#Never thought this is how I would use my defender training.

[defender-of-jouvente]

Pssst... Isabeau! Im safe from Siffrins wrath for now... Im giving you some tips. Use rubbing alchohol or nail polish remover on your face!! Sunscreen or lotion also works!! ( @housemaiden-of-change )

Oh yeah! Good idea! Totally forgot you could do that!

Should probably leave for the day if you wanna get out unscathed, though. Hiding won't do much- He's our trap finder for a reason!

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 57

Chapter Highlights (most of the chapter is the highlight lol)

An hour before dawn, the keep and two armies beyond it were stirring.

Rowan had barely slept, and instead lain awake beside Aelin, listening to her breathing.

That the rest of them slumbered soundly was testament to their exhaustion, though Lorcan had not found them again. Rowan was willing to bet it was by choice.

It was not fear or anticipation of battle that had kept Rowan up—no, he'd slept well enough during other wars. But rather the fact that his mind would not stop looping him from thought to thought to thought.

He'd seen the numbers camped outside.

Valg, human men loyal to Erawan, some fell beasts, yet nothing like the ilken or the

Wyrdhounds, or even the witches.

Aelin could wipe them away before the sun had fully risen. A few blasts of her power, and that army would be gone.

Yet she had not presented it as an option in their planning last night.

He'd seen the hope shining in the eyes of the people in the keep, the awe of the children as she'd passed. The Fire-Bringer, they'd whispered. Aelin of the Wildfire.

How soon would that awe and hope crumble today when not a spark of that fire was unleashed? How soon would the men's fear turn rank when the Queen of Terrasen did not wipe away Morath's legions?

He hadn't been able to ask her. Had told himself to, had roared at himself to ask these past few weeks, when even their training hadn't summoned an ember.

But he couldn't bring himself to demand why she wouldn't or couldn't use her power, why they had seen or felt nothing of it after those initial few days of freedom. Couldn't ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to possibly make her fear or hate her magic enough that she didn't touch it.

Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan slipped from the room, the din of preparations greeting him the moment he entered the hall. A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him, and steps fell into sync with his own, along with a familiar, wicked scent.

"They burned her."

Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys. "What?" But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.

"Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fenrys, blood oath or no, what he'd done for Aelin or no, was not privy to these matters. No, it was between him and his mate, and no one else.

Fenrys threw him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. "You were staring at her half the night. I could see it on your face. You're all thinking it—why doesn't she just burn the enemy to hell?" Rowan aimed for the washing station down the hall. A few soldiers and healers stood along the metal trough, scrubbing their faces to shake the sleep or nerves.

Fenrys said, "He put her in those metal gauntlets. And one time, he heated them over an open brazier. There…" He stumbled for words, and Rowan could barely breathe. "It took the healers two weeks to fix what he did to her hands and wrists. And when she woke up, there was nothing but healed skin. She couldn't tell what had been done and what was a nightmare." Rowan reached for one of the ewers that some of the children refilled every few moments and dumped it over his head. Icy water bit into his skin, drowning out the roaring in his ears.

"Cairn did many things like that." Fenrys took up a ewer himself, and splashed some into his hands before rubbing them over his face.

Rowan's hands shook as he watched the water funnel toward the basin set beneath the trough.

"Your claiming marks, though." Fenrys wiped his face again. "No matter what they did to her, they remained. Longer than any other scar, they stayed."

Yet her neck had been smooth when he'd found her.

Reading that thought, Fenrys said, "The last time they healed her, right before she escaped. That's when they vanished. When Maeve told her that you had gone to Terrasen."

The words hit like a blow. When she had lost hope that he was coming for her. Even the greatest healers in the world hadn't been able to take that from her until then.

Rowan wiped his face on the arm of his jacket. "Why are you telling me this?" he repeated.

Fenrys rose from the trough, drying his face with the same lack of ceremony. "So you can stop wondering what happened. Focus on something else today." The warrior kept pace beside him as they headed for where they'd been told a meager breakfast would be laid out.

"And let her come to you when she's ready."

"She's my mate," Rowan growled. "You think I don't know that?" Fenrys could shove his snout into someone else's business.

Fenrys held up his hands. "You can be brutal, when you want something."

"I'd never force her to tell me anything she wasn't ready to say." It had been their bargain from the start. Part of why he'd fallen in love with her.

He should have known then, during those days in Mistward, when he found himself sharing parts of himself, his history, that he'd never told anyone. When he found himself needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces, yes, but he'd wanted her to know. And Aelin had wanted to hear it. All of it.

They discovered Aelin and Elide already at the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit. No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.

Rowan came up behind his mate and pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his new claiming marks lay.

She hummed, and offered him a bite of the bread she'd already dug into while gathering the rest of her food. He obliged, the bread thick and hearty, then said, "You were asleep when I left a few minutes ago, yet you somehow beat me to the breakfast table." Another kiss to her neck. "Why am I not surprised?"

Elide laughed beside Aelin, piling food onto her own plate. Aelin only elbowed him as he fell into line beside her.

The four of them ate quickly, refilled their waterskins at the fountain in an interior courtyard, and set about finding armor. There was little on the upper levels that was fit for wearing, so they descended into the keep, deeper and deeper, until they came across a locked room.

"Should we, or is it rude?" Aelin mused, peering at the wooden door.

Rowan sent a spear of his wind aiming for the lock and splintered it apart. "Looks like it was already open when we got here," he said mildly.

Aelin gave him a wicked grin, and Fenrys pulled a torch off its bracket in the narrow stone hallway to illuminate the room beyond.

"Well, now we know why the rest of the keep is a piece of shit," Aelin said, surveying the trove. "He's kept all the gold and fun things down here."

Indeed, his mate's idea of fun things was the same as Rowan's: armor and swords, spears and ancient maces.

"He couldn't have distributed this?" Elide frowned at the racks of swords and daggers.

"It's all heirlooms," said Fenrys, approaching one such rack and studying the hilt of a sword. "Ancient, but still good. Really good," he added, pulling a blade from its sheath.

He glanced at Rowan. "This was forged by an Asterion blacksmith."

"From a different age," Rowan mused, marveling at the flawless blade, its impeccable condition. "When Fae were not so feared."

"Are we just going to take it? Without even Chaol's permission?" Elide chewed on her lip.

Aelin snickered. "Let's consider ourselves swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees that need to be paid." She hefted a round, golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made, judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the Lord of Anielle— the Lord of the Silver Lake. "So, we'll take what we're owed for today's battle, and spare His Lordship the task of having to come down here himself."

Gods, he loved her.

Fenrys winked at Elide. "I won't tell if you don't, Lady."

Elide blushed, then waved them onward. "Collect your earnings, then."

Rowan did. He and Fenrys found armor that could fit them—in certain areas. They had to forgo the entire suit, but took pieces to enforce their shoulders, forearms, and shins. Rowan had just finished strapping greaves on his legs when Fenrys said, "We should bring some of this up for Lorcan and Gavriel."

Indeed they should. Rowan eyed other pieces, and began collecting extra daggers and blades, then sections from another suit that might fit Lorcan, Fenrys doing the same for Gavriel.

"You must charge a great deal for your services," Elide muttered. Even while the Lady of Perranth tied a few daggers to her own belt.

"I need some way to pay for my expensive tastes, don't I?" Aelin drawled, weighing a dagger in her hands.

But she hadn't donned any armor yet, and when Rowan gave her an inquiring glance, Aelin jerked her chin toward him. "Head upstairs-track down Lorcan and Gavriel. I'll find you soon."

Her face was unreadable for once. Perhaps she wanted a moment alone before battle. And when Rowan tried to find any words in her eyes, Aelin turned toward the shield she'd claimed. As if contemplating it.

So Rowan and Fenrys headed upstairs, Elide helping to haul their stolen gear. No one stopped them. Not with the sky turning to gray, and soldiers rushing to their positions on the battlements.

Rowan and Fenrys didn't have far to go.

They'd be stationed by the gates at the lower level, where the battering rams might come flying through if Morath got desperate enough.

On the level above them, Chaol sat astride his magnificent black horse, the mare's breath curling from her nostrils. Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, and Chaol saluted back before gazing toward the enemy army.

The khaganate would make the first maneuver, the initial push to get Morath moving.

"I always forget how much I hate this part," Fenrys muttered. "The waiting before it begins."

Rowan grunted his agreement.

Gavriel prowled up to them, Lorcan a dark storm behind him. Rowan wordlessly handed the latter the armor he'd gathered. "Courtesy of the Lord of Anielle." Lorcan gave him a look that said he knew Rowan was full of shit, but began efficiently donning the armor, Gavriel doing the same.

Whether the soldiers around them marked that armor, whether Chaol recognized it, no one said a word.

"Ready now," Chaol called out to the men of his keep.

This would be it—today. Whether that hope remained or fractured.

Already, the awakening sky revealed two siege towers being hauled toward them. Right to the wall. Far closer than Rowan had last noted when flying overhead last night. Morath, it seemed, had not been sleeping, either.

The ruks would remain back with their own army, driving Morath to the keep. To be picked off here, one by one.

"We have minutes until that first tower makes contact with the wall," Gavriel observed. A scan of the battlements, the soldiers atop them, revealed no sign of Aelin. Lorcan indeed muttered, "Someone better tell her to stop primping and get here." Rowan snarled in warning.

"Archers!" Chaol's bellow rang out. Behind them, down the battlements, bows groaned. Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and nocked an arrow into place.

Rowan kept his own bow strapped across his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste them on a few soldiers when their aim might be needed with far worse targets later in the day.

But one of them had to be noted felling soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as Rowan, he'd admit, would do just fine.

Rowan followed the line of Fenrys's arrowhead to where he'd marked one of the bearers of a siege ladder. "Make it impressive," he muttered.

"Mind your own business," Fenrys muttered back, tracking his target with the tip of his arrow as he awaited Chaol's order.

If Aelin didn't arrive within another moment, he'd have to leave the battlements to find her. What in hell had held her up?

Lorcan drew his ancient blade, which Rowan had witnessed felling soldiers in kingdoms far from here, in wars far longer than this one. "They'll head for the gates when that siege tower docks," Lorcan said, glancing from the battlements to the gate a level below, the small bastion of men in front of it. Trees had been felled to prop up the metal doors, but should a solid enough group of enemy soldiers swarm it, they might get those supports and the heavy locks down within minutes. And open the gates to the hordes beyond

"We don't let them get that far," Rowan said, eyeing up the massive tower lumbering closer. Soldiers teemed behind it, waiting to scale its interior. "Chaol brought the tower down the other day without our help. It can happen again."

"Volley!" Chaol's roar echoed off the stones, and arrows sang.

Like a swarm of locusts, they swept upon the soldiers marching below. Fenrys's arrow found its mark with lethal precision.

Within a heartbeat, another was on its tail. A second soldier at the siege ladder fell.

Where the hell was Aelin—

Morath didn't halt. Marched right over the soldiers who fell on their front lines.

The pulse of human fear down the battlements rippled against his skin. The cadre would have to strike fast, and strike well, to shake it away.

The siege tower lumbered closer. One glance from Rowan had him and his friends moving toward the spot it would now undeniably strike upon the battlements. Close enough to the stairs down to the gate. Morath had chosen the location well.

Some of the soldiers they passed were praying, a shuddering push of words into the frigid morning air.

Lorcan said to one of them, "Save your breath for the battle, not the gods."

Rowan shot him a look, but the man, gaping at Lorcan, quieted.

Chaol ordered another volley, and arrows flew, Fenrys firing as he walked. As if he were barely bothered.

Still, the whispered prayers continued down the line, swords shaking along with them.

Up by Chaol, the soldiers held firm, faces solid.

But here, on this level of the battlements ... those faces were pale. Wide-eyed.

"Someone better say something inspiring," Fenrys said through gritted teeth, firing another arrow. "Or these men are going to piss themselves in a minute."

For a minute was all they had left, as the first siege tower inched closer.

"You've got the pretty face," Lorcan retorted. "You'd do a better job of it."

"It's too late for speeches," Rowan cut in before Fenrys could reply. "Better to show them what we can do."

Rowan steadied his breathing, readying his magic to rip through Valg lungs. He'd fell a few with his blades first. To show how easily it could be done, that Morath was desperate and victory would be near. The magic would come later.

The siege tower groaned as it slowed to a stop.

Just as the wall under them shuddered at its impact, Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside.

But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged.

Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried.

A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her.

A swift, upward strike cleaved the Morath grunt from navel to chin. His black blood sprayed, but she was already moving, flowing like a stream around a rock.

Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected.

She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

Soldiers waiting their turn whirled toward them. Aelin took on three Valg soldiers and left them dying on the stones.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way.

Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow.

That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do.

He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line.

Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message.

Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she'd picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance.

They'd made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower's entrance.

"To Lord Chaol! To the queen!"

How far they both were from Rifthold.

From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks. A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower's mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he'd fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself. Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She'd bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she'd unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan's army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior.

Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan's. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they'd dislodge the tower, she didn't know. Didn't think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

all the times franco and yn were unhinged on each others socials

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francolapinto working hard🔥

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francolapinto quick break with my babygirl🏋‍♀️🐎

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williamsracing ready for today💪 we will keep pushing💙🏎

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more here!

[indecisivemuch]

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 

You deserved better. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

masterlist

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[beifong-brainrot]

Actually I WILL talk about Mai's seeming 'radicalisation'. With the upcoming comic, I can see why a lot of people are confused/caught offguard by Mai suddenly having a vested interest in reforming the Fire Nation's school curriculum.

However, I don't think it's as much of a heelturn as one would believe at first glance.

Mai is a difficult character to pinpoint on some levels, particularly due to her upbringing which stripped her of a lot of her self expression. I think most of the fandom underestimates the trauma and effect of Mai's upbringing. I elaborate on it here.

However, the long and short of it is that Mai was not encouraged to question, criticise or, god forbid, rebel against her enviornment. To the point where her parents scared her with stories of spirits that would kidnap her if she misbehaved.

Ukano's involvement in politics and relatively high status should also be taken into account. Mai would have grown up being strongly encouraged to conform to her father's beliefs and go along with his politics.

Mai : My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about.

We've seen the propaganda and indoctrination of the Fire Nation school system, how it uses misinformation in its curriculum and how it punishes deviance.

Most fire nation children won't have the tools to find the cruelty and danger in the philosophy of the Fire Nation. Zuko had to get banished from the country to even start his deconstruction. And he had Iroh at his side to guide him.

It's not shocking that Mai would not be able to see the flaws of the Fire Nation. Despite this, she still shows no attachment to the Nation's cause, either. In fact, she actively refused to take part in the war effort when she thought she could get away with it.

I don't think Mai had much sympathy to the other nations, nor will I claim she secretly harboured anti imperialistic sentiment. I simply want to state the fact that Mai was, from a young age, forced to do things she didn't want to do and conditioned by multiple parties, to accept this. Mai has been trained to be passive, with only the method of passive aggressiveness and gloominess to defend herself.

I think after the fall of Ozai's rule and the slow restructuring of the Nation, Mai got more freedom in her life. Ukano's political role diminished, so Mai was allowed to think for herself. She gets to discover the world more and develop her own thoughts and ideals, rather than the ones she'd been forced to conform to.

This line in the upcoming comic seems to confirm my thoughts:

Mai's upbringing is the underground and darkness. She was never given an alternative or agency in her life. And thanks to Zuko, she was able to see and experience a different world than the one she was brought up with. She is able to help to try and achieve it.

Initially, Mai is angry at Zuko's joining of team Avatar. She feels betrayed and upset that he did not talk to her in person, even if it was to protect her. And yet, she saves him. While I believe that most of her motivation was genuinely out of love for Zuko. But she also, ekther inadvertently or deliberately made the choice between Azula and Zuko. Between the two potential duture leaders of the Nation.

And she chose Zuko. Who is not only the boy she loves, but also the boy who can heal her nation.

There is an argument to be made about how Mai represents the Fire Nation itself and its relationship to Zuko, but that is a topic for another day.

The theme of Mai caring for the future of the Fire Nation can be seen expanding in the comics. As 99% of the fandom will tell you, the comics have their flaws, but I do enjoy their handling of Mai for the most part.

I think it's interesting that we are shown that Mai not only wants Zuko to be Fire Lord, but for him to be a good Fire Lord.

We see her dissapointed in Zuko secretly meeting with Ozai. At first glance, what she says to Zuko is that she is dissapointed in him keeping secrets from her, which is understandable, since the last time he kept a secret from her led to him joining the opposite side of a war.

However, with her next appearance, we see that Mai may have had another concern relating to Zuko's communing with Ozai. When Ty Lee informs her of Zuko also enlisting Azula's help, Mai exclaims 'so he really is turning into his father', which seems to denote that Mai has a distaste for Ozai and his rule, whether that be from the begining, or recently acquired.

Mai also criticises Zuko's callous and controlling restrictions over the frightened townspeople. This serves to further cement the idea of Mai becoming disillusioned with the similarly inclined authority figures of her past. Authority figures who were a symptom of the Fire Nation's utilitarian and imperialistic system. We see this disdain manifesting in its full force in the teasers for the upcoming comic.

I think people tend to not realise how restricted in her self expression and thoughts Mai was, despite all the puzzle pieces being laid out for us in the show.

Mai has gone through a very quick and yet realistic episode of character growth in my opinion. Not unlike a lot of people raised in heavily Conservative and restrictive households who peel off later in life, she's settling into her own mindset and motivations.

Ans I don't think it's an unrealistic idea for Mai to want to help change the education system. The Fire Academy for girls is where she met Azula, and as an all girl school alumni, I can tell you first hand how toxic and confining these enviornments can be.

While Mai may not be seen as a particularly empathetic or kind person (though I think this interpretation is flawed), she can sympathise with the young girls who will be placed in the shoes of her younger self.

She can want to not see these kids go through what she, Ty Lee AND Azula did.

[The panels of Mai glancing between the stifling interior of the school and the open window and choosing to go outside and lead the Nation's youth outside... ugh]

Not only is this a rather logical progression for Mai's character, in my opinion, but it also feels like a very big 'healing your inner child' moment for Mai. Since she was not really seemingly allowed to be a child, as most children in the Fire Nation appeared to have such restrictions placed on them.

I don't think it's much of a stretch of the imagination that Mai would want to have at least a small part in dismantling the system that harmed her and so many other children of the nation.

She is a young woman now, she has grown from the oversheltered, apathetic teen she was in the show. She has been able to make her own informed opinions about the state of the nation, has been able to hone her trauma into determination. And it seems we're going to see the fruits of this development in "Ashes of the Academy".

I have very high hopes for the upcoming comic, since what we've seen of it appears to make a compelling story, one I relate to deeply, as well as a good study of Mai, a character I find often misinterpreted by the fandom.

[fenkko]

one who had dreams of being a hero

This comic is based on Story 3, which speaks of his hobby of ice fishing originating from the days he'd go out with his father on the ice, 'accompanied by his father's unending tales of adventure,' and dream of being the protagonist.

Nowadays, he keeps up the hobby, though only as a method of training... and it seems he fishes alone.

I thought a lot about fairytales and stories told to children -- how they are used to impart lessons and shape a child's growing sense of morality.

I think these stories were Childe's father telling him what kind of man he hoped his son would become.

In Story 5, 'his father had no choice but to hand his beloved son over for conscription into the Fatui' in an attempt to discipline his temper, but was disappointed when Childe continued ascending the ranks, further and further from the gentle boy he was..

His father named him after the hero Ajax. Is he still disappointed in the path Childe has taken? Does he still see his son in the man he sees before him? Does Childe feel in himself the chasm between who he dreamed of becoming and who he is now?

It's interesting, that fairytales should often have a very strict good/evil morality. Childe professes he has no use for such things, and will gladly become a mindless weapon so long as he can continue honing himself for battle. And yet, has he truly given up on being human?

For a Harbinger, Childe is oddly principled, preferring straightforward battles without deceit. He retains a sort of moral code, reluctant to involve those who are defenseless in his plans.

And of course, he deeply cherishes his family. What sort of weapon has a family? Why does he cling so desperately to this identity as a defender of childhood dreams, of being his sister Tonia's knight?

Perhaps his own dream of being a hero died long ago, but a part of him still recognizes the tragedy of it and maybe... in some way, is still trying.

This is somewhat of a companion piece to my Scara comic "one who has given up on being saved". Childe, unable to live up to his childhood ideals of heroism, and Scara, whose pleas for help went unanswered.

A failed hero, and someone who never had one.

ARGHH yknow it drives me nuts. I haven't known peace since I started thinking about it.

[kislnd]

platform roulette - arthur hill~

synopsis: y/n needs to pick the boys up after filming platform roulette, but it is made all the more difficult by a drunk & clingy arthur.

notes: while i write requests here's a lil something for the arthur hill girlies 🫶

warnings: mentions of alcohol, pda

word count: 1.3k (kinda short this time)

masterlist

dragging herself out of such a warm and cosy bed at close to midnight was not exactly y/n's idea of fun, nor her favourite way to spend a friday evening, but it had to be done if she wanted to make sure her boyfriend and friends, arthurtv and george, arrived home safely in their drunk states.

at this time in the morning not much thought was being put into an outfit, the only thing on y/n's mind was collecting the boys and ensuring they were dropped off safely home before clambering into her shared bed with arthur. she settled on one of his hoodies, knowing she would be grateful for its warmth as she stood on the platform later, and some random bottoms she found slung close to her wardrobe. she mentally cursed the boys for choosing to come back on one of the final trains of the night, although she did doubt they even knew the current time.

//

the harsh screeching of the train pulling up to the platform snapped y/n out of her thoughts as the doors open and floods of weary people dragged themselves off the train and stumbled towards the exit. she empathised with them, but felt grateful that her travel to the train station had only been quite short in comparison to their train ride.

naturally, she heard the boys before she saw them - "y/nnn!" arthur shouted across the platform, completely oblivious to the people around him. she giggled softly, they were definitely drunk, it was always quite amusing to see how outspoken and chatty they became after a few drinks. "you didn't leave us for dead!" george grinned cheekily as they approached her. "it was quite tempting actually, my bed was really comfortable so you're lucky i made it," y/n laughed but stopped abruptly as arthur enveloped her in a tight hug, resting his entire body weight on her. it was a miracle her bones hadn't been crushed with the sheer force of the hug. nevertheless, arthur's hugs were one of her most favourite things in the world, even the ones that smelled faintly of beer like this one. his embrace was so warm and comforting - safe would be the perfect way to describe it, like all of her worries melted away in his arms.

"i missed you," arthur mumbled into her shoulder, his grip on her never loosening. "i missed you too," y/n smiled, rubbing her hand along his back soothingly. she let him cling to her for a few seconds, soaking up his warmth before breaking the silence, "let me just say hello to the boys," she spoke softly, hoping arthur would be willing to let go of her. "do you have to?" came the slightly slurred reply from arthur who was looking at her with big, adoring eyes. "yes-" a small smile formed on her face, "i do." her boyfriend groaned - it was almost theatrical, like something of utmost inconvenience had just happened. despite protesting, arthur eventually obliged and unwrapped himself from her, struggling to stand upright himself without swaying slightly.

"honestly he is one of the most dramatic drunk people in the world," arthurtv let out a small laugh, his cheeks were slightly rosy from the alcohol and he was dressed in only a t-shirt, evidently drunk enough to not feel the crisp breeze circulating the station. "and he doesn't shut up about you," george added, "i am never getting drunk with him again,' he joked, laughing to himself. "hey! if you had a pretty girlfriend you wouldn't shut up either!" arthur defended himself as y/n gave george and arthurtv a quick hug, exchanging thank yous (for picking them up, for not leaving arthur for dead, for taking him off their hands).

"right, come on then," y/n began walking out of the station in the direction of the car park, "if we don't go now i will turn into an ice block and we won't make it home." this spurred the boys on to pick up their pace as much as they could without falling on their faces. arthur made an extra effort to reach y/n and draped his arm around her shoulders upon reaching her. "hello again," she smiled, fishing in her pocket to retrieve the car keys. "you're so pretty," arthur paused, "have i already said that?" he asked in a quieter voice, his soft expression replaced by one of confusion. it was impossible not to love it when he was drunk, he became so clingy and extra loving, it was irresistible. "why thank you," y/n giggled, opening the car door for arthur, who was still firmly attached to her shoulders, "mind your head on the way in," - drunk arthur typically also meant clumsy arthur.

after everyone had piled into the car, they began the short journey home, it wasn't too long before everyone had been safely dropped off (especially since the cold air had sobered them up a little) and y/n was helping arthur out of the car and all the way to their shared apartment.

she could see he was no longer at the chatty, bubbly stage of being drunk - his eyelids were heavy and his movements sluggish. "come on," y/n spoke quietly as not to make too much noise or exacerbate the headache she presumed arthur was developing. he nodded and gave her a small smile, allowing her to lead him towards their room. "you get changed and i'll grab you some paracetamol." he obliged, of course, and plopped himself down on the bed so he could remove his shoes.

y/n returned to the bedroom, armed with a glass of water and a box of paracetamol, to a one-shoed arthur perched on the edge of the bed with his head was hung miserably and his eyes shut in defeat. "arthur was right, you are so dramatic," she laughs quietly to herself, she knew arthur was not as good as the other boys at holding his alcohol and with all the running around and general silly antics that they got up to during a platform roulette she could understand why he would be a little worse for wear. "here," y/n popped two pills out of the packet and held it out with the glass for arthur to take.

"thank you," he mumbled, taking them and gulping down the water. after some convincing from y/n, he mustered up what little energy he had remaining and changed into a pair of pyjama bottoms. once done, he reassumed his original position on the edge of the bed and waited for y/n to finish her night routine and tidy the room up a little. "is that my hoodie?" arthur grins, surprisingly seeming slightly better already. "maybe it is," y/n grins back, "that's beside the point, shouldn't you be getting into bed?" she raises her eyebrow at him more playfully than sternly. "it looks better on you than on me, you should keep it," he continues hopefully, not willing to move.

y/n laughs softly, "save your flattery for the morning, it's time to sleep," she quickly replaced her clothes with pyjamas and slid into the bed under the duvet, prompting arthur to do the same. "so now you want to get in huh?" y/n smiles, flicking off the lamp that had been casting a gentle orange glow across the room and shuffling down in the bed to get into a comfortable position. "well yeah, it's different when you're here." arthur hums, immediately pulling y/n closer under the cover so that their bodies touched, the warmth radiating off each of them meshing into one. "thank you for taking care of me," arthur whispers, stroking her hair. "that's what i'm here for," y/n smiles into the darkness, arthur's embrace lulling her to sleep.

[ace-turned-confused]

mould me for ruin

marcus acacius masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: marcus acacius x virgin f!reader summary: after years of watching general acacius, you long to wield a sword of your own — an opportunity arises for your dreams to come true, in more ways than one word count: 4,6k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / inexperienced & a virgin, probably historically inaccurate yippie!, unspecified juicy age gap, pet names, smut, loss of virginity, f masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, comeplay, praise kink, size difference, bit of corruption & innocence kink, some dacryphilia, dirty talk & possessive acacius, Armour Stays On, Skirt Stays On extra info: subligaculum = underwear, mamillare = breastband/bra — if this is wrong then yell at google, not me a/n: so i watched the trailer with my best friend, looked at her immediately and said “i need him to tackle me to the ground” and here we are. i couldn’t help myself. @morallyinept thank you Jett for encouraging me to write this and listening to my deranged rambling, love you so much my friend 🤍 not beta'd, live laugh love

You’ve watched him for years — defending his honour, moulding young boys into fearless soldiers, striding up the palace steps to stand before the emperor. His confidence never falters, and it’s astonishing how his men follow his constant orders, never complaining, never challenging him. He speaks, they listen — you would do the same.

You’ve always dreamed of what wearing armour like his would feel like — how it would weigh down your shoulders, how it would clunk and rattle as you walk, how the leather would flow around your legs. That’s all it’s ever been — a dream, a fantasy. You’ve found as of late that you’ve had other dreams, too.

General Marcus Acacius has always been something of a God to you, he could never do wrong in your eyes and you often thought of him at fleeting moments during your day’s duties. Now, you think of him at night, too, and you don’t know how to stop. Instead of wearing that armour yourself, you’ve started imagining how it would feel if someone else pressed it into your skin. In all of your dreams, it’s Acacius wearing that armour.

You’ve noticed it’s not just your mind that’s affected — you feel unbearably warm, a throbbing sensation between your legs that only intensifies if you ignore it. You used to squeeze your legs together to try and quell that feeling, soon finding that it turned into pleasure.

You’ve always been a curious girl — one night you pulled off your sheets and shoved your hand down to explore yourself, finding you were wet, and if you pressed your fingers into one specific spot for long enough, you felt euphoric. This happens most nights now, and you have to cover your mouth when it’s quiet to avoid waking someone up.

You wondered if anyone else experienced this too but have always been too scared to ask — sometimes you feel embarrassed just thinking about it.

Acacius would never dare to even look at you, for what would a man of his stature want with a girl like you, but there’s no harm in you continuing to look at him — lingering in the shadows during training hours, fixated on him during noble proceedings. You swear sometimes he stares directly at you in a crowd, eyes burning into you as he singles you out.

-

The sun is just beginning to set, Marcus’ final session of the day has concluded and the servants have come to harp to his every need. One brings cloth for his face, another a small cup filled with water for drinking. A young boy had nicked his arm during a one-on-one showcase, the blood now dried on his skin as bandaging is wrapped around his bicep. The boy looked terrified of what the consequences might be, but Marcus reassured him that no real harm was done.

His body aches as he longs for rest — he’s not quite as young and agile as he once was.

Trudging out of the arena, he notices you — it’s not the first time, either. He imagines you just have an inquisitive mind and are fascinated by the spectacle of physical combat, as most are — but you don’t seem engrossed by the pompous behaviour or extravagant events. It appears as though you live in hopes of being able to train, that you dream you could be the one in the arena. You step out of hiding and try to sneak off in the opposite direction.

“Something you are looking for, girl?”

You halt in your tracks, turning to face him with wide eyes. You don’t respond.

“Answer when you are questioned.”

“I did not intend to be a bother, General Acacius, I will be on my way, my apologies.”

“There is no need for an apology. I have seen you here before — on many occasions, in fact.” He steps towards you and you stand, unmoving. “Tell me, girl, why are you really here.”

Your eyes flicker around as you consider your answer, fingers twitching at your sides as you chew on your lip. Finally, you tell him, “I… simply enjoy watching. You are finely skilled, it is magnificent to witness. All of you, I do not watch you alone, of course.” Your voice wavers as you rush out your last sentence.

“Do you wish to be in the arena, yourself?”

“I could not.”

“I did not ask if you could or could not.”

Again, you don’t respond as your gaze lowers to focus on his chestplate, eyes tracing the twisting gold patterns. He considers how to get the truth from you, and his decision is undoubtedly something he shouldn’t entertain.

“Meet me at sundown tomorrow in the clearing by the lake, it is not too far a journey on foot. You have never been spotted here, so I imagine you will have no difficulty making it out there undetected.”

You sputter out a reply as he walks off, tripping over your words but don’t make any real effort to stop or counter him. Whether or not you show up tomorrow is ultimately your decision, and he will not hold it against you if you choose to remain in the shadows. He does hope you do join him, though, he hopes you might surprise him.

-

You’ve spent all day weighing up what to do. A few others noticed your mind was distant but you managed to keep their suspicions at bay. When the General caught you the night prior, you were certain you’d be in trouble but he was shockingly calm.

He stood right before you and for the first time, you could take in his features — you’ve only ever been able to admire him from afar. Grey streaks on his temples and spread along his jawline, steel gaze and curved nose, arms and shoulders even thicker and broader up close. You felt that low heat settle between your legs as he questioned you — your dreams will be far more vivid from now on.

Acacius was right when he assumed you could make it out here unnoticed, you’ve mastered the art after years of sneaking around. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon when you hear rustling in the tree line behind you. You turn and see him break through the foliage, clad in his armour with a sword on either hip.

“You are here.” He runs his eyes over your whole body as he moves into the clearing. 

He walks out towards you and draws one sword, angling the blade to catch the light as he flips it around in his hand before presenting the grip to you. You furrow your brow in confusion.

“Unless you have one in your own possession, you will need a sword. I did not bring two for my own use.”

You take it in hand, clenching your fist repeatedly to get a feel for it, twirling the sword around — it’s easier to handle than you imagined, but still a solid weight.

“Tonight we will just begin with a few basic movements. You need to be in control of your weapon — if you fear it, that is when you will harm yourself.”

You spend hours focused on moving the sword around your body, watching Acacius’ demonstrations and then mirroring them. It’s not long before you can speed up your actions, remembering the patterns without having to be shown.

“I must admit, I am impressed. You are managing the blade well.” You glance up at him mid-performance — he rests a hand on his hip, his lips just starting to curl into a small smile. “Do you have a weapon of your own? I will not tell.”

“I have a small dagger I found long ago, I find peace in keeping it well-maintained.”

“You will carry it on your person at all times.”

“I should not.”

“This is not a case of should or should not, you will carry it. You may be secure near the arena and its surroundings, but this world is not always a safe one. Your dagger will do you more good in your hand than in your bedchamber.”

He walks towards the water's edge and looks out over the lake. Turning to face you, the moonlight bounces off the water and shines around him — he looks otherworldly. You realise now, as you stand under the twinkling stars, just how long the two of you have been out here.

“It is late, we should make our way back to town. I would like to continue your training, you have made a promising start — if you wish to learn more.”

“Thank you, General. I would like that. When will we next meet?”

“The night after tomorrow. You cannot practise during daylight on your own, and repetition is necessary for mastering an art like this. I will see you then.”

“May I ask…” You fidget with the sword in your hand. “How come we are so far out? Would it not be simpler to just train in the arena?”

“And think what would happen if someone were to see — a girl, sparring with a general in the arena after dark? You will be sent for exile, or worse.”

You hand the sword back to Acacius, eyes flitting up to his and breath hitching in your chest as his hand grips over yours.

“Goodnight, General.”

“Rest well, you will need it.”

He bids you goodnight, sheathing the sword back on his hip. You glance back at him as you retreat into the woods and he’s still watching you. You’re not sure how much sleep you’ll get, but you’ll definitely be well-rested.

-

It feels as though time had stopped altogether the past two days. Your duties dragged on for hours and you tossed in your sleep. You'd snuck off as usual to view the training sessions, but it isn’t enough anymore now that you’ve done it yourself and spent time alone with Acacius.

You ran his words over in your head, your dagger will do you more good in your hand than in your bedchamber, and he is right. What use is a weapon that you cannot use? You tried tucking it into your subligaculum, but it would dislodge as soon as your movements became vigorous. You took some spare cloth and tied it around your calf, managing to secure the dagger in a way that would remain in place without drawing your own blood in the process. You’re eager to show off your craftsmanship to him.

Acacius is nowhere to be seen when you arrive tonight, a gentle breeze dancing in the leaves and causing small ripples on the water’s surface, lamplight flickering in the distance across the lake. You can hear rustling behind you but pass it off as the wind or woodland creatures until you hear a significant snap and fling yourself around.

You’re met with Acacius, standing no more than an arm's length away — he slashes his sword towards you before you can greet him. You duck down to the ground, air displaced above your head as you look up at him in shock.

“Your reflexes are defensive… swift, but defensive.”

You rise slowly, unsure what his further plans are, chest heaving as you try to calm yourself. Staring at him, you see he’s focused on your hand, a small smirk on his face — following his eyes you realise you’d taken hold of your dagger, the blade shining as it catches the setting sun.

“I see you are carrying your blade, good girl.”

You feel hot. You didn’t know mere words could do to you what your dreams do, but you push it down and blame the adrenaline coursing through your body.

“You already know how to defend yourself, that much is clear. Here we are training to attack, to kill, if that is what will save you. Am I understood?”

“Yes, General.”

You nod and lift your tunic to your knee, still taking in deep breaths as you secure your dagger once more. What was the point of this exercise?

“How did you know I would not retaliate?”

“You would not have stopped if I had been a real threat. You know in your mind I would not harm you, just as I know you would not harm me. That is what makes a bond like this successful: trust.”

The night’s session goes smoothly after that. You do a few repeats of your basic movements and advance into cutting through the air with the blade, Acacius a safe distance away should you lose your grip. Just like your first night, the moon is high up in the night sky by the time you remember the outside world.

“You are making quick progress. How about we try sparring? No complex movements, just stick to what you know.”

So you do, and to your own amazement you do rather well — grip never loosening, you maintain your focus on Acacius the entire time as your blades clash together, dirt whirring up around your feet as you dance around each other. Neither of you back down on your final connection, Acacius grinning at you from behind both blades.

“Should you succeed in this, you shall soon stand high above the rest. Even if they do not know it.”

You both drop your hands, swords by your sides as he stays close. You’re silent as you stare at him blankly, confused by his statement.

“Do you know of any other soldier that has trained by moonlight, alone with me? Those men… those boys, they train because it is their duty. A boy is born to fight. You? Well, it would seem you were born to fight, too.” His voice is soft, his usual curt tone lost to the night breeze. There’s a fond smile on his face, eyes full of admiration as he speaks to you.

“I have often seen you lingering around the arena, I can always spot you in a crowd…” His tongue darts out as his gaze drops to your lips momentarily, before looking into your eyes again. “It is unusual for a girl like you to have such a keen interest in such a… physical activity.”

“Do you think our kind should keep to our traditions? That men should fight and women should care for them?”

“Would I be alone with you under the stars if I thought as much?”

With heat radiating from his body, it takes everything in you not to lean forward into him. His hand brushes over yours as he reaches for your sword, slipping it from your grip to sheath it.

“I think that is enough for tonight. We will keep to this schedule unless I have other commitments — a night of rest, a night of work. There are proceedings at the palace tomorrow, I expect you will be there to witness it?”

“I will, yes.”

Still close to you, he shifts his gaze between your eyes — if you were further apart you might miss the hint of a grin playing on his face.

“It will be quite the sight.” He winks at you and steps back, eyes still locked on yours. “Goodnight, my little rascal.”

You watch as he disappears through the rough, waiting until the only sounds you hear are those from the lapping water and rustling leaves. You lift your tunic hastily, pushing your hand into your subligaculum and down between your legs.

Your problem has only worsened since you properly met Acacius — you relieved yourself after your first training session and last night. Now, however, the wetness has spread to the inside of your thighs, too, the pulsing sensations more intense than usual. You press your fingers into your swollen bud, moving your hand side to side and it doesn’t take long before you come — stretching your free hand out to anchor yourself against a tree, it’s the fiercest feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You hope it won’t take long to fall asleep once you reach town.

-

It will be quite the sight — you’d tried to decipher what he meant but fell short. It seems that Acacius is rarely untruthful in his words — the events at the palace really were a sight. More specifically, he was a sight.

You had stood in the crowd, not expecting too much excitement, when a broad figure ascending the palace steps caught your eye. Billowing white cape and gold-plated cuffs, when he turned to face the crowds you realised it was him. His usual armour was replaced by, no doubt expensive, white and trimmed in gold, his skirt falling around and between his thick thighs as he climbed.

The grey in his hair and heavy arms accentuated by his new noble appearance, he stood tall and surveyed, hands clasped teasingly in front of his skirt. Just as he told you before, his eyes found you amongst everyone else and stayed on you the entire time, only breaking contact out of courtesy when others spoke with him.

You’ve never been too taken by proceedings like this, always far more keen on the soldiers’ training, but you wonder now if Acacius knows how he infiltrates your thoughts, knows the obscene way your body reacts to them. Why else would he have laid a claim like that?

It was all you could think about the entire day and night, and you think about it now, still, as you try sparring with him. It’s not as simple as the previous time, you find your movements are limited by your tunic, the fabric not as giving as before. You lower your sword and raise your spare hand to stop him, huffing in frustration.

“Is something the matter?”

“It— it is not your problem. I simply need to collect myself. Refocus.” You ready yourself with a defeated sigh but Acacius stands straight.

“Is something. The matter?”

“My tunic, it— I cannot move as I did the other night. As I said, it is not your problem.”

“You can remove it if that would help.”

You stand, bewildered at his comment.

“It is just you and I and the stars. You can remove your tunic if you will spar better without it.”

It seems he isn’t going to continue otherwise, so you place your sword on the ground. He doesn’t turn away from you, either, eyes fixed on you as you look to the floor and reach for your hem. Lifting it up your body and over your head, your skin feels blazing hot under his gaze as you stand nearly bare before him, your mamillare, subligaculum and the dagger secured on your calf your only coverings.

“You are quite the sight, even for a rascal.” You meet his eyes at his words, his gaze hungry. He finally resumes his stance and you retrieve your sword, preparing for the challenge.

The hunger in his eyes only grows stronger the longer you fight, his movements quickening as he advances and forces you backwards. He knocks the sword clean out of your grasp, the blade’s clanking muffled by the earth as he tackles you to the ground, pushing you beneath him and holding you in place.

“It seems your grip is not as secure as you believed…” He pauses as he rakes his eyes over you. “You were quite taken at the palace yesterday, I take it you enjoyed what you saw?”

“It was… quite exhilarating,” you sigh as he shifts, the edge of his breastplate catching on that spot your fingers find all too easily.

“What is wrong, rascal?” You gasp softly as he relaxes, resting almost his full weight on you. You squirm underneath him as you try lifting your hips in search of friction. You notice a change in his eyes and he ticks his jaw.

“Does that feel good?” He punctuates his words by grinding himself into you and holding himself there. “Do you touch yourself?”

“I do not know—” You knock your head back into the ground, pinching your eyes as he grinds his armour into you again. “I do not know what happens, but… it feels good.”

“Have you ever pushed a finger inside of yourself?”

You try turning to the side, his blunt words and forceful movements becoming too much for your uneducated mind.

“You can tell me.”

“I did not know I could do that. Is it not…” you look into his eyes again in search of reassurance, “Is it not shameful, what I do?”

He chuckles at your question, a hint of darkness still in his tone, “My sweet girl, there is nothing shameful about it. Many people pleasure themselves, and others — it is a wonderous thing.”

He lifts himself to push his hand under your subligaculum, fingers circling your bundle of nerves before dragging them through your folds. You feel a different kind of pressure as he repositions his fingers, pushing two inside of you and you cry out, his thick fingers slowly sliding further and further.

Leaning on his elbow, his free hand comes up to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch, heaving and gasping as you get used to the new sensation.

“When do you touch yourself?”

You make no response, your head spinning as that familiar heat that pools in your spine starts growing, only this time it’s far hotter. He grips your jaw, shaking you lightly to get your attention.

“You listen and answer to me. Do not forget that.”

“At night. I… at night.”

“And what makes you seek relief? I can feel how wet you are, my girl — what makes you wet?”

“You.” You moan to the stars as you clench around his fingers, heat coursing through your body as your legs stiffen. That night you came in this very same spot had been the best, but this easily tops it. He pulls his fingers from you as you open your eyes again, and suddenly you feel painfully empty.

“I make you wet?”

“Yes. I think of you when I touch myself. Sometimes I… sometimes I dream of you.”

He kneels back between your legs, manhandling you to push your discarded tunic under your body as he strips off the little clothing you still had on, leaving you completely naked. He smooths his fingers up and down between your legs.

“You are… so sweet, so pure. A girl like you is truly a treasure.”

Sitting up to rest on your elbows, you watch as he pulls his shorts down his thighs, tanned skin peeking through the dark leather of his skirt. He pushes the straps aside, taking his cock in his hand and stroking himself languidly, a twisted smile on his face as you stare, your lips parted in awe. 

“Have you seen a man before?”

“Not like this, no. Will it hurt?”

“It may, you are such a delicate girl… but it will certainly be a pleasurable pain.”

He leans over you, cock poking the inside of your thigh as he brings himself close, lips ghosting yours. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand between your bodies, running your fingers through your sticky folds.

“Do you feel how dripping wet with arousal you are, my girl? Do you feel how much your body craves mine?” He takes your hand, coated in slick and twists it to rub his length against your palm. “Do you feel how much my body craves yours, too?”

You try wrapping your hand around him, fingers splayed wide as you feel how hot his skin is, thick and heavy and hard, just like the rest of his body. He sighs softly as you tighten your grip experimentally.

“Will it… will it fit inside of me?” You look at him, eyebrows knitted in worry. His two fingers alone felt like they filled you completely, you’re not sure how you could possibly take more.

“We will make it fit. A good girl like you will soon learn to take me. You were made for me — your body craves mine, remember?”

You nod lazily as he lays you down and cradles your cheek again, your eyes fluttering closed as he softly presses his lips to your forehead. He drags his cock through your folds, nudging himself just inside your entrance. The stretch stings, your face contorted as you groan, but even with the pain you can feel that fire burning in your belly again. His thumb draws circles into your cheek, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I would hate to think how another man would ruin you. You are so tight, so perfect.” He inches forward, forcing your legs further apart and he looks down to where he breaches you. “I will be the only man to ruin you.”

He thrusts into you, sheathing himself completely as tears trickle down your cheeks and past your ears. He wipes them away with his thumb, peppering your face with kisses.

“My poor, sweet girl. Tell me how it feels.”

“So big…” You whine as you clench around his length, over and over. Through glassy eyes, you can see his devilish grin as he chuckles at your response.

“Only good girls can simply take what they are given like this, you are doing so well.” He pulls your hand between your bodies again, spreading your fingers around where he splits you open. You moan, a new wave of wetness pooling around his cock. “Even in your rebellion, that’s all you want to be, isn’t it? A good girl — always apologetic, always wanting to make me proud.”

He gives you no chance to comment or fully adjust to his size as he pulls out and snaps his hips back into yours. Your tailbone and shoulder blades dig uncomfortably into the hard ground beneath you, rendered defenceless as he pins you down by your shoulders. His gaze flickers up to you, hunger in his eyes turned dark as if he’s starving. He pays little attention to you now as he pistons into you over and over, all sense of care gone as he uses you for his own bliss — and yet, you’re on the verge of release again.

It still burns, being stretched almost unbearably wide, but had you known about these possibilities, you would’ve hunted for this far sooner. His cock drags heavily against your walls, the leather and stitching of his skirt chafing against your thighs, chestplate digging into your lower abdomen and you realise he was right — it is a pleasurable pain.

“Come again for me, my girl. Reach your high again, I know you are close.”

You attempt a response, but your words are incoherent.

“Good girls do as they are told — listen, and I will reward you.”

Your legs tense as you clamp down on him, coating his cock as you come again. You think you hear him grunting, senses overwhelmed by the ringing in your ears, unsure if the stars you see are from the night sky or your own pleasure. You’re still trembling when he pulls out and hovers above you, pumping himself with a tight fist until he spills over your stomach and up between your breasts.

Panting as he comes down, you lie beneath him and your curiosity takes over again — you run your fingers through the milky ropes covering your skin, lifting your hand to watch it web between your fingers. You crane your neck and stick your tongue out to taste it, your eyes on Acacius the whole time.

“My perfect girl…” It comes out barely above a whisper, a crooked smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you properly. He’s strikingly gentle, the scruff of his beard and moustache prickling against your skin, his hand curling to cradle your head. “There is still so much for you to learn, and I am eager to teach you. You are my rascal, after all.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @cafekitsune

[bamfkeeper]

Kurt going absolutely feral if he sees you hurt, you never expected him to be so vicious.

I think sometimes people get caught up in his playfulness and kind hearted nature but can be absolutely vicious when he wants to be. If you got hurt in battle or if someone hurt you in any way, he'd lose his mind.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries and blood/cleaning wounds, gender neutral reader, unedited ignore mistakes.

WC: 1.4k

Kurt loves you so much, and he shows it every single chance he gets. He's thoughtful, patient, and he listens to you whenever you need him to. Sometimes his friends forget what he's capable of under all that sweetness he displays. You do too.

You never saw him go all out in the Danger Room. Most of the time, training by his side consisted of Kurt sticking to you like glue and protecting you. You eventually had to ask him to stop, you needed to try to fight on your own. How else would you learn?

He still watched like a hawk, observing from a distance, since he could absolutely teleport to you if he needed. While the Danger Room presented threats in a fake projection and had hard obstacles, there was no real threat. Sure, you could get hurt, nothing would actively attempt to cause severe harm.

But real battles were different.

In real life, your opponent will try to kill you.

In real life, there are consequences if you aren't careful.

When your first mission came, Kurt insisted on coming with the chosen members for the team, he wouldn't let you go off on your own. You could handle yourself, he knew that. But he still couldn't shake the feeling of not knowing what would happen if he wasn't there.

"Kurt, I'll be fine. You know I've been working hard and I've passed all the tests," you said calmly, while he shifted beside you and gave you a small pout. You knew he was just trying to keep you safe, he cared so much and all he wanted to do was protect you. His tail wrapped around your leg and he sighed back.

"I know, liebling..." he whispered softly, "But I cannot help it. I know you are strong, and fully able to care for yourself." he held your cheeks and smiled at you. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"I can't get any better if you're always there to be my safety net, Kurt." you cooed, but with a small frown. "Sometimes, I need to get hurt so I can get tougher. Or so I can improve my skills. Besides, Scott said I've been doing really good and that I'm ready, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen me for this mission." you added. "You know he can be a stickler."

Kurt chuckled in return, "Ja, he can be rather strict...but I want to make sure you're safe. I won't interfere, not unless I have to." Kurt promised softly.

During the big fight, you were facing three larger enemies. The men held weapons and began to swing them at you, but you were trained enough to dodge and avoid their hits. You were doing well, swinging back and avoiding their weapons, but three against one was hard. You weren't used to such relentless attacks, at least not from opponents hellbent on actually killing you.

In the heat of the moment, you mistook your step, not able to move out of the way quick enough. You feel a fist connect to your jaw, then your cheek, then the center of your nose. You stumble back and feel something flow down your nose, a metallic taste on your tongue.

You get a little roughed up, a few more good punches to the face and being tossed around from the sudden barrage of attacks. You had been caught off guard, as you were used to Kurt showing up within the second to defend you. You were grateful, but mentally cursed yourself for relying on him mid-battle.

Kurt fights off a few opponents and looks just in time to see you thrown onto your back and roll a little from the force of impact. He sees blood on your face and your body shake as you try to stand and recover. At that moment, he looses all composure.

He rushes at the opponent, "Stay away from them!" he snarled angrily, teleporting on top of them and knocking them away from you. He swings his swords and begins an intense duel with them. Hitting over and over, weaseling away from their reactive attacks while landing fierce strikes. You watch from the ground, your pain momentarily subsided as you witness his attack.

You have never seen Kurt so fast. He swings and jumps, his agile body moving almost like water, avoiding any counter the opponent had. If he wasn't battling, you would've been fooled that he was performing for the circus again. He was so elegant to watch, how he moved was hypnotizing. His tail wrapped around the opponent's arm and jerked so their fist collided with their face. Kurt jumped off and let the enemy fall onto their back.

He showed his swords, giving a growl, "Is that all you got, wretched bastards." Kurt spoke with malice in his voice, teleporting between them and knocking the two opponents down with a single twist and kick. When he landed he pointed his sword at them, silent victory.

Kurt glared down at the enemies while the rest of the team with you secured them. He didn't take his eyes off the men who attacked you, glaring and baring his teeth like an animal. He growled and watched as they were all gathered so the team could clear the area. Only after the men were secured did he turn back and rush to you.

"Liebling!" A sudden puff of smoke appeared beside you, and so did he. "Are you okay??" he asked, kneeling down as his hands gently took your cheeks, his eyes taking in your bloodied face. "You're hurt....it's okay. I'm here, I'll get you to the jet..." he carefully cradled you, your surroundings flashed with brilliant purple and black shades, like you were rushing through clouds with bright light peeking through before your surroundings suddenly appeared as the interior of the jet.

"Just relax. I will take care of you, where do you hurt?" he asked, quickly grabbing one of the first aid kits. Your ribs hurt badly, and if they weren't broken you'd be shocked. You had taken a few good hits to the face, and hitting the ground just made your hip sore. But luckily nothing too serious.

"Kurt...m'fine, really." you rasped out, slowly wiping your nose, looking down at the blood that had collected. "Just a little sore...I'm alright." you reasoned with your blue lover, but he shook his head.

"Nein, schatz...you are beaten black and blue..." he knelt back down and gently wiped your face with a rag to clean the blood. He positioned your head up slightly, dabbing a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol. The smell made you cringe, and you leaned back as your cheek stung.

"Ow..." you mumbled, "Kurt, please. I can handle myself," you looked up to continue to talk but the look on his face made you pause. He was worried, he didn't like seeing you hurt. He wanted to take care of you, that was all. He looked back at you, his yellow eyes full of concern and sadness. So you held your tongue and allowed him to continue, even though you were fully capable of doing this, there was no harm letting him.

He dabbed your cuts clean, then applied some ointment to them. The entire time he tended to you, he made sure that he was very gentle. "Easy, liebe...just a little bit more." He applied the last butterfly bandage to your cheekbone and pulled back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Done."

You sighed with relief, sitting up with some trouble since your ribs were definitely damaged. "Thank you, Kurt...you're always so sweet to me." you smiled and kissed his cheek. He eagerly responded and he kissed you back after you pulled away. His tail wrapped around your waist gently and he positioned to hold you.

"We will leave soon. For now just rest...I promise to tend to you if I need to." he whispered, holding your head to rest on his chest. You couldn't fight him anymore, and you relaxed against him. His tail slowly rubbed up and down your back just as you liked, lulling you to sleep.

"Schlaf gut." he whispered, nuzzling his nose into your hair and feeling satisfied with you pulled against him. It scared him, seeing you on the ground like that. You didn't have any serious wounds, but he couldn't imagine if you did. He knew it was bound to happen one day, being part of the team meant every once in a while, injury will occur. He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

Instead he just held you a little tighter, happy you were safe and okay.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Way of X #5 (2021); X-Men the Onslaught Revelation #1 (2021); Way of X #5 (2021)

[lidiasloca]

headcanons for azriel with witch reader?

azriel with witch reader

azriel x reader

It always felt like a curse more than a gift – being a witch. You were neglected by everyone, everywhere.

But not quite anymore.

Now the High Lord had asked you to join his court, to work for him. He had seen the usefulness in your magic. But that was not what made you stop hating being who you were. No – Rhys, no matter how good of a male he was, he was using you for your powers.

But Azriel – that mysterious shadowsinger – he liked you. He didn’t want your powers or to gain something from you. He just wanted you.

And that had been enough for you to give him a chance the night he asked you to join the Valkyrie training.

“I – well – Cassian and I thought it may be good for you to know how to defend yourself,” he said nervously, and you knew it was a poor excuse for you to get closer. And you also knew you couldn’t say no. You had grown to like him from a distance.

He happened to be a great teacher, just as he had been a good friend to you among the Inner Circle dinners and parties. As you suspected, he started trying to get closer to you during the trainings.

“Just so you know. I’ve never seen him like this. With anyone. Ever,” Cassian had told you one night as you sipped wine from the glass Azriel had just offered you before storming away.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, curious.

“He sees something in you – something he had never seen in anyone before.” At your silent answer, Cassian continued, “Someone worth fighting for.”

“Fighting for?” you repeated in question.

“I think fighting, for Azriel, is very similar to loving.”  

You looked away then, the sound of Cassian’s words still rumbling in your head.

Fighting is very similar to loving for you too. They had always walked together in your life. Never had love come to you easily, without obstacles. You had always blamed your curse for that. Being a witch turned eyes away every time you walked, talked, or breathed.

Your mind went to the shadowsinger. Did he too feel neglected by love? Did he too feel the need to fight to have an inch of someone else’s love, even if it was a battle against oneself?

So now you found yourself walking to him. He was isolated from the middle of the party, where friends danced and laughed.

“Hi,” you said, but he had already seen you coming, or at least his shadows had.

“Are you alright?” he asked with restrained worry. Had you been so distant he was now surprised that you merely spoke to him?

Maybe the hate you had for yourself really had gotten the worst of you.

“I am. Better than ever – even.” And it’s true. Finding him and Cassian and your newfound friends had cured a broken piece of you. And it all had been thanks to him.

His smile was genuine. He truly was happy to hear that. He truly was happy for making you happy.

“Thank you, Azriel.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “For what?”

“For everything. For being my friend.”

A blush crept up his cheeks, and some of his shadows ran to your arm, as if trying to distract you. A soft chuckle escaped your lips at that. The shadowsinger, flushed so easily.

“You’re welcome,” he coughed, trying to act nonchalant. “I like being your friend.”

You beamed, fighting off a laugh for how easily your next words made him even redder. “Do you?”

He coughed again nervously as his shadows danced frantically from right to left. You did something you never though you would. You used your magic in front of Azriel – you created a copy of his shadows, yours appearing lighter, like clouds. You found yourself smiling as these danced with his.

He was lost in the scene as you were, but then, he looked down at you with incredulous eyes. You didn’t flinch – didn’t stop your magic as you would have with someone else.

“That’s amazing,” he breathed.

You smiled shyly at him; now you were the one flustered.

“What else can you do?” he asked, and the wonder in his voice, as if your magic was the best thing he had seen – it healed you wholly. 

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

a/n: more of a short fic, rather than headcanons. hope you like this nonetheless anon. and sorry for taking so long, i really didn't know how to write it.

[enwoso]

request for reader struggling/acting out because of their adhd or like teen!reader always in trouble with older members of the team for something because of going along with KCCs antics and pranks

HYPER — arsenal women x reader

this has been a long time coming! but it’s finally here!! BUT i do wanna say thank you for 600 followers. i appreciate each and every single one of you that reads and interacts with my blog — forehead kisses to you all<33

masterlist

being the youngest on the team had it's benefits like you were basically everyone's honorary little sister and you always had your teammates looking out for you. however with every benefit came with a bad thing like you always had your teammates looking out for you and watching your every move.

this meant that sometimes your fun got cut short by one of the older members and the lecture would begin. it was like being back at school again and being told off for flicking a pen at someone.

it's not like you liked being in trouble it just seamed to follow you for some reason.

"are we gonna have a good session today, y/n?" kim asked her eye brows rising slightly as you both walked out to training side by side, you smiling innocently, "i always have a good session kimmy!"

you giggled rushing off, kim sighing saying her prays for the day in her head that everything would run soomthly today. although that innocent- or non so innocent smile you just flashed the captain told her everything she needed.

you running ahead to find your right hand, in the name of kyra cooney-cross. or as the rest of the squad would call her your partner in crime.

"hey kyra!" you yelled jumping onto her back, your arms wrapping tightly around her neck as the australian's knees seemed to buckle and within seconds you were both on the ground kicking at each other as you rolled along the grass in fits of giggles.

"y/n get.. off of me!" kyra got out in between laughs as you defended yourself back, "no krya you get off me!"

"girls! get up off the floor now!" the stern voice of leah williamson yelled over your giggles as her shadow covered you both. quickly breaking up knowing not to really push your luck with the blonde, although sometimes you liked to just to see how far you could push until the frown on her face became permanent.

you both mumbling a quick sorry before being called over by the coaches so that the outdoor session could actually begin. the frown on leah’s face staying in place.

the outdoor session went over quicker than you thought it would, the slight drizzle of rain making an appearance towards the end meaning your kit was slightly sticking to you but nevertheless it was lunch time, you and kyra were walking at the back of everyone else discussing you next plan of action.

“today’s been well boring! wanna cause some havoc?” you questioned a smile on your face as kyra almost immediately nodded, you never needed to ask kyra twice.

“who’s the victim?” kyra asked as you hummed, trying to rack your brain on whose buttons in a while. “oh i wouldn’t say victim, let’s just say we’re checking their alert!” you grinned.

“um well we can’t get katie cause she’ll probably hang me upside down on the ceiling, we got vic last week with the fake apple” you listed off, krya saying names quietly to you.

“steph will definitely rat us out to leah and lessi is still annoyed at us for the hot sauce so- oh i know” you were still listing off names before having a light blub moment light up in your head, a loud gasp coming from you as kyra looked on at you in confusion.

“who?”

“beth, of course!”

"right whose hid my shoe!" beth complained as she huffed, her other shoe hanging limp by her side in her hand.

the room filling with 'i don't knows' and shrugs as majority went back to getting a drink before getting ready to head into the gym for the afternoon session. beth looking around the room for her shoe, peering at kyra's side.

"kyra, where's y/n put my shoe? i won't tell kim if you just tell me where it is" beth raised an eyebrow trying to try the bribe game, the older girl knowing you both never liked to have a lecture from either kim or leah.

cause in your eyes, your weren't causing trouble. you were just giving people a little bit of entertainment.

kyra gave a small smile to beth before shrugging, beth trying again to pry and answer from the young australian but getting no where.

beth huffing loudly, as she moved closer to you. "y/n where is my shoe?" she spoke with sweet tone as you finished zipping up your bag turning to the blonde.

"bethany your shoe is in your hand?" you pointed to the trainer as beth rolled her eyes blowing a sharp breathe of air out of her mouth pinching her nose.

"y/n i know one of my shoes in my hand, but i don’t have only one foot, and i know you know where the other one is!"

"nah i don't sorry" you shrugged your shoulders turning back to what you were doing hearing beth scoff, "i'll be telling leah!" she mumbled under her breath, it was just a empty threat. beth wouldn't snitch, right.

you put your own trainers on as beth still wondered the room looking for her shoe as you made you way to the gym for your session.

your gym session went over quite quickly and thankfully it was home time, you limbs were aching and you couldn't wait to just lie in your own bed. however, during the session you couldn't help but notice the stern look leah had been sending your way the entire time.

and even though leah would usually always have a stern look on her face this one you'd seen more times than you'd like to admit.

it was never a good sign.

"your in trouble kid!" steph whispered as she walked past you, patting you on the shoulder before walking in front of you.

"what, why! i haven't done anything!" you huffed a frown appearing on your face as steph turned around and shrugged before walking ahead to catch up with lia. you had done something but that was harmless, and it was the only thing you’d done today!

you decided that the best way to stay out of trouble was to avoid leah like the plague. that way if you didn’t get the lecture from the older blonde then really it never happened! at least that’s how your brain worked, call it a form of girl math!

however, you hadn’t been lucky in escaping the blonde as she cornered you in the locker room meaning there was no way out you were going to have to listen to her lecture.

huffing you sat back down on the bench, leah sitting down beside you. now not blocking off the entrance, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about making a run for it but that would have made it ten times worse for yourself so you stayed rooted to the bench in the changing room.

“y/n you know i hate having this conversation with you, both me and kim get bored having to tell you the same thing-“ leah began as you played the string of your bag, leah looking at you with softened eyes.

“don’t get me wrong i want you to have fun, and enjoy training but you need to learn the limit” leah carried on as you nodded, okay maybe sometimes you would take it a little far but harmless jokes were fine, surely!

“cause do you still wanna make the senior squad for the euros?” leah asked as your head perked up, that was the goal. you had your eyes on the prize and you were willing to do anything to make sure you could be there. wanting to create history with the lionesses like they did at the last world cup and euros.

“yeah, i wanna be there”

leah nodded, “well you’re going to have to start and be a bit more mature y/n because not only what your like on the pitch but sarina takes into account of what a players like off the pitch”

you understood that but sometimes you could help it, it was as if sometimes when trouble happened it wasn’t you. it was someone else — it may sound silly to the average person. but you weren’t always the silly childish person.

“cause the senior team won’t stand for that, does that make sense” leah finished as you nodded, a sad smile on your face.

“heard you loud and clear!” you looked up letting go of the string of your bag as leah sighed a breath of relief.

“good now let’s get you home and we’ll have a better day tomorrow?” leah asked as she stood up first, picking up her bag as you nodded following the same actions as leah swung her arm around your shoulder as you both walked out of the training facility.

“your life would be so boring with out me!” you giggled as leah pressed the unlock button on her car keys, you already having put your training bag in the boot before getting into the passenger seat.

“maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing eh?” leah mutter as a small gasp came from you, “hey, i’m not that bad”

“whatever helps you sleep at night kiddo!”

[hellhunde]

This was an illustration requested on my patreon for $5! This was the illustration for December!

homunculushound on Patreon requested "Something About Condor and Crane". There's not a lot I can show without dipping into spoiler territory, so I decided to just go with their meeting!

Instead of a long winded explanation under the cut this time, I wrote a little scene to go with it! My prose isn't the best, but I thought that would likely be more fun than just hearing me talk about it! I'd honestly love to write more little scenes for these illustrations, but we'll see!

--------

Crane was still lost on what to do without her mother. The flock had only lost Goose a couple of days ago to wounds caused by that supposed King. Watching the life drain from her mother’s eyes, hearing her final words rasp out of her mouth—”Keep the colony safe”—it all weighed heavy in Crane’s mind. Crane had been trained and groomed to take Goose’s place since she was a kitten. But now that the time was finally here….

Crane wasn't a fighter. Not many in the Flock really were. While Goose had made the judgement to allow refugees fleeing the King’s conquest to join the Flock’s ranks, many were not battle hardened either. The majority were widowed mothers and fathers with kittens to raise, the elderly, and the already injured. Not much to be able to honor her mother’s dying wish.

The Flock were sitting ducks if she couldn't get her colony in a place to actually defend themselves. She wasn't going to roll over and let that barbarian wipe out Goose's Flock—Crane’s flock—for his own gain. 

“Mother Crane?” Crane’s ear twitched at being called leader’s title. She still was not used to being called it. It was only the original Flock members that used the Mother honorific anyway. She sensed it often made the refugees too uncomfortable. She tilted her head around to see Blackbird, her medic. 

“Yes?” Crane answered.

“Uh,” Blackbird stammered out. “That cat is awake.”

Crane's ears perked. After her mother's passing, she’d taken a walk to clear her head. How convenient then had she instead found the broken body of a muscular cat in a ditch. She thought he had been a corpse, until she saw his body twitch and his eyes train on her. She sent for the medics to treat him only as insurance. She hadn't expected him to actually live. 

“Oh, good.” Crane wrapped her hairless tail around her paws. “What has he said?”

“Nothing,” Blackbird said. “Nothing at all. He just…stares. I think he might be incompetent.”

“Incompetent or not, he must be a strong soul to survive with those terrible wounds,” she said. “And the Flock needs more of those. Take me to him, maybe I can get him to talk.”

Blackbird scoffed. “Don't see what you could do that we haven't already tried.

“You should never doubt the feminine wiles, Blackbird.”

---

Blackbird was right about one thing. This cat sure did like to stare.

His head sat flat with the floor, paws on either side sheltering his muzzle. Without all the blood coating his body, Crane could more easily see the other scars that littered his huge body. This wasn’t his first tussle clearly. Crane winced as she saw the red bandages on the underside of his belly and neck. 

She spared a glance at Blackbird before she walked towards him. His large amber eyes stayed glued on her. In the morning light they showed almost red. 

“Hello, there,” Crane said soothingly, her mother had taught her. He blinked. “I’m Crane and this is the Flock’s base. Or at least a makeshift base. Our old home got ransacked and destroyed by the King’s army.”

The tom blinked again. Crane shot a look over her shoulder at Blackbird. He shrugged. 

“What's your name?” She tried instead, turning back to the tom.

Still no response. In fact, no indication he had understood her at all. Just those same large red eyes looking at her. They reminded Crane of a kitten’s: innocent, curious, scared. What a ridiculous thought. This tom must’ve been several months her senior. 

“See, Mother Crane?” Blackbird called from the entrance. “Incompetent. Can’t understand a word you say to him. We might as well throw him with kittens for all the good he would do in a fighting force.”

Crane sighed. She was about to open her mouth to sadly agree when the tom lifted his head. 

“...mother?” He said, in a raspy voice. His eyes were still blown out wide and staring at her. 

“He can talk—” Blackbird said, trotting inside to stand beside Crane. “Well, why didn’t you speak up before?”

At Blackbird’s scolding, the tom put his head down again. Crane smiled for a moment, thinking it looked like a turtle retreating into its shell with all the neck fluff he had.

Blackbird gave an aggravated huff. Crame ran her tail down his back. 

“Let me speak with him alone,” she said. “Maybe he’ll respond better to me. I’ll report anything he says back to you, okay?”

Blackbird hesitated. He eyed the tom once more before nodding. He leaped back out through the entrance, leaving Crane alone with the strange cat. Crane watched his eyes follow Blackbird out of the den, unblinking.

“Now,” she said, sitting down in front of him and getting comfortable. “how about you tell me your name?”

He took several moments to answer. Crane was beginning to worry he had gone mute again when his mouth opened.

“Tiny,” he said. Crane couldn't help but huff a laugh. She was glad to see whoever his mother was clearly had a sense of humor. Tiny’s ears perked at the sound of it. 

“Well, Tiny,” Crane said, laughter still in her voice. “This is my colony, The Flock. We’re the ones who saved you. Can I ask what happened?”

“Got ambushed.” Crane watched Tiny’s claws sheath and unsheath. 

“Now why would they do that?”

“I killed some of them.” The frankness at which he said the words sent a shiver through Crane. That had not been what she expected to come out of Tiny’s mouth. He pouted. “It's not fair to get ganged up on though. It’s mean!”

Something is seriously wrong with this cat, Crane thought. She considered for a moment speaking with Blackbird and maybe killing Tiny themselves. Something painless. That's what Goose would've done. With so many mothers and kittens joining the colony, he might be more of a liability than anything. Though, Goose wouldn't have dragged a shambled almost-corpse back to their base during this desperate time in the first place. 

But something kept her from making that call. For one, Blackbird and the other medics had used so many resources on helping this cat, it would be a waste to just kill him now. And for two… the way he looked at her. While before he had been staring at her non-stop, now he seemed to find anywhere else but her face much more interesting. He spared shy glances at her, seeming to gauge her reaction. 

She’d done the same with Goose several times. Whenever she’d come back with prey after a long day for them to share. Whenever she made an order around the colony that her mother had taught her. Whenever she’d brought Scout back to her mother, claiming him as her mate.

Approval. 

But Goose wasn't around anymore. Crane didn't need to get approval from anyone.

She fixed Tiny with a warm smile, a purr escaping her throat. “That isn't fair. We’re in that same situation now.”

“Really?” Tiny said, genuinely surprised. 

“Yes,” Crane continued. “See, the King’s Army is bullying us small colony cats, it's just not fair. We need as many cats in our corner to hold them back. You seem like a strong fighter, you can join us if you’d like.”

“I can?” Tiny said excitedly. He pushed himself up, before wincing at the pain of his injuries. “I’ve never been in a colony before!”

“Yup. All you have to do is change your name to a bird. That's all.”

Tiny thought for a moment, his lips pursed like an overactive kitten being asked some history fact. While his demeanor was definitely odd, Crane was becoming more charmed by it as the moments passed. Tiny was handsome. His build was much different than Scout’s, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all. She felt the burning shame of what her mother would think, but Goose didn’t have a say over her life anymore. Lost it the moment life had faded from her eyes.

“That cat called you mother,” Tiny said, pointing with his muzzle towards the entrance. “A mother is the one that names kittens, so you should name me!”

“Oh, I’m not—” she began before cutting herself off. She didn't think it was worth it to explain to this cat that ‘mother’ was just the Flock leader’s honorific. She wasn't sure he would be fully able to understand it anyway. “...Whatever, sure. I’ll name you. Hmmm, how about Condor? We found you in a bloody heap of yourself afterall.”

At that Tiny—Condor—finally cracked a smile, all teeth. Crane wasn't scared by the sight of them. 

“I love it!” Condor said.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 12 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

A/N: Get ready. . . 👀

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“Okay, you’re all set,” the paramedic says, patting my shoulder. He crumples the packaging of the butterfly closure strips he just used on my cheek up in his fist and throws it into the trash can next to us.

I sigh and shoot him a thankful smile before hopping off the stretcher and climbing out of the back of the ambulance.

As it turns out, none of my injuries are life threatening. My stomach is just bruised and the cut on my cheek isn’t as deep as I originally thought it was.

If I’m honest, my confidence to beat Ghostface again is actually what took the biggest hit. I’m in my prime, physically, and I thought I knew what I was getting into, but this Ghostface is different than Amber and Richie.

He is more. . . rutheless, and the way he fights makes me believe he has some kind of professional training.

“Y/N!”

Oh no.

I slowly turn around to face a fuming Sam. Now that the initial worry has worn off she’s mad and I’m not at all surprised when she shoves me after brushing past another paramedic to get to me.

“Hey, calm down.” I lift my hands placatingly, but she’s not having it.

She scowls and glares incredulously. “Calm down?” she hisses. “Calm down? You almost got yourself killed with that little stunt of yours back there. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

I glace over her shoulder to see Tara watching us with a smug look and her arms crossed over her chest. She sees me looking at her and I silently plead she’ll come over and get Sam to back off, but she doesn’t. She just looks away and I feel my stomach sink.

This is definitely payback for earlier when I didn’t defend her against Sam.

Little shit.

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?! All I wanted was to get you and Tara out of there and I did. You’re both okay,” I argue, turning my attention back to Sam.

She scoffs and pokes my shoulder, stepping closer so we’re almost chest to chest. “And what about you?! Huh? You could have gotten killed!”

Usually I’d be nervous if she was standing this close, but right now I’m simply exhausted and irritated. Why can’t she just say thank you for what I did and move on? Besides, I’m fine!

“But I wasn’t,” I shoot back, looking down at her with as much defiance as I can muster. “I’m still here, am I not?”

“So, what? You’re just going to keep putting yourself in danger until you inevitably do get yourself killed? Do you have no sense of self preservation?” she spits, the fury in her eyes taking me by surprise for a moment.

Why is she so mad? I saved her life!

“If it is to make sure you and Tara are safe then yeah!”

Silence.

Sam stares at me with wide eyes and takes a step back before whispering, “You would die for us? For me?”

Exasperated, I throw up my hands. “Of course, Sam! Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

It’s true, I would die for either of them. Not that I want to, of course, I like being alive, but if it comes down to it, I’d rather it be me than them.

That’s how much I love them. That’s how much I love Sam.

All the fight leaves Sam’s body and she just stares at me with confusion written all over her face. There’s also something else in her eyes, but I can’t quite place it.

Why is it so hard for her to believe it? I almost died saving Tara twice before, so why would that have changed? Why wouldn’t I do the same for her?

“But. . . Why?” she croaks which makes me huff in disbelief.

Is she seriously asking that?

Because I fucking love you, I want so scream, but before I can open my mouth a police officer steps between us.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Detective Bailey is asking for you guys at the station and I’ve been told to give you a ride,” he says politely and I look at Sam one more time to see she’s lost in thought before nodding and following him to his squad car.

I slide into the middle seat next to Tara who’s already in the car and nudge her with an unamused look for leaving me alone with Sam before letting her hug my arm for comfort. Sam gets in as well a moment later and we spend the drive to the police station in silence.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Sam says quietly, getting to her feet and pointing at her now vacant chair. “Just take a seat. We’ve been here for hours and you haven’t stopped pacing once.”

We’re alone in an interrogation room and there are pictures of the latest Ghostface killings on the table. I can’t stand to look at them any more and I’m beyond tired, so to keep myself distracted and awake I pace around. Well, until now.

Sam eyes me expectantly, her arms crossed over her chest, but I just shake my head.

Tara is asleep with her head on the table, and I know I won’t be able to sit still when I sit down and I don’t want to risk waking her.

I also know that tonight’s been a lot for Sam, even more than for me, so she should really be the one sitting down.

“Y/N. . .” she warns, but I just shake my head again.

“You’re tired, you sit down. I’m fine on my feet,” I say only to yawn a second later.

“Are you now?” she deadpans and I sigh, turning to resume my pacing.

I don’t get very far though because before I know what’s happening, Sam’s grabbed my elbow and dragged me to the chair.

She pushes me to sit down on it, and I’m about to protest and stand right back up when she plops down on my lap.

“Just sit. . .” she mumbles.

My brain short circuits and I freeze, feeling my heart race in my chest when she leans back against me, resting her head on my chest.

I know I could easily get her off me and stand up, but I don’t dare to move.

What the fuck is happening?

At the bodega she was about ready to rip my head off and now she’s doing this, whatever this is. . .

We haven’t been this close since we were kids and she snuck into my room and I don’t know how to react, or where to put my hands. I can just hope she can’t hear how fast my heart is beating.

I have to admit, she feels warm and the smell of her perfume brings me an unexplainable comfort, but I’m currently more awake than I’ve been all night even though the opposite seems to be true for her.

She lets out a deep breath and gets more comfortable on my lap and when I hesitantly wrap my arms around her middle so they’re not just awkwardly hanging by my side she puts her hands over mine and interlaces our fingers.

What is happening?!

The resolve I had to stay away from her so as to not get hurt again is dwindling, leaving me utterly confused.

I don’t know what I want anymore, but I do know that it feels right to have her this close.

Still, I want to ask her what she’s doing since she’s with Danny— or is she?— but I don’t get the chance because before I can pluck up the courage to do it, the door flies open.

Tara jerks awake and sits up with wide eyes, frowning momentarily when she sees the position Sam and I are in before turning back to what I’m assuming is Quinn’s dad, Detective Bailey, who just walked in.

“Sorry for the long wait,” he says, closing the door behind himself. When he turns, he looks at Sam and me weirdly, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Still, it makes me feel uneasy, and I want Sam to get off me, but she just holds my hands tighter and shifts so she faces Bailey more directly as he sits down at the other side of the table.

He throws a Ghostface mask onto the table and says something about it having been found at the apartment crime scene. I don’t pay much attention because I’m still distracted by Sam sitting on my lap.

He also goes on to ask us all about our alibis and I only give a short answer, saying that I just got into the city and that I was with Sam and Tara the rest of the night.

“Was the party before or after this?” he asks Sam and I tense underneath her when he shows us a video of Sam trying to lunge at the girl who threw her drink on her.

Where did he even get that?

Sam squeezes my fingers, but her voice is level when she replies, “Before. . .”

Tara huffs. “The point is we were with people all night.”

Bailey nods, although it seems almost reluctantly and it’s silent for a moment before Sam asks the question I’ve been meaning to ask myself ever since we got here.

“So, our roommate’s dad just happened to pull our case?” she asks and I see something like irritation flash in Bailey’s eyes before he answers.

“The detective who had the case offered it to me because it involves Quinn. But I can totally give it back if you’re uncomfortable,” he says and the way he says it almost makes it sound like a challenge.

Of course it makes sense that he’d work on this case, but my gut tells me that something’s not right about this whole thing.

I could also just be tired and hungry though, after all, I’ve been up for almost twenty four hours now and the last time I ate something was back at Liam’s which was just some leftover chocolate cake.

The two sisters share a look, Tara seemingly skeptical of the situation, but then Sam sighs and relaxes back against me, saying, “It’s fine.”

Bailey nods and he looks almost smug and I frown for a moment, but then he goes on to talk about Sam’s stolen license and I zone out again.

That is until the door opens once again and a uniformed officer tells Bailey that the FBI is here, claiming jurisdiction over the case.

The FBI?

“What?” Bailey clenches his jaw and gets to his feet. “Where are they?”

He leaves the room without looking back and as soon as he’s gone, I let out a long sigh. This is not how I thought my trip to New York would turn out.

“This is all so messed up,” Tara whispers.

“Yeah.” Sam nods and for a couple of seconds we sit in silence. Chatter from outside the interrogation room is the only thing to be heard, well, that and the clock ticking on the wall above us until Sam gets to her feet, pulling me up by my arm as well.

“What are you—?” I start but she’s already dragging me to the door.

“I want to know what’s going on,” she says.

Tara shrugs when I look at her, and before I know it the three of us are standing in the hallway where Bailey and a blonde woman I don’t recognize are in the middle of a conversation.

“Kirby?” Sam asks, letting go of my arm.

“Hey, Sam,” the blonde— Kirby— says, sending Bailey a placating smile before pulling Sam into a hug. “Tara. . .” She smiles at the younger Carpenter before shifting her attention to me. “Oh, and Y/N, hey.”

Kirby, Kirby, Kirby. . . Why does that sound so familiar?

“You guys know each other?” Bailey asks with a somewhat displeased look.

“Yeah, we went to Woodsboro High together,” Sam explains, the surprise of seeing the blonde still present on her face. “She was a senior when Y/N and I were freshman.”

Ah, yes. That’s why her name rings a bell.

The two of us never really saw that much of each other around school, but now that I know who she is I remember her from back then.

Wow. . . That feels like forever ago. I’m really getting old.

An officer walking by and handing Bailey another Ghostface mask in an evidence bag, this time from the bodega, cuts our trip down memory lane short.

It turns out it belonged to Charlie Walker and Jill Roberts, both of whom were Ghostfaces which makes me feel uneasy.

Two Ghostface masks belonging to previous Ghostfaces have been found now, and it’s pretty obvious that it’s not a coincidence.

The question is though, why would the current Ghostface leave them at the crime scenes and how did he get his hands on them in the first place.

Aren’t those masks evidence? Shouldn’t they be locked up at a police station somewhere?

“Whoever’s doing this,” Kirby says, snapping me out of my thoughts, “is a student of the killers who came before. . . Maybe he believes Sam is the latest in a long line.”

Excuse me?! Sam is not Ghostface.

I gape at Kirby, but Tara and Sam don’t seem too surprised by what the blonde just said.

This is definitely part of what I’m still missing. . .

Sam grabs my arm again and goes to brush past Bailey and Kirby, saying, “Good luck with that, but we’re getting out of town,” only to be stopped by Bailey who steps in her way and says, “That’s not possible. You’re all persons of interest in a double homicide, so you’re not allowed to leave town.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, speaking up for the first time since telling him about my alibi.

Kirby nods with an apologetic look, trying to convince us to just work with them to get this solved as quickly as possible, but Sam just shakes her head.

“Yeah, no. We’re leaving.” She spins around and leaves, and Tara and I are quick to follow her only to run into Gale Weathers and a whole bunch of other reporters outside.

It’s a struggle to get through them, especially getting past Gale who since writing her book on what happened is dead to me, but after Tara punches her we manage to flag down a cab and get away.

When her book first came out, I was a little irritated because she said she wouldn’t write about what happened, but then I read it and I was furious. She portrayed Sam as unstable and a born killer, which made me furious, and then she even tried to get an interview with me to talk about it which I, of course, refused.

I’m so tired, I bet I could fall asleep standing up right now. I just got out of the shower at Sam’s and Tara’s and am now pulling on the clothes they lent me. Well, technically they’re Chad’s because his are the only clothes that fit me, but he’s got them stored here for emergencies.

Originally, I wanted to go to Liam’s to get my stuff, but I couldn’t risk Ghostface following me and potentially finding out about Liam.

Then, my second thought was to go out and buy some stuff while Sam and Tara went to meet the others on campus to talk about what’s going to happen next, but Tara refused to let me go alone.

Which is how I ended up here, in Sam’s room, half dressed in a pair of loose jeans, with damp hair and an aching stomach.

I can’t find the sweater Tara tossed my way earlier, so I just take a seat on the edge of the bed and close my eyes, trying to indulge in this little moment of peace while the other’s are in the living room and in the kitchen making dinner.

I know now that the reason Sam was assaulted by that girl is because there’s rumors going around that she instigated all the murders in Woodsboro and then framed Richie for them. It also clears up why Kirby said people think Sam is a Ghostface, however it doesn’t explain why I haven’t heard about this until now— until Ethan mentioned the rumors online which led me to go down a rabbit hole on my phone before showering.

I’m appalled by it, and mad that people even consider believing this shit, but I’m also disappointed that neither Tara nor Sam told me about it.

The door creaks open behind me, but I don’t open my eyes or turn around until I hear Sam clear her throat softly.

I wasn’t expecting her, so I’m quick to get up and look for the sweater since I’m still half naked.

“Looking for this?” she asks quietly as she picks the sweater off the floor on the other side of the bed.

Ah, that’s where it went.

“I— Yeah,” I take it from her with a tight-lipped smile and quickly put it on, not missing the way her eyes dart to my scars before I cover them.

I don’t like how awkward things are between us, and I don’t like how confused I am about my feelings for her.

Her sitting on my lap at the police station is one thing, she could have just been tired and clingy after what happened, but this, the intense way she’s looking at me right now. . . That is something else entirely.

I love her. I love her more than anyone, but I don’t want to get hurt again.

“You know,” she says with vulnerability seeping into her voice. “I don’t actually hate you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I— Okay. I mean, I wasn’t thinking you did, but. . .”

She chuckles sadly and shakes her head. “Not now, no, but—“ she runs her hands through her hair, “—years ago, you stopped me from going home with that guy, Josh, I think was his name. You stopped me from doing something I would have regretted for the rest of my life a-and I threw it in your face. I told you I hated you and I never forgot about it.“

When our eyes meet, I see tears glistening in her eyes, making me frown as I take a step forward.

“Sam. . .” I whisper, but she averts her shame-filled eyes. “I know you didn’t mean it. Even back then, I knew. You were hurting and you needed someone to blame, so you blamed me because I was closest to you. It stung, yes, but I never held it against you. If I’m honest, I even forgot about it until you just brought it up.”

“But then why do you hate me now?” she asks, her voice cracking.

She’s still not looking at me, so I close the distance between us and tentatively brush my fingers against her cheek. “What are you talking about? I don’t hate you.”

She unconsciously leans into the touch, her watery eyes finally meeting mine again. “Then why are you shutting me out? After what happened last year I thought we were fine, but then. . . after Christmas you started acting weird a-and I don’t understand why.”

Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave. I never meant to hurt her by keeping my distance. All I wanted to do was protect my heart.

I let my hand drop off her cheek and clench my jaw.

I’m so tired of this cat and mouse game. I don’t want to get hurt again, but she deserves to know the truth. I mean, what better time is there than now? We could all die tonight, and I’m not prepared to take this secret to the grave with me. After all, I was already going to tell her last night before we were interrupted and taken to the station.

“Because. . . I love you,” I whisper shakily.

Sam’s eyes widen but I continue before she can say anything.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids, Sam. It’s always been you, but I’ve kept my distance these last nine months because I realized that you don’t—and will never— feel the same way about me. I never meant to hurt you in the process. . .”

I shudder. There’s no turning back now. For a moment Tara’s muffled laugh from the living room and the heartbeat in my ear are the only things I can hear.

“How would you know?” Sam croaks, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Know what?” I ask, frowning at her lack of reaction.

Her eyes dart over my face, searching for. . . I don’t even know what.

“That I don’t feel the same way?” she whispers, stepping closer.

“What?” I was expecting everything but that. “I don’t—“

“You’re such an idiot,” she mumbles, surging forward and kissing me.

I choke in surprise, my hands flailing around for a split second before my eyes fly shut and my arms find their way around her waste.

This is everything I ever dreamed of and more. Her lips taste like the cherry lip-balm she likes, making me swoon, and her fingers digging into my neck send shivers down my spine.

If she wasn’t as pressed against me as she is, I’m sure my knees would give out under me.

As great as this is though, I can’t help but suddenly think of Danny and I pull back right before she can deepen the kiss.

“Sorry.” She pants against my lips, resting her forehead against mine. “I shouldn’t have just—“

“No.” I shake my head. “I-It’s okay. . . More than okay actually.” We both chuckle. “But what about Danny?”

She sighs and pulls back enough to look at me, her fingers playing with the damp hair at the back of my neck. “I told you. We’re not a thing. We used to fool around for a while, but now we’re just friends.”

“Friends?” I ask skeptically.

“Yes, friends.” She shoots me a knowing look, the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “He’s always wanted more, but I told him it’s not happening because I’m in love with someone else. . . I’m in love with you.”

I know she’s basically already said it, but hearing her actually say it makes me gasp softly which in turn makes her smile a watery smile.

“I love you,” she whispers again, pecking my lips. “Always have and always will. I just— I never told you because when I realized it, it was right before I found out who my real dad was and I didn’t want to drag you into it. Then, I left for five years and when I came back, I didn’t think I deserved to tell you. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most, but then we were getting over it and I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d get a chance to tell you after all. . . and then you started shutting me out.“

I chuckle in disbelief and pull her into a hug, burying my nose in her hair. “I shut you out because you never reacted to what Richie said and then you said all that stuff about long distance relationships and—“

“I didn’t say anything about what Richie said because I didn’t think he was actually right. After everything I’d done, I just didn’t believe that you could ever be in love with me,” she argues weakly, tightening her arms around my neck. “And the whole long distance stuff, I just— I wasn’t talking about you. With anyone else, I wouldn’t want it, but with you?! You’re the exception to every rule.”

Well damn. If only we’d talked sooner.

I sniffle and blink back a wave of tears before pulling back to look at her again.

Tara’s going to be so proud of us.

“I love you,” I say, feeling my heart flutter at the way her eyes sparkle when I say it.

She moves her hands from the back of my neck to my jaw, her thumb gently touching the cut on my cheekbone. It makes my skin tingle and when she whispers, “I love you, too,” I lean down to brush my lips against hers.

She hums and goes to deepen the kiss, but then a scream from the living room makes us jump apart.

_______________________________________________

And BAM! There it is! It finally happened, people! We kissed. Be honest, was it a little rushed, or are you guys happy with it?

Writing it, it felt a little rushed but we’re twelve chapters in now, so I think the timing’s okay.

Anywayyy, hope you liked it!

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[wosoloml]

red string theory || lotte wubben-moy x reader

summary: the first time you see lotte wubben moy, you didnt actually see her.

your life was always connected because you are meant to be.

warnings: none, just fluffy fluff with my lotte girl

from this request

a/n: i hope its okay what i wrote it about lotte because i thought this request is so lotte coded

wc: 1,739 words

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" my work colleague, who is also my best friend, Jules, looks at me with a focused expression.

A few years ago, I attended college in the USA, where I ran my own sports blog for the university newspaper. I especially enjoyed writing about the women’s football team because I witnessed the sport gaining more popularity there.

It felt so empowering to see how all the girls were following their dreams, and I always wanted to share their stories so everyone could see their passion.

I was packing all my work stuff into my bag when Jules called out my name.

"Y/N, can you please help me real quick?"

I sighed but stopped what I was doing and walked into the salesroom.

"Can you make a latte macchiato real quick? Table 7 has a big order, and I’m swamped. Sorry for interrupting you," she said.

I smiled softly at her before glancing at the girl who had ordered the latte. I barely registered her, only noticing how graceful her movements were.

It felt kind of ironic that my last customer of the day would be such a mysterious woman.

But life moved on, as it always does, and that moment faded into the countless fleeting, insignificant encounters you never expect to think about again. Until much later.

----

"Oh my girl, Jules, you made it!" I pulled her into a tight hug.

"Of course! It's your graduation today! I'm so proud of you, my little nerd."

After three years of hard work, endless studying, and way too much crying, I’m finally done. I’m now a certified sports journalist with a focus on women’s football. I couldn’t be happier.

"Now it’s time for you to introduce me to your girlfriend! I can’t wait to meet the mysterious Alessia in person."

Her smile grew even wider as I mentioned her girlfriend. "Come on, she’s right over there, chatting with an old friend from university she randomly ran into here."

----

I’ve checked my phone. 8:00. I arrived at the training ground of THE Arsenal Women’s Football Club.

When I sent my application to a few football clubs as a media coordinator, I never thought my childhood club would hire me. I spent the last few days looking for an outfit and stayed awake the whole night out of nervousness.

It’s already my second week, and I’m still not used to being around all these inspiring and energizing women. You weren’t exactly starstruck, but there was something about being around people you’d admired from afar that left you feeling slightly unsteady.

But it’s different with Lotte. From day one, she helped me with everything. Lotte, however, had a way of disarming you with her easy demeanor. When she introduced herself, it was as if you hadn’t spent the last three days binge-watching match highlights featuring her perfect tackles and precise passes.

Over the weeks, you got used to seeing her around the training ground. She always made an effort to say hi, even if it was just a quick wave or a casual “How’s it going?” Each interaction was brief, professional, and—you told yourself—entirely inconsequential. Except that, somehow, you found yourself looking forward to them.

She had this smile and the way she cared about everyone around her that sticks in my mind, and I can’t stop thinking about her even after work. It’s like we’ve known each other for years.

---

Today was Media Day, and even though I love the girls, I was relieved to have a moment for myself in the cafeteria. Suddenly, someone asked, 'May I join?' At first, I didn’t realize they were talking to me, but when my eyes met my favorite defender's, I knew Lotte was the one addressing me.

'Not at all,' I replied, gesturing to the empty seat.

I don’t want to admit it, but knowing I wasn’t paired up with Lotte for today’s interviews made me a bit sad. That’s why I’m even happier to spot her here during my little break.

She set down her tray, which held a steaming bowl of soup and a sandwich that looked far too healthy for my taste. 'So, how’s life in the media world? Still surviving?'

I chuckled at her words. 'It’s going well. After today, I have a lot of videos to edit, and I still write a blog for a college newspaper, with the deadline coming up, so I’m a bit stressed. The time difference with the USA makes it even harder. But who am I complaining to? I’m sure your schedule is even more packed.' I babbled, feeling a bit embarrassed that I hadn’t stopped talking. It was just a simple question—no need to turn it into a whole essay.

She listened closely the entire time, trying to keep up with me. "Really? You’re very ambitious about your job. I like that. You mentioned the USA. Are you writing for an American college?"

I felt seen, and it made me feel special. I adore her so much. I gathered my thoughts again to answer her.

"Yes! I went to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and have always had a passion for writing. They had a women’s football team that was still in its early stages. They inspired me so much that I decided to write about them in the weekly college newspaper. Sorry for beating around the bush, yes, I write for an American college." My cheeks turned red because, once again, I rambled on.

I noticed the sudden change in her behavior. "Wait, really?" She looked at me, kind of stunned and questioning. "I’ve been to UNC too, before signing professionally for Arsenal. Do you mean the North Carolina Tar Heels? I played for them while you were writing for them."

I widened my eyes in disbelief. "That caught me off guard—wow. We’ve been so close and never talked to each other."

“It’s like we were orbiting each other,” she said one day, her voice thoughtful. “Like we were always meant to meet, but the timing just wasn’t right.”

Her words stuck with me, replaying in my mind long after she’d said them.

---------

Over the next few weeks, sometimes Lotte would bring me a coffee. A few days later, I noticed something as she handed me the cup. "Since when do you get your coffee from that shop near Covent Garden? The one with the green awning?" She looked confused and stuttered, "Since forever. It's my favorite coffee shop. Do you know it?"

"Are you joking? I worked there a few years ago."

“I can’t believe this. It’s like we’ve been circling each other our whole lives.”

This connection with Lotte feels so magical, I can’t even process how life always seemed to bring us together.

“Maybe it’s fate,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Maybe it is.”

-------

As the weeks turned into months, your relationship with Lotte continued to grow stronger. The bond you shared deepened, built on a foundation of shared history and the undeniable pull you felt toward each other.

One evening, as you sat on her couch with a cup of tea in hand, she reached over and intertwined her fingers with yours.

“You know,” she said softly, her voice quiet, “I’ve always believed in timing. That everything happens when it’s meant to.”

You looked at her, your heart full. “And what about us? What does this timing mean?”

She smiled, her eyes warm and steady. “It means we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

And for the first time, you believed her.

[whyse7vn]

Us -

[ot7 x reader]

AGUST DUI 🛴🔥

7 participants - 7 online

———————————

tae: ok raise your hand if you think yoongi should of died in the crash

namjoon: why would you say that?

tae: jungkook raise your hand

jk: ok

tae: not in real life the emoji please

jk: ok sorry

wait how did you know i raised my hand in real life??

tae: just do it

jk: like nike LOL

tae: i’m going to skin you alive

jk: sorry

🙋🏻‍♀️

tae: why are you a woman

jk: gender is a construction

hobi: construct

jk: control

hobi: we are not playing a game

i am correcting you

jk: oh

tae: connecticut

hobi: stop

tae: i wanted to play :(

hobi: it wasn’t a game can you read

jk: omg i know someone from connecticut

i think

jin: you have no friends don’t lie jungkook

jk: no i swear i do

tae: he does

hobi: don’t act like you know

tae: i know

hobi: who is jungkooks friend then?

tae: jungkook tell this idiot ☠️

hobi: i’m asking YOU to tell me

jk: i don’t know who it is

but i know

i’m going to go insane who is it ohmygod

y/n: jaehyun lmao

hobi: oh

jin: yikes

jk: i’m sorry

tae: how dare she lmao like she didn’t just cook my first born alive by saying that name

jk: she typed it btw

tae: that’s not the point jungkook

i’m throwing up

jk: ur right me too

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry

y/n: ???

don’t be sorry

jk: >.<

yoongi: lol

jin: tf he laughing at?

yoongi: we’re always talking about jaehyun for some reason

hobi: be fr

yoongi: …

y/n: shouldn’t you be dead from the crash or something

tae: IM SAYING LIKE

jk: maybe he’s still drunk

hobi: LMAOOOO

yoongi: i did not crash

namjoon: he just fell over guys

yoongi: right

jin: ofc the bitch with no license is defending the other bitch with no licence

y/n: typical 🙄

yoongi: why do you know he’s from connecticut

y/n: what????

namjoon: uh??

jin: wasn’t he JUST complaining about how much we talk about you know who…

hobi: kook was right this man is still off the juiceeeee

ha juice by shinee

i’m so funny wow

tae: if we think about it wtf is connecticut

what the fuck is that srsly

i hate that

what does that mean

america is so strange

another white thing i don’t get

i hate white people

jin: ur borderline white

tae: wtf is wrong with you never say shit like that again

ur borderline old

ur borderline dying

AND ur paler than me

like wtf

this poc erasure

someone get him

jk: connecticut more like connectiYUCK 🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢

EWWUUUUUU 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

hell on earth

yoongi: what

namjoon: ?

yoongi: are we talking about again

i just lost my train of thought

hobi: choo choo

y/n: chuu chuu

namjoon: jaehyun…

jk: 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤢🤢

tae: AND we are talking about poc erasure if you even care

you probably don’t

because you’re a racist

just like your father namjoon

jk: yoongi is older than namjoon

btw

tae: ok???

maybe i wasn’t even talking to yoongi

jk: ok i’m sorry

tae: it’s ok son

hobi: who the fuck were you talking to then?

tae: well yoongi but like maybe i wasn’t at the same time yk?

y/n: shut up

jk: yes

y/n: ?

tae: ok raise ur hand if you think hoseok is being unnecessarily mean to kim taehyung the 3rd today

namjoon: anyways

yoongi are you ok??

yoongi: yeah sorry my head is just all over the place rn

forget everything i said

hobi: is this due to your alcohol consumption

or is it your age getting to you LOL

since your old

older than namjoon

jk: older than namjoon

jin: jungkook is 27 btw

y/n: 23 forever

jin: that’s almost 30 yk?

hobi: at least it’s not 31

yk…

like you

jin: ok

jk: ok !!!!

namjoon: yeah i don’t know what you wanted to get out of that one…

jin: kys

ALL of you

hobi: ❤️

jk: love is love

y/n: awoman

jk: awoman

tae: if you all loved me you would send me a stack

hobi: notice how no money is being sent to your account

take that into consideration

tae: how about you consider my fist in you face

ok i take that back

hobi: don’t

y/n: bryson tiller

tae: why not :(

you didn’t even know what i was gonna say hobi >.<

hobi: namjoon tell him to shut up

namjoon: tae please

tae: yeah ok 😔

cuz you know i do NOT want the smoke

he might do me like he did jaehyun 😭🙏🏼

hobi: will you STOP bringing that up

tae: will you send me a STACK?

hobi: no

tae: then NO

namjoon: both of you stop

also where is jimin??

physically i mean

like do any of you know?

yoongi: y/n’s house i think

y/n: no he’s not??

tae: woah

jk: btw that is also my house yoongi

so y/n AND jungkook’s house

yoongi: y/n and jungkook’s house then

y/n: he’s not here

yoongi: but he was

y/n: how do you even know that??

yoongi: i just do

y/n: ok ????

yoongi: ok

jk: ok \ ^0^ /

tae: wait

jk: JIMIN WAS IN OUR HOUSE ?????

jin: keep up ohmugod

jk: LIKE PHYSICALLY IN OUR HOUSE

WHERE I SLEEP AT NIGHT???

y/n: he wasn’t in my room no

if that’s what ur asking

jk: BUT HE WAS HERE???

AFTER HE WAS SO MEAN SO EVIL?!

y/n: it’s been weeks i was gonna talk to him at some point ig

hobi: communication is key!

not key from shinee btw

jk: WHEN DID HE COME????

WHY DID HE COME????

y/n: he came a few weeks ago

august 6th ? i think

to talk about everything and apologise

jk: you let him in?

tae: LIKE…

y/n: yes

jk: and where was i?

y/n: it was a wednesday so ur boxing class?

jk: i’ve been staying back for those classes

so he came late right?

y/n: yeah

jk: did you invite him?

y/n: no he kinda just showed up

jk: and you still let him in??

y/n: yes jungkook

jk: why didn’t you tell me??

y/n: i wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything it just a lot

like a lot seriously

i wanted to give both me and jimin some time to process it all before we brought it all back to you guys

but i was going to tell you

all of you

jk: yeah but like it’s been weeks…

namjoon: to be fair i also did talk to

jimin and didn’t tell anyone

jk: namjoon

jin: also did that

hobi: u all know i talked to him so…

jk: guys???

i’m confused like what he said was wrong but you’re all still talking to him

like everything’s ok???

namjoon: he apologised to her kook

jk: FUCK HIS APOLOGY?????

tae you get it right?? you didn’t speak to him right??

tae: no i get it

i get you

i understand fully

but i won’t lie to you

i DID speak to him

on the phone

only for 5 minutes tho

i counted

i just wanted to make sure he didn’t yk like kill himself or something…

you know jimin is weak like that

not calling people who commit suicide weak but like calling jimin weak cuz that’s what he is

jk: TAE?????????????

tae: SORRY SUICIDE IS REAL YK?

AND LIKE IT DOESNT TAKE AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT I STILL WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE

i was just

uh

checking?

namjoon: you can say you were worried about him you know that

jk: SHUT UP???£/8/8/8,&&:&,

NO HE CAN’T

YOU ALL HAVE NO BACK BONE /£2&/&&:&:

NO LOYALTY

HE BASICALLY CALLED Y/N A WHORE AND YOUR ALL FRIENDS WITH HIM AGAIN??????

LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?????

tae: NO I’M MAD IM STILL SO FUCKING MAD THE FUCK????

FUCK JIMIN I MEAN IT

jk: you are a liar

LIKE

guys what£/£/&/&:&:

i thought you guys were better than this ???

i thought you all cared

jin: don’t be stupid

of course we care

jk: then act like it????

y/n tell them

y/n: jungkook

jk: tell them

in fact

jk added jimin to “AGUST DUI🛴🔥”

jk: tell ALL of them

y/n: jungkook please

jk: y/n seriously

jimin: hey

jk: shut the fuck up

tae: dude

i know ur upset and angry but doing this rn isn’t gonna solve anything

namjoon: he’s right jungkook

ur acting on emotion and not thinking properly right now

jk: IM not thinking properly???

was jimin thinking properly when he called her a slut and then ran away like a bitch?? was he????

namjoon: obviously not jungkook

hobi: but they’ve talked it out and he’s said sorry

jk: HIS SORRY DOESN’T MEAN SHIT

WHAT DO YOU GUYS NOT UNDERSTAND?

his fucking sorry means nothing

him saying sorry doesn’t take back the words he said

or any of the hurt he caused

namjoon: jungkook like she told us they’ve talked about it and he’s apologised

i not sure what more you want

jk: I WANT YOU GUYS NOT TO MOVE ON SO FUCKING FAST??

I WANT YOU GUYS TO AT LEAST TELL HIM HOW FUCKED UP THAT ALL WAS

BOTH PUBLICLY AND PRIVATELY

he should be walking around eggshells around us rn

you guys should be giving him a hard time

not wondering where he is or whether he’s depressed or not

and you wanna know something?

after it all happened she cried for hours

hours

i have genuinely never seen her so upset

she told me not to tell anyone but i have to so guys can fucking understand

and the fact that we didn’t even know that her and jimin spoke???

does that not bother you all?????

the fact that she was “so fine” and “okay” about the whole situation but didn’t tell us that they had supposedly ‘made up’

tae: she said that she was planning on telling us

jk: yeah but she didn’t did she? it’s been weeks

she said they spoke august 6th right?

we are quite literally in a whole new month

and you ALL should know that when she doesn’t tell us things it’s because she’s upset

you should KNOW her

and how she deals with things

you all claim to care but i’m yet to see how

you know i was really excited about this

we were all you know realising

and coming to terms with this

us

i thought that we felt the same

but this has shown me that you guys don’t even feel a quarter of what i do for her

and you probably never will

the way that you all just took her word for her being fine and okay about the whole situation without actually genuinely checking in with her is insane and the way you all rushed to make sure jimin was ok was even crazier

i just

whatever

bye

—

as you can probably tell this was supposed to be released last month but i tried to adjust it as much as i could

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earthela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knilvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi @stellamalonesolaria @joonsprettygf

#happytimessoon >.<

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Losing My Mind over Veilguard 8/??

See, I waited a perfectly reasonable amount of time before coming in swinging again but I actually cannot get over how dead the game is. Literally. (Me ranting about an early game quest in Minrathous incoming)

Spoilers below the break

So. The first time you go to dock town? And Neve says in one of seventy different ways "no you don't have to come with me, this is my home not yours, I can handle this myself if you want to stay back" ?(but the showing not telling argument is for another day so I'll refocus and conserve energy for another day). Anyways.

This quest. The one where you go into the chantry in Minrathous and surprise!

Dead bodies absolutely EVERYWHERE.

I took a screenshot and then lost it, but it's worth mentioning that in my game, Neve's line of dialogue above about tracking down family and friends of the deceased didn't even trigger. If it had, however, I still would have lost my mind.

Why, you might ask?

Because after counting, losing count because I was counting so high, and then recounting about seven thousand times I can confidently tell you that plus or minus two to three more corpses, there are EIGHTY SIX dead bodies in the CHANTRY. The holy center of an incredibly popular religion! And even if it weren't that! It is a massive grounds with EIGHTY SIX DEAD PEOPLE who were KILLED HORRIFICALLY BY THE VENATORI AND DEMONS. How are you going to have the time to track down next of kin for that many people? And WHY are we acting like this is NORMAL?!

Dock Town is played very one-note already as a neighborhood where sketchy things happen and people go missing and it's best to just keep your head down if you're not in a position to do something about it.

But oh my sweet baby Maker come onnnnnnn.

You aren't going to recover from this if you're this branch of the Chantry. Presumably, you've just taken a massive hit across all levels of your religious hierarchy and that takes time and training to fill. And dock town is poor as hell, so where are you going to get the funding to fix this sudden staffing issue?

How does this affect (per @housederiva's iconic posts) Viper? Ya know, the guy we have found out through datamining is literally the Black Divine?? All we see (in the scenario where Treviso is saved) is him sadly sitting outside the chantry going "we remember the fallen" and that's presumably for the people lost when the dragon attacked, with nothing spared for the (again, I can't not lose my mind over this) eighty six dead people who were devoted to the same cause he is!

A whole smattering of holy women have just been yeeted off the mortal coil and it means absolutely nothing to your immediate party save for some of the emptiest lines ever, the city as a whole, or in the larger lore of the game. At all.

There are so many moments like this that had me rapidly oscilating between screaming at my ceiling and looking exactly like this:

And this isn't even something they can pass off as being too tied to the source material and wanting to start "fresh". This is just lazy, empty, disappointing storytelling and it's why I lose my mind a little more every time I see an ardent defender of the game tell an older fan to "get over it" or "let go of your expectations."

Because having something like (so sorry) EIGHTY SIX DEATHS go down with actually NO ripples throughout the rest of the game coming from ANY studio, let alone one that used to kill this kind of thing, is crazy to me. And I will die on that hill, even if it means Neve just kind of skips over my body on her way to find my next of kin only to never spare me another thought again.