#and now i wont even be able to retreat into my own room to be alone and slightly more quiet (volume on tv/their phones is still loud but yk

[undyinglantern]

last night sleeping on my bed for the next 2 weeks </3

[h0ney-gl0ws]

I loved reading the griss one, so hear am I going to request an one shot with Diamant where his s/o got taken alongside his father and him going to the rescue to find s/o badly injured and knocked out about to be used as sacrifice to the fell dragon please?

Hello! I’m so glad you liked the Griss one! Comments like that make it more motivating to write. I like this idea and hope I did it justice for you! Thank you so much for being patient by the way!

Just as a heads up guys, my writing posts may be a bit sparse this month as I am very busy, but feel free to keep sending in requests, just know it may take me a bit longer to write them!

Anyways, onto the story! Enjoy reading and be mindful of the content warnings!

Word Count (Approx):1,763

Content Warnings: Spoilers for chapter 10 of fire emblem engage, Character death, blood, angst

Diamant can hardly focus on the area around him as his mind races with the terrible possibilities of what might have happened. He told his father not to go out there, he told you—— no it was his fault. He should’ve been more forceful, he shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. If only you had listened to him, but there’s no time for “What ifs” not when you are in danger.

“Where have you hidden King Morion, as well as Y/n?” The divine dragon says, cutting Diamant out from from his own thoughts.

“All will be known in due time.” King Hyacinth says with an eerie tone.

“Tell us—now!” Alear demands.

Prince Alfred cuts in, “Look, over there! There are people besides the altar!”

The party gauges the figures. Diamant feels relief wash over him at the sight of his father’s frame. Although the second figure causes him to worry again. Your limp body draped across the floor. He cannot tell if you are breathing from where he stands.

“Can it be…Diamant, it’s Father—he’s alive!” Alcryst exclaims.

However, King Morion has not turned around to acknowledge his sons. Diamant has a bad feeling about this, yet he calls out anyways, “Don’t worry! We’re here to save you both!”

Again…nothing….

“Somethings wrong….”

With uneven shaky steps, King Morion stumbles around. Diamant’s heart sinks in terror as inhuman glowing red eyes stare back at him. No… He can hear his own heart pounding.

The corrupted King Morion lets out a blood curdling roar.

“Father!” Diamant didn’t even register that he had spoke, until the divine dragon was finishing his sentence.

“He’s been…” The room falls silently. The reality of the situation sinking in as the opposing sides glare at one another.

King Hyacinth tuts, “It appears you were a few moments too late. As you can see, the ritual has been carried out.”

Rage takes over Diamant’s fear. What right did this man have to take away not only his father, but you as well? “Hyacinth… You bastard!” He practically growls out.

“We have to leave at once, Alear. Call a retreat without delay.” Marth’s calm voice speaks up.

“We cant!” She replies.

“King Morion is beyond our aid…”

“What do you mean? You would have us…leave our own father behind? I cannot! I will not abandon him here!” Alcryst cries.

“The only option is to fight Hyacinth, and even if father is—is…“ Diamant can’t even bring himself to say it, if he says it then it becomes real..he has to accept it, so he can’t, no, he wont let that happen. “She could still be alive! If there’s a chance, I won’t flee especially after…after what he has done!”

“Diamant! Alcryst….” Alear says.

“Foolish, but I am not a bit surprised.” King Hyacinth says. With a tilt of his head the large doors to the cathedral shut. Leaving them trapped inside, “This grand cathedral will serve as your grave. Thanks to your impetuousness, you brought the rings unto my very hand.”

“So be it, Hyacinth…now we fight!”

The divine dragon’s troops rush in against King Hyacinth’s corrupted. While Diamant’s nature is surely shaken, he has to appear strong. For Alcryst, for father, for you… He has to continue to fight. He knows what he must do.

By the orders of the divine dragon, they are able to push through the corrupted. Slashing apart all who dare to get in his way. Letting those who’s rest was disturbed return to the peaceful confines of death. Diamant wonders if all of those who were corrupted were like his father. If so, he will do them the favor of setting their souls free, in order to protect the ones of which he loves.

At least up until….King Morion, Father… stood before him. He has a clear shot. The perfect opportunity to end his father’s misery. As he looks into the glowing eyes of his father, or rather the empty husk of what used to be his father…he froze. Memories start to flash before his eyes, the day he got his first lance, the time he got hurt after his magic lesson, when mother died….His father was there for all of it. His father made those memories better. Diamant’s not ready to let that go. He never got to say all the things he wanted to say, and now he never will.

Diamant’s stance falters, his lance falling below his waist. King Morion stumbles forward a step, then another, until he was charging up for a blow. Raising his weapon, and letting out a guttural cry. Do something Diamant… do something!

Fwoosh! An object whizzes past Diamants head, hitting his father right in the chest. Sending the corrupted king down. Diamant whips around to see his brother, lowering his bow. Glossy eyes threatening to have tears spill over.

“Go Diamant, I’ll handle father, you have to get to Y/n!” Alcryst begins in a shaky voice, “If we can’t save father, at least save her! We’ll cover you!”

Diamant nods dumbly before shaking his head. Now is not the time for him to lose focus. He scans the cathedral. Forces are fighting everywhere. Luckily none seem to be focusing on him. HIs eyes trail over to where he last saw your body. You’re still there. No one is around, now’s his chance. He runs as fast as his legs can carry him over to where you are laying.

Falling to his knees as he arrives next to you. He cups your body lifting you to his lap. The sight of you causes his heart to stop. You have a large wound on your head with a large amount of blood spilling down onto your face from it. Your hair is matted and has copious amounts of dried blood in it as well. Your eyes are closed and the worst part, Diamant can’t hear your breathing.

He chokes back the need to sob, instead hugging you close pressing his face into your chest. He tries to calm his shaky breaths, willing that by the divine dragon herself that this isn’t happening. Despite the raging bloodshed around him, in the heat of the moment it is just you and him, and Diamant thinks for a moment his ears are playing tricks on him as he hears the faintest….beat of your heart. He pulls back, trying not to get his hopes up, he examines you further…could it be? Your breathing! It’s the most shallow, strained breaths Diamant has ever seen, but you’re not dead, and that’s all that matters to him.

“My love, don’t worry, we are going to get you out of here. You are going to be okay, I promise. Please just hold on. That’s all you need to do darling. I swear, King Hyacinth won’t get away with what he did to you and…father. Just hang on.” Diamant whispers to your unconscious self, his fear being replaced with anger.

Between King Hyacinth, The fell dragon, and the four hounds, the next moments went by in a blur. They went by so fast, they lost so much in only a few moments. King Morion, the emblem rings, not to mention you were in critical condition. There was no choice but to fall back.

Tensions were high back at the Somniel. Everyone is in a state of distress after what went down at the cathedral. Diamant hasn’t had much time to check in on the divine dragon, and Alcryst’s usual hiding away tendencies have increased tenfold, but right now Diamant’s full focus has been on you.

You’ve been residing in the somniel’s infirmary. Jean, Celine, and the other healers that reside around the somniel have around have been doing all they can to stabilize your condition. Diamant has rarely left your side. He often sleeps in the chamber where you are being kept, and only ever really leaves when Jean shoos him out. For quite a small kid he can really be forceful when he needs to be.

And yet even though a week has passed you have still not woken up.

“Her condition has gotten better since we first got her.” The small doctor-in-training says.

“Do you think she’ll be waking up soon?” Diamant asks.

“She’s…getting better, you should just focus on that for the time being.”

Diamant thanks Jean before stepping into your chambers again. You look a lot more peaceful now that your wounds have started healing steadily. Color has returned to your face, and you could almost be mistaken for simply being sleeping rather than severely injured. In all honesty to Diamant, you look like a goddess. Which is why seeing you this way is all the more painful.

Diamant quietly steps over the bed you are laying on. He grasps your hand within his own, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles, “Hello, again darling. Did you miss me? I miss you…every day. The Divine Dragon has been in a state of disarray since the incident, she’s angry, and scared. Frankly, I think were all a bit scared, Lord Sombron has our emblem ring after all, and…father’s gone. A man who thought himself to be invincible…it’s frightening. Alcryst hasn’t spoken to me, I’m not sure if he’s spoken to anyone for a while now. The whole father thing has really taken a toll on him…I wish I was stronger in that moment. Maybe then I would’ve been the one to take father down, and Alcryst wouldn’t have to carry that burden. Or maybe if we were just faster, father would still be here, and you would be awake…..

Please wake up Darling, I cant do this without you….Please” Diamant sighs, silent tears slipping down his face as he presses his face against you. Trying to get any sense of comfort from back when you were awake…

…”D-Diamant?”

[hungee-boy]

so since were like halfway to getting it ill just share it now

next year well be getting a new mobile home and im so excited for multiple reasons

it has five bedrooms, so thats enough bedrooms for all of us plus a dedicated office

TWO living rooms!!! i legit thought that was only a rich brick and mortar house thing but im so excited to be able to just have more places to retreat to if someone else is in a space

actual closed off pantry with a door. the amount of times our cats have gotten into bags of chips and shit.... im excited for that

i get my own bathroom.... god bless.

brand new working HVAC with insulated walls, doors, and windows so we can actually have comfortable summers

i know this basic but the bedrooms havent had doors in ten years. not by our choice just kids breaking them and not having the money to replace it so we just got curtains but i am so fucking excited to have doors everywhere. i can completely close myself off. i can have a purely quiet space. god bless

new water heater that stays on all the time and that we dont have to manually flip the breaker for

new full sized fridge and new unbroken, not 30 year old stove

floor with no weak points where you sink like half an inch and fear falling through the damn house

walls and floors that havent degraded over 30 years and are actually easy to clean and paint and put wallpaper/tile on

brand new plumbing that wont freeze and burst over the winter

both plugs of every outlet working

theres a closed off closet in the hallway that we can put our seasonal things in instead of just keeping them out or putting them in the shed thats already too full

working lights and ceiling fans in every room, also easy to clean

so many cabinets and storage spaces, shit wont just be left out anymore

ive literally prayed for a better home since i was ten years old. 14 years of yearning and wishing and planning out ways i could earn enough money to afford it. now its just possible where we are now when it comes to money. we didnt even intend it to be possible. my mom just works for walmart and receives social security for my siblings since my dad died. ill be working soon hopefully so my money will also go towards down payment, furniture, etc., my bf is really smart with money and is helping with all of this too. the house were getting was on sale and i paid the min deposit to keep the price for the year itll take us to save up and get the land prepped. were actually buying a brand new home. a house that hasnt been lived in before us. itll start with us and i never had that ever. its surreal to live so badly for my entire life, especially more so since my dad died, to now be able to naturally obtain a normal life in a normal house that can actually accommodate all of us and give us comfort and not just bare minimum shelter. i only have to suffer one more year. god what a relief

[mealvaan]

The Day of Renewal

The Warden bestows the sky upon the Lover.

The Sisters’ exchange bleeds the sky crimson. The fruit of their pact trickles through speckled glass and drawn curtains, bathing Menphina’s children in a familiar shade of red. 

Among the tired eyes pried open by the sunset is a pair of baby blues. They hide just as quickly as they had emerged, burying themselves beneath eyelashes… and when that isn’t enough, retreating deep into a pillow. The Warden’s remaining light dares not reach the woman as she desperately clings to what little motes of slumber remain— 

“Moonrise, Ma!” 

The call precedes a pitter-patter of small footsteps. Her eyes push against their crow’s feet, forcing themselves open against her dearest wishes. Some days, she envies the unstoppable youth of her children, bright and bustling no matter the bell. Though usually, they find solidarity in sleep at this hour yet to be twilit. 

It takes her a few waking moments to realize what it is that’s injected her little ones with such energy. 

“The Renewal’s already come! Can you believe it? Unha Ahxe says I can even join the hunting band this moon.”

“No, she didn’t. The hunting band already left.”

“Huh? No, I’m sure they’re still here!”

“But there’s no one in the Alonhi house right now.”

“Ma, ahya is just jealous that I get to go hunting with the band and she doesn’t! Please believe me, unha really said that.”

“She said you could go someday. And I think that someday isn’t going to be for at least an epoch…”

Already exhausted from her childrens’ bickering, the woman arises from her hammock, rubbing her right eye as the left gets a good look at the two of them. Though Ukho puts on a brave, defiant face, she can see the wobble in her lip starting to form. Ona, her elder sister — her ahya — crosses her arms and shakes her head, ever the sensible temper to her anhtan Ukho’s insatiable flame.

“Ona, be nice to your anhtan,” she chides, her voice a wind chime amid the ringing bells of the young ones. “She’ll be able to join the hunt soon, just as you will, I’m sure. She has been training just as hard as you.”

“Ma, unha said—”

“Maybe next moon, Ukho. They leave at least a bell before twilight when there’s a feast for the evening. Besides, unha will need your help for the wreaths…” 

But may the Gods strike her down if she allows her daughter who hasn’t even seen an epoch to join the huntresses in the forest. For all that she channels therein, she knows the Shroud is harsh and unforgiving, even more so after Dalamud came upon it. A child such as her, so wont to go out on her own, would not survive even yalms away from her party.

How much more a band of children bereft of their mother? The mere idea…

Ukho’s response dismisses the thought from her mind before it dares to take root. “I’ll keep training then! They’ll have to take me once I get my constellation rune, and I’m going to get it by the summer, right?”

“No way!” Ona says, sticking her tongue out. “I haven’t gotten mine yet, so yours isn’t going to be for, well… fifty cycles, probably. Right, Ma?”

“I—”

“First one to the Heart gets theirs first!” Without hesitation, Ukho bounds out of the room with only wind in her wake. Ona balks, tail between her legs.

“That’s not how it — Wait!” 

Finally, a sigh joins the silence that befalls what was once a peaceful bedroom, wrought into the festivities by two rambunctious kits. Whether she likes it or not, she’s awake now. With sluggish limbs, she casts her shadow upon the walls of their small hut. On her journey, she pulls the curtain to the childrens’ hall aside, azure gaze flitting to and fro in the slit she’s created.

To her surprise, her mother and sister are nowhere to be found. After discovering the hammocks next to hers empty, she thought the two had found another place to sleep… Perhaps away from the doom and gloom of herself. She forgets that for all others, this dreaded day is a much-awaited observance. Where she would sooner ignore its arrival, Clan Cirka welcomes it with bated breath. 

The fiery hues of the sky that had awoken her are now small licks in the Lover’s realm, Her Sister’s presence all but snuffed out in the makings of a sunless sea. With a bucket, cloth, and a change of clothes in hand, the woman emerges from her home to find that the village of Ataraxia is far more bustling than it would usually be at twilight. Weaving her way through playing children and busied adults, she finds solace in the fact that the bathhouse is empty. 

The water of an uphill river flows down into an open space marked in carved rock and wood. This place of respite’s man-made cover is minimal; where the thick canopy of the Shroud doesn’t provide shelter from the rain and storms, a wooden roof supported by periodic beams hangs glowing lanterns from its rafters. From a small rack to the side, the drying cloths of those who preceded her bask in the breeze. 

As she comes to the natural bank of the water’s flow, she perches atop her rock. There it is: her reflection, in all of its rippling glory.

Mholi Moshroca is a mousy miqo’te. Her ears are diminutive like a child’s, mere mounds atop her head rather than peaks, fading easily into her wavy mess of white hair. Her nose is but a smudge on her grey-blue tone, barely a break in the smoothness of her skin. Only the crow’s feet and dark circles under her eyes betray her age; her pudgy cheeks and bright blue eyes do her years no justice. However, those features are typically hidden under a low-hanging hood of patterned cloth, only ever revealing her fangs and tongue. That cloth now rests upon her shoulders, and is thus taken to her midsection, then her knees, unraveled save the parts clinging to minimal stitches. Laid bare amid her scars and wrinkles are constellation runes, marked in dots and lines and geometries not reminiscent entirely of the stars above — being glyphs of thick, bold ink — but rather of an ancient art she keeps close to her chest, nay, written on her skin. 

She sinks into the bathhouse’s enchanted river water and lays to simmer. However long she prunes in the bath is of no mind to her. The river will wash away her misgivings, her doubts, her sins. If only she waits long enough…

“Mholi… I thought I would find you here.”

Mholi’s eyes pry open once more to find a familiar face. Mother stands, fully dressed in her robes and postured tall for her age, observing her daughter’s lengthy interlude with an appraising look.

“Ma,” she says, wading through the water with splashes in her wake to meet her. “Where is Ilma? I didn’t see either of you when I woke up.”

“The nose to our ears for now,” Mother says, punctuating her words with a tsk. “She told us yestersun that she would be joining the Alonhi this time, after you refused their invitation. And for what, I should ask? To bathe the night away?”

Ashamed, Mholi sinks into the water with her nose just above the level. “My head was afog… I didn’t want to hold them back. Besides, anhtan is better company when there is larger game to bring home. I… I can barely lift a hoglet.”

“Two pairs of hands are better than one. We both know that this is because of how you refuse to celebrate the Renewal.”

“I… I am trying—” Her measly voice is easily squashed under her elder’s.

“You only fast, each and every moon. The spirit of the Lover is not to sequester yourself away. She compels you to seek repentance with the others. Do you not want to enjoy the meal your anhtan secured for us?” 

Only bubbles arise from Mholi’s silent grumbling. She receives the same lecture every moon about her reluctance to renew. It’s not as if Mother would understand. None of them will. None know the weight that she bears, and they should be thankful that she doesn’t inform them. A mercy, that’s what her vow of silence on the subject is. Generosity, compassion, and martyrdom. Not cowardice.

Not under the ever-watching eye of the Mother Moon.

“You cannot muster words, even for your own mother?”

“…I’m sorry, ma.”

“That is better,” she says with a laugh, her head rearing back into her hood, her hand pressing against her belly. She has a rancorous laugh for all of her sourness. “Now, practice that phrase for tonight. Your daughters want you to join them in the feast.”

Mholi can think of a dozen retorts. They have you and Ilma to eat with, ma. It’s not as if they even notice at this point, ma. But they all die in her throat, not even becoming bubbles in the water. She was never one to stand up when lying down for the slaughter is so much more comfortable.

“Mhm, ma.”

“Now, come help with the wreaths. My granddaughters need to become better ephemers! For every flower they preserve, another is broken.”

“Y… Yes, ma.”

And so her respite comes to a close, the curtain drawn on a moment of peace as she cloaks herself in her drying cloth, ruffling along her hair, fur and skin as she goes. Her new set of clothes — identical to the last in its shadow-casting silhouette, if not for the differing patterns — are quickly donned. Even though her mother has left, she can feel her gaze imposing upon her for every heartbeat wasted. Not a moment is spared fore she re-emerges into the village, briskly making her way to the center of their territory: the Heart.

The Heart is similar to the bathhouse, if not more open. A grand gazebo of lumber and light hangs high above a crackling bonfire, around which a handful of long log tables are arranged. Among them, a single dining table has been laid out with all manner of gathered flowers in brilliant white, pale yellow, and baby blue. The common heaps of dogwood and honeysuckle remain a staple at the center of the arrangement, with smaller piles of lily, baby’s breath, camellia and what have you lining the far ends. Surely enough, Ukho and Ona have already taken their seats before their wreath collections. Some are enchanted pristinely, the sheen of galvanisation evident on their petals. Others have fallen apart, and are left to their own ‘discard’ pile to be mixed in with the compost. 

“Ma!” Ukho says, holding up a wreath that will certainly be discarded. “Look, I just finished one! I’m already two ahead of ahya.” Ona, whose failed wreaths are far less and few between, shakes her head — the two make space for Mholi between them all the same, allowing their mother to take the reins.

And she holds the reins with a loose grip, barely brushing the metaphorical leather of it all. Should anything need to be corrected, she gently fixes it in her own hands. Amid her childrens’ chatter, she makes busy work of a wreath she has not worn in over an epoch. Her eyes are far away as her heart sequesters itself in a time long past. 

The pitch black shroud of night hangs over the two of them. The picture of her ahya with her fangs bared, her shortbow drawn, is as crystal clear as ever in her mind. They argue about something or the other, not unlike how her own daughters bicker before her. Despite knowing the ways of the woods, a talented huntress and ephemer in twain, they raise their voices as if the forest is theirs. Only rumbles in the ground bring them to a hush, but it is far too late. Her sister’s stone — that wretched crystal, that cursed thing — draws the attention of their grand stalker. A web claims her left wrist, and then her right. Her bag and bow clatter to the ground. No manner of spell deters the webs, as where one is cut down, two more quickly replace it. Mholi rips her eyes towards the heavens to bear witness to their predator: a mite unlike any she has ever seen, eyes glowing red in the shadow. It snatches up her sister as if she were a twig, webs spinning as it goes. It pierces her torso with hungering fangs, and her cries are muffled in the string, barely there. All Mholi can do is scream and scramble. Flee to protect the Moshrocan blood that stands a chance. 

She weaves the flowers’ stems with a similar ease and precision as a diremite constructs its web. Smooth and sharp and tight, emphasizing the stark white hue of the flora that make up its pattern. Never baby’s breath next to honeysuckle; it would render the bunch too thin on one side. Never dahlias with camellia; they compete for space. A pattern of small and big petals makes for a balanced wreath, a harmonious one. Reconciling differences is at the heart of the Renewal, after all. Yet such a beautiful process only reminds her of that dark place. What difference is a rune weaver to a web weaver behind her eyes?

At least her deep dissociation helps the night pass quickly. Soon enough, the bells of twilight are far behind them and stars claim holes in the canopy. She reaches for another flower realizing that none are left — they have successfully converted all to working wreaths between the three of them. Her daughters are more than chuffed, cheering and showing off their favorite ones to the people around them. For Mholi, this is a moonly errand that hardly warrants any praise. In fact, it seems they have completed the task later than anticipated, as they and the wreaths are hurried away from the table to make way for the bowls upon bowls of food.

Deep, steaming stews alongside cornucopia-esque arrangements of vegetables and roots. Miqa’bobs still hot upon a slab of stone, interposed with various sauces. A grand serving of popoto staple, seasoned lightly knowing full well it’ll be doused in whatever else. Bowls of chopped fruit with a serving of cream aside for dessert. At the center of it all is a grand antelope, larger than any she has ever seen. Finely roasted. Yet to be cut. The Siltanho have outdone themselves. Though Mholi is initially confused by how much the banquet is, she quickly realizes that it serves to be a band-aid. A healthy serving of escapism amid the dread that literally towers above them. All the more reason to run to the Renewal in hopes that punishment will not befall the Lover’s people once again.

In a cavalcade of realization, she figures this must mean… Yes. Ilma has since returned with the hunting band, too. Her weighted posture thus lightens.

Slowly but surely, the lot of the clan gather at the Heart with newly kindled spirits. Chatter permeates the air as they coo over the food, catch up with the returned huntresses, or wrap up conversations they had been having in the privacy of their homes. For all of this talk, one would think that Clan Cirka were not sequestered away here together, every sun of every moon, yet the spirit of the Renewal invigorates them so. 

Yet this celebration only casts darkness upon Mholi’s heart. The more people that arrive, the more her hood hangs over her features. The more she recedes into herself, fading into the shadows cast by the licks of flame.

The voice of their matriarch, Ahxe the Stalwart, rings out, dispelling everyone’s words into a hush.

“Hear one, hear all, for She speaks through me.” It is her call to bear witness as she stands tall before the fire. All meet it, even Mholi, who invokes the response in mumbled breaths.

“I hear you, I feel you, I think of you.” A chorus of practiced prayer. They had been taught to recite it since they had been born of the womb. In this, all conversations come to a close. Ahxe has captured their ears and their wills.

“We gather tonight at the moon’s last quarter for this Renewal. I can tell that the hearts of all of us here today are overflowing with attrition. Let them beat from your chest and bestow them upon your kin. For today, all that is broken shall be mended — all that is withered will be reborn — all that ails you we will bring to bear, and allow the Mother Moon to wash away in Her winds.

‘For those who find themselves clouded, lost in this Renewal, let it be known. This moon calls for bravery and courage. Should you know not who you must make amends for, begin by acknowledging your selfishness. Your inaction. Your cowardice.” 

The feeling that pierces Mholi’s chest is like a shard of ice. The drop in temperature courses through her veins. Her baby blues look up to Ahxe’s gauntly lit face, features falling in disbelief. She knows the woman can’t read her mind — she hadn’t, no matter how many times they’d spoken growing up — but perhaps the Lover speaks through her even now.

Ahxe continues. “Ask for forgiveness from those you have forsaken with your silence. Seek to close gaps which have been wrought by your withdrawal. This is Her advice to you all. This Renewal will allow for two bells, not merely one, to impart your apologies, for She would emphasize the importance of participating in this moon.”

There are words unspoken that Ahxe, in her hypocritical cowardice, dares not mention: for we do not know which moons are to come. It’s no wonder that the Alonhi have gathered so much, that the Siltanho have cooked a feast of twice the boon it would usually bring, and that Mholi’s own mother has been so harsh with her. Perhaps they believe this is the last Renewal in this era, should another soon arrive — or perhaps even the last Renewal there will be. But Ahxe would not dare acknowledge such dire straits, Mholi knows. She would rather promote peace in their ignorance. 

“Reflect for all that you can, and then speak with all of your soul. Those who do not find their voice — or whose voice does not ring true — will fast and are called to reflect for the night. But in two bells, those that are forgiven may dine among us, as the Lover once did with Her Loyal Hound.” 

And Mholi feels her hairs stand on end, confused as to why this phrase still follows them; why should Dalamud be revered for all he has wrought?

“Go and walk in Her light.”

“That She may guide us home,” echoes the chorus of the clan — Mholi included, for all of her internal retort.

Without further ado, the crowd disperses. Some do as instructed, retreating to darker corners of the village to reflect on their apology to come, reciting prayers to invoke the Lover’s guidance or simply basking in quiet. Others immediately take up their prepared gifts, if not the wreaths provided by the Moshroca, and hurry towards their chosen recipient — these people have had the whole moon to consider their repentance, after all. Others yet take up their gifts and stand over the fire, a handful casting tears into its pit silently. But those that do not remain silent begin to proclaim their sins against those who have died, those who are exiled, those who have left for other clans — the ones from whom they seek forgiveness no longer walk among them, and so the Mother Moon must appraise their apologies. 

Amid the moving figures and their long cast shadows, Mholi spots Ona presenting a wreath to Ukho — likely for all the childish teasing that had been happening not minutes ago, yet it must seem like ages to such young children. In the corner of her eye, she sees her Mother has retreated to the steps in front of their home, reciting an old, lengthy prayer to the Lover before she even thinks of partaking like the rest. Two of the Alonhi embrace, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. A woman of the Siltanho and a new man of the Cirka bicker sharply, leaving one to wonder who will be left to fast for an unforgiven apology that night. 

Finally, Mholi approaches the fire. She will do what she has done every Renewal, every moon, for the past fifteen cycles.

Clutching a wreath of baby’s breath and lilies, she stands tall at the Heart. No words leave her lips. It’s here that her blue gaze is cast into the roaring flame. In its dance that casts shadows, she sees a myriad of shapes; in its crackles that claim wood, she hears a symphony of sound. The verbless voice of her sister, any vocabulary she had thrown now lost to her, but her wrathful tone still clear as day. The silhouette of a great mite, its claws and fangs bared in a horrific sight. She can hear her own hurried footsteps, her own panting breath, and the violent weeping she allowed herself, sequestered in some lonely corner of their star. Even sounds not known to her make their way into her ears. The cries of a dozen miqo’te children, searching desperately for their mother — a quest that inevitably fails. The young, blood-curdling screams that follow as Girtab would surely find them too.

Her apology need not be said, even as others might judge her. She knows what she has done, she knows what she recites, and she knows that it is not forgiven. Buried deep in her heart of hearts, this habit of attrition has been embedded. No matter how the feast entices her nostrils, it is not a banquet in which she will ever be honored to partake.

A single tear carves a line down her porcelain face. The wreath is dropped into the hearth. The fire does not claim it yet, the sheen of her magicks providing it a respite of protection. By the morning, it will be but char and ash.

Thus, Mholi meanders in return to her home, making peace with her fast for the night. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten the rest of the sun, either. As she passes her mother by, she hears the critical click of her tongue, but that hasn’t deterred her from taking her leave of the observance the past few moons… and neither will it now.

And so she falls into her hammock and lays awake. Her body is air suspended. Numbly nothing. Barely there.

Yet, heavy still weighs the heart. 

The guilt corrodes her from the inside out. Why, when this routine has satisfied her for the past epoch and more? Dissatisfaction has never been her plague. She had written a treatise with her unforgivable sin long ago, the Renewal her punishment in turn, and this is all that it would be. A small exchange in regularity for peace of mind throughout the rest of her days.

Yet as she looks out the window, she finds it is not just the Mother Moon who watches over her now. No, there also lies the menacing glow of the tower. Though its spire is far from view, its presence is certain, and its judgment is unknown.

With this threat over the horizon… is this truly enough to earn her a place at the Lover’s side when the Lifestream claims her?

Mholi jolts out of her resting place.

Planted firmly on two feet, she makes great strides as opposed to shuffled steps. Her mother no longer sits at the front step of their cabin, now one with the rest in celebration. Like a moth to the flame, she makes a beeline for the Heart. While such an unexpected gesture earns the surprise of those around her — if not the appraising squint of those who think she’s to disrespect the sanctity of the feast — she pays judgment no mind for once in her life. 

Never quite diminutive, yet never quite so vast in private did Ilma rest upon her seat. She was content to laze about, making relieved conversation with her clansmen and recounting the days across the table, her plate thankfully emptied. Mholi arrives at her side and tugs on her sleeve. 

“Anhtan… Could you come with me? I wish to speak with you.”

As Mholi calls for her attention, Ilma’s wild hair sways as her head turns to meet the woman beside her.

“Ahya?” She asks an obvious question, her sister’s presence the unexpected answer. But far was she ever from denying a request from her, it was not in her nature. Once she nods, rising from her seat to accompany Mholi — gazes be damned.

“Of course. Lead the way.”

The two return to the darkened halls of the Moshroca house. It is far emptier than it used to be cycles ago. Their aunts used to bicker with their mother, telling tales to them of their adventures in youth. Their ahya used to command these halls, dust the rooms and bring back treats. There used to be wanderers that came and played with the kids, livened up the place, before their visits ran dry. Now their family is a small strain of what it once was.

Ilma breaks the quiet.

“It seems so much larger when it is empty, does it not?” Her finger traces across a wall, a dent in the wood to accompany a scar on the side of her head, only hidden by snow white locks. A fond reminder of her youth, a consequence of unheeded warnings to watch her step. As her eyes scour the rooms, she can see the eldest smiling, approaching as Ilma once remembered her. As she turns to face Mholi, she can see a much smaller, much younger girl, laughing as her anhtan had draped herself in an armor of cleaning equipment — her mighty hammer naught more than a broom.

“I will not judge, nor will I pry. But I sorely miss you at the feasts, Mholi.” Her body is strong, hardened, but the unmatching purple and pink of her irises are soft and welcoming. “I only ask that you are as kind to yourself as you have been to me.”

Slowly but surely, Mholi turns from the empty chairs and empty tables to face her sister. There is no one else she can trust as her heart is fit to burst. And while her words are softly uttered, they ring true.

“I need to tell you what happened to Vahri.”

[lilacwineandthesinkingsun]

To be in the favor of Gods... PART 2.

AN: I got back into Vikings. AAAABSOLUTELY obsessed w the Ragnarssons ofc... who isn't?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT: PLEASE SCROLL AWAY! THIS IS NOT FOR YOUR EYES.

Part 1 here.

Bjorn leaned close to your brother, looking after Aslaug's retreating form, taking you away. You take one last look at your brothers over your shoulders.

-It was a mistake bringing her here. - he said.

-It was a mistake your brother dared to touch her. - Harald answered, jaw clenching.

When the door closed behind you and Aslaug, the music resumed in the hall.

-Tell me one good reason not to cut your throat. - Aslaug threatened.

You smirked when you thought about your standing here.. Now that the secret is out, you were untouchable, the most valuable thing.

-Well you see my queen.. in the upcoming raids with my brothers i suppose you would like to know if they will be succesful or not, will you lose any of your sons or not.. will your fears become simple facts in the future... The gods speak through me, they speak way clearer than with any of the seers, any of the priests. I may only tell what the gods allow me to tell, but i assure you you need me more than i need any of you.

She dropped the knife. It was true, they needed you.

-One may find comfort in not knowing one's future. I'll say this my queen. If you do wish your son a happy life, you wont ask what did i see, for you'd easily change the course of it. - you said before leaving the room.

As you opened the door an anxious man stood there. Ubbe. He lifted his hand, he wanted to say something. But you just passed him to join your brothers. Just as you entered the great hall, Ragnar stopped you, looking for any signs of his wife offending you. One drop of blood rested on the smallest cut on your neck. He gently wiped it with his finger and licked it.

Suddenly his blue eyes swirled, he saw what you saw, when he touched you. He saw himself laying in a dirty pit, filled with snakes. You could not tell the year, you could not tell if he aged when it happened. But you both saw his death. He cupped your face.

-The secrets that must plague you dear (Y/n), it is not an easy life, is it? May the gods bless your strong spirit... -he said before planting a small kiss on your forehead.

Ubbe caught up with you, but his father stopped him. You sat inbetween your brothers. You know that after this you'll leave in the morning. They may even risk raiding separately. It is not often you are able to be free, to enjoy life. They know that most of the things you see plague you. They haunt you in your dreams. If there would be a guarantee, you'd be selfish enough to marry just to lose your abilities, but your home, your family is more important. You cannot let what you've seen become true. You'd lose everything.

The next morning you are standing in the front of your ship when Halfdan comes up behind you.

-What's bothering you (Y/n)?

-You cannot take me to the raid.

-Nonsense, we need you. Why would you say that?

-We need to eliminate the possibility of me meeting that man again. - was all you said, but he understood.

-I'll talk to Harald. -he said before retreating to the back of the ship.

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

A month later you are standing on the edge of an open field. Both your brother and Ragnar refused to let you stay back. You kept to yourself and your tent, only talking when giving advice and the needed prophecies to win the battle.

You crouch down, taking a handful of the grass and earth, smelling it before looking up to the sky.

-You need to divide. They are prepared to attack from 3 sides, you cannot go in there with all the men and women for you'd just be needlessly slaughtered. Wait it out. Let a small group go in first, then as they come, circle them, give them some of their own medicine. - you smirked at them, as Harald gave your forehead a kiss, letting you back to your tent. They didn't let you fight if it wasnt neccessary. You were one of the greatest shieldmaiden, but also the most important now.

Ubbe looked after you as you retreated. Ragnar slapping his shoulder.

-You cannot eye here like that son. Do you not see how her brothers stare daggers at you? She is someone one can't have.

-There is just something about her that...

-There is everything about her... i get it, i was like that with your mother as well. But she is different, she has her brothers.. You must forget her.

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

Whrn the battle is won, and the feast is at it's peak, you are sitting outside alone, silently sobbing. Bjorn comes out, he first wanted to let you cry out there alone, but then his heart got the better of him.

-What's wrong (Y/n)?

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

-I laugh and i cry, and i'm haunted by things i never meant nor wished to say.

-I-i don't underst.... - he said but you cut him off by cupping his face.

-You must protect your brothers and father tomorrow. They will be careless, you musnt let todays victory be tomorrows funeral. When the time comes, save them, do not thing of anybody else. Nor me, nor my brothers. Just them. I need you to promise me Bjorn.

-I.. i promise. - he said with a sigh. He sat with you until dawn, in silence. You stood up to retreat to your tent, as a thank you, you slowly kissed his cheek. Wishing, praying to the gods to make him strong enough to keep his promise.

The gods didn't let you know much about todays battle, only that you told Bjorn. You had seen you will be taken, your family injured. You knew they wouldn't listen to you, you had to save as much as you could. The battle was in full motion, when Bjorn took a look back at the camp, soldiers were taking you. He stood there watching, remembering what he promised you hours before. The king must have caught word of your abilities. Your brothers sprinting towards you as you plead for them to go back. Ubbe and Ragnar steps closer too, but Bjorn stops them.

When it was over Ubbe ran up to him, drawing his sword in anger.

-HOW COULD YOU LET THEM TAKE HER?

Bjorn just stood there motionless, in silence. Head hung low.

Ragnar stopped Ubbe's sword just as he was about to slash Bjorn.

-I know you are angry son, but this is NOT the way..

Bjorn took a spear and broke it on his leg before throwing it in the direction they took you.

-You think i didn't wanna save her? Hours ago she made me promise with tears in her eyes that no matter what i see, i'll protect you, and only you, for she knew i couldn't stop his brothers. SHe must have seen this coming.

-AND NOW SHE'LL DIE AT THEIR HANDS. - Ubbe said before walking away.

-We need to get her back. - Ragnar said already thinking of negotiating with Ecbert.

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

A month later Ragnar, Lagertha, Floki and Bjorn were sitting around a table with King Ecbert and his bishop. You were in a simple, dirty gown, chained at the feet of his throne. Your skin where they could see was bruised, you lost weight for they didn't give you much to eat.

-A feisty whore you have here Ragnar, i know of her gifts, but she refuses to help me regardless of the punishments. If she wasn't so valuable to you i would've burned her already.

-King Ecbert, i came to propose a deal.

-I'm listening.. - he said intrigued.

-You let her come with us, and we leave your lands. -your eyes shot up, silently pleading for them not to, which ended in a knight slapping you so hard, you lost consciousness.

-You leave my lands, and i'll let her go... Seems like a reasonable exchange if she is really worth that much to you.

The bishop cut in.

-Sire i still think we should burn the witch, for the Holy God is upset with us, negotiating with the heathens.

-There will be no burning bishop, we take her and leave first light.

-Fine. - Ecbert said as he motioned with his hand to release you from the chains. You tried to stand up, to take that few steps towards your people, but you couldn't. As you braced for the impact, it never came, instead you were caught in Bjorn's hands, carrying you princess style.

In the safety of his arms, you let yourself sleep in peace for the first time in months. When you woke up, you were in your tent, heavy arms around you, heat on your face. You clinged to him so hard, he couldn't let you go, so here you were, waking up with your face to his chest, laying on your sides on the soft furs. When he felt you stir, he held you closer.

-Rest, i won't do anything. - he murmured, gently caressing the back of your head. That's when he heard small sniffles.

-I... i couldn't do anything.. i ... the god's don't talk to me anymore..

-They letting you rest, for you sacrificed yourself for us. - he said before looking at your face, caressing the bruises.

As you let him do it, the gods showed you pictures of his future, the first thing you saw after a month was you in his arms, naked, kissing passionately as he whispered words of love and protection, you saw a wedding, with a faceless bride, her white dress soaked in blood. Your eyes shot up to him as you tried to put some distance between you two. He knew you saw something, but knre better than to ask.

-It's alright, i won't ask. Come, rest a bit more, i promise i'll be gone when you wake up next. - he said as you settled in his arms once again.

[valdomarx]

“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

-

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

-

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

-

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

-

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

-

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

-

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

[contemplativepancakes]

let me just ease your mind

sharing something vulnerable for @whataboutthebard

Lambert/Jaskier, E

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh at me,” Jaskier says, his hand on Lambert’s bare chest.

Lambert raises an eyebrow at him. “When have I ever laughed at you?”

“Every single day, you brute!”

Lambert mouths at Jaskier’s neck, his breath hot against Jaskier’s face. “I’ll attempt to contain myself. No promises.”

Jaskier fixes him with a glare, and Lambert sighs. “All right, I promise. Happy?”

Jaskier grumbles. “Not particularly.”

Lambert raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Jaskier looks down, tugging at the bed spread instead of making eye contact. A blush colors his face.

“I’ve…never slept with a man before.”

A flurry of emotions crosses Lambert’s face, settling on something soft. Jaskier shoves him in the chest. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Lambert carefully fixes his gaze into something more akin to a leer before he grins. “Better?”

“This was a terrible idea. I should have just strung you along forever. What was I thinking, inviting you into my bed?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Lambert says cautiously.

“I want to.”

“Okay, okay,” Lambert placates as Jaskier crosses his arms. “What do you want to do?”

Jaskier buries his face into his hands. “Melting into the floor sounds nice right about now.”

Lambert carefully tugs his hands away, making Jaskier look at him. “Hey, I’m not going to be a dick about this, okay? I’ll make it good for you.”

He kisses Jaskier’s temple, before moving down to his neck, and across his chest, stopping to play with his nipples and run his fingers through his coarse chest hair. Jaskier lays back and spreads his legs, letting Lambert take the lead. Lambert moves to the end of the bed, where he kisses the crease of Jaskier’s thigh. His fingers trail over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, and he has to stop his legs from trembling at the tenderness of it all. “Touch me,” Jaskier pleads.

Lambert gives him a grin that makes Jaskier think he’s in for a very long night. He looks at Jaskier’s swelling cock, starting to stand up from his belly. Putting a hand on his chin, he says, “Hmm. Not yet, I don’t think.”

He continues his torment of Jaskier, touching him absolutely everywhere except his cock. His fingers brush the shells of Jaskier’s ears, and Jaskier keens in frustration. “Aren’t you always telling me to be more patient?” Lambert wonders aloud.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Jaskier says, before he can’t take it any longer, and he hauls Lambert by the shoulders up to him so he can kiss him.

Jaskier jams their mouths together, but Lambert puts a hand on his chest, making him lean back until he can barely reach Lambert’s lips and slow down. The kiss becomes tender. Jaskier squirms on the bed, trying to rut up against Lambert to find any sort of friction he can. As soon as he rubs his hard cock against him, Lambert immediately backs up.

“Lambert!” he protests.

“Told you I was going to make it good,” Lambert murmurs.

“And so you’re planning on teasing me endlessly?”

Lambert shrugs, a devious expression on his face. “I’m having fun; aren’t you?” Lambert sobers for a moment. “Do you want to fuck me, or do you want to get fucked? Or whatever, we can do something else, too.”

Jaskier pauses to think. “You’d let me do that to you?”

Lambert squints at him. “Yes? It feels good. I’m not particular.”

Jaskier gives him a disbelieving look.

“About this,” he amends, laughing as Jaskier’s sure he thinks about all the things he’s very particular about.

While the idea of having Lambert all spread out in front of him and panting is certainly appealing, he also doesn’t want to mess this up. People tend to think he’s so much more experienced than he really is, and it’s led to many misunderstandings throughout the years. Besides, there’s no guarantees they’ll sleep together again after this, and if anyone is going to enter him for the first time…having it be Lambert might not be so bad. Enjoyable, even, if the tales he’s heard are to be believed.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier decides. “And touch my fucking prick!”

Lambert ghosts a teasing touch over his cock, and Jaskier lifts his hips, chasing after it. It doesn’t help since Lambert gets up from the bed, Jaskier makes a displeased noise at the loss of his weight and heat. He digs through his bag until he finds a jar of something. “Made it myself,” he preens. “With seaweed.”

Jaskier wrinkles his nose. “I’m sure it’s delightful.”

“Hey, I see that face! This is the best quality stuff you’re going to find.” Lambert sighs wistfully. “Fucking carrageenan, man.”

“I see you’ve been hanging about with your sorceress too much again.”

“After tonight, you’ll be begging me to go meet her so you can thank her yourself, trust me.”

Jaskier hums, unconvinced, but his tune quickly changes after Lambert strokes Jaskier’s cock using it, his hand unimpeded as it glides up and down the shaft. Jaskier’s cock is red and weeping by now, but Lambert still doesn’t take pity on him, pulling his hand away after the few tugs.

“Do you want to do it on your stomach or back?”

Jaskier thinks about it for a second. “My back.”

He doesn’t want to say as much, but he does think the experience will be enhanced if he’s able to see Lambert during it. His muscles look good while he’s clothed, and they’re doubly enchanting now. Jaskier drifts a finger across one of Lambert’s scars. Lambert glances down as he manhandles Jaskier into the position he wants him in, tugging him to the edge of the bed while he stands in front of him. “That one’s from a harpy, I think,” he says.

“A harpy got the better of you?” Jaskier asks in mock disbelief.

“Shut up. It happens.”

The lines around Lambert’s eyes crinkle, and Jaskier can’t help but return the smile. Lambert bends Jaskier’s leg, leaning down to kiss the delicate skin of his ankle and licking it a little just to be an ass because he’s Lambert, before situating himself in between Jaskier’s legs. He puts more of his slick on his fingers, before he circles them around Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier looks down in fascination as two of Lambert’s fingers breech him. Rotating his hand, Lambert looks at Jaskier to make sure nothing hurts, and Jaskier nods at him eagerly, just an odd sensation of something foreign being inside of him. Nothing mind blowing yet, but so far, so good. Lambert soothes his hand down Jaskier’s flank. “Gentle, remember?”

Jaskier scowls at him as Lambert pulls his fingers back out, spreading more slick on them before he introduces a third finger. He wiggles them inside Jaskier, crooking them about as he presumably looks for the little bundle of nerves that Jaskier’s heard so much about. There’s a sense of cognitive dissonance as he looks down at where Lambert’s fingers disappear into him, but he gasps when Lambert presses up against the spot he was looking for. “Right there,” Jaskier tells him, and Lambert rubs him relentlessly, making Jaskier moan and light up from the inside out.

His cock throbs. He reaches down to touch it halfheartedly, but Lambert slaps his hand away, as he expected. “Touch me, please,” he begs.

Lambert relents with another teasing touch, just dragging the fingers not currently inside Jaskier up his shaft before pulling at the foreskin a bit. Lambert keeps this up until Jaskier is a boneless, panting, mess. “Just fuck me,” Jaskier cries.

“I’m going to finger you for another minute, just for that.”

Jaskier throws his head back against the pillow and shuts his eyes, trying to keep his overwhelming arousal from crashing over him. Finally, blessedly, Lambert pulls out his fingers. He lines up his cock with Jaskier’s hole, pressing the head in. He scoots Jaskier up on the bed so he can bracket his arms around Jaskier as he pushes in farther, waiting for Jaskier to adjust with each bit.

Their faces are close to each other, and Jaskier can’t help but pull Lambert into a sloppy kiss as the blunt sensation of fullness settles in his gut once Lambert’s all the way sheathed inside of him. “Okay?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier nods. He’s a little amazed that it doesn’t hurt. There was only a slight burn as Lambert first entered him, then the overwhelming feeling of knowing that Lambert’s cock was inside of him.

Lambert buries his face in Jaskier’s neck, sniffing at him as witches are wont to do, while he shallowly thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against the walls of Jaskier’s hole maddeningly. After a few minutes of this, Jaskier is blubbering from the sensation of exactly what he wants being so close but out of reach. His hands come up to grip at Lambert’s thighs, urging him to go faster.

Melitele smiles down at him when Lambert finally repositions himself so he has better leverage, starting to slam inside him. Jaskier shuts his eyes and listens to the slap of their skin echo in the room, crying out whenever Lambert gets a particularly good thrust past his prostate. Lambert reaches down between them to take Jaskier’s aching cock in hand, stroking him quickly. He twists his hand as he does, sometimes reaching down to brush his thumb over Jaskier’s sack and fondle it. Jaskier nearly bites through his lip at the stimulation of it all.

It’s a pathetically short amount of time after that when Jaskier spills, shouting Lambert’s name and squeezing his hand around Lambert’s wrist. Lambert slows his thrusts and strokes Jaskier through it, until Jaskier pushes his hand away.

Lambert pulls out of him before Jaskier can protest, leaving his hole clenching around nothing and bereft as it begins to tighten again. Lambert jacks his cock quickly, Jaskier tracking the microexpressions that flit across his face as he brings himself his own pleasure until he comes, spurting onto Jaskier’s crotch and stomach. Jaskier gives him a put upon sigh at the mess, but he’s not sure how convincing it is when he’s so tired he can barely do anything but lay there.

Lambert grins at him and tugs at his hair before he retreats to grab something off the floor that Jaskier recognizes as his doublet. “Hey!” he protests, but it doesn’t stop Lambert from cleaning them up with it.

“You’re buying me a new shirt,” Jaskier says.

Lambert hums. “I’ll wash this one for you. Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

Jaskier throws an arm over his eyes. “You’re so cruel to me.”

He keeps his arm there until Lambert prods him in the side.

“How was that?” Lambert asks. “World shaking?”

Jaskier looks up at him, brushing his fingers through Lambert’s bristly hair and making him flush. “It was everything I wanted.”

[technowoah]

Revolutions Always Fall

You should've learned from L'Manburg. The Butcher Gang was a mistake.

- REQUESTED!

- I tried to put 2 requests in one here.

- its really long 🤧🤞🏽

Prompts!

13) "You made me lose all my faith and trust in you"

38) "They warned me about this.” “About what?” “You.” 

47)“Are you satisfied now...?”

⚠︎ memtions of blood, voilence, fighting, swearing, Technoblade's execution episode. Angst.

Masterlist!

Dear Technoblade,

I wont make the same mistakes again

- an old friend. ♤

Technoblade was always a threat, and you learned that from L'Manburg. You had befriended him when he joined Pogtopia and very quickly you two seemed to click. He saw the world through different eyes and that intrigued you. You wanted to be him, live life the way he does it for just a day.

He was a killing machine, he was smart tactical, but still had the thirst for blood that made him be so smart and tacitcal with how he kills.

You on the other hand were not a big fan of killing, but this war was an exception. This war made you practice, it made you angry, it lit a fire underneath you that you didnt know you had. Along with the other members of Pogtopia, Technoblade helped you fight, how to wield a sword, knife, gun, anything that you can get your hands on you turned it into a weapon, you Soon enough you had mastered weapons and you werent so passive.

You questioned yourself if this was living through Technoblade, the need to fight, hunt, to protect. You felt poweful. As you hold your own crafted swords in your hand you know what you can do. You could do so much damage with this sword, he gave you that sword. It wasn't special at all but you made it special, because in your eyes it was.

"You can do so much with a sword, people just don't know how to use it to its fullest potential. They dont know their full potential either. But now you do."

Thats what he said to you in between those stone walls called Pogtopia.

After what he said to you had done so. Used the sword to your full potential, used anything to your full potential. You wanted to be more and more you became.

"You ready?" Technoblade smirked.

"Hell yeah Im ready to kill that bastard." You smiled

"Woah-oh! You weren't saying this a couple months ago."

"Schlatt deserves it. That's not L'Manburg. This is L'Manburg." You stretched out your arms to the others who were gathering armor and polishing their weapons for the battle yet to come.

You smiled knowing this will all end soon, you wouldn't be in a cave anymore, you wouldn't have to hide the fact that you knew where Wilbur was and that he was planning the attack, Pogtopia will be no more and L'Manburg would be back.

"L'Manburg will be back." You said while taking a sword out of a chest.

"Sure." You heard him scoff beside you.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked slightly offended. Wasn't he fighting for the same thing?

"I dont know. Revolutions always fall." He turned his back to you and walked away leaving you to your own thoughts.

You hated it. He was right, he was always right and you hated it. And everyone else did too, they knew he was right. It wasnt what the majority wanted, we wanted L'Manburg while he didn't want to be held by government in the first place. That's what he meant that day in Pogtopia.

L'Manburg, one defeated, was now growing once more. After the "end" of L'Manburg you couldn't forgive him. Your anger and the feeling of betrayal kept growing and growing everyday, every time you picked up that damned sword he gave you. It was the best sword you had, you had enchanted it multiple times. You had to use it, but the only thing was the memories that came with it.

Your anger only worsened as time went on, having to hear about Technoblade and how he was such a threat to L'Manburg only made you want to destroy him and the past you two had created. That would be the closure you needed, but someone was already three steps a head of you.

In spite of your anger you and Quackity had the most magnificent idea to make a gang to finally kill Technoblade for the sake of L'Manburg. The idea was to go confront him at his house and take him back to L'Manburg for an execution. You were on board with the idea 100%. This was better for L'Manburg and better for yourself, finally someone who got you.

Quackity and you planned tirelessly to try and get Technoblade's location and bring him back. The Butcher Gang was made from the cabinet of L'Manburg. During these long days you two grew closer, you two were so different in ways of thinking, but you two shared the same end goal which worked out in your favor. You two went through hell and back just to find out that the easiest way to get to Technoblade was sitting in L'Manburg right at that moment. Philza, some may say Technoblade's only friend at the moment. He was loyal to Technoblade and you dont blame him at all, but you needed to find out where his companion was.

It was all going well, the Butcher Gang had put Phil on house arrest and Tubbo had found a compass that led them straight to Technoblade's location. Everything was going well and according to plan, you didnt want to show it on your face as you saw Technoblade's house from the spot in the woods the Butcher Gang was hiding in, but you wanted this so badly. You didnt where he was going to be, he could've came and bestowed more destruction. It was like knowing he was there, but not knowing when he was going to strike.

The anxiety that came with not knowing where Technoblade was always with you, but now it wont be.

The Butcher Gang ended up taking Technoblade by force back into the city. You were proud that you were all able to get the blood hungry pig-man to come back with you all. He was behind bars with an anvil hanging high over his head. As Tubbo gave his speech your short lived happiness soon faded as a man appeared and smoke filled the area. You started to get attacked by what seemed like Dream and Punz while Tubbo continued to yell for Quackity to pull the lever to finally kill Technoblade.

"Pull the lever Big Q!"

"Kill him Quackity!" You yelled with him.

He did it. The anvil fell fast towards Technoblade's body, but as fast as the anvil landed on him his skin, bones, and blood regenerate and return to its normal state. Your eyes widened as the totem in his hand began to disintegrate into gold dust.

"DAMMIT!" You yelled in agony while Ranboo and Fundy continued to fend off Dream and Punz until they retreated.

Once they did you realized Technoblade was gone, you saw him in the distance running away from the scene, but you couldn't let this happen. You couldn't let the fear of Technoblade being out there doing God knows what forever. The fear of him boiled in your heart as you broke out into a sprint towards Technoblade.

As you ran into a more secluded area you heard footsteps behind you. You glances back to see Quackity following your lead with an axe in his hand. Slowing down a bit you both ran side by side.

"Let's get this son of a bitch!" Quackity huffed as you both came across a cave.

You both knew Technoblade was in there so you both prepared for the mental and physical pain you would both endure. This wasn't like the Butcher Gang where it was 5 against 1, it was 2 against 1 and you've seen Technoblade fight this fight before.

"You ready to kill this bastard?" He calmed his breathing down.

"Of course I am." You kept your eyes foward.

You walked deep into tha cave to see 6 chests and a sign that said "final control room", that bastard. Wanting to be quiet you tried to sneak up on Technoblade, but Quackity's anger got the best of him.

"What the fuck is this Technoblade?! What the hell are you doing here?" He asked gripping his sword too tight.

"It not what it looks like." Technoblade airly laughed. He had an enchanted pickaxe in his hand and an open chest with netherite armor.

"How the hell did that anvil not kill you?!" Quackity yelled.

Technoblade started laughing, he was laughing, he was taunting us. "Do you really think that death can stop me? That you could kill me that easily."

Your emotions tried to get the best of you as you tried not to let frustrated tears fall onto your cheeks.

"How did you do it? What... How did you even do that?"

"You think that can stop me Quackity?" Technoblade asked again.

"Just answer the fucking question!" You yelled before either of them could speak. It was silent for a while before Technoblade slowly spoke up.

"A totem. I used a totem of undying. I always have it on me." He smugly said.

He continued on. "You know what?! You know what? Ive got a lot to say, I was gonna say it at the trial, but we got a little bit interrupted. You know I tried convincing you guys that government was not the answer, the government was actually the cause of all your problems!"

You rolled your eyes as he continued his infamous speech.

"I tried to convince you guys by fighting alongside you as brothers and you cast me aside, you used me. I tried to use force, but you still formed a government! And when I went into hiding, when I retired, when I swore off violence, you hunted me down, you hurt my friends." Technoblade finished.

"Techno you dont understand what we're fighting for!" You started finally finding your voice. "I thought you were for us! You were always against us!"

"I was always for you! I needed you guys to understand!"

"We needed YOU to under-"

Technoblade interrupted you. "You dont understand me! You never did!"

"At least I fucking tried and you gave me so much shit for it! I wanted to be you Technoblade. I wanted to see life through your eyes, I was fascinated by how you walk, fight, your mind."

Your anger began to subside as you continued to speak. "But, you made me lose all my faith and trust in you."

Technoblade laughed again. "Same here! You guys left me! Betrayed me so-"

"So the feeling is mutual." You growled.

It was quite for a minute, but you could feel Quackity's sympathetic stare as you poured your feelings out to a man who dosen't even matter to you.

"They warned me about this." Your arms gestured to the area the three of you were in.

"About what?" Technoblade scoffed.

"About you." You stared at Technoblade. It wasn't a glare, it was more calm.

"Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy...Even Ranboo." You airly chuckled.

You had stopped talking trying to get yourself back together. Quackity caught that you weren't talking anymore so he spoke up.

"What we have up there is a country and what we need here is organization and power. And I dont care how long it fucking takes me or what I have to do to get you Techno. Im going to fucking kill you. Im going to kill you Technoblade." Quackity gripped his axe in his hand.

"I just have one question Quackity." Techno smirked.

"What do you have?" Quackity responded and you took the sword out of the sheath hanging on your hip.

"Do you think you two are enough to kill me? Even unarmed with iron armor?" Technoblade closed the chest that held netherite armor signaling he didn't need that. "Do you think you both could take me?"

"Oh we do." You spoke up. "We need this, Technoblade."

"You know what?" Quackity rose his axe and you followed suit. "Lets find out you son of a bitch!" He charged towards Technoblade and you followed close behind.

Technoblade started running out of the long cave, but you two followed. He threw potions on the ground as he turned around and fought us head on. You were able to get a couple of cuts and hits on him, but he was cutting you more with his pickaxe.

The thing about Quackity was that he thought he was invincible. He kept going full force towards Technoblade, hopefully he would focus on him so you could finally get a critical hit on him. Your heart rate kicked up as your face came too close to his pickaxe. And it kept going, each swing he took towards you became closer and closer until Quackity slashed his arm with his axe.

Technoblade whipped his head his way. "I have a pickaxe and I'll put it right through your teeth!"

Technoblade swung his axe and slashed Quackity's face, including his eye. He then turned his pickaxe to the flat side and swung it, hitting the side of his head. The blow to his head sent him flying against one of the walls of the cave, knocking him out.

He then turned to you and in a flash you could tatse the metal of his pickaxe as it swiped across your face blinding one of your eyes as well as Quackity's. He had hit you on the side of the head like he did with Quackity. Your body was aching as you fell to the ground, your mind slowly shutting down. You were loosing a lot of blood quickly, and so was Quackity. You two knew you were going to find the strength to get out of this cave and follow Technoblade's path out.

You laid on the cave's cold floor realizing that this was a mistake. You were too loyal, easily swayed, you were a follower. You never knew when to stop, from L'Manburg to Pogtopia to The Butcher Gang you seeked things you couldn't have. You couldn't have L'Manburg, neither Pogtopia, you couldn't kill Technoblade and ease your fears snd anxieties. You need to seek that some where else.

Your mind began to slip, and you fell into unconsciousness.

You should've learned. He was right. Revolutions always fall.

The Butcher Gang was a mistake.

Dear Technoblade,

I remembered the day. It still pains me. The day you spawned those wither. I thought you were the traitor, but turns out I was wrong at the time. Im sorry for that.

I also remember when you left me for dead. But I made it out as you see.

But now I am resigning from L'Manburg. Im going my own way, my own path, and I don't want you on my path.

Think of this as closure, something I never got. As I am writing this I dont know why I am giving you closure, lifting a weight off of your shoulders, you dont deserve it.

I know people say that to you alot.

You really made a dent in this damned place.

I hate what you're doing. You get to live in solitude while we get to live in the debris you left here. I wanted to be like you.

I hate to say it, but I learned a lot from you. I hated what I learned, about myself, about you, about the current state of this horrible place.

I wont make the same mistakes again

Are you satisfied now?

- an old friend ♤

[itsthewritergal]

It’s all a mess -  F.W x reader

Y/N and Fred had been dating for a year, but they had been friends since the very first day, when Fred and George let her sit with them on the train. She had all been sorted into Gryffindor which just made their friendship grow stronger. Although recently Y/N and Fred had done nothing but argue. Constantly. George was growing tired of having to console the both of them, and their friends avoided both of them when they argued.

Y/N sat with her friend from Ravenclaw at dinner, she was currently avoiding Fred after their argument the night before. She was filling in her friends on the details,

“So I was in the library right, doing my essay because I wanted to go to the Quidditch game next week” She started after shovelling some food into her mouth “Fred comes in all high and mighty because I dared to speak to some Hufflepuff about my potions class. He starts accusing me in front of everyone about loyalty, when he was with Angelina all last week and barely even spoke to me” She snapped, groaning loudly “He then tells me that he doesn’t know why we are still together!”

“Maybe it’s not such a great idea you two being together” Her friend said with a sad smile

“She’s got a point you know” Luna mused from her place next to you “Perhaps you two just aren’t suited anymore” she hummed twirling her fork around on her plate

“But I love him” Y/N argued

“Yes we know that. But does he love you? From what you’ve been saying it doesn’t sound like it” Her friend said with a sympathetic smile

Y/N turned the conversation quickly onto her Charms homework, in an attempt to pull her friends away from the conversation. But their words played heavily on her mind. Fred had been acting distant and angrier than usual, but surely that wasn’t because he was falling out of love with her. With a huff she said goodbye to her friends and made her way back to the dorm.

———-

Walking through the portrait hole, Y/N caught sight of Fred and Angelina giggling together, her fingers traced over his arm as his was wrapped around her shoulders. They looked happy together, just how Y/N and Fred had done a few months ago, with a sad smile Y/N knew exactly what she had to do. Taking a few steps towards them, George was the first one to notice that she had walked into the room. His eyes widened in shock as he kicked Fred to get his attention. Angelina was the next to notice Y/N and she quickly pinched Fred, who was yet to notice her presence.

“Don’t stop now” He laughed “I was just getting to enjoying that”

“No of course, don’t stop on my account” Y/N said sadly, “Seems you two are happy” She gave them a weak smile

“YN it isn’t what you think” Angelina said “We were just talking, and I”

“It’s fine, everyone knows me and Fred just aren’t quite working anymore” She said “I guess this is probably for the best” Y/N pulled off the bracelet that Fred had given her for their one year anniversary

“What are you doing?” He questioned standing up and pushing Angelina off of him. “Why are you giving me this?” He said suddenly feeling a wash of nerves fall over him

“i’m done Freddie, I’m done with all the fighting, never knowing what’s going to happen next. I’m done, we’re done” Y/N said solemnly “Take care of him for me” She laughed to Angelina, who was looking just as guilt ridden as Fred did.

“YN let’s talk about this” He pleaded

“I can’t. I’m sorry” She said making her way quickly out of the common room.

———-

The halls were empty, apart from Y/N’s quiet footsteps as she made her way towards the Astronomy Tower. She knew that nobody would be stupid enough to look up there at this hour. Not that anyone would miss her. Sitting herself down on the cold floor, Y/N let herself cry. Her sobs echoed loudly, but she didn’t care, she wanted to scream. Everything they had together was gone just like that, everything that she had dreamed about was gone. She didn’t hear the footsteps, or George settling himself beside her.

“He’s an idiot you know” He commented, wrapping a blanket around her

“He got what he wanted, he’s had a crush on Angelina since second year” Y/N laughed bitterly, pushing thoughts of the other girl out of her head

“He doesn’t love her, I’ll admit I don't know what he was thinking in the common room but he doesn’t love her” George tried his hardest to make her feel a little better.

“Well it sure doesn’t look that way” She said resting her head on George’s shoulder “It’s all a mess George”

They sat up there for what felt like hours, reminiscing on their old adventures before everything took a turn for the worse.

“You’re still coming home for Christmas right?” George asked turning to look at her. He couldn’t remember a Christmas where she didn’t come to the burrow, it had become their tradition

“I don’t know George, I don’t think I will. I’ll go home, have a quiet one instead” She hummed, thinking back to her family who all hated Christmas.

“You can’t! It would break mum” He said in an attempt to make her feel a little better “And Ginny, she loves it when you come”

“I don’t think I can George, I don’t want to face him, I don’t even want to look at him” She said unsure if the feelings would go away by Christmas

“Lucky I’m the better looking one eh?” He laughed, grinning proudly as she smiled up at him.

———-

“Come on then how was your Christmas?” Ginny said sitting herself down opposite Y/N

“It was nice” She lied easily “Mum made this massive roast and we all opened our presents all together, even went down to the park to ice skate” She said, hoping that Ginny didn’t catch on

“Wow, sounds pretty incredible” She smiled, “We missed you” she added quietly, with a small glance towards Fred “We all did”

“Don’t be daft, it must have been nice not to have me crashing it” She laughed

“Fred barely left his room” she said sadly “You know he’s really sorry”

“Can we please talk about something else” Y/N practically begged, she had managed to push all the thoughts of Fred to the back of her mind. Hearing that he missed her was something she knew she wouldn't be able to handle.

“Well here comes the post” Ginny said, grateful for the interruption .

A large parcel thumped down on Y/N’s lap. Wrapped in brown paper she pulled at the string carefully. A letter fell out, and a maroon knitted jumper was revealed.

Molly Weasley.

Feeling a few pairs of eyes on her as she pulled the jumper out of the paper, Y/N stood up and ran out of the Great Hall. She had tried her hardest to be strong, but she just couldn’t hold it in any longer. Making her way out into the courtyard she found a corner and sunk down onto a bench

“You okay?” George asked, following her

“Tell your mum thank you, but I can’t accept this” Y/N said

“Of course you can” George cut her off, sitting himself next to her “It’s Fred who messed up, not us”

“George, it hurts okay. It hurts to know that I’m not only loosing Fred, but i’m loosing you too. I can’t come between you two. I wont let myself”

“You’re not loosing me you muppet” He argued, only to be cut off  by her

“Yes I am. I couldn’t write to you this Christmas, because I didn’t know what I could say to you that I didn’t want to talk about with you and Fred. I couldn’t tell you I had an awful Christmas because I didn’t want to let Fred know that I wasn’t doing ok”

“You had a bad Christmas?” George said

“You know my family, they don’t do Christmas. But that isn’t the point” She said “The point is-”

“I messed up. That’s what the point is” Fred said making his way towards the bench

“I think you should go” Y/N said slowly look Fred up and down

“Just let me talk” he said calmly

“I’ll leave you two to it” George said giving Y/N a small sideways hug

“I can’t apologise because I know it wont help” Fred started “I was angry at you. I thought you were flirting with that Hufflepuff boy, I heard him talking to his friends about how fit you were and it annoyed me. I wanted to get back at you. I wasn’t thinking” He said

“Fred why would I look at anyone when I had you”

“Have” He corrected quickly “You’ve still got me, I know we aren’t together but there isn’t anyone else”

“Freddie” She sighed “All we do is argue” “Not any more, c’mon Y/N. We love each other, we can get through this” He promised, his tone was desperate, voice wavering slightly as though tears were about to fall

“I’ve been an idiot. Christmas was hell without you. Mum was miserable, and angry with me when I told her. Dad had to stop her from driving to your house to pick you up” He chuckled slightly “Ginny told me you had a pretty great Christmas”

“I lied to her, mum and dad didn’t even realise I was home. They went on some couples retreat” She laughed

“So you didn’t go ice skating?” She shook her head “And you didn’t have a massive Christmas dinner?” Once again shook her head “And you didn’t have loads of presents?” She shook her head again “I’m sorry Y/N”

“It’s fine, I did Christmas my own little way” She smiled.

They settled into a silence, neither one wanting to break the comfort that they had so desperately missed. Fred placed a tentative arm around her shoulders

“You know I love you right?” He said

“Fred don’t” She started

“I’m being serious Y/N” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face “I love you”

“I love you too but everything is just so much” She huffed sadly

“We love each other, that’s all that matters right?” He said grasping at any little hope that they might be okay

“Yeah, that’s all that matters” She said, wrapping her arms around him. Nestling her head into his neck.

“Are my favourite couple back tougher?” George shouted from the other side of the courtyard quickly making his way over

“How long have you been waiting there?” Y/N laughed

“Since I left” He grinned mischievously “So?”

“Yes we’re back together” Y/N grinned happily

“I’ll go write to mum! She’ll be expecting you at ours next holiday. Don’t tell the others but you’re her favourite” George winked as he skipped off

“Remind me again why I stick around with you two insufferable idiots” She shook her head laughing

“Well you’re stuck with us now” Fred grinned.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

[topsytervy]

Hello ~ Rafe Cameron

This is Part 2 to Goodbye cause I had the thought in my head and I didn't want to write it only for it to sit in my docs so you can read Goodbye (aka Part 1) here.

Blurb: A lot can change in five years.

Word Count: 3,677

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, smoking, cocaine, spelling/grammar mistakes, i think that's it.

Small note: I’m 19 and have never planned a wedding. I’ve been to my fair share of weddings as guests and my only experience with a wedding would have been when my sister got married, however, her in-laws are kind of assholes so her wedding was really lowkey and shit, like it took place in my sister backyard lowkey, cause her mother-in-law was like 'Im not paying for anything cause you guys wont last but I'll pay for your sisters weddings' so like I’m winging half of this shit if not most of it. I’m sorry.

~~~~~

It was 5 years later.

You were 21, along with the rest of the pogues, and able to legally drink and purchase alcohol. So no more hassle with a fake ID.

Nothing had changed except for college and jobs. You and JJ had broken up after two years of dating and, much to everyone's surprise, it was like nothing had ever happened between you two.

It was insanely easy to slip back into the friend zone with JJ, despite both of you thinking that it would be awkward. Both of you fell back into old habits fairly quickly. Sure there were the first couple of weeks where you two felt as if you had to force normality but after that, it was like nothing happened. Sure, JJ still called you princess and you still found yourself hiding into his side during scary movies, but those were habits you two had prior to dating, and old habits die hard.

The only other difference was that John B and Sarah were getting married.

They were planning on getting married at The Lodge at Bear River in fall which meant a ferry to the mainland and then an almost 8-hour road trip to the venue. 

You, Kie, and Wheezie were bridesmaids, Kie being maid of honor, and Pope, JJ, and much to John B's displeasure, Rafe were groomsmen, JJ being best man. 

You and Pope were walking together which left Rafe and his half-sister to walk together. 

Rafe looked at his sister and John B, trying to stay as unphased as possible. "Y/N's gonna be a part of the wedding party?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette from his spot by the pool. 

John B and Sarah were outside at the patio table with their wedding planner, going over guests and the wedding party. The three looked over at Rafe and Sarah nodded.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"No reason. If you need someone to walk with her, I'll do it." He told her as nonchalantly as possible. 

"She's walking with Pope." John B responded. Rafe made a face as he brought the cigarette back up to his lips and John B narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is there a problem?" Sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"No. No problem. It's your wedding."

John B rolled his eyes before turning back to the wedding planner. 

Rafe stood up and walked inside, flipping John B the bird as he walked by. He felt as if John B was put on this earth just to make him miserable at this point.

Rafe walked over to the bar and fixed himself a drink, Wheezie rolling her eyes from her spot on the couch in between Rose and Ward, who were currently scrolling through formal wear for the wedding. 

"Dad, Rafe's day drinking... again." The now eighteen-year-old piped up.

Rafe glared at her. "Just wait Wheezie. This will be you in a few years." He told his half-sister with a smirk.

Wheezie scrunched up her face in disgust at the sight of her brother holding his cigarette in one hand and drink in the other.

Rose, a glass of wine in her hand, rolled her eyes at her stepson as Ward, a gin and tonic in his hand, just sighed. "It's five o'clock somewhere, Wheezie." 

Rafe clinked his glass against his father’s as he made his way upstairs to his old room that he was temporarily staying in since his apartment building had taken some damage during the latest hurricane and was currently getting the necessary repairs done, and closed the door behind him. He sat down at his old desk chair and looked at the corkboard above the desk where a couple of polaroid pictures of you hung. The pictures were the first thing Rafe went looking for when he had gotten back to his apartment, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the little lockbox he had stored the polaroids still in the closet and completely unscathed. Rafe downed his drink as he swiveled his chair back and forth. 

Of course, John B wouldn't pair you and him up. That would be helping a brother out. Rafe did everything he could to show that he changed once he heard you and JJ broke up.

 He quit cocaine and took up cigarettes instead. He went back to college and got a business degree. He was currently working and getting along with his father. He had his life together, mostly, and on track. The only thing missing from his life was you.

He had barely spent more than 5 minutes in a room with you since the breakup because you were either by JJ or you retreated as far from him as possible. He'd casually bring you up in conversation with John B and your friend would just roll his eyes. 

"We don't bring you up in conversations, Rafe." John B told him one day.

That cut the blue-eyed man deep.

Especially since this was after Rafe gave John B the money he needed to buy Sarah an engagement ring. 

Some wingman John B was.

Rafe stood up with a sigh and walked downstairs, deciding to bring the entire bottle of whiskey upstairs since he could already tell it was going to be one of those nights. He halted by the patio door though when he heard his sister and John B start talking.

“Would it be that bad to pair Rafe and Y/N up for the wedding? I highly doubt Wheezie wants to walk with him. At least Y/N won’t whine about it.” She asked as she placed a hand on his arm, the wedding planner nowhere in sight.

Rafe leaned against the wall, biting his lip as he waited for John B’s answer. If Rafe was being honest, he was kind of surprised that his sister would even consider asking John B that since she could care less about what Rafe wanted.

“Sarah, I love you but you did not see her that day or the day after or the following month and a half after that. Do you know how hard it was seeing Y/N like that? Heartbroken. Not wanting to get out of bed. Thinking she did the wrong thing and that caused him to go over the edge. Do you know how many times JJ, Pope, Kie and I caught her reading the obituaries to make sure Rafe’s name wasn’t in there?” John B looked at his fiancée. “I’m not pairing them up together without her permission. That’s that.”

“Then ask her.”

"What?" 

"Ask Y/N if she wants to walk with Rafe?" Sarah saw the 'are you kidding' look in John B's eyes. "I'm serious John B. Rafe's changed a lot and, despite what you think, you cannot keep her from talking or seeing my brother all your life."

"I can try." The curly-haired boy stated, crossing his arms.

"You know what, JB? You are acting like a damn child. It is not going to break Y/N/N if you ask her one small question that contains the name Rafe, okay? I'm sure she can hear his name and not break down or something. It's been long enough. Let him have that 5 minutes he needs to talk to her cause, yeah I do not doubt that Y/N took their breakup hard, but what about Rafe? Hmm? Believe it or not John B, but my brother has fucking feelings too, okay. He probably took that break up just as hard and Wheezie and I witnessed it. So stop acting like even whispering Rafe's name will break her and just fucking ask her if she wants to walk with Rafe or Pope."

"Fine. If it makes you and Rafe happy, I'll ask her." John B huffed.

Rafe didn't stay to hear the rest, just turned around and walked back to his room, the whiskey bottle long forgotten. 

****

Fall had come quickly and the wedding date came even faster. It was like Rafe blinked and then he was on the ferry two days before the wedding, sitting next to you, very awkwardly might I add, his leg bouncing up and down as he played with his fingers. It was like he didn't know what to do with his hands. After all these years, the most natural thing to do with one of his hands was still to place it on your thigh and the amount of willpower it took to not do that exact thing was unbelievable.

Rafe had told his dad that he was going to rent his own car because eight hours in a car with his family was a hard no for him. 

So there he was, walking over to the car he rented and opening the door before stopping and watching you get in a car with Pope, Kie, and JJ.

You glanced up just before you got in, making eye contact with him. You gave him a small smile to make it a little less awkward and Rafe returned the smile before hopping into the car. He watched you guys pull away and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh before putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. 

This was going to be the longest three days of his life.

***

He was happy for the long-ass drive of day one considering once everyone got to the hotel, there was a silent, collective decision to all just turn in for the night. 

Day two was a little less chill. After being awoken by a panicked banging on the door of his hotel room, Rafe got out of bed as quickly as he could and opened the door, only to be greeted by Sarah who roughly pushed past him into his room.

“Yeah. Come on in. Good morning to you too.” He deadpanned before shutting the door.

“What the hell am I doing, Rafe?” She asked out of the blue, causing a look of confusion to settle on his face.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He stated.

He watched as Sarah sat on his bed and ran her hands through her hair, letting out a breath. “Is this too soon? Am I getting married too young? Like, I’m 21, Rafe. I should be out getting blackout drunk and having hookups and having regrets but instead, I’m doing the exact opposite.” She rambled.

“Okay. I see what’s happening now.” Rafe walked over and sat down next to Sarah. “Sarah, trust me when I say that marrying John B will not hurt any of that. I guarantee that you and John B will get blackout drunk together and call someone for a ride. I guarantee you will be having hookups, it’s just that all of them will be with John B. And you will have regrets. What those regrets are, I have no fucking clue but life is full of them. Trust me, I have a lot of regrets and I’m only 24.” Rafe told her. “But, I don’t think marrying John B is going to be one of your regrets. Canceling this wedding would be. After all, the venue does say no refunds.”

Sarah snorted slightly and Rafe bumped his shoulder against hers. “Believe me, Sarah, if anyone is ready to get married at this age, it’s you. You came down with a damn binder filled to the brim when you were like seven and placed it in front of me and dad on the coffee table and told dad to start making connections with everyone in that binder, right down to the dress designer.”

Sarah smiled before turning and wrapping her arms around Rafe. “Who would’ve thought you could give a pep talk. And liked John B.” She said.

Rafe slowly wrapped his arms around his younger sister. “Apparently you because you came to me. However, this does not mean I like John B. I am not going to start canceling shit just to have some one-on-one time with that curly-haired surfer dude. Okay? I simply tolerate him because he somehow makes you happy.”

After breakfast and lunch that he spent with Wheezie, last-minute plans when he walked to your room to ask you to lunch only to knock and have you answer the door which caused him to quickly abandon that plan and say “Whoops sorry. Room 202 for Wheeze,”, the rehearsal dinner came quickly. 

In all honesty, Rafe wasn't really paying attention to the dinner at all. How could he when you were right there, quite literally within his reach, laughing and smiling?

The actual wedding day itself was stressful leading up to the ceremony but after everyone got where they needed to be, it was smooth sailing. Rafe and Wheezie walked out after Kie and JJ. 

Rafe watched you walk down with Pope and couldn't help the pang of jealousy he felt in his chest. He also couldn't help but imagine himself as the groom and you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him.

He quickly shook the thought from his head though, watching you take your place next to Wheezie before turning your attention towards the door to watch his dad and sister walkout. 

You glanced over at Rafe and smiled slightly when you saw him bring a hand up to his cheek, wiping away a tear. You turned your attention to John B before Rafe could look over and catch you staring.

You saw John B wipe his hands on his trousers as subtly as he could. You caught JJ's eyes and he shook his head, mouthing 'fucking whipped' to you.

You nodded and moved your eyes between Sarah and John B before settling them back on JJ. 'Obviously' you mouthed back before the pair of you stopped before someone caught you.

In all honesty, Sarah did and she saw Rafe catch the interaction as well, noticing him swallow hard.

The ceremony went smoothly with no objections -Rafe fought back the urge to object just to mess with everyone but he knew his entire family wouldn't appreciate the humor- and after pictures, everyone moved inside for the reception as the sun began to set.

Dinner and drinks were served, toasts were made -JJ had made sure to include a few of John B's stupid and most embarrassing moments, much to Rafe's pleasure-, and then the dancing began. 

Sarah and Ward had their father/daughter dance and then John B and Sarah had their first dance before everyone else was encouraged to join them on the dance floor.

Wheezie walked over to Rafe and Rafe looked at her. "I am not nearly drunk enough to get out on that floor and dance with you Wheezie."

Wheezie just rolled her eyes. "You have a shot right now to go ask Y/N to dance and no one will even notice you. Take it." Rafe ignored her. "Oh, okay. So you can sit there and stare but you don't have the balls to walk up to her and say 'wanna dance'?"

Rafe glared at his half-sister. "Watch your mouth, Wheezie."

Wheezie took one last glance at the dance floor and shrugged. "That's fine. Looks like someone else did."

Rafe had never scanned a crowd faster than he did right there and sure enough, there you were, a cousin of his with his hands on your waist and yours on his shoulders, moving slowly around the dance floor.

"I'm going out for a smoke," Rafe muttered before getting up and making his way out of the building. 

He stood outside and brought out his pack of cigarettes, along with his lighter, and opened up the little carton. He withdrew a cigarette before closing the pack and shoving it back into his pocket, placing the cigarette between his lips. He heard the song from inside end before another one started back up as he flicked the spark wheel a couple of times, his thumb landing on the fork before a flame appeared.

He cupped his hand in front of the flame and brought the flame to the cigarette that rested between his lips, making a mental note to buy a new lighter since his was running out of juice.

Rafe heard the door open and close as he shoved the lighter back into his pocket and inhaled. He blew out the smoke before looking over to see who had joined him and was a little surprised to see you.

Of course, Rafe knew at some point you'd duck out of the party for some fresh air considering in social situations where they were tons of people, you needed to get away for a bit and recharge your social battery. He just didn't expect you to do that so soon.

You both stared out in front of you, not saying anything and Rafe brought the cigarette to his lips again, taking another drag.

"It's beautiful out here." You breathed out, trying to start some conversation.

Rafe nodded as he exhaled. "Yeah, it is."

"I wouldn't mind getting married here." You added absent-mindedly.

If Rafe had a drink right now, he would've choked at your words. He nodded nonetheless. "Yeah. It's a pretty nice place to get married."

You looked over at Rafe. "You gonna be okay over there, big guy?"

Rafe turned his head to look at you, confusion written all over his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you wipe a tear away, bub." Rafe's heart sped up at the nickname that you used to use on him. "When Sarah was walking down the aisle. You gonna be okay or should the same reaction be expected at Wheezie's wedding too?" You smiled as Rafe groaned, tilting his head to look at the almost pitch-black sky.

"Don't even mention Wheezie getting married. To me, she's still that annoying thirteen-year-old that was always eavesdropping and snooping through shit." 

"Awe, Rafe. You got a soft spot for your sisters now. That’s so sweet." You cooed, knowing that when he was 19, the only thing he did was complain about the two Cameron girls. "Seriously though, I think it's sweet that you walked with Wheezie and that you shed a tear today." You told him.

Rafe couldn't stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "I wanted to walk with you but you told John B you'd rather walk with Pope."

Way to go, dumbass, he thought to himself.

"What are you talking about?" It was your turn to look confused.

Rafe sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke pour past his lips as he spoke. "I offered to walk with you and John B said no. I overheard him and Sarah talking a bit later and Sarah told him that it wouldn't hurt to ask if you wanted to walk with me or not. And I think you know the rest."

He might as well fess up about it since his mouth and brain already decided to rat him out anyway.

You shook your head. "I don't know the rest because John B never asked me who I wanted to walk with nor did he ask if I wanted to walk with you."

Rafe looked over at you, his eyes locked on yours. He knew when you were lying and this was not one of those times.

He chuckled before shaking his head. "God. He's such a dick."

You ignored his comment about one of your best friends and walked closer to him. "You seriously wanted to walk with me?"

Rafe nodded, looking down at the ground. He was in way over his head, admitting that after half a decade he was still thinking about you and wanting to be with you. Even if it was for like a 20-second walk down an aisle.

You felt a blush grow on your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers.

A beat passed before you spoke, keeping your head down. "If it makes you feel better… I would've said yes."

Rafe looked at you. "Yeah?"

You nodded and he took another drag from his cigarette.

"Can we start over?" He asked.

"What?" Your Y/E/C eyes lifted from the ground to meet his blue ones.

"Can we start over?"

You bit your lip. "Yeah. Sure."

Rafe cleared his throat before placing a small smile on his face and giving a little bow. "Hello. I'm Rafe."

You breathed out a laugh before giving Rafe a slight curtsy. "Hello, Rafe. I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Rafe shook his head. "Oh no. The pleasure is all mine."

Your heads both turned to the building when the song changed once again to a slower song and Rafe took Wheezie's advice on seizing an opportunity. 

"You still like this song?" You nodded once more and Rafe put out his cigarette before extending his hand to you. "Would you like to dance?"

You smiled and took his hand. "Of course."

He placed his hands on your waist and yours looped around his neck, him starting to sway you two slightly.

"You look amazing by the way." Rafe complimented, taking in the lavender color of your bridesmaid dress.

"Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself." You took your hands from his neck and straightened his tie before returning them to where they previously were.

You moved closer to Rafe, resting your head on his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Rafe?" You mumbled towards the end of the song.

"Mhm?"

"I missed you." You admitted.

Rafe smiled before placing a kiss at the top of your head. "I missed you too, Y/N/N."

"Rafe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you maybe wanna ride back to the ferry together? 8 hours is a long trip.  Especially when you're alone and I have to deal with JJ, Pope, and Kie." 

You heard Rafe’s heart speed up a bit before it calmed back down as he took a deep breath. 

"I would love that."

~~~~~~~

[ziaxkawaii]

“Thank you...” (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing.

Summary: Bakugou is passed out so you carry him to his dorm.

Part 1  Part 2

-“God he’s heavy!!!” You grunted as you stopped for a second to get a better grip of the boy on your back.

-Currently you were walking back from the training grounds right before curfew, and you were practically dragging you feet across the pavement while you carried unconscious Bakugou as gently and lightly as possible. 

~You had his body on your back, carrying him in a piggyback style. One of his arms was thrown over your left shoulder and his head rested on your right one, while you held his thighs.

~Your muscles were sore from the earlier excessive training. Your arms and back were littered with burns and bruises, and your tired legs could hardly carry the weight of your body and also your friends slightly heavier body.

~He wasn’t doing any better though. He too had bruises and few tiny cuts from your attacks as well. And of course the obvious, he was out cold like a drunk person. 

~If you had to explain everything that happened just 15 minutes ago in a nutshell, simply you and Bakugou were sparing together in the school gym area and as you were throwing punches and kicks at each other, Bakugou had said something that especially got on your nerves and you accidentally kicked him in the back of the head a little too hard, and he was out like a light.

~Whatever you did, he wouldn’t wake up. You couldn’t just leave him there or wait for him to wake up since you had a curfew. So you opted to just carry him back to the dorms, and it was way harder than you thought.

~The 1-A heights alliance building came in to your view, and you sighed out of relief but also out of nervousness.

~What if Bakugou woke up before you could get him to his room and he gets angry at you for literally trying to help him!?

~This boy was full of pride and didn’t want anyone's help even if he needed it. So if he woke up to see you carrying him like some kid, you probably would have an extra bruise by the end of the night.

~You weren’t ready to be blasted all the way to hell just yet.

~Even so, as much as he seemed to act like a villain in some people eyes. You and some other people like Kirishima saw through his facade. 

~Bakugou just didn’t know how to connect with people since his pride was in the way and how growing up everybody basically worshiped and praised his stupidly powerful quirk and intelligence.

~It didn’t matter if a person is shy, happy, angry, evil or neutral, everyone needs someone to talk to and a person to call a friend. Or in Bakugou's case: an Extra.

~You were one of the people he ‘tolerated’. You and him would talk about topics that came in to mind, study silently or just bicker to each other about something irrelevant.

~It was nice in it’s own weird way. 

~People are kind of like a puzzles. Some puzzles aren’t as easy they seem and you have to learn to understand how to solve it before actually doing so. Or you could do both simultaneously, and enjoy the in betweens of the journey. 

~Bakugou was just a really hard one that tested your patience and your own temper.

~Even after all the headaches and insults that this boy threw at you, your friends and classmates. You still couldn’t deny your attraction towards him. 

~Hell, he was good looking, talented and passionate about what he does, plus he was such a softy on the inside if people took the time to actually observe. Goodness why did he have to be so perfect at everything! It was getting on your nerves!!!

~Still, you pushed your own thoughts aside and continued on with your life as normal. You were happy and your presence didn’t seem to irritate him, so you accepted the reality and were grateful of what you had.

~You walked up the small stairway up to one of the class 1-A dormitory doors and with each step you were almost shitting your pants when Bakugou let out pained groans as if he was gonna be awake soon.

~Sure you were friends. But it didn’t mean you weren’t at least a little bit nervous around him.

~You reached the front door and attempted to open the door while trying not to drop the male on your back. You pulled down the handle, only to realize it’s locked.

~”Fuck…” You cursed silently.

~You did have your keys, you always do. But they were in your back pocket, and your were in no position to get them unless you wanted to wake up your friend and face his wrath.

~You tried awkwardly knocking on the door with your foot and knee, but it didn’t work too well. You took the risk and knocked on the door like a human being and quickly retreated it back to hold Bakugou's other leg.

~After a few moments, you heard movement from the inside and the door opened soon after. You were met with a blond haired teen whose quirk reflected in his hair as a form of a black lightning bolt. 

~Kaminari looked at you two for a second before stepping aside and opening the door wider, allowing you to get in. 

~”Just what were you two do-?” He began but you caught him off as you stepped inside.

~”It’s definitely not what you may think, so don’t even say it.”

~”Then what-” The poor boy was caught off again, but by Kirishima.

~”Whoa… what happened to Bakubro? He Is totally out of it!” Kirishima came out of nowhere and started gently poke Bakugou's cheek to see if what he said was actually real.

~”Don’t wake him up!” You whisper shouted. All the commotion had got some students attention in to common area and it was getting kinda embarrassing when you thought about it from their perspective. “I don’t want to be his next punching back, so can you please quiet down.”

~”Okay okay, but back to what I asked, what happened?” You sighed.

~”Long story short. We were sparing and I accidentally kicked him in the head hard.” You explained. “He should be fine.” At least you hoped he was fine.

~”Wow, well this is a first! Nobody's ever been able to get that kind of hit at Bakugou! I think you deserve a metal.” Mina elbowed you lightly in the arm as a testing manner. 

~Seriously. The bomb is bound to explode soon if your classmates don’t keep it down.

~”Guys, let’s just get him to his room, QUIETLY before he-” It was too late. Bakugou began stirring in his sleep and let out more pained grunts. Your friends all held their breath as they realized they might’ve messed up, while you were just standing there with sweat forming on your forehead.

~’Please don’t be mad…’ You prayed. And as if the spirit heard you, Bakugou in fact didn’t wake up but was half asleep, and mumbling gibberish in your shoulder.

~You mouthed “Let’s just go.” to Kirishima and he nodded. You began to move again but stopped abruptly as you felt an arm snake around your torso and a second one hug your neck. Everyone present watched the scene in awe as Bakugou clung to you like a child to a stuffed animal.

~”So… soft…” He mumbled in your neck.

~You blushed profusely while some people around you gave either shocked or smirking faces. The latter was more prominent.

~Oh, you were in deep now.

~You and Kirishima swiftly rode the elevator up to the correct floor and Kirishima opened Bakugou's door to let you carry him inside.

~”So… warm…” Bakugou kept on mumbling again but seemed like he still hasn’t woken up, or enough so to remember anything after today, at the very least.

~”Okay, it’s time to rest now Bakugou. Let go.” You said as you walked over to the said boys bed and sat on it. Kirishima helped you pry Bakugou’s limbs off of you and you were finally free. You went to get up but you were stopped midway when a hand grabbed your wrist.

~”Where… you going…?” Bakugou whispered with his eyes closed.

~Is this the same Bakugou you’ve gone to school with and hung out on your free time? Because in any other case where you would have found him like this from somewhere, you would’ve been convinced this Bakugou was a decoy. Or...

~”He kinda reminds me of a drunk person.” Kirishima boldly blurted out.

~’Or that…’ You would have laughed but right now it felt wrong to do so, so you just ended up nodding that you were thinking the same thing. 

~Before you two actually left the common room, Kirishima had grabbed a cold gel pack from the freezer to press on the injured boys head. He stepped closer and pressed the pack carefully on the spot you pointed out. The blond boy hissed a bit but didn’t wake up, let alone let go of your hand.

~”Do you think he’s going to be alright?” Kirishima asked next to you.

~”I don’t think this will cause anything critical. I didn’t kick him that hard but surely enough to form a bump.” You explained. “Plus, he’s been really tired lately for some reason, so he’ll probably sleep in tomorrow. I’ll take him to recovery girl tomorrow just in case. Hell, I’ll even drag him there if he wont cooperate.”

~”If you say so, and thanks for caring for him.”

~”He’s my friend too you know. Of course I would care for him.”

~”Yea, but I just said it so that you would at least get a ‘thank you’. You know how he is.” The crimson haired boy motioned to the ash blond.

~”I know.”

~”.....” Bakugou groaned and mumbled something coherent again and it got both of your attention. He pulled on your wrist for you to get closer and you complied, shifting a little closer so you could hear what he had to say.

~”Thank you… babe...” He said and let his head fall onto his pillow, at last getting some precious sleep. You became a blushing mess while Kirishima did his damn hardest to not laugh too loudly, so he resorted to snickering like some spray window cleaner bottle.

~”Wha -What did he just-!!” You whisper shouted, not knowing how to react.

~”I knew it…” Kirishima whispered to himself proudly. He may be a bit weaker in school but he was an expert when it came to knowing his friends and peers.

~You gently but swiftly untangled Bakugou's fingers from your wrist, stood up to pull his blanket over him so he wouldn’t get cold and left the room in a hurry with Kirishima trailing right behind you.

~The said boy was still snickering while you hid your red face in your hands. You already felt embarrassed from the comment alone but Kirishima being there made it two times worse. 

~’I’m so dead.’

~”Please, don’t tell the others Kiri.” You pleaded. The red head smiled.

~”My lips are sealed (y/n).

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: Just Get Back Home

Summary- 5.9k Curtis Everett x You. The group departs to collect Matt and the others that didnt join the tail end survivors. You are having a hard time letting them leave, but this time you don’t protest. Yona has a warning for Curtis. 

Warnings- Violence. 

A/N- we are getting to the end of this particular story for Curtis and Y/N. Its a shorter chapter, as I have been kind of distracted, so some of the writing is probably scattered sounding. But i’m not messing around with it anymore. 

Chapter 13 / Masterlist 

     It was quiet outside. Almost too quiet, sometimes it made Curtis feel anxious not hearing Snowpiercer anymore. 17 years of it, he had grown accustomed to some things. But in the time since the crash, he's learned to adapt. He’s watched the group go from starving hopeless individuals to functioning members to a community, seen the possibility to an actual life, maybe one day seeing you with a son or daughter peeking around your leg to run to him. A man can dream right, he thought to himself as his head tilted back to look up at the night sky. The dazzling of stars was unlike anything he had seen before. Even when he was free, running around Boston growing up. The city lights always dimmed them till you could only see them with a telescope. Something he did get to do when he went to the science museum. The long ago thoughts of his childhood happened to make him smile a bit, forgetting what he was going to have to do. 

That thought came back though, having to hunt down Matt and the other rogues that still believed in Wilford. They couldn't stop this time, turn back and return. It was time to end this once and for all, which Curtis planned on doing. He would bring back the survivors if there were any and let the victims make a choice. It was the least he could do for letting them get past him to the tail end. Tiredness settled on his shoulders, honestly Curtis wanted this to be over. All he wanted was to live a simple life, a life where he worked hard during the day and let him love you rest of the night. 

He knew he should be in bed, not sitting on the roof of the train in the snow. You were just below him, curled up in the bed, probably clutching a pillow to your chest like you did when left to sleep alone. The trek was going to take all his energy as well as the others coming with him. At this moment everyone is safe, it's been a mantra in his mind since he returned earlier. But still his mind won't let him rest, wont settle down enough to let him rest for tomorrow. 

A crunch in the snow made him look over his shoulder to see you climbing off the ladder, pulling one of the coats they found while sorting the carrs around you tighter like it could keep out the penetrating freeze. “I would have been down in a few Babygirl.” Curtis said as you lowered next to him, letting your legs dangle over the edge of the train. His arm went around your to pull you into his side, and you smiled up at him. 

“Maybe I wanted to see the stars as well Handsome.” Your head went to lay on his shoulder and he relaxed, feeling you against him. The warmth of your thigh pressing alongside his seeped into him, and your hands clasped in your lap, you looking up at the same stars. 

“Hard to believe I used to look at these stars at my aunties house. I never thought I would see them again.” Curtis watched your lips curl up in a smile, the small moment of your happiness pushing back those thoughts plaguing him. 

“They are something amazing Babygirl. We didn't have stars in Boston. Nothing like this.” He turned his gaze back to what you were looking at and your hand stretched to his thigh, your palm up. Curtis let his hand slide into yours and your fingers grasped through his. He could feel you were worried as well, but remaining quiet about it. 

“I don’t know why, but that makes me sad Curtis. A childhood without them? How did you make any wishes…” You drifted off and he chuckled softly, kissing your temple to ease you, touched that you had even thought of that. 

“Then we will change that right now Babygirl.” He tightened his arm around your waist and pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and letting you lean back against his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder, while gazing up. “You make a wish on half of them, I will do the other. That many stars at once, they are bound to come true Babygirl.

You let your hands rest over his that were folded over your midsection and closed your eyes to think of a wish, Curtis hummed Ooh Laa softly in your ear when you made it, tilting your head a bit. “Finished Curtis.” 

“Alright, my turn… I wish-” You shook your head and reached over your shoulder to press your hand to his mouth. 

“You’re not allowed to say it out loud Curtis. Those are against the rules.” You teased and he pulled his head away from your mouth. 

“New world Babygirl, I’m making new rules.” He kissed your fingertips and tilted to kiss your neck deeply. Looking back up, he took a deep inhale, which you felt his chest press into your back before his warm breath washed over your neck. “I wish that after this, we will have the life we have talked about for years. That is all I want in my life.” 

Your hold on his hand tightened hearing him, and smiled to yourself because how close it was to yours. Almost exactly the same, you had wished for him to return to you safe so that you two could have the rest of your lives in peace. Tilting your head to look over your shoulder at him, you pressed a kiss to his lips, and letting the tip of your nose slide along the side of his. 

“The dream Handsome.” you said and he nodded softly, pressing cold lips back to yours, soft puffs of warm air escaping you both. 

“Come on Babygirl, let's go back to bed.” Curtis could see the bit of frost in your eyelashes and the ruddiness in your cheeks. You nodded and shifted back off, moving to a stand. He followed after you and together went back to the warmth of your shared room. Undressing again that night, first you crawled into the bed, and Curtis followed, wrapping you into his arms and tucking his face in your hair to help him relax, finally drifting off after he felt you sink into him, completely relaxed and trusting in his hold. 

     The next morning was a bit hectic, You were with Yona trying to find enough gear for the people tracking the hostiles. Curtis was with John in the car designated for weapons, trying to figure out how much ammo might be needed, not wanting to leave those they left behind unarmed. There was only so much they were able to locate, and were sure that they all had collected as much as they could from the cars in the back. Granted they wouldn’t have found a lot, but Curtis wasn’t ready to be surprised by an attack from them. 

“You and Johanna take the assault rifles.” Curtis insisted while John reached to pick up a long looking gun, wicked and lethal, plus plenty of ammo for the both of them. Curtis for himself took a submachine weapon, shorter, but lethal all the same. Dispersing a few more, the main weapon of choice was the lethal ax’s that were collected. Black handled with steel blades that had only met flesh a few times, the sharpness had yet to dull. Curtis’s hefted one, feeling the familiar weight from the days of the revolution. Memories of how it felt plunging it into soft flesh and the jerking motion of the person struggling, he closed his eyes willing it away. He didn't want to be a killer, but here he was made into a killer. 

“I think that's everything Curtis. Y/N, Yona and Tam are in the kitchen packing us rations, and were already outfitted.” John said as he fitted the rifle with a strap and let it rest over his shoulder. 

“Go on outside and get everyone ready, I just have one last stop to make.” Curtis instructed and the two men split. John went for the exit outside and Curtis headed for the kitchen. When he stepped in the brightly lit car that smelled extremely good as always. He saw Yona and You packing up a couple of sacks with dried food. Curtis came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist while looking over your shoulder. “Just about done Y/N?” he asked, Yona tying off one bag and you sorting through yours before zipping it up. 

“Yea, this should be good for four or five days, I think. Fuck I don’t know, I’m just guessing at all this.” your hands visibly shook a bit and Curtis covered them with his for a moment, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles, whispering in your ear. 

“Breathe baby.” Which you did, took a dragging breath. Yona and Tam both picked up another bag and lifted it up, grunting. 

“This has more of your basic stuff you might need. But it's heavy.” Yona said, and Curtis reached over, fisting his hand in the top and lifted. 

“I can manage it, thanks Ladies. Uh, you mind giving me a moment here with Y/N?” 

The women nodded and retreated out of the kitchen, leaving just the two of you alone. Curtis turned his attention to you, and eased you to face him. 

“Talk to me Babygirl.” He encouraged, lifting a hand to brush along your cheek and into your hair. 

You took a shuddering breath, and shook your head. “It's nothing, nerves. Fuck, I’m scared Curtis, and I really don’t want you to go again. But I know you have to, this has to end once and for all. We cant live with the idea we might be attacked any moment.” All that assurances you felt the night before, now it seemed to have dissipated, your fears brimming at the surface. 

Fuck this was worst then before when he had to make you stay, this time you were letting him go, scared as you were. His lips thinned a bit to hold back his own sadness a moment. This was the last time, he swore it. 

His hands lifted to cup your face and he dropped his forehead to yours. “Babygirl, I will be back and this will be done. I'm coming home to you. Do you understand me? It's not going to be like last time. This time we are equipped. You trust me right?” 

“Of course I do Curtis, but none of us know what's out there. I just… Just come home in one piece. That’s a demand.” You said, twisting your fingers into his jacket and then slipping inside, pressing your palms against his chest while looking up at him. You could feel him under his sweaters, the rise and fall of his chest, the faint thump of his heart. 

He dropped his lips to cover yours and your hands fisted in his sweater as you opened to him, pulling yourself in closer because it was going to be some time before you had him back, and you needed to make sure these moments were committed to memory. When it ended, his forehead leaned against yours and he lifted to kiss your forehead. “I will Babygirl.” 

Curtis shouldered the bag that was packed, and you both left the train to meet up with the rest of the group waiting just outside of the train's entrance. Others were saying their final goodbyes, and while you watched the others, it really hit you how close everyone has become during this time. Your gaze fell on Edgar, who was hugging Yona quickly before letting go, nodding at whatever she was whispering in his ear and embracing him one last time before splitting away to the others. 

“I will be right back Curtis.” You say softly and split from his side to approach Edgar who was working on pulling on a pair of mismatched gloves and retying his bag. “Edgar…” You said and he looked up at you for a second before straightening to be level with you. “I just wanted to tell you to be safe out there.” 

You can see his throat bob as he swallows, his eyes darting from you to Curtis who was discussing something, his own gaze once in a while seeking where you were before going back to whom he was talking to. “I plan on it Y/N.” he said when his eyes dropped back to your face and you shuffled a bit, still unsure of what he would tolerate from you. You knew Edgar still felt betrayed from the past few days. 

“Please, because I don't know what I would do without you.” You admitted. “Regardless of what's happened in the past, it doesn't change that your like a brother to me, and I don't want to lose another.” Your voice broke and that's when Edgar relented, folding you into his arms.

“Enough of that. I gotta do this. It was my fault he escaped to begin with.” He started and you squeezed him back in a hug before pulling back. 

“I don't care how or who is the reason he escaped. Just watch out for each other. Okay? That's all I ask, remember that you and Curtis were once brothers.” You pleaded with him. “For me, please.” 

You could see the conflict cross his face, and then resolve, giving you a nod, assuring you that he would. One last embrace and you left Edgar in peace to finish prepping, going back to Curtis’s side. 

His head dropped, pressing his lips to your temple. “Is everything good Babygirl?” He asked concerned but you pressed into him. 

“Yes, just telling him to make sure he comes home as well.” You respond and Curtis rubs his hand along your back glancing at Edgar. He hated the rift between them, but wanted to respect Edgar and not force himself in his presence. 

Yona and Tam approached, dragging Curtis from his inner thoughts as the two women paused before the two of you. They both gave Curtis a hug and their well wishes, you tagged along behind him, smiling reassuringly at those that seemed nervous for the parting group. Timmy broke away from the kids and tugged on Curtis’s jacket, which he squatted down to be face to face with the boy. 

“Do you have to go Curtis?” He rubbed at his cheek, and Curtis gave a nod. 

“Yes Timmy, I'm afraid so. Matt wont be able to hurt us anymore.” 

Timmy was quiet, picking at his coat for a few seconds. “He was a bad man, he hurt me. And you, Yona  when the train crashed.” 

Curtis nodded, a bit surprised Timmy remembered any of it really, since he was so out of it back then, hardly recognizing any of them when he was pulled out of the train's engine. “Yea he did, he hurt a lot of people, but he wont anymore. I won't let that happen, okay? That's why we are leaving today. But we will be back soon. Come on…” Curtis held out an arm to him, and Timmy pulled in close, hugging around Curtis’s neck and pressing his little body against him in a hug. Your hand dropped to Timmy's back when Curtis stood up, he slid the boy from his hold into your’s which he easily switched to clinging to you, your arm embracing underneath him, and rubbing his back. 

“It will be okay Kiddo.” You whisper to him and readjust him to your hip, both of you looking up at Curtis. “Stay safe, come home to us soon.” You said to him, which he nodded. You could see the way he swallowed he was trying to control himself, and you gave a reassuring smile for the both of you. 

Of course you would try to make it better. Curtis thought to himself when he saw your face set with a soft smile, and your eyes blink any tears away rapidly. Timmy had his head laid on your shoulder, and how badly Curtis wanted to stay. How much he just wanted this to be over, have this moment daily without the tension. Cupping your face, he kissed you gently, pouring himself into it. Both your eyes closed as your free hand went to cup his face back, and foreheads pressed together for a few seconds before he made himself pull away. 

“I love you Curtis.” 

“I love you to Babygirl.” He said and turned to Timmy. “Take care of the fort while I’m gone, Okay?” He held up his fist which Timmy nodded and fist bumped him back. 

“Sure thing Curtis. I got it.” The little boy's chest swelled with the new responsibility, and Curtis winked at him. 

“Why I’m leaving you in charge. See you in a couple days.” Curtis had to force himself to walk away from them, and as he started going the trail they had traveled the day before, the others who joined the group dispersed from the group and followed along behind them. Suddenly a yell admitted from the crowd, and Curtis paused to look over his shoulder to see Yona trudging through the snow to reach him. 

“Just get who you need to, then come straight back. Don't go exploring.” Yona’s eyes were wide, and Curtis could see fear in them. He jerked his head forward to lead her away and turned to talk to her quietly, out of earshot of the others. 

“What do you mean Yona?” he asked, eyes searching hers for something she knew. Curtis knew she had a talent that not many knew. She had helped him get to Wilford, as well as find You after the train crashed. 

Yona shook her head. “Nothing more than a feeling Curtis. But it's bad. Whatever is waiting for you guys there is beyond Matt and the rest. But I can't see it. Whatever it is… they want Matt gone to. Just take him and go. Or else it won't end well.” Yona said in all seriousness and Curtis rubbed at his mouth, baring his teeth in thought. 

“Get them and get out?” He asked to reaffirm, and Yona nodded. “Then that's all we will do. We won't have a chance to scavenge for anything anyways once we gather up whoever's left.” 

Once satisfied that Curtis understood the warning, she parted back to the train, and Curtis continued on. It was slow going to get back to the car the group had departed from. John was at Curtis’s side, inspecting the remaining footprints and nodded. 

“They are scattered all over, but a group definitely headed that way. That's where we should go.” Curtis dug out the map they had collected from Wilford's car, and stretched it along his thigh, the two men checking where they would be headed. John's finger slid along the map, trying to calculate it. 

“Five miles, estimating where we are. Here's the cliff half the train went over, and the amount of cars left up top. I'm sure they have explored a bit further than we have since there wouldn't have been much food back here. This is our best bet.” John reasoned, and Curtis had to agree. They really should have explored more but with cleaning up and setting the train into a livable place, there just wasn't the time. 

“Alright, we can probably get halfway there before it gets to be nightfall. If we are not exhausted, we can keep going. But I'm suspecting we will be setting up some kind of camp just outside of their range.” Folding the map, he stuck it back in the sack he had set down, and re-shouldered it. The remaining people started to re-shoulder their own bags, and grab their weapons they brought. Squinting out over the white landscape, this time John took the lead, following the tracks left behind. 

You watched with Timmy the small group disappear over a snowy mound, and turned your attention to Yona who was slowly making her way back to the train. You set Timmy down off your hip. “How about you go inside and warm up? I will be giving you guys some lessons today.” Which the little boy nodded rather excited now, and sped inside to let the others know you would be doing a class with them. You turned your attention back to Yona, worrying your lip. “Is everything okay?” Your other fear besides Curtis coming across issues was something very physical happening between him and Edward. 

Yona gave a nod, wrapping an arm around your waist in a friendly way while you two went inside. “It will be all good, nothing will happen between Curtis and Edgar.” You couldn't hold back the breath of relief that escaped you in that sense. You felt there was more, as Yona went silent and you stopped her as you two were heading towards the kids area. 

“Is there more? What are you not telling me Yona?” You whispered a bit harshly, not wanting to alarm any of the others, but you couldn't help the fear that gripped your heart in that moment. Yona shrugged from your hold and shook her head. 

“No, Curtis will be back soon. Come on, you promised a lesson today. They are waiting.” She pulled away, shedding some of her clothes to toss into her nearby room before you could stop her again. Unease settled like a rock in your stomach, churning at your nerves. Curtis promised he would come home. That is what you would hang onto. 

The later it got, the more anxious you became. Finally you ended the lesson, and went into the kitchen to help Tam with the rest of the cooking to keep yourself distracted. 

“You are awful quiet child.” She observed as you started plating food for people coming in. Once it was just the two of you, you shrugged a bit and sighed. 

“Worried, fuck I cant get it out of my mind what could happen.” Going over to pluck a tin cup off a shelf and dip it into a giant container of fresh water to sip at. It just made your stomach clench, a wave of nausea sweeping over you. 

“I know, I'm worried too Y/N. We all are Child.” She said while she went to make another plate of food and handed it to you. “Go eat because you are no good to any of us if your passing out and I know this is the first thing you have had today. All we can do is trust and pray.” You wrinkled your nose, you had given up praying years ago.  

Once you settled down next to Yona and started picking at the food before you, Yona watched you push it around in the bowel. You finally gave up, your stomach having tied itself in knots to be able to eat, and she moved over closer, peeking in your bowel. 

“You barely ate anything.” She said with an arched brow. You hugged around your knees in a way of protection. 

“Just not hungry, I'm too worried, and what if it all goes wrong Yona? Maybe I should have said something more. I mean what can they possibly find out there? Fuck I just feel helpless. I think this is worst then when they did the rebellion. This time I just let him do off without trying to go with him.” You voiced your fears, and her gaze softened a bit. 

“What could you do Y/N? He would be too worried about you and needs to focus. Curtis would want you to take care of yourself.” she encouraged and you reached in your bowel and picked up a piece of beef Tam had cooked that night, popping it in your mouth. But it felt huge, a ball rolling around your mouth as you made the attempt to chew and swallow. “They will be okay, I know these things. When they come back, they will have whoever is left and we will be rid of those threats.” 

You swallowed hearing this, the meat now a lead ball in your stomach. “And afterwards?” you asked, almost hopeful, in which Yona shrugged. 

“I have feelings, but I can’t read the future Y/N. To unpredictable. We will always be dealing with some hardships.” 

You knew she was right, but that part that was desperate for anything good would have taken a lie just then. “I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted.” Was the next words to fall from you as you pushed your way to a stand. Taking care of your dish, you made your way back through the train. Making a quick check on the kids, you bid them all goodnight before going to your room. It seemed so much bigger all alone when you stepped in, flicking on the lights and started to shed off clothing, folding it as you set your outer winter gear to place on the end of the bed. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you glanced at the window, searching the darkened landscape wondering where the group was now. When you narrowed your eyes and squinted, you swore you could just barely see something orange in the distance. Pressing your fingers to your lips to place a kiss there, you reached to touch the glass, the cold from it making you shiver. 

You gotta trust Yona Babygirl. You had to smile to yourself hearing that familiar voice, and your head dropped to let it wash over you. 

I do… my mind is just running away from me Curtis. Maybe a bit of guilt in not going with you? Fuck if I know, its just different this time. You push to stand and turn the light off. Pulling down the blankets and fold your arms around his pillow to press your face into it, trying to find some rest.

You swore in your mind you felt a dip in the bed, and your hand pressed against your stomach where his would normally, letting your imagination continue. 

Just think Babygirl, after this we can think about a future, our future. 

You think we really have one? 

Of course I do, we wouldn’t have fought so hard if we didn’t have a future worth living in. 

And what do you picture for our future Curtis? You wriggled further into the bedding, letting the heat start to make your eyes close, and you could hear Curtis last words in your mind reminding you. 

Everything we ever talked about in the tail end Babygirl, all those things we only said in whispers. Home, a family.    

     The group was quick to arrive at the city. The ice covered buildings loomed up suddenly in the landscape out of nowhere and they milled just outside of it, not wanting to give away that they were there. John, Curtis and Edgar approached closer, using a snowbank to hide behind while they used the scopes on the rifles to scan for any sign of movement. It wasn't long till they saw a lone figure come from around a building and slip inside. “There… the old grocery store. Probably the most food they have had in a month.” John said as he slipped back down between the two men and Curtis clenched his jaw, debating on when to surprise them. Curtis turned to look at Edgar. “Think now or in the morning?” 

Edgar took a moment to register what Curtis was asking him, surprised but he stifled his previous anger and contemplated seriously. “Tonight, it will be easier to approach the building in the dark. Give everyone a rest. Then… go in.” 

John stayed silent while Curtis nodded in agreement to the man he always considered brother, regardless of all that had happened between them. “We’re made from the dark.” he glanced at the group squatting together yards away, most of them tailenders. People used to living in the cold and darkness, who knew what it took to survive. Pushing up to a stand, he held his hand out to Edgar. 

Edgar seemed hesitant to grasp it, eyes darting from Curtis’s outstretched hand and up to his face. Curtis knew Edgar still was angry at him, perhaps even hated him. But when the younger man clasped his hand and let him help him up. It gave him some hope in repairing their lost connection. “Listen Curtis…” Edgar started as John removed himself, heading back to the rest. Edgar looked down at the snow, taking a shuddering breath, his hands clenching at his sides. “I don't know if I can ever forgive you for my mom, not really. I’ve fucking tried, Y/N even explained what was going on.” 

Curtis nodded, fully understanding how Edgar was feeling. “I don’t expect you to Edgar, I can’t forgive myself for what happened, I can’t expect the same from you.” 

“Just shut up Curtis.” Edgar snapped. “I don’t forgive you, but I probably would have done the same to someone else. So I understand. Maybe in time it will be different. But anyways, let's take care of business alright? I will have your six, like always.” Edgar shrugged and brushed past Curtis, re-approaching the group. Even though they were not fixed, Curtis couldn't help the relief he felt in knowing Edgar would have his back. 

They crossed the snowy terrain almost in silence. Most of their gear was left behind and nothing more than the soft crunch of snow under boots gave them away. Curtis approached first, his hand reaching out to ease the door open. Inside was silent, mostly. Towards the back were muffled voices and Johanna eased inside past Curtis to scan the room with the best of her abilities. 

With her training, Curtis let her go ahead, following along behind her. The rest of the group spread among the aisles, all of them stalking down in the darkness. A soft glow could be seen from the back, and the closer they approached, the louder the voices got. 

“Where did they come from? They couldn't have survived the freeze.” 

“Apparently some did. Easy Mate, Jesus don't need to finish ripping my arm off.”  

“What are we going to do?” 

Curtis hovered near an empty shelf, just out of sight, listening when he heard Matt’s voice, clear as a bell. “Fuck I thought you men were trained to deal with people? No wonder Curtis took over Snowpiercer…” From behind, Curtis felt a tap on his shoulder and he looked over to see Edgar just behind him, mouthing to him. “Are we doing this?” 

A nod to Edgar confirmed the attack, and Edgar waved his hand behind him, giving the command to proceed. 

Once they stepped out and into sight, those that were around the small fire they kept burning scattered into a groceries backroom, ducking out of sight and yelling to run. Just as predicted they didn't have much for ammunition. A few shots rang out at Curtis’s people, but they proceeded to chase them, a few more shots and then colliding bodies that sent them sprawling into shelves as they attacked one another. 

Curtis came out of the darkness like a devil himself, dressed in all black with the snap of his longer coat behind him while dodging around others who were locked in struggles. Edgar had bolted ahead of him, clearly on a mission. It all happened in a split second, but Curtis noticed the flash behind him, the upraised steel rod aiming for Edgar. A flashback of the last time, when Franco’s knife stabbed deep into Edgar's back. This time Curtis did not hesitate, he paused and took aim with the gun he had hanging at his side. Once the broad part of the man's upper back was in his sights, his finger squeezed, steady. It was all over in seconds, the pop sounded among the rest of the chaos and the man lunged forward from the impact, collapsing behind Edgar. He stuttered in confusion, and looked over his shoulder at the body then up to Curtis, giving a nod in thanks then back to scanning the room to find Matt.  

Edgar was quick to spot Matt who was trying to hide between aisles, having witnessed Curtis shoot down his companion. Edgar lunged to where Matt disappeared from sight and was able to  grasp the back of Matt’s shirt to slam him down onto the cement floor, his boot pressed against his throat and leaning down to hiss at him. “Try running again Matt, I wont lose you a second time.” Matt whimpered and held his hand up in surrender and Curtis’s focus shifted to another who was trying to sneak around the fighting, bolt back out into the store and to freedom. 

His strides forward were calm, hiding the rage that had built over time. A rage that simmered from the 17 years of being caged, of how he had to turn into a killer to bring them out of the darkness, how they treated the ones he had left behind, how they used you till you broke for a short period of time. He became more of a predator, hunting his prey, his knuckles turning white around the grip he had on his ax handle. Muscles bunched and burned with effort as he raised the ax and the man flipped around, his eyes wide while he lowered to the ground, sure this was the end. “NO! It wasn’t me, I swear it wasn’t!” 

The ax made a downward swing, landing just at his skull, the blade pressing heavily against it, but not splitting into him. Glancing up, he saw Curtis staring him down like he was nothing more then the shit on the bottom of his shoes. Cold blue fire blazed at him while Curtis snarled out. “You are in no position to claim innocence. Your judges lay back at the train, where this all started.” Letting the ax fall broadside to his shoulder, he hooked it behind his neck and dragged him forward. Hooking his hand around his neck, Curtis yanked his captive to his feet and pulled him close, face to face while the man struggled in his hold. “And if Y/N tells me it was you, I will be carving your heart out.” Giving one last disgusted look, Curtis tossed him forward, making him stumble back towards the rest. “Now MOVE!” His gun raised, and a tremor of relief did pour through him. 

Once his captive stumbled back and the group stripped those left of anything dangerous, Curtis took count. Only seven were left, out of the mass of men that split in the beginning from the group, only a small amount were left. Matt cowered in the group, but Curtis dragged him out. “Where are the rest of them Matt?” 

“What do you think Curtis? Dead, you probably passed them on your way here, buried in the snow.” He spat out, the fight in your brother fading. The others shifted behind him uneasily, but no one rebutted his statement. 

“Get moving…” Curtis pushed Matt back to the rest of the men, and the rest gathered the supplies they had brought. Renewed energy rising in them like the sun coming up, a new dawn and another step to finally ending the last of the threat. Edgar pulled up next to Curtis, also watching them start marching back. 

“Think this will be the end?” Edgar asked while they both started bringing up the rear, each one dragging an ax and gun at their side in case anyone tried to break away from the group. 

“I do… “ Curtis responded, taking in a deep cleansing breath, feeling a heavy weight rise off his shoulders and the sun warm his face.

The group was slow moving, but once they were specs in the distance, a figure moved from another building, and a person moved from out behind a door, lifting a pair of binoculars to there face, counting to themselves quickly and when the glasses lowered, they reached up to readjust a scarf over there face, and duck back inside, securely closing the door behind him.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Strangers (Pt.7)

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

"So the necklaces are magic then?" Logan said, twisting the unicorn necklace in his hands.

"Looks like it, but I'm more interested in how similar their owners look to us," said Janus, who had taken the book from Virgil's hands to examine the pages.

Virgil, meanwhile, was still frozen stiff.

"Virgil?. . ." Patton placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder and shook him slightly.

"We have to put them on. . ." Virgil whispered.

"What do you mean?" Patton said, tilting his head.

"We have to learn how to use these abilities in order to bring Romulus down, we have to wear the necklaces to use the abilities. . ." Virgil said, hand running over the gems embedded in the spider necklace.

"Virgil- I promise if anything weird happens we'll take them off, ok? Tear them off our necks if you have to, we arent going to hurt you," Patton said softly,now realizing what was going on in Virgil's head.

Virgil merely nodded as he watched each of his friends clip the necklaces around their necks.

It felt familiar in a way,but Virgil didnt want to think about it.

"Ok, step one, I'm going home," Virgil said.

This was followed immediately by a chorus of protests.

"Nonono think about it! Romulus will never let us get near him if we stand on opposite sides, he needs to think I've decided to trust him again, I need to be able to lure him out so he's vunerable," Virgil said. The others looked at each other and back at him a few times, before finally nodding.

"Be careful, for our sake as well as yours," Janus said, giving Virgil one last hug before he walked out the door.

He'd been expecting Romulus when he got home of course, but what he hadnt expected was being caught against the door.

"You know Virgil, for someone with such vivid nightmares I'd think you had a better memory," Romulus snarled.

"R-Romulus what are you-" Virgil was shaking already- gods why couldnt he be as brave as he'd been in the library.

And then it hit him.

The first night he'd met Romulus, before he'd even realized that his beloved roman was no longer himself.

"W-wait Romulus its not- I didnt-" Virgil could feel his heart rate quickening.

"Oh dont worry princess, I'm actually quite happy you found that book, this facade was getting dreadfully dull to keep up," Romulus purred, Virgil was practically begging for an escape route of some sort.

"As you've probably figured out, I'm not your precious Roman, and I never was, this is merely a vessel, and you? Merely a pawn to win back my kingdom~" said Romulus, lifting Virgil's face up by his chin.

"A pawn can become a Queen if it survives long enough," Virgil said with a snarl.

"Aw, how cute, you act as though that's not exactly what I have planned~" Romulus said, now letting go of Virgil's face.

"Try to get some rest princess, I'll be making dinner," Romulus cooed as he walked away.

Virgil stood in the doorway for a few more minutes before finally retreating to his room to change.

Only to find all of his clothes had been replaced by crimsons and reds and golds and blacks, all dresses or sheer or just in general things he'd never wear of his own accord.

He debated sleeping in his mud-soaked clothes instead, but ultimately decided that it was better to sleep in a night gown rather than get sick or track mud on the sheets, not to mention, it would make Romulus happy, and that was integral to the plan.

It was about an hour before Romulus had walked into the room and shook Virgil awake.

"Dinners ready princess," Romulus said quietly. Virgil stretched and sat up, keeping one eye open when he rubbed another.

"I see you found your new wardrobe, I think it suits you much better than purple and black," Romulus said as he pulled Virgil off the bed and into the dining room.

The food tasted good of course, but Virgil could now immediately recognize something off about it, but he couldnt make himself suspicious.

"I'm sorry for running away. . ." Virgil mumbled.

"Its alright princess, you're here now, and you wont be leaving again," said Romulus.

"Of course not," Virgil replied.

Virgil couldnt have been happier when Romulus finally fell asleep, as soon as he heard snoring, he made a move to the basement.

Something about it all seemed familiar, in an unhappy sense, I left a bitter taste in Virgil's mouth to be standing in the dark basement, watching as creatures he wouldnt have wanted to see in his worst nightmares formed and dissipated in front of him.

Romulus didnt suspect a thing in the morning, or at least, he didnt seem to, which was, mildly concerning.

But it didnt matter to Virgil now, he had to practice at some point, and the night time was the safest he could think of.

The nightmares became easy eventually, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend he'd had a good nights rest in front of Romulus.

"Princess are you sure you're well? You look dreadfully tired," said Romulus, rubbing circles into Virgil's shoulders- gods it felt good.

Virgil bit back a yawn, "I'm fine Romulus- I promise, just a rough night-" Virgil said.

"Well perhaps youd like a nap then?" Said Romulus.

"I-"

"No no, I insist, let's get you back in bed," said Romulus, rather uncharacteristically, which only served to further Virgil's concerns.

And he was right to be concerned, because he woke up so tightly wrapped in sheets that he could barely move his arms.

"Romulus! I'm awake!" Vitgil called helplessly.

"I know princess, but I dont think you've gotten quite enough sleep, unless of course, you want to try out the last part of those nightly lessons~" Romulus said as he walked into the room.

"Its your choice princess, a little bit of necromancy, or stay trapped here until your friends come to rescue you and inevitably fail, again~" Romulus said tauntingly.

Virgil weighed his options for a few moments.

"Alright- fine-" he said through gritted teeth, if only he hadnt been to cowardly to perform it before, he might never have been in this mess.

Romulus walked over and quite easily moved him out of the bedding.

Virgil sat up and stared foward, expression blank, and raised a hand.

And soon enough a figure rose from seemingly nowhere, dressed in gilded blacks golds and crimsons, with rusty red hair, and eyes as black as charcoal.

Virgil heard a laugh, and turned to find a slump of white and red breathing on the bed behind him.

The figure he'd just raised was the one laughing, a manic cackle only accentuated by the clear decay.

Romulus wasn't unattractive by any means, but time certainly hadnt been kind to him.

But the only thing Virgil could focus on was that, yes, he had his husband back, but he'd just unleashed his worst enemy in their home.

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

Tag list:

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@baka-monarch

@lazyboneslover

@lovelivingmydreams

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@extraintrovertedalien

@thefivecalls

@willowaudreykeyes

@pricklyfish777

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@thecolorfulolive

@frog-candy-bee

[captainrexisboo]

Dumb Luck #3

Note: Heyoooooo two updates in one weekend, whaaaaat? No, actually a fun fact, this was started out as my part 2, but i liked my other idea of building the tension with Sweets seeing Rex with his helmet off for the first time better. There will be a part four, it just wont come as quick! I’m gonna have several more parts to this, I have plans y’all. This chapter has ~slight angst~ if you squint hard enough. Again, I’m open to criticism or Hot Takes TM, I’m still a novice writer! Both my asks and messages are open to everyone! Also... y’all, Jesse is a bro. He’s great.

a link to part two- https://captianrexisboo.tumblr.com/post/623995723815452672/dumb-luck-2

Warnings: suggestive language (the usual)

Tags: @persaloodles @starflyer-104 @imalovernotahater @holamor @000ayfh

~

“Hey, Sweets-“

“Not now, busy,” she threw over her shoulder, not even bothering to look at who was walking up to her corner of the hangar.

Y/N was greatly enjoying herself as an assistant to the head mechanic aboard the flagship. She quickly learned about not only the venator-class destroyer, but also about gunships, shuttles, frigates, landers, even more about her beloved droids, and her absolute favorite to work on, the starfighters. If she were alone in the hangars, she would walk over to the rows of starfighters and just study them, marvelling at every screw, panel, and wire and how it built something so amazing. And right now, she was actually able to work on one of these beautiful machines, and she’d be damned if she let anyone stop her workflow.

Rex lifted a brow at her mannerisms as he watched her dive elbow deep into a much older fighter model, one that hadn’t ever been repainted and typically was the last to be boarded and flown out by shinies who didn’t know any better. She was squatting low to the ground, a panel gone from the ship while she tinkered with its insides, hair barely secure, strands falling out of the haphazardly tied bun she had kept in place with only a single stylus. He was still conflicted at her presence on the ship. She had proven to be smart, quick witted, and of course was an absolute stunner, but she was also stubborn as hell, distracting, and always there. Always a mere moment away, in the hangar, in the generator room, in the mess, the repair bay, the armory- and he hasn’t known peace since.

Let’s be honest, he hasn’t known peace since he met General Skywalker, but he was able to have an illusion of what it was like whenever he was alone with his thoughts. Now he didn’t even have that, his internal narrative shaping into her curves before too long, even in his solitude. Things were different with her here, they were more on edge, like he was tiptoeing around her in a delicate dance to avoid a situation where either of them could build onto their practically visible tension. Kix had told him, ever the blunt medic, that he could cut their tension straight through the air with a scalpel it was so obvious. But he was a Captain, and had a job to do, so when he heard that she had been seen speeding down the halls to the hangars with her tools despite all the ships passing inspection just a few hours ago, he knew he had to be sure she wasn’t doing anything out of protocol. He had grabbed Jesse before making his way to the hangar, in case a mediator was needed, and was now grinding his teeth at the woman concentrating so intensely she didn’t even care to look who else was in the room. He shared a flat look with Jesse before clearing his throat to make his presence known, “You might want to take a break, Y/N.”

She paused what she was doing, her shoulders tightening. Only Rex ever used her actual name, especially when he was in one of his damn moods. This was weird, though, him seeking her out. Recently it seemed as if he had been avoiding her, or making sure they weren’t alone if they had to be in the same room. Try as she could to get his attention, get him all flustered, he’d always just be slightly out of reach, and she was getting increasingly frustrated. She rolled her eyes, summoning her signature bravado before she smoothly stood up to turn around, jutting a hip out and giving a lazy salute, “Ahoy, Captain.”

Jesse tried to mask his giggles under a cough, watching the two interact was his favorite pastime. Rex took note for later to ask a different intermediary for the next strife, before pointing his head to the ship, “What are you doing to that fighter?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” she smiled brightly, almost prideful, wiping her grease slicked hands on the pant leg of her GAR jumpsuit, “Messing with this lovely hunk of junk.”

“Messing with it?” Rex questioned, barely hiding his glance at the handprint now crudely placed on her thigh.

“Gave myself a project to work on,” she explained sauntering towards the pair of troopers with an arm outstretched to the ship, “Boys, meet my baby.”

“Your baby?” Rex slowly tore his gaze off her to look over the fighter blandly, “What a miracle of science.”

“Is Artoo the dad?” Jesse snickered, before receiving a light smack on the arm from the woman. She still chuckled at the quip, showing good humor to him. Despite being absolutely infuriating, Jesse was quickly becoming a good friend to her, like a brother she never wanted.

“Did you get permission before completely gutting the engine, at least?” Rex asked, looking around at the parts that lay on the floor, surrounding her workspace.

She sighed, “Yes, I did, just a bit ago. Ask Caine, he was the final sign off on it. Went through all the proper channels.”

Rex's jaw twitched, stiffening the hand holding his helmet, “It didn’t come through on my end.”

“Maybe it didn’t need to,” she shot, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms, “I’m sure there are some things on this ship that don’t require your approval, sir.”

There it is. The way she said that word got him all riled up. It was one little word, one he got called by from every trooper on every hour of every rotation, but it was her honey-coated voice saying it that drove him to his limit. Every time she spoke the word to him it was like a challenge, daring him to expose his desirous aggression toward her, taunting his mask of composure. Every time she spoke, with a demanding storm in her glare and candy pink lips being teasingly assaulted by her own teeth, it stirred a fire in him he didn’t quite know how to quell. It was maddening, and got worse and burned deeper with every encounter. Before he could dig himself deeper into her trap, he simply pulled on his helmet with a slight growl, and turned on his heel to stalk away from the conversation, barely grumbling out a gruff, “I’m going to talk to Caine.”

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Y/N felt herself wilt a bit as she watched him go, taken aback by the retreat, and admittedly a little disappointed. Usually he’d last longer.

Jesse let out a stale bark of laughter, “Same thing that crawled up yours.”

“Jesse,” she warned, cold eyes coming up to focus on him, drawing out his name as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Sweets,” he mimicked her tone and stance, chuckling low, “Why don’t you just go after him? He’s all pent-up and frustrated, I don’t think the troops can take another feral sparring session. Hell, I don’t think I can take it. Think of the poor shinies.”

She shrugged at him, rolling her eyes as her head lolled to the side, “What can I say, I’m a self-destructive mess that likes to delay my own happiness and ultimate satisfaction.”

“Bantha shit,” Jesse rolled his own amber-hazel eyes at her, “I think you're just a brat.”

She laughed lowly, batting her lashes at him, “Same thing, trooper.”

She turned around, intent on continuing her work before she felt a gloved hand wrap itself around her elbow, turning her back to face the ARC, “I’m serious. Why are you dragging this out, adding to the pressure? If you keep this up, one of you will explode before too long, and then- whether it’s a good explosion, or a bad one- there’s gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up in its wake.”

She lifted a brow at his wording, “Was that innuendo literal, or-”

“Ew,” Jesse blanched, letting go of her arm and scrunching his face at the mental image., “That’s my ori’vod!”

Y/N threw her hands up in a mock surrender with a devilish smirk on her lips, “Look, you’re the one who said it.”

“Just answer the question, maker!”

She was silent for a minute, pursing her lips as she gathered her thoughts together. Jesse was staring intently at her, crossing his arms as he waited for her. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits in her focused state, and she exhaled slowly through her mouth, “I...I don’t know if he actually likes me or not. Sure, we banter, and I flirt, but I don’t know if he legitimately thinks of me the same way. I mean, today he just walked away from our conversation, and it made me feel kind of dejected. He seemed...I don’t know. Exasperated. Like he’s tired of me.”

Jesse had never seen her so vulnerable, so small. Sure, she was easily more than a head shorter than them, but her confidence and charisma always made her seem like she was eight feet tall. She twirled a lock of stray hair around her fingers, looking anywhere but Jesse as she continued, “His responses always vary, so I can’t pin down his exact feelings! He can either be cold and dismissive like today, or he can be actively matching my turn of phrase, there's no in between. So I always just...well, I tease him, you’ve seen it. I’m just testing the waters, seeing if he’s interested.”

“Sweets-“ Jesse cut himself off as he let a heavy hand fall onto her lithe shoulder, “Y/N, look at me.”

At the sound of her name, she blinked up at him, biting her lip to keep from pouting. Jesse was about to continue, barely opening his mouth to begin, when there was a greeting from behind them.

“There she is, right where you left her, Captain!”

Rex had come back, face unreadable as he looked between Jesse and Y/N. An older, brown man walked next to him, tall and lean with a salt and pepper fade, his smile as wide as his stride, “Sweets, lass! Making headway on that pile of scrap, huh?”

“Yes sir, Caine,” she greeted, standing upright and saluting him properly before turning offhandedly to Rex and crossing her arms, “Captain.”

Rex felt his jaw twitch at the sudden chill coming off of her, his brow furrowing at the sudden switch in her demeanor. Caine continued waving his arms, animatedly gesturing to the fighter, “This ship will run better than the day it was bought when you’re through with it, I know it. But, our most thorough Captain here has made it known to me that we did skip a step in approving your request.”

She looked Rex up and down, crossed arms tightening over her ribcage, “Oh really? And what step would that be?”

“Admiral Wulff Yularen,” Rex answered, tone even and cool to match her own, “You’re right in that it wouldn’t pass over my desk, however these are still Republic owned ships. He needs to approve...whatever you’re doing before you continue.”

She bit her lip and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deep through her nose, before responding, “Fine. I’ll clean up my station. Is there a time I can meet with the Admiral to discuss my mistake?”

Rex began to respond, before Jesse stepped in, “I’ll go explain the situation to him. Caine, would you mind tagging along?”

“Let’s stop by my office to get her approval request forms. Anything that makes this take longer, it gets me away from the repair reports,” Caine guffawed as he walked away with Jesse, leaving the Captain and mechanic on their own. He shifted as her burning stare held onto him for an extended moment after the two had left.

“What?” he growled out, growing aggravated at the silent attitude she was giving him.

“You’re a fucking tattle tale,” she spat out before turning on her heel to begin picking up her tools and various discarded parts of the fighter, “Going to my boss because a form didn’t come your way.”

“What are you, a youngling?” he shot back, but striding over to help her out, “I’m doing you a favor! If Admiral Yularen had found out one of his ships had been tampered with, without his permission, he’d blacklist you from the GAR and put you in a ship to drop you on that same dirt ball we found you on.”

Admiral Yularen was much more empathetic than that, and would not go as far as that for a punishment. But she didn’t need to know that right now.

“I’m not tampering with it- don’t touch my tools,” she looked over to see him dropping her wrenches and welders unceremoniously into her box, “I’m not tampering, I’m fixing. I’m a mechanic, it’s what I kriffin do, I’m sure he’d understand.”

He continued to pick up her scattered tools as she turned back to the disorganized pieces of metal with a roll of his eyes, “That may be so, but the GAR has a very strict way of doing things, and unfortunately the line of command doesn’t just stop at Caine for you. In fact-“

“I said don’t touch my tools!”

“Y/N, I’m trying to help you!” he nearly yelled at her, his voice booming in the high ceilings of the hangar, “Anything I’ve done today, is to help you!”

She scoffed, unmoved by his commanding demeanor, “Sure, help me. You didn’t even want me on this ship to begin with!”

“That’s-“

“You still don’t like me, do you? Is that why you don’t respond to my advances?” she was stalking toward him now, her mess and tools pushed to the farthest corner of her mind until they got this discussion over with. He stood his ground as she got closer, standing at his full height but looking her directly in the eyes nonetheless.

“Y/N-“

“I flirt and tease you all damn day and you just ignore me! Or worse, you respond and then leave when you realize you might’ve reacted a little too positively. I’d at least like a solid no from you, make yourself clear, please!”

“Hey!” he laid two strong hands on her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze, “Shut. Up.”

She glared at him, but complied, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth as she stood defiantly to him, as tall as she could under his grip. He allowed himself a slow breath, inhale through his nose, hold, exhale through his mouth. He softened his hold, and let his deep honey eyes search her stormy glare, delving into the depths of her soul to make sure she understood, “I think I like you, Y/N. More than I ought to.”

He let that sink in, his cheeks flushing at his own sudden boldness but keeping a lock on her gaze. She raised her brows in surprise, eyes going wide as her agitation subsided, being replaced with something more delicate before sputtering out, “Oh. Okay. Uh, great. So...why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

He let out a dark chuckle, letting his eyelids get heavy, “Always one for tact.”

She shrugged under his grasp, a slight grin gracing her features at his amused expression, “Would you expect anything less?”

He shook his head, letting his lips twitch upwards as his thumbs absentmindedly rubbed circles into her shoulders, before clearing his throat, “If you had let me finish earlier, your chain of command doesn’t stop at Caine. It includes Yularen, Skywalker, and me. If I’m seen to be ‘romantically involved’ with a crewmember, I could be court martialed. And then you’d be-“

“Sent back to that rock you picked me up from,” she finished for him, letting a hand come up to rub gently at his right wrist, before sighing, “Maker, I hate it when you’re right.”

“It’s a miracle you still like me, then,” he let a cheeky smile pull through his face, causing her to let out a soft giggle. Somewhere between their dispute and his confession, his voice had shifted to a low, coarse whisper that made her want to hang onto every word. He let a hand off her shoulder, gripping her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, “Do you understand, cyar’ika?”

Her breath was stolen from her as she watched his eyes glance down to her lips, his thumb gently pulling at her skin to have her bottom lip pop out of it’s sharp hold. She shuddered, a pleasant quiver going down her spine as she nodded at him. She fluttered her lashes at him as he chuckled low at her response, “What does that mean?”

“Promise not to get mad?” he smirked at her, as a matching blush sweeping over both their cheeks.

“Rex,” she quirked a brow at him playfully, drawling out his name almost musically. He smiled wide at her, practically spellbound with how his name sounded on her lips.

“It’s Mando’a,” he paused for effect, looking around to make sure no out of place soldiers were looking over before dipping low, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “for sweetheart.”

She laughed, the sound warm and full, splaying a hand over his armored heart, the plastoid cool underneath her palm, “Fine. But only you are allowed to call me that.”

She pushed him lightly, having him let go of her shoulders. They stood there, smiling at each other, skin burning where the other’s hands had been, gazes soft with mutual ache. Y/N sighed, “So, what does this mean? For us.”

Rex thought for a minute, walking around her to continue where they had left off cleaning. After she had joined him, he hummed in response, “I think it’s a promise.”

“A promise?” she repeated, finishing up putting all the spares and discarded parts in an unlabelled crate next to the fighter. She leaned against the crate, arms crossing as she grinned at him, “What kind of a promise?”

“After the war is done,” Rex explained, tone surprisingly optimistic, “we can travel the galaxy together. No enemies to be on lookout for, not having to worry about getting caught by my nosy men-”

“Does it have to wait till after the war?” she whined, but still watching him as if he were hanging the stars as opposed to just picking up her tool box. He handed her the plasteel case, latching it closed with one deft hand.

“We can discuss that later,” he sent her a sly wink. She rolled her eyes, righting herself off the crate and looking up at him with the familiar teasing glint in her eyes that he’s come to find very charming.

“Just because you’ve finally confessed, don’t think this means I’ll stop toying with you, sir.”

All he could do was let his smile grow, just thinking about all the alluring ways she’ll drive him crazy, “I never wanted you to stop.”

[liitlesunshiine]

Little Sidekick

(Bakugo x Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, sfw

Prompt: Y/N takes up an internship at the Ground Zero agency. With her luck, she ends up a sidekick to the Pro hero himself- Bakugo.

Prelude: While this chapter is smutty free I can guarantee you the future ones wont be ;) Now I haven’t written anything in a FAT minute so forgive ya girl for the grammar errors you see. I’m a marketing major not a literature one. Just horny and motivated enough to write a full-blown fic on a fictional character, that I am currently obsessing over. Hope ya sluts enjoy :*

Y/LN= Your Last Name

| Chapter 1

In a desperate last-minute attempt to leave your toxic home, you took up a hero exchange program in Japan that you found online. While this wasn’t exactly the smartest thing you’ve done, it definitely didn’t stop you from applying to a sidekick position in an agency called “Ground Zero,” not aware that you’re getting more than what you had originally bargained for; you secretly packed a bag with a few necessities and slipped out of the prison you called home.

~

“Good morning Ms. Y/LN, to start you off we’re going to be putting you in a training simulation to better analyze your quirk and combat skills. This is to see which hero you’d be most compatible with as a sidekick.”

It was your second day at the agency. You spent a week settling in the apartment that the agency offered you for the internship program. It was a humble setting, nothing flashy which you had preferred anyways. You finally step foot in the agency yesterday mainly going over the basics and signing paperwork, today you assumed was going to be a bit more hands on.

You were used to this type of routine, being top class in your high school years meant a lot of colleges were constantly throwing themselves at you. Which in turn led to a lot of situations with you in training and battling on other heroes. Especially with your father owning and running multiple agencies, you were constantly being forced to get stronger, it was practically expected of you to become a high-ranking hero in America and take over his business. Something you honestly didn’t care much for. Maybe it was the constant pressure being put on your shoulders to become a hero but after so many years of being subjected to that, you’ve come to secretly dislike the hero industry in your own twisted way. You only took this internship program because you were unknown here, there were no expectations of you, no one constantly breathing down your shoulder; here you were nothing but a nameless sidekick and that thought alone brought you some peace.

You stepped into the training simulation. It was an all-white room but seemed endless. On one wall there was a glass window where you supposed they watched you from but couldn’t see through from your side. You were wearing a one-piece track suit with lines running all throughout the outfit. The suit was ingrained with tech that would monitor your breathing and usage of your quirk.

“Hello Y/LN” you heard through the speaker phone “if the training gets too intense for you or if you want to take a break just yell out STOP and we will immediately halt everything. I also forgot to ask since I didn’t see it on your application: what is your hero name?”

That question lingered in your head for a minute or so. In America you were forced into living a persona behind the title of a false name. Everything in the hero industry was so theatrical, from the costumes, to even the name you represented yourself with. It was all so scripted and fake. You refused to take any part in that this time, here in Japan you’re starting with a clean slate.  So, with that in mind you sternly responded:

‘Y/N. it’s just Y/N.” and thus the training began.

About 15 minutes went by with no trouble or fuss. Your air quirk allowed you to move fast and efficiently. You’ve dodged every attack thrown at you by the fake automated dummies and even destroyed a handful with such ease and precision. You were taught a variety of attack and defense forms, all with and without the use of your quirk. You also knew how to dual sword fight; but since the training has been so pathetically easy you haven’t even found the need to use your swords yet. Picking up on this attitude, the speaker came on once again.

“It seems like the simulation is a bit too easy on you Y/N, were going to be skipping up a few levels and see how you do on level 7: which is where most of the pro heroes train at.

You only responded with a nod. A smirk slowly creeping in your face. About time they got serious. You were hoping for a challenge, you couldn’t deny the bit of pride you felt effortlessly blowing through this training. With that, more mindless dummies appeared, all in different shapes and sizes this time, some even carrying weapons and shields. There was one dummy in particular that caught your attention. It had four arms all holding a sword. You immediately drew your swords out and instantly ran over to it; all while you smoothly cut and sliced through all the others in your way.

Once you reached the four handed dummy, it instantly became a dance among swords hashing and daggering at one other. Even though you were outnumbered by two swords you kept the upper hand by being faster. But with every given slice the dummy was beginning to match your pace and speed, it was becoming slightly more difficult to stop every single hit; so, you cartwheeled back to give yourself some space.

You jumped to one of the corners of the walls staying off the ground to think of plan. You figured if you kept going back and forth with the dummy it would get you nowhere and eventually just tire you out. Frustrated by how the dummy was able to match your speed you prioritized cutting off two of its arms. That way it be more manageable than trying to defend yourself against four swords attacking you simultaneously. You instantly retreated back once you had given your failed plan an attempt. Back on the corner of the wall, you were losing more patience.

Maybe I should wait for an opening and cut its head off, maybe with my quirk I can push it back and have it fall, you thought to yourself. Maybe I’m just overthinking this, it’s a fucking lifeless dummy.

With that you activated your quirk and blew air towards the dummy with such force it rolled back. You took this opportunity to jump on it, but it immediately drew out one of its swords to defend itself; it forced you to quickly rotate midair and land it behind it. This gave you about 3 seconds to rack your sword across its neck before it was able to even register you were behind it. Its lifeless head fell onto to the floor and about a minute or so its body just disappeared altogether. The room was slowly returning to its white appearance and all the evidence of a battle scene was replaced shiny tiles. The lady walked through the door “wow Y/N that was great! You don’t even seem to be worn out. I’m sure you could’ve even reached level 8 easily but we gathered enough data already. Why don’t you come into my office so we can go over the details of who you’ll be paired up with”

You’ve trained tirelessly for years on end, of course this simulation was going to be a breeze. At least compared to what you’ve faced in the past. You shuttered at the thought, quickly trying to think of something else. You thoughtlessly followed her as she led the way, you looked around the impressive building with curiosity; it wasn’t the fanciest one you’ve seen but it must have been one of the biggest. After heading up in an elevator and making a few more turns you ended up in the speaker’s office taking a seat across her. A bit of guilt creeping up since you had completely forgotten her name.

She pulled out some papers giving you more things to sign and fill out. She briefly reminded you of the benefits that the agency was going to be offering you: an apartment complex 5 minutes away from here, a flexible schedule and fixed meet up times, and a small allowance for food and necessities.

“Do remember this program is for a year, while we can’t guarantee you a permanent position after that, if you do show promising resolve, we can offer you a contract making you an official member of the agency. This program is highly competitive though, we have about 8 other exchange heroes that we will be working with this year. And out of the 8 only one or possibly two, candidates will be accepted.”

“yeah that’s fine,” you casually responded.

You weren’t planning on staying here forever, regardless you were hoping by the end of the year you would land a spot in Shoto’s agency. You’ve always secretly admired the half and half hero after watching an interview of him speaking about his father. You couldn’t help but relate to him and what he felt; on top of it he seemed like a genuine and down to earth person. The opposite of what you’ve usually seen among heroes. You were absolutely intrigued and fascinated by the icyhot hero-

You were pulled away from your thoughts when the door behind you was slammed open. You jumped slightly from the noise and sharply turned with an irritated look on your face to see which asshole would just barge in like that. When you did, your eyes met with a pair of red curious ones. The man who barged in had spiky blonde hair protruding out in every angle, that would’ve been his most noticeable feature if it weren’t for the fact that he was fucking huge. His presence alone held such intimidation and power and that tight black shirt with a red X on it did little to no job in hiding every curve and muscle from his body. From the sharp V line on his lower abdomen, to his biceps which made your head look small in comparison, you were certainly caught off guard but pulled back into reality when the woman broke the silence.

“Y/N, this is Bakugo, Katsuki, also known as Ground Zero. You will be his sidekick from this moment forth.”

.

.

.

There was a moment or so of awkward silence that made the air around you feel heavy.

“tsk. Like hell I need a sidekick. I don’t need dead weight on my fucking shoulders, set her up with shitty hair, or dunce face.”

“Now, now Bakugo. We discussed this with the PR team already, don’t be difficult. We need to bring up your ratings. Having a pretty sidekick can distract the audience from that explosive personality of yours. We’re already in a rough spot from your last meltdown.” Speaker lady said with the calmest tone you’ve heard her use since you’ve met her.

“I was in the middle of a fucking battle how else would you have liked for me to get the public out of the way eh?”

“threating them with an explosion and cursing them off definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

“tsk. Whatever. I’ll have to train her then. Wouldn’t want a liability on my hands now.” He looked over to you “Ya heard me freakshow?”  

You bit your inner lip, drawing a tiny ounce of blood. There was a lot of information to digest here but fuck this, you thought. You ignored him for a few seconds, unraveling everything you’ve just heard. The balls on this guy. Who the hell did he think he was? Last thing you needed was to deal with some asshole trying to down talk you. You stood up and pushed your chair back. You looked up at him with unsettling coldness. You weren’t having any of this shit today.

“My name is fucking Y/N.”

His mouth slightly gaped, it almost looked like he wanted to respond but couldn’t form any words. You assumed he wasn’t used to people talking back? You could careless at the moment, you took his delayed reaction to walk out and slam the door closed. You felt offended and belittled. So, they partnered me up with that punk not based off of my skill or anything but because I’m simply a pretty face that can distract the crowd from his unhinged personality? The fuck. A wind whirl of emotions went through you. Wasn’t this in some way demeaning, maybe even sexist? I’m being reduced to my looks now; this was definitely a first for you. His words rang in your head “dead weight” “liability,” “shitty hair,” “dunce face;” he not only spat on you but on his coworkers as well? Man, if that’s how he talks about his peers you could only imagine what he had in store for you, seems like “freakshow” was your new nickname already. A chill ran down your spine, maybe coming here was a bad idea.

No. no. no.  You quickly stopped your train of thought. I’m not going to have this wannabe scare me off on the first day. I left America for a reason, I can deal with this, I can deal with him-

Your thoughts were interrupted once again.

“Oi, I wasn’t finished talking!” he stomped his way behind you and pulled your arm back, forcing you to face him.

“well I am.” You responded sharply with an attitude rolling off your tongue.

“Like hell you are.” He growled, gripping your arm tighter this time, tugging you closer to him. The muscles on his biceps becoming veiny from how tight his grip was. The air stiffened and everyone outside the office walked slowly pretending not to notice you both. This time with more courage and vigor you pushed his shoulder, which to your embarrassment did little to nothing considering he didn’t even move an inch.

“What’s your problem?” you asked genuinely confused from why he was acting out, the pain on your arm becoming harder to ignore. He held an intense gaze with you, it was now registering how small you were in comparison to him. With his free hand he pushed the hair on your shoulder to the side gently, throwing you off completely. He leaned into you, insanely and uncomfortably close with his hot breath hitting your ear. Chills were running all throughout your body and you couldn’t bring yourself to move way this time. It was if you were completely frozen.

“Don’t go thinking you’re hot shit just cause you reached level 7. I’d hate to put you in your place so soon on your first week here little sidekick.” The pet name rolling off his tongue. You practically choked on air, not sure with what to respond with, still frozen. Slightly terrified, now slightly turned on; you made a feeble attempt in creating some space only to be pulled in closer. Now he had both of your arms pinned to the side.

“Not so brave now eh?” He pushed his body onto you, you practically felt like you were sinking into him. A light unintentional blush crept in on your face and he smirked at the sight. He pulled your chin up forcing you to meet his eyes, glaring down at you with a smug look on his face. He was taunting you.  

“Our training sessions will be every Thursday and Friday after 4. Make sure you’re on time little sidekick, I’d hate to have to go look for you and trust me, the last thing you’d want is to play a game of hide and seek with me.”

With that he let go of you and shoved you off to the side. You regained your balance by grabbing on to the table near you, trying to register what the fuck just happened. Everyone was looking at you. While Bakugo walked out of the room, you stood there absolutely floored. It was until a tap on the shoulder brought you back to your senses.

“You good? I wouldn’t worry much about Bakubro, he’s just like that.” A rather handsome red head stood in front of you. He was slightly bigger than Bakugo but around the same height. There was this energy radiating off of him that felt really comforting and soothing. He smiled at you and you caught sight of his sharp teeth, but gentle look on his eyes.

“I’m Kirishima. Welcome to the agency.”

~