’s invading her privacy.

Then bed time rolls around and he’s unable to sleep, so he works on his laptop for the time being.

Ends up pulling an all-nighter, which MC anticipated.

She set an alarm for early in the morning so she could then force him to bed for a few hours.

While he insisted he was fine, he was too tired to protest as she pushed him down into bed. “Sleep, will you. I know you didn’t sleep all night.”

Thought he’d have trouble, but he was so wound up all night over everything that had happened that he’s passed out in fifteen minutes.

And stayed out cold for a few hours.

When they left, MC made sure to thank him for being such a gentleman. She thought it was the least she could do for his troubles.

That, and she quite liked the way his ears and neck turned red.

(Bonus: He hopes Celestine never finds out what happened on that business trip.

But when she finds out curtesy of MC, she will never let him live it down.)

Marius

The moment he finds out there’s only one room, he actually gets super flustered.

And as he does, instantly goes in to deflective Playboy Flirt mode.

“Get your head out of the gutter, you little—”

MC shut that down, real quick.

Most he could do then is just say “It can’t be that bad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Well, apparently only be one bed.

Flustered Marius = Playboy Persona

“That’s it,” MC says. “You take the bed.”

“What? Don’t you wanna share?”

“No.”

“Ouch!”

But really, he wants to find some way to get her to take the bed because he really will feel awful otherwise.

Then comes the single bathroom realization.

“You wanna shower together?”

“Marius, I swear I will kick you out of this room and take the keycard from you.”

“Oh, my feisty Miss Attorney.”

“Miss Attorney will sue you for sexual harassment.”

“Understood.”

He gets to shower first, and then ends up giving her some excuse for leaving the room entirely.

He loves teasing her, but this might be the most he’s ever pushed his luck. And he actually doesn’t want her to hate him, so he’ll give her this space at least.

As for the bed situation…

MC tries to sleep on the couch, but he can’t stand it, so he decides to push his luck and simply carry her to bed.

“I won’t pull anything, I swear.”

“The only reason I’m agreeing is because I know I’ll sleep better here than the couch.”

“See?”

“Marius.”

“I’ll shut up.”

Regrets his decision halfway through the night when Mr. Light Sleeper realizes Ms. Dead Log moves in her sleep.

She was snuggled up against his back, and his heart was going doki doki too hard to even think about going back to sleep.

Eventually, he rolls over and snuggles her, not just because he wants to, but he hopes it will keep her still through the night.

Unfortunately, she was not happy in the morning.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

She kept her face turned away from him the rest of the day, but he knew it was red with blush. “Shut up.”

[tenthgrove]

Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?

Mother Mother- Bucci Edition

Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW

Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.

The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.

Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.

He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.

A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.

"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"

Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.

Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.

“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.

"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"

The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.

The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.

Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.

He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.

"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.

"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.

"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"

"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.

"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.

"Nothing! We should go now!"

The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.

As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.

"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.

::::::::::::

Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.

"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.

"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.

"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.

"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.

It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.

"We can explain," Narancia promises.

"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.

"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"

"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.

"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.

"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"

"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."

He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.

"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."

"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.

"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."

"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.

"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.

"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"

::::::::::::

You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.

"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"

"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.

"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.

"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.

"But the leaflet says-"

"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."

"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"

Buccerati breathes deeply.

"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."

Mista complies.

"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."

"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."

"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.

"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."

"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"

You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"

You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.

[stayevildarling]

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right - Pt 1

Part 2, Part 3

word count: 3.8k

warnings: mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: This story is kind of an AU. Reader meets Venable when Wilhemina is light Mina (orange hair, adorable, cute, friendly) and they get together. One day Wilhemina breaks it off suddenly and they only reunite years later but Reader is met with a much darker version (dark Mina).

Also, this used to be on my Wattpad but I decided to completely rewrite it and add multiple parts

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @rainbow-hedgehog, @mrsdeanhoward, @alexajbitar, @in-cordelias-coven, @kenzbro, @loverofallthingssarah, @twistedpoeticjustice, @billiebeanhoward, @minaslittleone, @lilypadscoven, @vintagepaulson, @ninaahs, @whitelotus00, @httpfiftyshadesofgay

-Flashback-

''Are you serious right now after all we have been through?'' you try hard not to scream but it feels like your body is on fire, your lungs are burning, heart racing and your eyes watering. You cannot believe you are having this conversation with your girlfriend Wilhemina right now. After a whole year of knowing each other and eventually giving the relationship a go she is talking about moving on.

'It's for the best'' is all she said in return and then she walked out, cane in her hand hitting the floor hard and not once did she look back, she ignored your cries, you begging her to stay and please turn back around. You keep repeating this is a nightmare and you are gonna wake up any minute to her holding you in her arms. But it was no nightmare and she did walk out of your shared apartment and ever since that day you have tried to move on. But no matter what you did working, moving out of the apartment, meeting friends, getting to know new people it didn't work, Wilhemina was always on your mind, when you are asleep she would visit in your dreams, when you are driving or outside and a song plays, she is there in your memory as if she never left in the first place.

-End of Flashback-

Even right now as you are walking through the streets on your lunch break, coffee in your hand and earphones in your ears listening to music she is here again.

''I never needed you like I do right now....I never hated you like I do right now'' as you hear those lyrics your heart skips a beat and it feels like it is breaking all over again. You tried everything you could think of, start a new job in a new field, you moved to a new city but nothing seems to be able to take your mind off the redhead, clouding your mind, her touch still so present lingering on your skin, her voice still ringing through your ears and the smell of lavender following you wherever you go.

Currently, you are working for a company in California, in the social media department and to promote the brand and their work. It's mostly boring but you do enjoy social media and advertisement so you gladly took the job considering it comes with a higher paycheck and a brand new apartment. There was nothing left in your old city, no friends anymore because you drove them all away as they always talked badly about your ex-girlfriend and the feelings you still have for her. No family because you were kind of always on your own and after quitting your job there, there was nothing holding you back. The woman with red-orange hair and a purple obsession is currently on your mind again and no matter what you do she is stuck in your head, like a catchy record and it hurts. As you think about her a wave of flashbacks hit you, with no way of putting a stop to it and keeping the storm at bay.

''Wilhemina Venable, nice to meet you'' was the first few words that you ever heard her say and for a moment you were so struck that you couldn't even say anything. ''Cat got your tongue hmm?'' was what she said afterward and what got you to snap out of it, introduce yourself, and shake her hand. And when you touched her for the first time you knew you would never ever get tired of feeling her soft hands.

You would also never grow tired of looking into her beautiful brown eyes or the soft smile she would give you whenever she would see you. Back then you just finished college and you took your first job and she was your co-worker. Starting a relationship with a co-worker is sometimes frowned upon and there probably are good reasons for that but you didn't listen, not to your friends telling you not to do it and not to the other co-workers after they noticed the glances you and Wilhemina exchanged at work. But you both never let that stop you and you fell for her and you fell hard.

Although you had some crushes before, mostly on teachers in college or celebrities, you never had been in a relationship before. Every morning before work you would get up so early and make sure to put your best clothes on, you would improve your makeup skills and try different hairstyles to impress Wilhemina and you did. She would notice how often you would come around to her desk and ask her silly questions you both knew the answers to but you pretend you didn't. And eventually, she took all of her confidence and asked you out and that night was the most magical night of your life.

You went to an expensive restaurant and after she took you home and she gave you something that night that was precious and you held onto it till today. Patience. She was your first love and she made sure to not rush, to not hurt you, to be there for you and hold you whenever you needed her. After your first date, you went on some more magical nights together, before you were ready to allow her to love you and to love her in return and she made you feel things you never felt before. She would make your whole body feel beautiful and worthy, all your insecurities left whenever you were around the woman who had many insecurities herself due to her back. And that's probably what you admire most about her, the way she made you feel whenever you were with her.

Thinking about all this, you think back to the many dates you both went on, to restaurants, shopping, the movies, car dates, attending work parties together, going to get drunk together. Life felt so easy with Wilhemina around, although she was a few years older than you she was pure, she was funny, soft, kind, precious and she was innocent. She would always treat people with respect and offer help and you loved her beautiful and kind personality. You never thought that one night after being with each other for almost a year she would randomly walk out of your life and not once turn back around or try and talk about it.

Hearing the lyrics repeat, you sigh and shake your head because it is true, one part of you needed Wilhemina back in your life because no matter what you do you can not get her out of your head or heart for that matter. Part of you does hate her for leaving and walking out, you never cried harder in your life than the night she left and you couldn't function for days. All you did was cry, toss and turn in the bed or curl up on the floor in a little ball until you couldn't cry anymore but the pain never stopped. It took days and in the end, your friends who picked you up again, taught you how to take care of yourself again by eating, showering, getting dressed, and going to work and you hoped that moving and changing jobs would change something.

As you are sitting in a park, only a few blocks away from your new workplace, watching people having picnics, playing with their kids, walking their dogs, or doing exercise you realize that all this wasn't worth it. Moving away, leaving your job, apartment and friends did nothing, you still miss her and she still haunts you. You miss her gentle side, the soft Mina as you used to call her, who would hold you in her arms, who would say soothing words until you would fall asleep, and who would make you feel better after a hard day at work, hold you after a nightmare or would let you ramble about another one of the co-workers annoying you. You miss telling her about your days and how you feel because you could be free with her and be who you are and you haven't been that way in a very long time.

Checking your phone you notice your lunch break is over in five minutes so you toss your empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and walk back to your office. Today has been particularly boring because all you have to do is answer people's dm's and requests on social media because currently there is no campaign going on. As you walk back to your desk you put your coat and bag away and start logging onto your laptop. That's when you hear your boss on his way to your desk and you can't help but internally roll your eyes. He isn't a bad guy or anything, he is in his fifties, grey hair, always wearing a suit and he treats you with respect and you appreciate him but whenever he would approach you it means a problem, like an advertisement going wrong or a complaint or a new major client and that means longer hours and staying in the office till midnight. Not that you mind considering there is nothing or no one to come back home to.

''Y/N'' he says as he finally reaches your desk. Looking up from your desk, you force a smile and reply ''Yes Mr. Odell what can I do for you?''. By his posture, you can tell he is in some kind of distress.

''Listen we have a potential new client and I want you to come to our first meeting with them'' he says excitedly and you question why he can't just bring his assistant. ''I can't bring Janet she is sick so I need you to get your things'' he explains and you log off your computer, take your coat and bag and follow him outside the building. It is quite chilly, so you are glad that you put a jacket over your blazer.

As the familiar buildings and streets fade into the distance, you try not to zone out like you usually would but these days your mind would often be preoccupied with daydreams or memories as if someone else was entirely in control of your thoughts.

''I have a meeting with a Mr. Pfister and Mr. Nutter'' he says absent-mindedly while looking into his calendar and talking about the company you are headed to. Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod and mumble ''Of course Mr. Odell'' before averting your gaze back to the window looking at the hectic city and people going on about their days. Your thoughts wander back to work and you try to think of a few possibilities to advertise their products, as that might not be as easy as you originally thought when agreeing on accompanying your boss.

The first thing you see as you walk into a large unfamiliar building, following your boss's steps,  is a front desk with some employees sitting there, it seems that this building is home to a few companies and different departments as they guide people into different parts of the building. You watch as your boss approaches the front desk,  ''Hello may I help you?'' a woman with blonde hair asks politely.

''Yes I have a meeting with Kineros Robotics'' he says and she looks at you, then him again, and points towards a sign. ''It's to your right just follow the signs'' she says and you notice how her facial expression changed from nice and friendly to cold and possibly scared? after your boss mentioned the company name. Reading people's expressions and understanding their underlying feelings, has always been something you are good at but you quickly shake the thought away and follow your boss.

As you walk down the corridor you see a young woman with long brown curled hair wearing a blouse with flower prints and a skirt run down the hall with a box in her hand, her heels echoing through the building. ''I'm sorry'' she mumbles hectic and nervous as she zooms past you and you give Mr. Odell a questioning expression before reaching the department.

''I'm so sorry there was a bad accident on the 101'' you hear the woman say and then you hear a sound that sounds both so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The cane tapping. For a moment you freeze, knowing this isn't just any cane tap as you are so used to a certain redhead woman expressing her emotions partly through the very device that helps her keep her balance. Despite not having heard the sound in over a year, you know exactly who must be on the other end of the hallway.

Temporarily you freeze, thinking maybe her leaving you and breaking things off with you, has ultimately clouded your senses and affected your brain and maybe you are imagining everything. After all the rational part of yourself, is trying to remind you that there is no explanation right now as to why she would be here of all places.

However, the next thing you hear is a clear confirmation that your brain is not tricking you, it's not your mind so clouded by her absence, she is here, the only thing keeping you from seeing each other is a wall and a few steps apart. As you hear a familiar voice your heart stops beating and your throat goes dry.

''Not as bad as the accident that brought you into the world'' that is all you heard and although her voice sounds more cold, harsh and raspy you are fully aware that Wilhemina is sitting at the end of that corridor. For a moment your body goes into a state of shock, your ears ringing, vision blurring, and your heart beating out of your chest.

Shortly after the girl what you assume now to be an assistant comes running back towards the corridor with tears in her eyes and her heels making the same clicking sound. She zooms past you and Mr. Odell again and all he says is ''Damn she seems feisty'' and you know it's aimed at Wilhemina and for a moment you debate whether to just turn around and pretend to be sick or needing to answer a phone call but you know you can't back out now, after all, you have missed seeing her for too long now.

All you wanna do is see her adorable orange hair, that you used to run your fingers through and untangle some knots after she had a long day, the dorky glasses that you sometimes made fun of, and beautiful pastel purple probably everywhere if this truly was her workplace after all. ''Come on'' your boss says, pulling you out of your thoughts yet again and you walk into the large room.

Eyes instantly wander to the source of purple in the room and the source of darkness in your heart and emptiness ever since she left but not only does your heart stop for a moment as you take a look at her, you blink a few times, now actually sure whether this is real or some kind of nightmare.

Wilhemina's hair is a much darker shape of red now and styled into a tall sharp quiff, no sign of her usual high ponytails anymore or the lighter and orange shape it used to be. You notice she doesn't wear glasses anymore and you are convinced her eyes look an even darker shape than before too. She is wearing a dress and it's also a very dark shade of purple with matching earrings. Even her makeup is darker, and as you see her sitting by her desk you can't deny how intimidating she seems, looking at some files, her cane resting on the desk right beside her. Even the cane is different now, it has a snake shape at the top and it's not the old plain one she used to have.

For a moment you believe you just walked right into your own personal nightmare, the funny, sometimes sassy, and beautiful girl you used to love now seems like a completely different and somewhat evil person. The Wilhemina you once loved and still have feelings for, as they never truly changed, seems gone and it seems like she was replaced by a new one, a colder version.

She would have never spoken to anyone like that or treated someone the way she just treated that girl that seems to be her assistant, by the looks of it. All the staring and observing Wilhemina happened in a matter of seconds although it feels like an eternity, everything is silent for a moment, all that is to be heard is your own heartbeat and the typing on Wilhemina's keyboard.

You watch as your boss approaches her and you follow him and finally, Wilhemina looks up noticing the presence of someone else in the room and her gaze is focused on him, so she hasn't seen you yet. He tries to shake her hand and says ''My name is Mr. Odell I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister'' and she just looks at him and his hand with a slightly disgusted expression but she doesn't bother shaking his hand.

''Very well'' she says and takes a glance at you for a split second, noticing a second person in the room and her eyes wander back to her laptop thinking you are just some assistant but when she realizes who you are she immediately looks back over to you and she doesn't avert her gaze at first.

Wilhemina takes in your features for a moment, the sense of fashion, dressing smartly and formally but at the same time stunning as she always said, your hair, the improved makeup skills, and still the same details she always loved about you. She doesn't look into your eyes yet and you are interrupted when two men walk over.

One of them has brown hair and the other blonde hair and you try hard not to chuckle when you see them because they look hideous. ''Mr. Odell, nice to meet you'' they say and shake hands. ''This is Y/L/N maybe someone could show her around while we finalize the details?'' your boss suggests, taking you by surprise, and one of the two turns to Wilhemina and says ''Miss Venable would you give this beautiful lady a tour please''.

For a split second, you are convinced, she is about to kill him but you aren't sure if it's about the tour or compliment. ''Of course'' she mumbles and your boss and the two men leave and you are left there with your ex-girlfriend and awkward silence filling the room. You haven't looked up or into her eyes yet and it terrifies you, she terrifies you.

Wilhemina has no idea what to do or how to react after not seeing you for two years and the last time she did she walked out of your life and your relationship. The redhead looks at you and without looking into your eyes yet she knows the pain, she can see it and she can tell this is killing you inside, the last thing she ever wanted was to cause you pain.

You take a deep breath with your eyes closed and turn to Wilhemina and your eyes instantly lock and you look into her dark brown eyes and not leave her gaze for one moment. She takes a few slow steps towards you, her cane hitting the floor, and with every tap and echo in the room, it feels like your heart is ripped into more pieces and your past is here confronting you right at this moment.

''Mina'' is everything you can say but it comes out as a whisper while your voice cracks. Your ex-girlfriend's eyes close right away because she has missed hearing you call her that for the past two years but as she opens her eyes she reminds herself internally, who she is and that she is currently at her workplace.

''Follow me'' she instructs and you follow her while she walks down a corridor and into a room with big machines. While you follow her you can't understand what would have happened to her to turn into this cold-hearted person. She used to be the sweetest and kindest person you knew but clearly, something has changed. You cannot take your eyes off her and as she walks you into the room with machines, she explains about the work they do here and how they do it and as much as you try to focus and look at the things she shows you, you can't and Wilhemina notices.

''Do I bore you?'' she suddenly snaps in that cold voice again, her nostrils flaring and your heart feels like a knife was just thrown right into it. ''I'm sorr- sorry I-'' but you can't even think of a good enough excuse so you just look at the floor and try hard to keep your emotions at bay.

''Anyways, these are the machines and devices we use, whenever someone places a custom order we make sure to fulfill that order as efficient and quick as possible'' Wilhemina explains her voice still stern, sounding like she has given this tour so many times, she has memorized every single word.

However, you do notice her looking at you the entire time she explains and it seems like she wants you to say something but there are too many things that you want and wanted to say to her for years but you never imagined one day you would run into her like this. For several minutes the two of you stand in the rooms with machines, Wilhemina explaining and you trying hard to focus on her words intently.

''Y/N'' you hear the voice of your boss coming from the door, the two strange-looking men behind him, and you look at him, noticing the satisfied looks on their faces, indicating the deal worked well, and he says ''I'm finished, thank you, Miss, for giving her the tour'' he adds now focused on Wilhemina. ''Let's go'' he says and you walk in his direction without looking back at her and just as you are about to walk out of the door you look at her and say ''Thank you'' and then you walk out.

As you walk out of the large office building, back through the same long corridor, and past the front desk, you can't hear anything your boss is trying to say and the entire car ride back to the office you try and wrap your head around what just happened, abandoning every single word Mr. Odell is saying.

''This didn't happen wake up Y/N wake-up Y/N'' you keep repeating in your head but it's no use this is no nightmare this is reality.

[katsukikitten]

WARNINGS: 18+ DUB CON/ NON CON? WEREWOLF BAKUGOU, THIS IS PURE FILTH JUST PURE SMUT 

You were never the best at running, especially not through the woods. So it is no surprise your heel snaps off causing you to trip over a small log. Your pelvis bone connects with the thick trunk, brushing your hip as your dress threatens to expose your underwear. 

A howl is heard in the distance paired with something moving through the brush at an ungodly speed, gaining on you much faster than you thought. 

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself, panting as branches seem to reach out. Their sharp, splintered claws grabbing at you and only catching your body con dress. Tearing it piece by piece, you are unsure if your faux bunny ears are still atop your head.It was unfathomable how wrong tonight had gone and how quickly. 

But then again it was Halloween and a full moon at that. They say the full moon has the power to make people act crazy and especially so on a blue moon.  Which made your panicked mind wander to the rumors about this town and what happens every blue moon. There were whispers of the older families having dark secrets. Fairy tales of beasts and mating but a second full moon in a month was so rare those murmurs and scoffs were supposed to be just that, rumors, stories. 

Not actual werewolves who couldn't control their urges during this magical event. The blue moon either filling them with unchecked rage or undeniable lust should they not take the necessary precautions. Although no one would say what exactly those precautions are. 

Your first hint about the rumors being true should have been the local news station. You thought it a Halloween prank when they advised women ages of 20 to 30 to remain indoors for tonight, to lock their windows and doors. To adorn their throats in silver to protect them from unwanted bonding. You had rolled your eyes as you got ready for your daily college classes, jumping into your black skinny jeans and blood red sweater.  

Your second hint should have been the absence of your good friend Kirishima. He always walked you to your English class since his history course was in the same building but this morning he was a no show. He didn't even respond to your texts last night asking if he wanted to go to a Halloween party with you. 

Your final hint should have been when the normally aloof, irritable and "untouchable of the big three" lab partner you had for biology growled in your direction. This would be the first thing he had said all semester.

"Don't go out tonight, got it extra?" His voice is clipped and he is acting strange, his left hand gripping onto his right forearm so harshly a bruise was beginning to bloom. You chalk it up to nerves for the upcoming exams. 

"Oh is someone gonna bite me like the news anchor said?" You giggle, turning your focus back on your work only for the professor to cancel class early. You pack your things as Bakugou sits rigid, still. He fixes you a harsh glare before he stands, pulling the strap of your purse causing you to become a little off balance.  His eyes dance over your frame, over your exposed neck but you do not notice, barely see his canines elongate as he snarls. 

"You'll wish that's all that they did." 

Looking back you wish you had noticed it before, then maybe you wouldn't be in the situation you were in now.

You burst through the trees and find yourself in a clearing. Here you would a sitting duck to whatever the hell was chasing you. Still not believing your eyes and you crossed paths with a giant wolf. Fur golden in the moon light and eyes a haunting, gut wrenching familiar red. It wasn't too long after that did it give chase. 

The howl behind you is too close for comfort as you barely have time to jump into a patch of briars and thick prickly bushes that sit on the edge of a creek. By some odd instinct you grab onto the ice cold mud and smear your arms and part of your neck with it, clenching your jaw so your teeth do not chatter. 

Suddenly a large beast bursts into the clearing, wet nose sniffing at the air and ground before it shifts in the clearing under the moonlight. It is a haunting sight. Bones snap and grind as features twist into grotesque angels until it finally forms into that handsome familiar face. The ash blonde fur retreats until it is only on the top of his head, faded beneath while the top looks finger brushed and wild. He is shirtless and his pants are torn from the calf down, the only beastly feature he keeps is the glow of his blood red eyes. You swallow, biting your lip to stop from shaking; this is not the Bakugou you knew. Not that you knew him that well in the first place but there was some power in having a crush. You had learned his mannerisms in the first year here at University, somehow always in a class with him, with one of the three legendary "heartthrobs" of the school. He was as hot headed as the rumors said and he was just as handsome if not more so. Itching for a fight and yet oddly quiet when in close proximity to you. An action you took to mean he either hated you or didn't even know you existed. 

So it's safe to say you're unfamiliar with this manic, wolfish grin. 

Feral incarnate. 

He sniffs the air. 

"Where are you little ooooonnne?" He calls cruelly, "I can smell you." 

His body goes through the motions of tensing and relaxing, another howl breaks through the eerie silence but this time much farther away. Bakugou's ears perk, his grin twisting in such a way it screams malice, unbridled rage and yet excitement. 

"You must be in your mortal heat. Guess I'm not the only one who can smell it. Didn't I tell you not to go out tonight?" His voice is dark, haunting as the wind catches down from you, carrying your scent away from him. 

"I knew your dumb ass would ignore me, I took a precaution to that and yet you didn't even bring your fucking purse?!" 

Your purse? 

Is that how that red cloth and weird silver dollar got into the bottom of your purse? 

Bakugou shifts his weight, giving his back to you as he prepares for something coming that you cannot hear. In the meantime you allow your eyes to study his physic, following his scarred back, broad shoulders all the way down to his deadly hands. One of his palms is burned in the shape of a perfect circle, you swallow thickly. The sound causes his ears to twitch and look over his shoulder, making eye contact with you through the brush. 

But he does not have time to react as a black furred beast with glowing ruby eyes jumps into the clearing. Sniffing the air wildly before baring his teeth towards Bakugou. The beast huffs and growls before finally shifting into his human form, a cold sweat settles in your bones. 

"Where the fuck is she?" You have never heard your friend use a tone so dark as Eijiro continues to pace, keeping his eyes glued to Bakugou. 

"Fuck off Kirishima, shes mine." 

"I don't see a bonding mark on her yet." Its more a feral growl than anything, "You said you didn't waste your time on mortals." 

"I fucking changed my mind. And you know why, her smell is…" He inhales deeply, testing to see how much of you can be sensed. The most he can tell is that you're close by but he cannot pinpoint you, he fights to keep his eyes from falling over his shoulders to see you. 

He's dying to know how you masked your scent without with an Alpha's pheromones or a silver piece. But that would have to wait, at least if he wanted to ensure it was his seed that stuffed you. He bites his lip, the thought sends a shiver down his spine. First he had to deal with Kirishima then he could take his time making you his. 

"Well you know how it is don't ya? Didn't know you were such a pervert, Eiji. Is that why you walked her to class? Hoping she'd make you her boyfriend or some sappy shit?" Bakugou taunts, head tilting in mock question, "Guess you can't hold back anymore can you? Dreaming about giving her your knot?" 

Kirishima bares his teeth, fighting the urge to buck at another Alpha, especially one he knows he will have to fight with full force. He opens his sharp toothed mouth to retort but yet another beast finds it's way into the clearing coming from the opposite of Kirishima but to the right of Bakugou. 

The beast looks wild, heterochromatic eyes glisten beneath the full moon as white and red fur clash all the way down his spine. A collar around his throat catches the light as a broken chain drags across the ground, there are shackles around his wrists and ankles as well. Bakugou smirks, adrenaline fueling his excitement over what is about to be a damn good fight. 

"You watchin little slut? Look at what your scent can do." He changes his stance into that of a fight, "You've got two normally non aggressive Aplahs ready to get their asses handed to them and for fucking what?"

The three of them shift their eyes and bodies this way and that before Bakugou licks his teeth.  

"God I can't wait to bury my face in that soaked pussy." He lunges, transforming mid leap into a hauntingly powerful wolf. His teeth are exposed, lip curled up in a snarl as his targets Kirishima first.  Kirishima barely shape shifts in time, pearly white teeth sink deep into his shoulder before gnashing at his throat. Deafening growls and yowling surround the clearing. Kirishima attempts to kick Bakugou off of him as they tumble closer to who you assume is Todoroki who bares his teeth. He launches himself at the other Alphas. His teeth find purchase in Bakugou's shoulder, blood staining white and blonde fur a like. There is no yelp or howl, just a stomach churning growl before Bakugou turns his attention towards the two toned wolf. Snapping his jaw as he attempts to get a grip on the chained wolf who dodges. Bakugou's teeth gleam with dripping crimson, a snarl of warning before he propels himself towards Todoroki. Sharp teeth bite at two toned fur as Shoto bares his teeth, growling, snapping his jaw at his opponent. Kirishima begins to get to his feet, limping as he avoid putting weight onto one of his front legs, crimson drips down onto the chilled dirt. He keeps his ruby red eyes on the two dancing wolves.

Bakugou strikes faster than Todoroki can dodge, and angry teeth clamp down at Todoroki's throat. The collar snaps from the force before Bakugou sinks his fangs deep into Todoroki's throat. 

An ear ringing yelp is heard as blood pools into Bakugou's stained muzzle, white fur marred in crimson as Todoroki begins to sway. As the hot head's jaw is locked onto tender flesh, Kirishima attacks. Biting at the nape of Bakugou's neck and yanking him from Todoroki with force, tossing him with ease. The light colored wolf flies into trees snapping the thick oaks as if they were twigs. Buying some time for the two injured wolves, any other alpha would have seen this as a win, knowing the two from rival families would retreat to lick their wounds. 

But Bakugou was no normal alpha. This gut clenching fight taught you as much. Todoroki struggles to keep consciousness, his throat dripping an insane amount of blood. He falls to his side huffing almost wheezing before he shifts back into human form, shackles shrinking to readjust to his wrists. Kirishima whines nudging at the unconscious, possibly dead man. All the while crimson red eyes peer through the unsettled dust before soaring through the air, landing on top of the black wolf. Pinning his back onto the ground as dark paws claw at bared teeth. Trying desperately to keep him at bay but with one fucked front paw it is a futile attempt. Quickly Bakugou overpowers him, sinking his teeth too deep into his friend's throat and keeping his muzzle there until the whining and yelping stops. Until he too shifts back to his human form. 

You fight to keep your own whimpering in, still hidden in the brush while you hoped, prayed that he somehow got disoriented. That he forgot where you were. 

His head snaps towards you, mouth dripping saliva and thick red blood. His eyes glow as his stalks closer. He stops just before the underbrush shifting back into that devilishly handsome face. He is soaked in blood, scratches line his face and chest. He wipes at his mouth but not once does his fist wipe away the cocky smile he holds. 

He scares you but what scares you most is how your body is reacting to such a gruesome sight. A muscular man dripping in sticky red, droplets tracing the outline of his abs and a smile of triumph as two people lie wounded, possibly dead behind him. It made your pussy throb, the strength, the raw need and want to win and for what? For you, for your essence and the promise of a futile womb. 

He can smell your fear as he yanks you from the bushes and thorns. 

"Don't worry, it's not my blood." He grins, pulling you closer to him as you try to push away. Just like you're trying to push away these odd feelings that swirl in your chest, in your stomach; of a weird pride and arousal. It was of no use, like pushing dead weight up a forty five degree hill, this too was a losing battle.  

"K..kirishima." Your eyes are glued to his unmoving body, causing a deep rage to form in Bakugou's chest. He grips your chin forcing you to look at him his other hand goes straight for your sex, cupping the underwear allowing his fingers to swipe over the damp fabric. 

"Don't you ever say his fucking name while you're wet for me. Got it?" His fingers are causing divots in your cheeks as you whimper from his contrasting touch. Harsh grip, soft strokes. As if reading your mind he takes a deep breath, not meaning to inhale so much of you.  

"They ain't dead, you're worth the trouble. But not that much trouble. Now focus on me." He let's go of you, drinking you in smirking when he sees your costume. Or what's left of it anyway. 

Thick irony that you would choose to be a bunny of all nights. He fingers the fake ears with earnest. 

"Fitting." He purrs before taking both of his hands to the front collar of your dress, ripping the fabric from your torso. He growls audibly mumbling to himself "Much better." As you stand with your tits exposed, your lacy underwear catching his attention beneath fishnet tights. He bites his bottom lip, pulling you to him as he buries his face into your tits. Nipping sucking and biting as he eases your buckling legs towards the ground. 

"Fuuuuck." He groans, pressing his cheek harshly against yours, trying to scent you as best he can without claiming you fully.  It's hard, fuck is it hard. It always has been, since his first class with you.  

You weren't a beta nor an omega. Hell you were of no wolf relation and yet you reeked, oozed of pheromones that drove him and apparently the others mad. He had tried to protect you, he really had, scenting a piece of an old t-shirt and even burning himself on silver. 

He wanted you, he needed you, his cock ached for you. Weeping now at your arousal making his canines ache with an even greater pain. 

But you were fucking mortal and he was betrothed. Technically all three of the aplahs in that clearing were betrothed to omegas.  It was evident your smell seduced them as well. 

He brings himself to your shoulder, biting hard enough to draw blood, claws, stuck halfway between human and wolf, rake down your back and ass making ribbons of the flesh. Still you moan and he occasionally swallows those whole as he kisses you. Letting you taste copper as his tongue placates yours, he subconsciously secretes soothing and lustful hormones and they are strong enough to make even you high. His hand finds your nipple and when you arch into him he loses his shit. Breaking the kiss to sniff you, nosing and biting until he finds that sweet spot. He opens his mouth, salivating at the thought as his teeth and cock beg for relief. He freezes, squeezing you to him for a moment. The action causes your ribs to creak in protest and yet you feel warm, safe. 

His mouth hovers over your pulse point, the salty sweet taste of you, breaths away from the exact spot he would need to sink his aching teeth into to make you his.  

In a quick motion and a test of will he shoves you onto your back, ripping at the fabric between your thighs after he forces your legs open. You do nothing to stop him, not that could. 

Not that you would.  

He slips his tongue between your folds and licks up, swirling the wet muscle when you buck against him. He hooks his arms around your legs gaining control over your hips and eats. 

See Bakugou is a glutton and he will not stop until he is satisfied. It would be a gift and a curse for you.  

He works his mouth against you thoroughly as the coil in your stomach snaps over and over again. Your hand fisting his hair as you cry out in hoarse gasps, legs shaking around his head, thighs squeezing his skull as he coaxes another high from you. 

Your entire body is shaking, worn out already from however long he sucked, nipped and lapped at your core. Finally he seemed to come up for air but only to watch your sex convulse. He looks up to you causing your heart to skip a beat. His hair is that much more wild, his intense gaze glowing red in the low light and his face glistens with your slick.

"Fuck!" You cry out, letting your head fall back into the ground. 

"What's wrong bunny? Can't handle a little head?" He shoves two fingers deeply into you making a come here motion. You ride another body quaking high as he tries to stretch you to accommodate him. His breathing becomes frantic, as he chases a smell you're emitting. Thrusting harshly into you as his other hand abusesyour clit until that deliciously addicting smell he's chasing crescendos. Your scream echoes in the woods as clear liquid shoots over Bakugou's forearms, all the while you held fluttering eye contact, practically melting in his hands. His fangs grow and he cannot hold himself back any longer. He shoves his pants all the way down, even off of his ankles as he sinks his lengthy girth into you in a snap of his hips. A mixture of pain and pleasure shoot through you like a live wire as you begin to mewl, needing him to move. 

"More, more." You whine, tears prick your eyes as he smiles a deadly smirk. 

"You're such a talkative cock sleeve. You want my knot that bad? Then take it." He thrusts into you setting a deep harsh pace. Alternating between quick succession and slow deep throats. Biting at the skin of your chest and shoulders, torturing you in such a way.  

Punishing you for being mortal. 

"Why?" It's a guttural growl as your mind is lost on another plane, "Why do you have to be mortal?" 

He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his hips earning him a lovely raspy moan from you.

"I want to...to fucking mark you.  Make you mine. The thought of any other alpha or even fucking human touching you…." His thoughts have him chasing two very dangerous highs, snapping his hips so he comes closer to your throat.  

"Please...please Bakugou." You whimpering encourages him. 

He breathes you in, tasting you without even a flicker of his tongue. Your arousal, your damp hair sticking to the column of your throat, the faint scent of your shampoo. 

Somehow he reigns himself in again. Teeth elongated enough they almost scrape your skin.  His breath comes out hot and heavy as you squirm beneath him for friction, wanting nothing more than to be filled. If he does this, if he makes you his mate, it would surely complicate everything. 

"You have to tell me you want it." He's panting, vulnerable as he looks at you, your heart shatters from the look. Deafening reason and logic as it screams how badly you want to be his and he yours. 

"Not just because it feels fucking good right now." His voice is husky, rasped as he fights the weight of his instincts, "Not because I'm fucking hot or a novelty to you mortals. If I mark you, you'll always feel something for me and vice versa. We'll be tethered and attracted to one another even if we fucking hate each other." 

Slowly you nod, again he grabs onto your chin, sliding it down to your throat as he squeezes. 

"This isn't some good acid trip, this isnt some fucking dream. You'll have to meet the elders. You'll have to deal with my ruts." Again he's panting, shaking from holding himself back, having half a mind to just kill you. Still you do not move away from his touch. 

"My jealousy. My rage. My need for territory control. I'll come home dripping in blood. I'll kill other Alpahs." He breathes your name in such a way you clench around him. He growls from the sensation. You struggle to speak beneath his grip, head floating but some how in the right spot. 

"I...I can handle it. Mark me Bakugou Katsuki. Fucking make me yours, fill me use me. Just…" He stares into your eyes until he can no longer take it. Pounding into you in a harsh pace, finally giving in  

"You'll take my knot like a good slut won't you?" His eyes watch you nod before they fall to your breasts. Watching them bounce from the force of his thrusts. His hips turn sloppy as your high builds again. You claw at his back and his smells your high as he tries to time it right. He sinks his teeth into your throat, keeping it just a hair above a marking. 

You feel a growing pressure as his tip stretches you even more until he finally sinks his teeth into you with a grown. His thrusts stuttering as hot ropes paint your walls. Your cunt flutters around it as all you can do is become limp in his grip. His arms are fully around you, his mouth still to your throat as he slowly eases up. His body giving off a bonding hormone so strong that even your moral senses can pick up on. It you drown in a high scented in spice caramel and heat.  He pants heavily, his arms shaking as he kisses you fiercely, teeth bumping into yours before he pulls back.

Weakly you claw at him to hold him as he whispers praises. He lifts you, pulling you towards his chest to keep you safe as you begin to drift. His mouth is pressed to your ear and you can hear the cocky smile in his voice. 

"Get some rest while you still can mate." His hand snakes around to your stomach, his fingers lightly caressing the skin.

"We aren't done until you're carrying my pups."

Tags

@katsukisprincess @avellanagamer100 @bakugotrashpanda my number one fan

[monodipita]

There's a Fire in My Heart (Yandere!Rengoku x Reader)

Hello! I wanted to start this post off by saying that I am aware that shorter reader-inserts often garner more attention, but I don't mind that my longer reader-inserts don't garner as much. I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing him! And a shorter version may come out soon.

Word count: 4,010

Warnings: YANDERE CONTENT. MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM/SELF-MUTILATION.

Everyone knew about Kyojurou Rengoku. He was the kind, sincere, hard working Hashira who worked his way into the hearts of many. He was handsome and elegant despite being so hardy, with the callouses that adorned his hands like a second skin, and the scars that littered his body. He was able to sway the hearts of many, including your own. You'd been a secret admirer for a while now, writing him cute little notes and leaving them at his post every sunrise that always seemed to make the man smile brighter than the charming smile he always held on his lips.

You knew this because you overheard him talking about the notes with his fellow Hashira Mitsuri Kanroji. "I'd love to meet my secret admirer one day." He told her. One day.

He was always busy, so it became hard to capture his attention... or, rather, it was.

It felt like a stroke of luck so strong that you were going to have bad luck for the rest of your life when you twisted your ankle—because Kyojurou wasn’t looking, and you tripped. Purposefully, yes. You immediately regretted it. Your body came clashing to the forest floor, and the wood inside your basket spilled out onto the ground below you. "Ah!" You whined aloud as an instinctive reflex.

"I'm so sorry!" Kyojurou shot to your side. "Here, I'll grab your things, and then I'll take you to the Butterfly Estate. I'm so sorry!"

You were unable to talk because of how dazed you were, from hitting the forest floor, to the fact that he was now so close to you. You stared at him through bleary eyes as he picked up the long logs of wood and put them back into the basket that was once on your back. He slotted his arms into the straps and helped to hoist your body against his, wrapping his right arm around your waist while his left arm held onto your right. "Stay close, okay? Let me know if I'm doing too much for you."

Shinobu revealed the unfortunate news of being bedridden some few hours later.

”Oh... that’s awful,” he put his right hand over his lips and furrowed his thick brows with worry. His fiery golden eyes looked down at you and caused you to look away before your blush became obvious. “I’m so sorry... [Y/N], was it?”

He knew your name...

“I’ll make up for it somehow, I promise.” He told you. “For now, I must go, I have other matters I must attend to. But I will return, every day at the same time, until you’re better. Okay?”

"Okay."

DAY 1

"I took your wood to your home." He started off the conversation now that he was in the room. "You live alone, [Y/N]?" Alone... if that was a way to put it. "Recently, yes," you admitted aloud, "my family moved away after I passed the The Final Selection. They couldn't agree with my decision to become a demon slayer. I miss them." You smiled wistfully as you recalled the day they cast themselves out of their own home.

Though Kyojurou looked saddened by that answer, he didn't comment on it much further. "I brought your breakfast. Kocho-san was too busy to bring it herself." He set the tray down on your lap. You cringed at the hot feeling, visibly enough to draw his attention—but that might've simply been because you yelped short after. You fought the feeling to reach down and grab at your propped up, sprained ankle, as pain ricocheted through your leg.

"Oh!" He quickly lifted up the tray off of your legs. To your surprise, he didn't spill the contents of the food anywhere around you or on the floor. "I'm sorry, was it too hot?" He asked, causing you to look up at his face. He was blushing out of embarrassment! He looked so cute!

His eyes bulged wide with worry, and the same, saddened frown appeared on his face from moments before. "Just a bit... I wasn't expecting it." You chuckled wryly. "Sorry, you can put it back down." You reassured him and gently pat your lap. "No, it's fine, I'll hold it. I don't want to put any unnecessary strain on your ankle." Kyojurou stated. "It'll be fine! I won't leave until I know you've eaten breakfast."

A blush spread across your own features. He was a selfless man and it showed in every action he performed. How could people not fall in love with him? "Oh, okay," your breath was taken away, clearly. He even went through the act of holding the tray out for you so that you could eat your food. You looked down at what you had to eat—miso soup and onigiri. It smelled delicious. "The cooks here are fantastic." Kyojurou remarked. "I'm sure you've had to spend a lot of time in here, haven't you?" You asked him.

"Mm? Oh, yes." Kyojurou nodded his head. "If I don't come back from a mission with some type of injury, then something is wrong." He chuckled.

"How are they?"

"What is it?"

"I'm just asking, how are the missions? I haven't been able to go on one yet," you admitted, "I've been dealing with a lot of training. Ooyakata-sama says that I'm not ready to go out on my own yet."

Kyojurou looked more than surprised by that answer. "When you live out so far on your own?" He furrowed his brows. "Are you at least training yourself when you cannot attend daily training sessions?" You nodded your head. Of course you tried, but sometimes, training could be too far away. You wouldn't tell him that—you feared that he would pull something out of his sleeve and try to— "eat please, [Y/N]."

"S-sorry," you squeaked. You didn't waste any time digging into your meal. First with the onigiri that seemed to fill you up almost immediately upon biting into the second one. "I don't think I can finish these," you looked up at Kyojurou. His eyes were already on you, as if he was watching you eat. You didn't think anything of it. "Would you like one?"

"I shouldn't... but..." he trailed off as he thought about it, before nodding his head. "I'd appreciate it. I haven't ate, so watching you eat has made me hungry."

"Never starve yourself!" You gently scold him. You reached down and took the rice ball into your hand to give to him, smiling gently at him... until your smile dropped when you realized that you couldn't give it to him. "I-I'm so sorry!" You sputtered. "It's fine. Just feed me," he spoke casually, much to your surprise. You swallowed thickly. Your lips parted to say something, anything about what that man just said, but nothing came out. Your hand instinctively drifted toward his lips, while his head met you halfway. The bite into the food made you jump, your eyes wide as if you were a deer in headlights. You tried not to pay too much mind while you fed him, but it would eventually become apparent that you were embarrassed to do something like this for him. He didn't seem to mind one bit... maybe even he was enjoying it? You had to stop this somehow!

"Do you think the soup has cooled off enough by now to set the tray on my lap?" You asked. The onigiri were delicious, and you weren't joking about it possibly taking up all the space in your stomach. But food was food, and you didn't want to get rid of it all.

Kyojurou hummed and pressed the tray onto his lap. He hovered his right hand over it. "It does seem to be that way." There was the slightest hint of undetectable disappointment in his voice. Had you been better at picking up facades, you would've been able to catch up on it. "Here you go, [Y/N]." He sat the tray down in your lap, engulfing it in warmth. He took the rice ball from you and continued to chew on it while you dug into the soup.

The meal was finished, even though you didn't want it to be. It was filled with eerie silence, because you didn't have anything to say, and Kyojurou was... well, eating. "It was a fantastic meal!" Kyojurou beamed, "I'll be sure to thank them on my way out. Now—" he stood straight, “I have to go. It was nice eating with you, [Y/N]—“

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of a shoji opening. You were surprised to see two butterfly attendants making their way into the room with a room service cart. “What is this?” You asked, “I thought Rengoku-san had the breakfast covered for me?”

”I believe there’s been some sort of mixup. We just finished making breakfast ten minutes ago—but this tray does look like ours.” They picked up the tray and observed it. “Maybe we—“

”There’s no need to conduct an investigation.” Kyojurou spoke up. “I lied about the breakfast. To tell you the truth, I am the one who made that breakfast, and I hoped that we could eat it together.” He smiled apologetically and bowed, “I’m sorry for the confusion I’ve caused, but I truly must take my leave. I’ll see you tomorrow, [Y/N].”

H-he wanted to eat with me?!

Your heart couldn’t stop pounding a furious beat against your chest. You just couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth! Eat with you?! You barely knew each other! “Bye,” you weakly called to him while he left the room. If this was going to happen every day? Why, it didn’t feel too bad after the initial impact...

DAY 2

Hours poured into the morning. It felt unusually past the time Kyojurou said he was going to show up... not that you had a way of knowing. Breakfast had already been served, and you were left with the displeasure of eating it on your own, in the silence of your room. You thought you would've been used to the quiet, after all, you lived alone now—but he seemed to dull that pain. Now you missed him.

“[L/N]-san. Are you busy?” Shinobu’s voice was a break in the thick silence, and very much welcomed. The presence of another person was soothing.

You glanced up from your lap and nodded. “Not at all. Please, come in.”

Shinobu slid the shoji shut behind her and stepped over to the bed. She sat down in the bedside chair and elegantly folded her limbs atop one another while she addressed you. There was a warm, inviting smile on her face, much like the one Kyojurou held. “How are you feeling?”

”I’m feeling alright.” You responded. “My foot seems to be doing better than before! I think I’ll be able to get back on my feet by the end of the week.” At least you hoped so. As much as it was nice to be able to have the Flame Hashira see you in personalized visits, you had a life that you needed to live outside of these four walls.

“You’re right about that,” Shinobu started, “but that doesn’t mean I want you to immediately start hopping on your feet and walking around one-legged. In order to make a full recovery, I want you to stay for another two days. Is that fine with you?”

You winced. Two more days of staying in this bed? What if Rengoku-san didn’t show up again? Was it worth it? “That’s fine,” you weakly respond. No it isn’t. But did you have a choice? Not exactly.

”Thank you.” Shinobu stood. “With the more important information out of the way, I’ll allow visitation now—after what happened yesterday involving the mishap with Rengoku-san, I shortened your visitation hours. I didn’t like having to dispose of a good meal just because someone wanted to be friendly.” There was scorn in her voice. You nodded your head slowly in scolded understanding. “I’m sorry about that.”

”You don’t have to apologize,” Shinobu said. She walked over to the shoji. “Please, be well.”

As soon as she left, Kyojurou emerged from the shoji. He looked radiant, as usual, like the sun on a beautiful day with clear skies. His smile acted as the ray of sunshine that would blind your eyes, but at least you welcomed this form of sunshine. A smile bled onto your own lips as he fully made his way into the room and shut the shoji behind him. Alone, the two of you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” He let out a sigh while he walked over to the bedside chair. “Kocho-san is strict, but with good intentions.” He said aloud, as if to convince the two of you of that fact. "I know that. I'm still appreciative of what you did for me, even if we might've gotten into trouble."

You reached over and gently grabbed his forearm—noticing that he winced from that feeling. “Oh, did you just come back from a mission?” You asked. There must’ve been a cut under his uniform’s sleeves. Come to think of it, you could see a faint spot of blood where your hand pressed against it. "Does it need to be patched up?" You frowned with worry.

”Oh; no, that’s not it. I happened to get into a bit of an accident earlier this morning while I was cutting wood,” he explained, “I’ve already patched it up. No need to worry—it just hurt a bit, that’s all.” He smiled reassuringly, one that nearly melted you. You smiled back at him just as much. “I see.” You responded, “well, I have exciting news.”

He perked up. “What is it?”

”I’m going to be discharged in two days.” You told him. “You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

”Two days?” Kyojurou’s face contorted. He looked... worried. He was quick to voice his thoughts about the decision. “Are you sure that’s going to be all you need? I thought sprained ankles needed more time to heal,”

It was so cute. How could he be so worried about someone he had just met? You found yourself giggling at him. “Relax. I feel much better now than how I felt yesterday. If I could, I’d even try getting up and walking around to see how it felt.” Being able to walk around would’ve been a relief. As enjoyable as it sounded before, being bedridden felt much like a nightmare. “I definitely don’t recommend it,” he said, clearly half-joking. “Please take care of yourself. Well—I have to go.” He rushed to get out of his seat. He stood tall, reaching over to gently pat your leg before he half-turned to face the shoji to leave.

”So soon?” You frowned. You were going to be lonely for the rest of the day...

”Visitation hours were cut short; remember, silly?” Kyojurou chuckled. “I’ll try to see you and stay for longer tomorrow.” He stepped out of the room as quickly as he came in, leaving you in the silence.

DAY 3

No sign of Kyojurou—just another quiet day. He said he would come... was there something wrong? You wanted to ask someone so badly, but you didn't even know how to voice it. For now, you would just stay quiet about it. Maybe he had to go on an actual mission. Aww... that would've meant that you couldn't see each other when you were discharged...

DAY 4

Discharge day. You couldn’t wait for this day as much as you dreaded it. It would be fantastic to finally get out of this room, out into the world, where you could go home and be in the comfort of your own bed. You awoke early to catch Shinobu just in time, who stepped into the room with the same, happy go lucky smile on her face. “I know you must be excited about today, [L/N]-san.”

”I am,” you beamed while you began to sit up. You slowly, steadily raised yourself off the bed and met her halfway. The sensation of walking... felt strange, after not doing it for so long. Your legs felt partially asleep, and there was a dull pain in your ankle that was sure to become annoying after a while. “How are you feeling?” She asked. “If I need to change your compression bandages for you, then I can.” She held out the gauze for grabs. ”I’ll be fine. Thank you for your magnificent service, Kocho-san.” You bowed to her and took the gauze out of her hand.

"[Y/N]-san!"

Kyojurou's voice grabbed your attention and made you nearly squeal with excitement. You hurried as best as you could to reach the shoji and thrust it open to eagerly meet the sight of him. He smelled faintly of burning wood... "did you just get done with doing something?" You asked. "Maybe something important?"

"Not important, no," the beaming, fiery-haired man shook his head and continued to smile. "I wanted to walk you home." A walk home? That sounded so sweet of him. "Oh," a blush spread thinly across your cheeks, "that's very nice of you. Thank you, Rengoku-san." The two of you stepped out of the Butterfly Estate. The walk was a quiet one... Kyojurou seemed so fixated on simply walking, and your mind was occupied by the fact that you were even having the chance to walk home with him made it so exciting.

It came into view. It took longer to get there than what you normally remembered it taking, but you shrugged it off, merely thinking of it as nothing more but a slow pace. He was just so considerate, after all.

You stepped in behind him after he opened the shoji for you. Home sweet home... it smelled like it, felt like it. Everything looked unchanged—but there was something off about it all. You could tell. "Wait... this isn't my home," you narrowed your eyes. Bewilderment seeped into your brain while you tried to make sense of it. "Why are all of my clothes and belongings here? Where are we truly at, Rengoku-san?"

Tricked. You were almost tricked, but you recognized your home anywhere you were at. These walls weren't the same. You didn't have an irori...

"I thought long and hard about it, but... I can't keep hiding the truth from you, [Y/N]-san." Kyojurou reached over to grab one of your hands, pulling the limp appendage into his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. What is he talking about? "For some time now, I have admired you. I liked watching you take your daily walks. I liked seeing that you were healthy, I liked seeing you take care of yourself."

What?

"I liked the notes that you left on my engawa—seeing you play dumb as if you weren't the one who put those notes there. The cute little smudge-marks your fingers would make when you were finished with the ink," he gently squeezed your hand.

How did he know?

"When you told me that you lived alone, it only confirmed my suspicions. You don't have anyone else to go to. I would hate such a life for someone who is so deserving of any love that comes their way."

Why was he talking about it?

"I did what I thought was the best thing to do..." he trailed off to take your other hand in his, squeezing both of them as he made his way in front of you. "You don't have to love me, all you have to do is trust me."

"Why?" Your lips were trembling. You felt sick. Yes, everything or what you could see of everything from your home was inside this single room, but it wasn't what mattered. You grew up in that home, and he... and he... "You took everything away from me. Y-you burned my home."

"No... no, don't think about it that way." Kyojurou looked all over your expression for some sign of comfort. His hands dropped yours to cup your cheeks, staring into your own with a worried expression. "That's not how you should think about it, [Y/N]-san. Don't you understand? This will be the opportunity to start your life anew with me."

It was so deranged, so sick. You barely had the physical power to shrug him off, but you managed to pull through. You needed to go back, you needed to see what he did to the only place that reminded you of your family that you had left.

"No... please, [Y/N]-san, you don't want to do this," Kyojurou tried to reason as he trailed behind you, off the engawa and into the barren yard, "you're going to see things that you don't want to see. You don't have to subject yourself to that torture." His hand touched your forearm and gently grasped it. You lashed out at him and ripped your arm out of his grip. "Leave me! Don't you see that you've ruined my life!?"

Kyojurou stood still. "Y-you don't get it," he stammered, "[Y/N]-san, I need you too. You have the energy I want in my life!" He raised his strained voice as he ripped both sleeves of his uniform up on his body to reveal scars. Plenty of them. It was alarming, but in your mind, it couldn't have hurt as much as seeing your childhood home burn down. "You're speaking like a madman," you scolded him. "I don't even know why I'm entertaining someone so delusional."

"...I'll do it."

The blade came as a shock. Your eyes widened, how did he get his hands on one so quickly? You thought you couldn't even see his arms moving... "I deserve it for being a bad significant other, don't I?" He sounded so creepy. His voice sounded off; desperate, but loving. "I've hurt you, so I must hurt myself, right?"

"..." you grimaced. How did you respond to an emotionally taxing situation like this? "You wouldn't...Rengoku-san, I don't even know you!"

"But you do!" He blurted back at you. "I'll do anything for you, [Y/N]. I just ask that you come back! Walk back to me... you don't have to see what happened to your home, you can just be with me," he pleaded.

But you didn't listen. No, you wouldn't. You turned and ran as fast, and as hard as your feet could take you into the forest, into the direction of your home. The scent of something burning helped with your path-finding, but it didn't matter. Your ankle started hurting. Hurting, hurting, and hurting. You'd forgotten that it was even strained until just now, where the pain became so severe that you ended up toppling over your injury.

"AH!"

You fell to the forest floor and squeezed your eyes shut out of pain. "Hoo... oh fuck," you hissed, clenching your teeth and bowing your head. What a painful feeling to come across, it was almost excruciating. But you needed to keep going... he was coming after you. Even if he threatened to do whatever he did back there, the pain of going through it wasn't going to stop him.

"[Y/N]-san... please."

He was already on you... maybe he was even behind you the entire time and you were under the foolish assumption that you'd escaped his line of sight. No, not at all.

"Get-get away from me!" You yelled at him. "Please!"

You stifled a gasp and a sob as his bloodied hands caressed your face. His hands trembled while his thumbs pressed directly into your cheeks while his thumb smeared the blood from his hands onto your poor cheeks. His blood. You knew what he did to himself. "Finally," he whispered, "I've finally caught you...and you can't leave me anymore. Please, [Y/N]-san, for our sake... think of this as our new life together. How I've waited so long for this opportunity, and now that I have it..!"

[e-m-christina]

Wonderland: Kili x Reader

P A R T E I G H T

Series Overall Summary: During a visit to Iceland, Y/n’s sense of reality is ripped away from her when she is lured into a cave in Reykjavik by a mysterious force and discovers an ancient passageway to a world she believed was just mere fiction; Middle-Earth.

Chapter length: 4.5k

Kili x Reader

(Slight) Legolas x Reader

Requests are open.

MASTERLIST

“There is no point in arguing, we cannot pass through the wilderness without Beorn’s help!” Gandalf’s voice woke Y/n from her peaceful slumber.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, still rather drowsy. She pulled herself from her make-shift bed and yawned, it was then when she heard more voices from the kitchen area. She staggered into the room, greeted by a grim-faced Gandalf and bewildered dwarves.

“Ah, Y/n, there you are. We are about to greet our host.” Gandalf said, making for the door. “Now this will require some delicate handling, the last person who startled him ended up torn to shreds.”

Out the crudely carved window, Y/n could see the figure of a very large and hairy man chopping wood.

“Y/n, you come with me.” Gandalf motioned for her to come forward. Gulping, Y/n stepped past Kili and Fili who were looking rather pale.

“I-is this a good idea?” Y/n asked. Why did she have to go first with Gandalf to meet Beorn?

“Yes, yes, now the rest of you just wait here and don’t come out until I give the signal and only come out in pairs.” Gandalf paused, turning to Bombur who was munching on a carrot. “Er, Bombur, you count as two, so come out alone.”

“Alright,” said Bombur.

“And remember, wait for my signal!”

---

Y/n’s clammy hands fiddled with the ring in her pocket as she followed Gandalf out into the fresh air. There was a chilly breeze that swayed the trees and the sun was hidden behind the grey clouds.

Y/n bit her lip as they got closer to Beorn; an abnormally tall (at least eight foot tall), muscley man with a great mane of brown hair that made him look like a lion. Y/n’s steps slowed as her eyes landed on the large, shiny axe clutched in his hand.

Chop! Another log was split in half, making Gandalf flinch.

“You’re nervous,” Y/n whispered to the wizard, which made her even more apprehensive.

“Nervous? Don’t be silly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” Y/n muttered, taking good care to stay behind Gandalf. She gulped as they came to a stop a few metres away from Beorn.

“Morning!” Gandalf said loudly, but Beorn only grunted and kept swinging the axe - chopping three more logs. After a few more attempts of trying to catch his attention, Beorn finally stopped chopping.

“Who are you?” Beorn growled.

“Gandalf. Gandalf The Grey.” Gandalf bowed and Y/n stumbled, trying to match his actions.

“Never heard of him.” Beorn swung around and glowered at Gandalf.

“I-I am a wizard. Perhaps you have heard of my college, Radagast The Brown? He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwoo-”

“What do you want?” Beorn asked.

“To simply thank you for your hospitality. You may have noticed that we took lodgings in your refuge here last night.” Gandalf said, turning around to point at the cabin, which revealed Y/n cowering behind the wizard.

“Who is that!?” Beorn tightened his grip on his axe when his gaze fell upon Y/n. Y/n could feel her blood pumping through her veins, leaving her mouth and throat feeling rather dry.

“Ah, this would be Lady Y/n, a human from...earth,” Gandalf said, placing a hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Earth? Never heard of it. How come a human and wizard are travelling together?”

“The truth is that we have had a bad time of it. From Goblins in Mountains-"

“What did you go near Goblins for? Stupid thing to do.”

“You are absolutely right!” Gandalf said, waving his hand in the air. Y/n jumped when Beorn swung his axe back, staring at something behind Y/n and Gandalf.

“Dwalin,” Dwalin bowed as he marched through the doorway, followed by Balin.

“And Balin.” Balin bowed.

“Several of our group are in fact...dwarves,” Gandalf said with a pale face.

“Do you call two, several?” Beorn bared his teeth.

”Well...when you put it that way, there could be more than two.” Gandalf stuttered and Y/n watched with a cocked eyebrow as the wizard began using his fingers to fake-count the dwarves.

“Right, that’s us.” Y/n heard someone say from behind, followed by the footsteps of two more dwarves.

“Here are some more of our happy troop,” Gandalf said. Y/n swayed from side to side, feeling a heavy weight in her stomach as Beorn began to step forward.

“And you call six a troop?”

“Well-”

“What are you? A travelling circus?” Beorn said. Gandalf began to fake laugh, which angered Beorn even further. Y/n opened her mouth to speak when she heard two more dwarves scuttle out.

“Ori,”

“And Dori,”

“At your service.” The two dwarves bowed low, but Beorn only growled.

“I don’t want your service,” Beorn said.

“Absolutely understandable!” Gandalf held his hands up with a painful smile. And once again, two mores dwarves hurried through the door.

“Oh, Fili and Kili, I had quite forgotten them,” Gandalf said as Fili and Kili joined the rest of the dwarf huddle. When Gandalf pointed to Fili and Kili, four more dwarves rushed out, tripping over their own feet.

“And there is Bifur, Bofur Nori and...Bombur.” Gandalf closed his eyes with a sigh. Y/n looked over her shoulder at the group of dishevelled dwarves with a nervous smile.

“Is that it?” Beorn asked, but his eyes trailed up to the door and one last dwarf appeared.

“Ah, that is Thorin,” Gandalf said.

---

Y/n winced as she took a seat between Fili (who was drinking deeply from a jug bigger than his head) and Kili (who was twirling the braid that she gave him) at Beorn’s table. Her stomach was beginning to sting terribly again, but she didn’t want to tell the others at that moment - they had enough to worry about.

“So, you are the one called Oakenshield?” Beorn said, placing a bowl in front of Y/n. She was rather surprised (but very glad) that Beorn had set out a feast for breakfast; fresh fruit, cheese, freshly made bread, milk and ham.

“Yes,” Thorin said. He didn’t join the rest at the table, instead, he stood at the back of the room with folded arms. Y/n suspected that he didn’t trust Beorn yet.

“Tell me,” Beorn turned towards Thorin. “Why is Azog hunting you?”

“You know of Azog?” Asked Thorin. “How?”

“My people were the first to live in the mountains before the Orcs came down from the North. The Defiler killed most of my family, though it is rumoured that some escaped through a cave in the mountains, to a different realm. Though no such cave was found. But the rest he enslaved.” Beorn said, lifting a milk jug, revealing a broken shackle around his wrist.

Escaped through a cave into a different realm? Y/n’s eyes flicked towards Gandalf, who looked deep in thought. Could it have been the same cave that she got lost in before waking up there?

“He enslaved us for sport.” Beorn continued. “Capturing Skin-Changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him.”

“There are others like you?” Bilbo said, perched on the bench with a stiff back.

“Once there were many. Now there is only one - me.” Beorn said, making Y/n look down at her hands. “You need to reach the mountain before the last days Autumn?”

“Yes, before Durin’s day,” Gandalf puffed his pipe. Y/n spared a glance at Thorin, who had his arms folded with a frown.

“You are running out of time.”

“Yes, that is why we must go through Mirkwood,” Said Gandalf.

“A darkness lies upon that forest. Foul things creep beneath those trees, I would not venture there unless in great need.” Beorn leaned forward with a grim face.

Y/n suddenly felt queasy - if Beorn, a man that could turn into a great black beast was afraid of going into Mirkwood, how should she be feeling about the situation?

“We will take the elven path,” Gandalf said with a weak smile, though his eyes betrayed him. “Their path is still safe.”

“Safe? The Wood-elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin - less wise and more dangerous.” Beorn muttered.

Y/n certainly didn’t like the sound of that. The elves she met in Rivendale were rather nice and very skilled fighters from what she saw, so she dreaded to think what these elves from Mirkwood were like.

“But it matters not,” Beorn said, his eyes glued on Thorin.

“What do you mean?” Thorin asked taking a step forward.

“These lands are crawling with orcs, their numbers are growing. And you are on foot, you’ll never reach the forest alive.” Beorn said, standing up and Y/n shuddered. “I don’t like dwarves, they are blind to the lives they deem lesser than their own.”

“Is he going to kill us?” Kili whispered to Y/n.

“I’m not sure, but I will be really mad if he does.” She whispered back.

“But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?”

---

The sun had only just turned west when they started on the journey to Mirkwood, and till evening it lay golden on the land about them. It was difficult to think of the pursuing orcs behind, and when they had put many miles between them and Beorn's house they began to talk and to sing again and to forget the dark forest path that lay in front.

“Kili, where did you get that braid?” Bofur whispered to the youngest dwarf. Y/n looked over her shoulder at Kili and Bofur, who were riding a few paces behind her. She was on a grey horse she rode shakily beside Gandalf and Thorin

“Y/n…” Kili mumbled back with a pink face.

“Y/n? Y/n gave you a braid? By Eru, this is a brilliant day!” Bofur exclaimed, clapping his hands.

“Shh,” Hushed Kili, glancing at Y/n. “I don’t need the whole company knowing!”

“Sorry,” Bofur whispered with a grin. “But when are you going to tell the others that she braided your hair? ”

“I’m not sure,” Kili bit his lip. “I’m not sure she knows what it means to braid a dwarves hair.”

“Then ask her!” Bofur groaned. “You would make the perfect match!”

Y/n frowned as she listened into this conversation. What was the big deal about braiding Kili’s hair? She did remember how flustered he got when she asked him, but she just brushed it off. Had she offended him in some way? What did it mean to braid a dwarves hair...was there a significant meaning?

“I’ll ask her later, but now we need to focus on the quest.” Kili puffed with pink cheeks.

“You better, I hate cliffhangers,” Bofur muttered before trotting his pony forward.

---

The next morning dawned bright and fair again. There was an autumn-like mist white upon the ground and the air was chill, but soon the sun rose red in the East and the mists vanished, and while the shadows were still long they were off again.

So they rode now for two more days, and all the while they saw nothing save grass and flowers and birds and scattered trees, and occasionally small herds of red deer browsing or sitting at noon in the shade.

The company chatted quietly amongst themselves and separated into smaller groups. Y/n had divided into a group with Kili, Balin, Bilbo and Bofur, who were all arguing about pumpkin pie.

“...then you add cinnamon to the dough before you roll it-”

“No! You don’t use cinnamon, you use allspice-”

“We are getting close now!” Gandalf yelled to the group, interrupting the baking argument (much to Y/n’s relief). “That treeline in front of us is the beginning of Mirkwood.

A dark treeline loomed ahead, casting a dark shadow over the land. Even from a distance, Y/n could feel something evil about those woods.

“You find more cheer in a graveyard,” Gloin muttered as they got closer to the forest. He wasn’t wrong though - the trees were dark and lifeless, no birds or insects could be seen or heard.

“Here lies the gate to Mirkwood,” Gandalf said, hopping off his horse. Y/n watched as he stepped into the dark forest, trailing his hand over the curled stone gate.

“I see no sign of the orcs. I think we have luck on our side.” Dwalin said as Y/n clambered down off her horse. She reached her hand into her pocket and fiddled with the little golden ring. On the hills behind them, she could make out the great shape of a black bear prowling the cliffs. Beorn, Y/n thought. Beorn must have been guarding them.

“Set the ponies to lose,” Gandalf said, his eyes following Y/n’s gaze. “Let them go back to their master.”

“This forest feels...sick. Is there no other way around?” Bilbo asked, coming to a stop at Y/n’s side.

“Not unless we go two-hundred miles North and double that South,” Gandalf said, wandering into the woods.

Y/n watched as the wizard stepped deeper into the forest. There was something in there that made her feel nauseous. At first, she thought it was still the side effects of her wound, but the more she peered into the darkness, the sicker she felt. Y/n’s eyes began to droop as she rolled the ring between her fingers.

Whispering.

Something was whispering to her, but she could not make out what it was saying to her. A coldness ran through her veins as the whispering got louder and louder, more intrusive. Yet she still couldn’t figure out what it was saying.

A huge flaming eye with a black slit down the centre flashed across Y/n’s mind, sending a horrible burning sensation down her spine. And within an instant, it disappeared.

“No, keep my horse! I need it!” Gandalf yelled, making Y/n’s eyes flick open. What the hell just happened?!

“You’re not leaving us?” Y/n asked with a pale face.

“I would not do this unless I had no other choice.” Gandalf came to stop beside her. “You’ve changed, Y/n Daniels. You’re not the same girl that left Rivendale.”

“I was going to tell you…” Y/n slipped her hand into her pocket once more. Should she tell him about the ring? When she tried to get the words out, her voice became stuck. “I - I found something In the Goblin Tunnels.”

“Found what?” Gandalf asked, peering down at Y/n, and for a split second, she could have sworn that Gandalf glanced at her pocket. “What did you find?”

“I found...my courage.” Y/n managed to squeeze out, suddenly not wanting Gandalf to know about the ring.

“Good, you’ll need it,” Gandalf said, his blue eyes still glinting. He turned around and climbed back onto his horse before looking to Thorin. “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Do not enter that mountain without me.”

“We will wait,” Thorin said.

“This is not the greenwood of old, there is a stream that carries a dark enchantment. Don’t touch the water. Cross only by the stone bridge. The very air is heavy with allusion - it’ll seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.”

“Lead us astray? What does that mean?” Y/n muttered, glancing at the dark forest.

“Remember, stay on the path. Do not leave it, otherwise, you’ll never find it again!”

---

The entrance to the path was like a sort of arch leading into a gloomy tunnel made by two great trees that leant together, too old and strangled with ivy and hung with lichen to bear more than a few blackened leaves. The path itself was narrow and wound in and out among the trunks. Soon the light at the gate was like a little bright hole far behind, and the quiet was so deep that their feet seemed to thump along while all the trees leaned over them and listened.

As Y/n’s eyes became used to the dimness she could see a little way to either side in a sort of darkened green glimmer. Occasionally a slender beam of sun that had the luck to slip in through some opening in the leaves far above, and still more luck in not being caught in the tangled boughs and matted twigs beneath, stabbed down thin and bright before them. But this was rare, and it soon ceased altogether.

There were black squirrels in the wood. As Y/n’s sharp inquisitive eyes got used to seeing things, she could catch glimpses of them whisking off the path and scuttling behind tree trunks. There were odd noises too, grunts, scufflings, and hurryings in the undergrowth, and among the leaves that lay piled endlessly thick in places on the forest floor; but what made the noises she could not see.

The nastiest things the Company saw were the cobwebs: dark dense cobwebs with threads extraordinarily thick that often stretched from tree to tree, or tangled in the lower branches on either side of them. There were none stretched across the path, but whether because some magic kept it clear, or for what other reason Y/n could not guess.

It was not long before they grew to hate the forest as heartily as they had hated the tunnels of the goblins, and it seemed to offer even less hope of any end. But they had to go on and on, long after they were sick for a sight of the sun and of the sky, and longed for the feel of the wind on their faces.

There was no movement of air down under the forest roof, and it was everlastingly still and dark and stuffy. Even the dwarves felt it, who were used to tunnelling, and lived at times for long whiles without the light of the sun; but the human and the hobbit felt that the was being slowly suffocated.

“Found the bridge!” Kili yelled from the front of the group. As Y/n shuffled closer behind Bilbo, her stomach dropped.

The bridge - or what was left of the bridge had crumbled and was thick with black vines. There was no way across. The river flowed bright in the darkness, a pale mist lay over the liquid making Y/n’s eyelids feel heavy and her already thick mind whirl.

“Could we try to swim it?” Bofur asked, stumbling near the edge.

“Did you not listen to Gandalf? These waters are enchanted. A black magic lays upon this river.”

“Doesn’t look very enchanting to me,” Y/n muttered, wiping her drowsy face.

“We must find another way across,” Thorin said.

“These vines look strong enough to me, we could swing over,” Kili yelled back, tugging on a vine.

“I don’t think that is a good idea-”

“Alright, we send the lightest first. Bilbo, on you, go,” Thorin interrupted Y/n, ushering the Hobbit towards the vines.

“...alright…” Bilbo muttered, scrunching his nose. Y/n watched apprehensively as the hobbit grabbed a vine and pulled himself up onto a log. She really didn’t think this was a good idea.

“Be careful!” Y/n called, her heart thudding in her chest as Bilbo shuffled along the vines.

“It’s alright, I can’t see any problem-Aggh!” Bilbo slipped from the log and barely caught a vine, preventing him from plunging into the silver river. “I think I found a problem…”

“Are you alright!” Balin yelled as Bilbo hauled himself upright with a grunt.

“Y-yes, almost there!” Bilbo took another leap and landed on the other bank with a soft thud. Y/n’s shoulders relaxed as she watched the Hobbit dust himself off.

“Y/n, your turn,” Thorin said, motioning her over to the vines.

“Great,” Y/n grumbled, taking a hold of a rough vine in her hands. “Just to warn you, I have no upper body strength.”

“You’ll be fine, just take it slowly-” Kili stopped short when Y/n’s foot slipped and she lurched forward. In her flurry, she grabbed another vine, suspending her in the air.

A hot shooting pain soared through her abdomen, making her hiss. Had she opened her wound again?

“I’m okay!” She yelled, gulping as she stared at her reflection which was mere inches away.

“Be careful, lassie!” Gloin said as she struggled to pull herself up. Once she had steadied herself, she took little steps along the fallen tree, painfully gripping the vines for dear life.

When her foot made contact with the bank she collapsed onto the ground beside Bilbo.

“I really should have gone to the gym more often.” Y/n groaned.

“Whats a gym - oh lord, look!” Bilbo pointed at the vines. The rest of the company had clambered onto them and were at various stages of shuffling themselves along the fallen tree.

“They could have just gone one by one! Why did they go all at once!” Y/n said, running a hand through her hair as the dwarves swayed from side to side on the vines. The next to land on the bank was Thorin.

“There is something not right,” Y/n said, glancing around. It felt like eyes were watching them in the gloom.

Crunch!

Y/n’s head whipped around, and in the darkness, there appeared a white stag that glowed brilliantly in the gloom. The stag bowed its head and scraped the rotten leaves with its hooves. Y/n was mesmerised, she had never seen such a creature before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thorin raising something.

“What are you doing?” She asked, eyes widening as Thorin aimed his crossbow. The arrow whizzed through the air, missing the stag by inches. It grunted before shooting back into the darkness, leaving them all alone.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Y/n said, shaking her head. “Bad luck.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Thorin growled, “We make our own luck.”

---

It had been a few hours since the company had clambered over the silver river, but their luck had only gotten worse. They had lost the path. The company has spent hours wandering the woods in search of it, but it was no use. They were lost.

The forest air seemed to become thicker as they delved into its depths, making Y/n feel extremely lightheaded and dizzy. Her eyes struggled to keep focus as she trudged along behind Kili, who was constantly tripping over his own feet. Y/n shook her head, trying to clear her mind, but her thoughts were thick and slow like tar. Nothing made sense - at least, nothing made any logical sense.

When she looked down at her feet, it looked like they were walking backwards, and when she looked ahead at Kili, it looked like he had four arms. And she was pretty certain Kili didn’t have four arms when she met him.

“We need...to take...a break…” Dori said, his voice echoing in Y/n’s ears. She rubbed her blurry eyes, but she was still seeing double. She wished that Wizard was with them...what was his name again? She frowned and shook her head. G...gand...Gandhi? No, that didn’t sound right.

It was then when a noise caught her attention. Voices...voices were hissing and echoing throughout the woods.

“Do you hear t-that?” Y/n said, staggering forward. “Do you hear the voices?”

“I hear nothing,” Thorin replied, “No wind, no birdsong...what hour is it?”

Y/n swallowed thickly, the pain in her side was getting worse. She frowned at the thick webs that were wrapped around the tree beside her. She raised a shaky hand and strummed her fingers over the sticky material.

A quiver rang through the web, vibrating along the other trees wrapped in white cobwebs. That was odd, she thought, strumming it again. The webs looked like some elaborate communication system.

"We need to keep heading North!" Thorin said, cutting through Y/n's thoughts.

"But where is North? We've lost the sun!" Fili said, kicking up a pile of mouldy twigs.

"The sun…" Y/n slurred, gazing up at the dark canopy of trees as she tapped her head. If she could get up there, she could find the sun and find North. "I'll climb a tree and find North!"

"Good...idea…" Slurred Thorin, patting her on the back.

Y/n  had never had much practice in climbing trees, but the company helped hoist her up into the lowest branches of an enormous oak that grew right out into the path, and up she had to go as best she could. 

Y/n pushed her way through the tangled twigs with many a slap in the eye; she was greened and grimed from the old bark of the greater boughs; more than once she slipped and caught herself just in time; and at last, after a dreadful struggle in a difficult place where there seemed to be no convenient branches at all, she got near the top. 

All the time she was wondering whether there were ugly spiders in the tree, and how she was going to get down again (except by falling).

Y/n's eyes were nearly blinded by the light. She could hear the dwarves shouting up at her from far below, but she could not answer, only hold on and blink.

 The sun was shining brilliantly, and it took a long time for her to get used to it. When she could, she saw all around her a sea of dark red, ruffled here and there by the breeze; and there were hundreds of bright blue butterflies fluttering in the light breeze.

She heaved in a deep breath of crisp air, and for the first time in hours, her head began to clear.

Peering into the distance, she could make out a pale blue solitary peak surrounded by the flaming evening sky.

"I found it! I found North and the Lonely Mountain!" Y/n cried, but she got no answer. They must not have heard her…

Just as she was about to clamber down, something caught her eye. A little way ahead of her, the trees were...moving?

"What is that?" Y/n muttered to herself, gawking at the rustling trees. Whatever was moving those trees must have been very large...and it was coming right her way!

---

Posted: 14th October 2021.

Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posted soon!

Legolas and Thrandaddy will be in the next chapter as well!

[mallowstep]

(nature; nurture)

You know the truth of yourself in pieces.

* * *

You are three, sitting on your mother's lap.

"And you understand this is a life-long commitment?"

"Yes," she says.

"And Mothkit, Frogkit, and Hawkkit, do you want Feathertail to be your mother?"

"She is our mama," Hawkkit says, and the woman laughs.

"That settles it, then."

* * *

Growing up is not a balloon inflating, the way you once pictured it. It is a crab moulting over and over again, exposing its softest parts, in hopes it survives.

* * *

You are the first to go to kindergarten. Only by a few minutes, but still. That feels like it counts for something.

You kiss your mother's cheek, and then drop your bag. A man crouches down beside you. "And what's your name?"

"Mothkit!" you say, and he shows you where to put your bag. You glance back at your mother as you venture deeper into the classroom. She wipes a few tears from her eyes.

* * *

Unlike a crab, you cannot reabsorb what you lose. Your teeth are collected in a box, exchanged for a few quarters, occasionally a dollar. Your hair is swept up and thrown away. You go shopping, and now there are two sections you have to examine. One for you, one for your brothers.

* * *

Stormheart picks you up for school, and no one is waiting in the passenger seat. You all climb in, and you end up stuck in the middle.

"Where's Mama?" you ask.

"She's at home," Stormheart says. He glances back at you for a second, smiling. "She's just having a bad day."

You kick off your shoes at the door when you get home, dropping your bag on the kitchen table. Your brothers are slower, but you peek through the crack in her door before Stormheart catches up with you.

She's asleep, not facing you. Mistyfoot is on the other side of the bed, reading a book.

Stormheart scoops you up. "Come on, bug," he whispers. "Let's go play outside."

* * *

But your soft parts stay the same, just growing between each exchange. You ask her about your father many times, and her answers drift, circling around a truth you want her to finish. You slip into her room after having a nightmare, and find her sobbing. You make a family tree, and stare frustrated at the missing names.

* * *

You follow her out to the garden. Frogpaw spends more time out here than you do, but you're bored, and your mother is here, digging tiny troughs into the earth.

You cross your legs on the grass beside her. She smiles at you. "Are you going to stay out here?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want a hat?"

"No." The sun is warm, and you lean down, your elbows pressing into the dirt. "What are you planting?"

"Poppies," she says. "Do you want to help?"

You shake your head. Feathertail takes a handful of sandy dirt, and pours the bag of seeds onto it.

"Mama?" you ask, and she lifts her brow. "What's assault?"

Feathertail pauses what she's doing, and looks questioningly at you. "Where'd you hear that?"

"It was on a TV show." You fidget with blades of grass. "I wasn't really watching."

Feathertail sighs. "It's -- when you hurt someone," she says. "When you attack them."

* * *

But you are not a crab. You are a girl, and you are changing. Your father sends you a letter and asks you if you're a help to your mother. You grapple with the undeniable proof he's in prison, like she explained a year or two ago. You shoot up past your brothers over the summer, and have to buy new clothes. A new garment comes with it. Feathertail cleans a few things out of a room you can't think of as hers, and it becomes yours. Your soft parts move, find new places in need of protection.

* * *

Sometimes, you want to explain everything to Leafpaw, all in one breath. You want to say, My mother didn't give birth to me, but I know who did, and I was not wanted, except that I was, and my father believes I am capable of nothing, and my period has started, and I don't know what that means, and I think you are beautiful.

You don't say any of that.

* * *

But you are not a crab, so you find traces of your past exoskeletons, the ones that didn't fit. A shirt you wore five years ago. A diary you can barely understand. A folded piece of paper you do not open. They don't make sense with who you are, and yet, they are who you were.

* * *

Shadepelt teaches you how to use make up. Feathertail and Mistyfoot don't wear any, but she does, and she makes it look easy and fun and flawless.

It's much harder when you have to do it.

Hawkpaw and Stonefur arrive home when you are scrubbing it off in the bathroom downstairs. You don't come down here very often, and it is strange to think that this space is a part of your home.

When your face is clean, you trudge upstairs. The air is tense, Hawkpaw and Frogpaw staring across the kitchen table at each other, Feathertail watching them.

"I'm -- allowed to know," Hawkpaw says.

"What do you want to know?" Frogpaw says. "We know everything we need to."

"Maybe you do," Hawkpaw says.

You glance at Feathertail. Her back is to you.

You slide unnoticed into your room, and pull out the stack of letters from your father. You read them all once, exactly, and then add them to the stack you keep in your bottom desk drawer. There's no point in rereading them.

But you run your thumb over them, listening to the way the old, dried paper crinkles.

Frogpaw is asking the wrong question. It's why Hawkpaw wants to know that matters.

* * *

Freshman year draws to a close, and you think you are in your final moult. Leafpaw falls asleep on your shoulder on the way home from a field trip, and you hold hands as you wait to be picked up. You haven't outgrown any clothes in months, and your brothers are now taller than you. You look in the mirror, and realize this will always be the face that looks back at you.

* * *

There is always talk. You try to ignore the worst of it,

("Well, Hawkpaw is a creep," and, "I heard their mother doesn't love them," and, "Bet you can't wait to see your daddy,")

but that's easier said then done.

Leafpaw squeezes your hand. "They don't know what they're talking about," she says.

But they do. That's the problem. They're wrong, but they know what they're talking about.

A junior Mothpaw doesn't know sits beside her at lunch, in Leafpaw's space.

"You should move," Squirrelpaw says.

"No one's sitting here."

"Someone will be."

True to form, as soon as Leafpaw bursts into the cafeteria, she forces herself between Mothpaw and the junior.

The junior rolls her eyes. "I was wondering," she begins, "how you feel about the death penalty."

* * *

There are still old memories you revisit. Feathertail is hospitalized for the third time you can remember, and you log your hours for drivers' ed as you practice making the trip back and forth.

* * *

On Halloween, you take the bucket of candy Feathertail gave the three of you to share and sit on the back porch. Frogpaw and Hawkpaw keep stuffing their faces long after you've finished, and you feel like you're witnessing something obscene.

"I did some math," Frogpaw says. "We were born a month early." He throws a candy bar up, and it lands on his stomach. "Means we were conceived around New Years."

He throws the bar up again, and this time it lands in his hands.

"You ever want to throw a party? Just one. Make a bunch of food for dinner and sit around the table and call all the different dishes courses?"

"What the hell are you saying?" Hawkpaw asks.

"I think i'm just saying something," Frogpaw says. "I think I'm just hoping if I say enough things, I'll find the right thing to say.

* * *

You get your license. It says your name on the card, Mothpaw, daughter of Feathertail, and ask for permission to drive the car.

You don't have a plan for where you're going, and you end up in front of a cathedral.

* * *

The stress of junior year threatens to break you. College applications loom, your classes grow teeth, and you start to bicker with Leafpaw over petty things.

You read over the essay requirement for colleges, and think about what kind of essay you could write. Because there's really only one story worth telling, and it feels wrong, to type out all of your family to a stranger.

It makes you glad you started early. "My mother was fourteen when we were born," you write, and then scratch out. "My father is alive. We know who the other is. I've never met him," you write, and then erase. "I don't know who I am," you write, and then you keep writing.

* * *

At some point, you decide you don't believe. But. You keep coming back. There is something reassuring in routine. Your family doesn't ask where you are going, and you don't volunteer it. Sunday morning. There's some kind of peace, in having the time to sit and think and be.

* * *

"I think I've messed everything up," Leafpaw says. "I've gone about this all the wrong way, and now, everything is terrible, and this is all my fault, Mothpaw, I'm sorry-"

You kiss her, and then lean your forehead against hers. "We're both at fault," you say. "Besides. Maybe the honeymoon is over. We've got lives to attend."

And Leafpaw, inextricably, is part of that life. You can think of the essays you would've written about her. How her hair looks brown until it catches the sun, and then it shines like red glass. How she stomps when she is excited. How she links arms with you and says you're going shopping until you find your family Christmas gifts.

* * *

They invite you to a class, but it feels strange, knowing you don't believe. How do you say, I am here, and I am not, and I don't think you'd really want me.

You don't. You kneel down and offer a prayer to a god you don't believe in. Maybe it will catch.

* * *

Feathertail listens to you practice your speech.

"I'm so proud of you," she says. "You know that, right?"

You nod. She tells you this often, but something about her tone makes your throat catch. You've outgrown the days when Feathertail's arms could surround you, but even so, you start to cry when she hugs you.

"I love you," you say.

"I love you too," she says. She settles back onto the couch, wrapping her hands around a mug of tea.

This is the truth of who you are. This is what you will always fail to capture. How can you describe how the light streams inside at an angle that you've always known, one that makes the dust swirl through it? How can you describe the books on the coffee table, how each book has been read and loved, not merely thrown there for decoration? How can you describe yourself in any way but being there?

* * *

You meet your father's eyes. You know them. You have seen them in the mirror.

* * *

You hold your diploma in one hand, stopping for a photo. You were the first to enter kindergarten, you were the last to leave high school.

The excited chatter in the air is a reminder of what this day is. You have all bought your final yearbooks, signed names and numbers you won't remember in a few months. You're in it a few times -- Feathertail and Leafpaw delighted in hunting for your every appearance -- and you think, maybe it is okay if you are pieces.

There is something whole and solid that is made of them.

[nightowlwriting]

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.