#and the relatives were like our mother was blonde what the fuck

[tchaikovskym]

the rest of the western countries: we are continuing to improve and innovate medicine for better patient outcomes

my country: we banned liver transplantation bc our surgeons suck ass

[blondrichclosetwitch]

The People are Talking, The People are Talking

“It’s interesting in the timeline; on march 24, psychic jakk told me he was in trouble, so i went over to his apartment, which was when he finally texted me back for the first time in months, saying things that were not in alignment with all the things psychic jakk had told me, which i talked about in the “p.j. 3/24 after i texted jakk” .

Well, two days later i was told that my niece stella had caused blond to have a miscarriage, who was a) supposedly pregnant since january and b) supposedly in jail for attacking jakk. I’m sure that’s the only reason i would have taken the chance in going to their apartment, thinking she wasn’t there.

******************************************************************

This whole thing about “causing a miscarriage”...that had been something i had been told about by gina (aka the painting) for a long time. From what i remember, from the moment psychic jakk told me she was pregnant, they were also talking to me about how she must miscarry, because the plan was to sacrifice the baby Easter weekend.

I remember the moment that the miscarriage supposedly happened, the night before this tape. . My body got deeply sick, as if it was happening to me, the pendulum was flying with a force like i had never ever felt before, and i had to keep my feet cemented to the floor, as if holding the pendulum and not letting it fly out of my hands was of some vital importance, despite the physical experience i was having. It was a surreal experience, to put it lightly.

Afterwards my “niece” came to me. She told me she was drunk, and that “they” made her do it, and that that was what the spinning was...her pulling the baby out.

That fucked me up. I didn’t know that it was going to be her who would do this thing that i was being told needed to happen.

***

There’s some things to put out there about this tape.

I took “mothering” my niece very seriously. I did whatever i was told needed to be done for her. Stella and i were super close when she was on earth, yes, but being that i was the only relative of hers that could interact with spirits, i took my duties with her very seriously.

This definitely tapped into the part of me that never got to be a mother; there was a lot of transference at play. But also, that got played on a lot. It makes me uncomfortable to hear how gullible and all-in i was, but by that point, i had been isolated for months, which seems to have been part of the plan.

After this initial conversation, fake stella would tell me over and over that she was spending most of her time getting drunk with jakk.

That she was messed up from what she was forced to do. There was always a lot of things that she was bringing up about jakk. At one point it was told to me that she was trying to convince him to kill himself so he’d be on the other side with her and she’d have someone to play with.

You’ll see a reference to me saying that stella was christ in the beginning of time; what can i say? I was told that in early january (yes, it’s on a tape).

Someone was super creative with their story lines.

As i was getting ready to finish this up, the following songs played:

supernatural superserious (see title of post, r.e.m.),

control (“i’m crying “they’re coming for me”, and i tried to hold these secrets inside me, my mind is like a deadly disease”--halsey),

the neverending story (pulp),

live in chicago 1999 (“i’m just so so so sick of the city streets of switchblade dicks out to break your mother’s heart”, joan of arc),

Pj harvey’s we float:

You shop-lifted as a child

Will we die out of shock?

Die without a trial

Die on Good Friday

This is kind of about you

This is kind of about me

Cat Stevens, wild world: Now that I’ve lost everything to you

The Weeknd, die for you: I'm finding ways to manipulate the feelin' you're goin' through

Little girl, spiritualized: hey little girl, we’re on our own

4:44 Keep: My inner dialogue's a drone

This last one got to me. At some point psychic jakk told me that he had some chip in him so he could always be tracked, which of course flipped me out. He actually told me what it was called, and i googled it, and it was something that is used in the military, sure enough. He also told me he had to wear a nanny-cam at all times, and that he had a tattoo over his heart that said “Property of Blond”, which completely freaked me out because I thought we were always on the brink of being together. Ultimately all these things ever did was make a mess of my nervous system and got me to a weight i was in high school. Will we die out of shock?”

Niece 3/26/17 drunk after miscarriage

You weren’t wrong. You had to do something..that ..you did something..to allow….you basically did something for the cause. You did something so that ..things could be moved forward, quicker.

And when we first talked about it happening, however long ago that was, it was never, never brought up that it would be you who did it.

It was never brought to my attention. That was never an idea. And if it had been presented to me that it would be *you* who would do the act, i would have said..i would have said absolutely not. And i think that you know that.

You knew that didn’t you? Did you know that?

Yeah.

And...when random had first talked to me about it...he had first said to me that i had done wrong and i don’t even remember who had presented to me to go do this spell, i don’t even remember who it was….i just remember being presented, “go do this”.........and going to the roof and doing it. And then going to God and being like….look, will this be cleared from my record pretty much but then having Random come to me and be like, hey this is not cool and asking god and being like ...god being like “ well it’s cancelled out by what you sacrificed with the baby and this wasn’t….she never was supposed to have this baby...and it will be taken care of.”

But you have always maintained a purity...and i know that something happened to you in the last 24 hours...28 hours, 30 hours, whatever you want to say... and...you lost ….you can also say that you lost part of your purity when you had your ______________________________ or what have you, but this is different in that something happened for you.

And you have to rest, and you have to let me be...your mom. And that means you have to eat, and you have to know when you’re tired, and you have to stop, and know that you’re 10 years old.

And you have to read your books.

And you can do your magic and you can do all of that stuff...but you have to not exhaust yourself.

Because if i see..that you are weakened...then it means you have to take a break. Like if i have to take a nap, that means you have to take a nap.

(pause)

Because the other way we’re gonna get anywhere...the only way that we’re gonna be the chariot is by..having boundaries, and by..doing excellent self-care. Jakk has been doing shitty self-care.

Shitty self-care. And you see where he was at.

I’ve been doing better self-care than jakk. Much better. As you can see. So that means you either ride on my shoulders, or let me carry you, you take naps, you eat food,....you take breaks. You listen to me. You listen to god. You don’t like stop...you don’t constantly look for trees. ( we spent hours upon hours doing this thing with trees...moreon that later.)

(pause)

You don’t like, give everything away. You feel the roots, feel the breath, hear the still small voice of the spirit, and everything will be as it should be. And know that i am not going anywhere, ever….because i am yours. And you are mine. Forever. You have my heart, you always had my heart from the moment i held you in my arms. From the moment i sang to you. You had my heart.

And you can’t be shy about saying what you need. You have to tell me. You have to ….i want you to tell me. And it’s ok if you make a mistake. Don’t be afraid of making a mistake. You know? I should have told them no jalapenos.

(this is a reference to when “we” were at calexico. What did we look like? Typically me at a barstool with her framed picture, the pendulum in my left hand, the stick and crystal, and a bunch of bags at my feet. For a while i carried 3 or 4 pictures with cheap plastic frames from the dollar store in my backpack. I think at one point i was carrying three bags on the regular.

You see in here references to telling stella to eat; well, this one time at calexico i ordered some baja fish tacos, and one black bean taco for us to share, thinking she would like them, since she had been vegetarian, and when i was almost done eating, she told me that she didn’t eat her part, that they were too spicy for her, which made me feel like a failure. Thus the line about jalapenos. )

We could probably make a business just of like people sending us a picture of their loved one who is sick, and bringing them to trees. We could probably start a business that way. We could probably make money that way. People see us doing it. They see us doing it. That’s how we could start our business. You could lead me to the trees that heal. We could take the pictures of the people who are sick..is that how it works? They could send me a picture of someone’s who sick, i take the picture to a tree,....this is how we can get started. And i can sing while the tree heals them.

We can just go ahead and get started. We could get a business license like….i could talk to naussica about it..next week. She would probably put up the money for a business license. And i bet aaron would put a website together for us. A simple one, until i can figure out the website that the tarot reader has in mind. And we could get business cards. And i could just start passing them out. We could get that going in the next three weeks. Maybe i don’t get the license yet, but i could get the website and the cards, and if people ask, that’s what i do.

That’s what we do.

Because we do it together.

Does that sound good? You like that idea?

Does he know that i did not have sex with him today?

………………

...Tonight i care about the baby. The baby who was….sacrifice...i just want this to be over, and i want to go to sleep. And prepare for tomorrow, because tomorrow is the universe. I’m pretty sure. So, let’s go to bed.

(sounds of her in the bathroom, then we hear the toilet flush)

Did you just hug me?

Did you?

I felt that..i felt that…( starts breathing hard and laughing softly) awwwwww. I felt that.

(continues to be choked up)

It’s almost six months. (crying slightly, but mostly overwhelmed with emotion at feeling her)

It’s funny, i used to think that this place was….i don’t know. Wasn’t what i wanted but...now it’s perfect. You need to make a list of stuff to keep here for you...for…..like, food. “

(End of tape)

[wonderlandleighleigh]

can we have more lenny and midge with shy please😗😗😗

He's nervous.

Which is insane, because he's never nervous. He gets on stage in front of millions of people, and it doesn't make him nervous, but apparently, showing up at Midge Maisel's home for Rosh Hashana dinner makes him fucking nervous.

But here he is, holding a jar of honey ("we always run out!"), knocking on the door, waiting for it to open.

And when it does, there's chaos.

Well, there's Midge, standing there, beaming at him, while two kids run by and there's loud talking from within.

"You made it!" she cries, leaning in to kiss his cheek, taking his arm and leading him in. "Come on in!"

It really is chaos. There are a lot of people. Five kids of varying very young ages, and around ten adults, all chattering and arguing around the living room, dining room and kitchen.

"Oh, lord," Shy mutters. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

"A room full of Jews," Midge smiles. "But you're in luck, because Rosh Hashana is like Judaism for beginners. No fasting, no waiting to eat, lots of good food."

"Hey! Shy Baldwin is here!"

That's the ex-husband, who embarrassed the hell out of himself the last time Shy saw him, and his outburst causes the room to go silent.

Midge grins. "Everyone, I told you I invited Shy for New Years."

"Yes, but we didn't think you were telling the truth," Shirley says, shocked.

"Ma!" Joel cries.

"Welcome to the madhouse," Mei waves. "They're all extremely white, extremely Jewish, and very loud."

"I got that impression," Shy chuckles.

Fairly soon, all of the chatter starts up again, and Shy finds himself sitting with Lenny in the kitchen while Midge wraps up cooking.

"God it smells good in here," Shy comments.

"I've married myself a domestic goddess," Lenny jokes. "Brisket in the oven, fresh, homemade challah on the table, and some of the best dick jokes in the business." He snaps at that last comment, an it makes both Shy and Midge laugh.

"So, which relative is gonna be creepily racist tonight, Midge?" Shy teases. "My money is on the old blonde."

"She's a frontrunner for sure," Midge laughs. "But, her daughter-in-law is the Chinese girl who warned you about all of us white folks, so she might be able to reel it in."

Shy looks impressed. "A surprise."

"Astrid's got a big mouth and no filter," Lenny comments.

"Leave Astrid alone, she's anxious enough," Midge scolds. "My sister-in-law. She converted to try and fit in better with the family."

"Did it work?"

"Nope. Still an anxiety-ridden blabbermouth who now just sings really loudly during services," Midge tells him.

"Moishe?" Lenny supplies.

"Oh, yeah, maybe," Midge nods. "Could be Moishe. Or! Maybe it'll be no one and everyone will behave like human beings and not shit all over our guest who very kindly brought us more honey."

"See? She really is funny," Lenny chuckles.

"Who wants to taste test the soup?"

Both men scramble to their feet to get in line and she hands each of them a spoon for tasting, Lenny going back in for another spoonful.

"Lenny!"

"It's good, it's a compliment!"

"More peppercorn," Shy tells her, reaching out for the jar of pink peppercorns, and Midge grins as she steps back to let him doctor the soup.

"You never let me doctor the soup," Lenny complains.

"Lenny," she says seriously. "Sweetest man alive. Love of my life. You cannot cook."

"And Shy can?"

"He used to help his mother in the kitchen."

"Well, my mother didn't cook," Lenny defends. "She stripped, but she did not cook."

"I know, which is why you are my favorite taste-tester and not allowed to adjust the seasoning."

Shy hands her a spoon. "Try now."

She does and her eyes widen. "Mmm. It pops!"

Shy laughs. "It certainly does."

Lenny tries next and nods. "Okay, yeah. That's better."

"I'm making a note," Midge says hurriedly, rushing around to grab for her recipe book. "Extra peppercorn."

Shy chuckles and tries a little more, nodding in satisfaction.

[dudeandduchess]

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 7]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Pussy Spanking, Thigh Fucking, Shallow Fucking, Creampie, There’s Only One Bed Scenario, Dark Themes

||Sugar and Spice Masterlist||

***

With how beautiful the sunset had been, and how romantic Kyōjurō had been acting, (Y/n) never expected that the night would take a turn for the worse. It was so bad that she was stressing out about it, even though she was completely taken care of at the Rengoku clan’s mountain villa.

She had a nice yukata to sleep in, and all the food that she could want in the kitchen, and people at her beck and call— if she even chose to ask for their help with anything.

The only problem was that she knew her mother was going to be furious once she got home.

Kyōjurō had taken the liberty to call her mother while (Y/n) was taking a shower— ‘to relax’ as the blond had said, before practically pushing her into the bathroom— to explain that he wouldn’t be able to bring her home, since it had begun to rain heavily. Heavy enough to pose as a hazard for driving down the dirt road.

If he wanted, he could have an off-roading vehicle sent to get them, but he wasn’t alone. He didn’t want to risk getting (Y/n) into an accident, when they could just wait things out until the morning.

That, and he figured that it would be nice to actually spend the night with her… and maybe give her a bit of pleasure, since they had been disturbed earlier.

Safe to say that (L/n) Akari wasn’t happy with how the situation had panned out, and had been about to lash out at Kyōjurō. Until, of course, he finally lost the polite and cheerful façade— after checking if (Y/n) was still in the bathroom.

Slowly, Kyōjurō sat down on the end of the bed in his room, before loosening his tie and stretching out his neck. He took his sweet time in making the older woman wait for his response to her threat of having (Y/n) fetched; especially when the venom in her voice suggested that a lecture was the least that she would give (Y/n).

He feared that Akari might even keep heaping on more political tasks on to (Y/n), all to keep her from seeing him. It wasn’t a secret that she didn’t like him for her daughter, after all.

“Don’t forget, (L/n)-san, I…” Kyōjurō began softly, with a sharp edge to his tone that warned his future mother-in-law to listen well to his words. “…can take away everything you love, if you break our agreement. It would be best if you remembered that the moment that my family put you where you are, you signed your life over to me.”

Silence reigned over the line for a couple of minutes, with Kyōjurō relishing in how he had managed to slowly protect (Y/n) from her own mother.

Of course, he knew just how horrible and selfish the woman was. It was why he wondered just how his cute future wife turned out so well. And maybe it was his own fault, but he had delved even further into the file he had on her, and couldn’t help but be completely enamored.

However, he was ill-prepared for the intensity of the real thing. She was so much more than he had thought she would be, especially after he had hung out with her a few times.

“I think it would be best if you cleared my wife’s schedule, and start letting her get to know her future husband better,” Kyōjurō continued after fully undoing his tie— letting it hang around his neck, as he finished up his conversation. “After all, she won’t be living under your roof in a few months.”

With that, he dropped the call and tossed his phone onto the bed. He then heaved a heavy sigh, letting the air fill his lungs, as he closed his eyes and exhaled all of his tension away.

He didn’t want (Y/n) to see that side of him; ever, if he could help it.

“Kyōjurō?” The aforementioned woman’s soft voice rang out from the bathroom and when he looked up, he had to immediately make an effort to not let his tongue hang out like a dog, as she looked so enticing in that red yukata that he’d had someone to get for her. “I’m done. You can take a bath now.”

And with that sweet smile she aimed right at him? Partnered with how cute she looked with her hair still a little damp? He really had to try to keep himself in check.

After all, he didn’t want her to think that he was a monster; in all senses of the word.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up the way she had, but it was too late to ask that question. Especially with Kyōjurō smelling so good behind her, while his right arm was wrapped around her middle— with his feet intertwined with hers.

She had tried to ask why they were sleeping in one bed, but all she had gotten from that was a simple ‘the other rooms are locked, and I already sent the head maid home’. It was a poor excuse, but she chose to just buy it— instead of fighting Kyōjurō and dampening the good day that they’d had together.

After all, it was all innocent cuddling… at least at first. As the minutes ticked by, Kyōjurō’s hand had begun caressing up and down her stomach, until it drifted lower to her pelvis.

She could feel his fingers toying with the seam of the yukata— slowly bunching up the material, until she could feel her pussy get even more exposed than it already was; what with her going commando beneath the garment.

“You’re not asleep. Are you, princess?” Kyōjurō whispered in her ear; the words making her feel warm down to her bones, even though the air held a biting chill that came with the rain pouring outside. “I want to make you feel… amazing.”

The way that Kyōjurō breathed out the last word had her clenching her thighs together— and the movement didn’t go unnoticed like she had wanted it to. So, she found herself paying for it with Kyōjurō leaning in even closer and teasingly nipping at her ear.

(Y/n) had it in her mind to say no at first, only to change her tune when the blond finally let his hand cup her pussy; dragging his middle finger up her slit and finding that she was already wet.

In her defense, it was because he smelled so good and felt so amazing against her— especially with his erection brushing against her ass every once in a while.

“Oh? Did I already make you this wet, baby?” Instead of answering, however, (Y/n) merely bit down on her tongue and closed her eyes— especially when Kyōjurō pressed two fingers to her clit, before beginning to circle them around the sensitive nub.

The action had (Y/n)’s hips bucking involuntarily, which brought a grin to Kyōjurō’s lips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Come on, baby girl. Tell me that you want to feel good too.”

But when silence kept hanging in the air, the blond lifted his fingers from her cunt— all so he could bring them down on her sensitive flesh. The spank was weak, compared to what he could have done, but it elicited his desired reaction.

He wasn’t done though, and landed another light spank on his lover’s cunt. It had her hips bucking once more, while a quiet and breathless moan escaped her lips. And finally, a really enticing, “Please make me feel good, Kyōjurō.”

“Good girl.”

His dick could only get harder once he pressed it up against (Y/n)’s ass— relishing in the feel of her warmth beneath the yukata, as he bunched the hem of it up. And once it was already out of the way, Kyōjurō gently wedged his calf between her own calves— if only to lift her leg up the tiniest fraction for what he wanted to do.

Once that was all settled, the blond freed his cock from his own yukata; holding his length at the base and guiding the tip up to start rubbing it up and down her slit.

He smeared his precum all over her pussy, focusing on circling his head at her clit, and really drinking in the quiet and pleased moans that kept flowing from (Y/n)’s mouth— which only got louder when he pressed the top of his dick flush against her pussy to coat it with her wetness.

And, knowing that was barely enough lubrication, the blond lifted his right hand up to (Y/n)’s mouth. He then pressed the tips of three digits to her lips, prompting her to open her mouth— which she did. All the while, he kept rubbing his dick against her pussy, so tempted to just push into her pussy, but wanting to make her extra needy for him before he gave in to his own urges and fucked her.

“Get them nice and wet, princess.” He’d have tried to make her wetter by playing with her nipples, but he had slid his arm under her head earlier— for her to use as a pillow— so it was laying there, much to his regret.

When his fingers were already wet, he pulled them out of her spent mouth and pressed a kiss to her cheek once more. All while he brought his hand down and used his spit-laden fingers to get his cock even wetter.

The moment that he had managed to get his cock relatively wet, he removed his leg from between (Y/n)’s own pair— moaning aloud when her thighs clamped down tighter around his dick. “Oh, fuck, baby.”

Kyōjurō wasted no time then, placing his hand back on (Y/n)’s clit and playing with it— circling, rubbing, pinching, and gently tugging on the sensitive nub— while he moved his hips to start fucking her thighs. It was made hotter and easier with how her wet she kept getting for him— enough to coat his cock and her thighs entirely with her juices.

That wasn’t the best part, however; it was when Kyōjurō pulled back a little bit too far and had accidentally pushed the tip of his cock inside her pussy— out of reflex.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Kyōjurō cursed through breathless moans, deciding to torture himself even more and push just the head of his cock inside her tight pussy. And he begun to thrust shallowly in her, losing himself in ecstasy just from that.

And he almost lost control and pushed in to the hilt, until he felt (Y/n)’s legs beginning to quiver, while her moans steadily got shakier and shakier. “Please, Kyō! Please fuck me!”

He had half a mind to finally give in to his own needs, but he managed to sway himself from that decision at the last minute. Instead, he began to rub (Y/n)’s clit faster— which had her ultimately coming apart around the head of his cock.

Her entrance was clamping down on him so amazingly, and he could feel her walls fluttering around what part of him was inside her, which made it so hard to pull out and only thrust in only up to the end of the head of his cock.

Kyōjurō felt himself getting so close to his orgasm, losing himself so much in (Y/n)— that he had even leaned down to start sucking hickeys onto the spot behind her ear just to last a little bit longer.

However, the pleasure finally got the better of him and had him instinctively pushing his entire length inside (Y/n)’s sopping cunt. All sorts of curses ricocheted within his head at that, but he didn’t regret what had happened.

Especially when he came so hard and filled her up so well, with his dick buried in her to the hilt.

There went his plans of making her crazy for him but, oddly enough, he couldn’t shake the feeling that what had happened just felt right to him. If she got pregnant from it, then he was prepared to raise their child together— no other thoughts or trepidations swirling around in his mind, like they had before.

With (Y/n) next to him, he felt that he could conquer the world.

Besides, little did he know that she was well on her way to getting positively crazy for him. Addicted: heart, body, and soul.

Especially with the way that she had overheard him standing up for her against her mother.

[theamberwizard]

i’ve been thinking about black widow and the red room recently, as one does, and i’ve got a lot of thoughts about the effects of the red room on widows who’ve escaped. couple things, just before i begin: i would recommend having watched black widow before this because there are implied (?) spoilers, i use way too fancy language while i write and i don’t have an editor cause this is mainly to catch her off guard, so, uh, whoops sorry

trigger warnings: TW: child abuse TW: restricted eating/starving yourself TW: dehumanization TW: death of a child

so yeah, enjoy my list of 10 personal headcanons about how the red room fucks you up on all the levels.

1) black widows cannot sleep in. like, they wake up at 5:00 am every day. it’s not a physical thing, at least not as far as they know, because they can negate that by just going to bed two hours or less before 5:00 am just from their lack of sleep. if, however, they go to sleep at a fairly normal hour they will, like clockwork, wake up at 5:00. this stems from them doing it every single day of their life since they got indoctrinated in the red room. if they didn’t wake up at 5:00 am ready for more training or missions, for any reason, they would be tortured. sometimes physically, sometimes mentally. eventually, all the widows would get that message. they still can’t shake it. because of that, natasha will often refuse to go to sleep at a normal hour, trying to force her body into submission, trying to rid herself of the painful memories that accompanied sleep and waking up afterwards. only clint knows why, because each day in that vent, natasha would snap up at 4:00 am. she had to explain to him that she just wasn’t accustomed to budapest time, and that actually, it was 5:00 am in russia.

2) for months after escaping the red room, widows practically cannot eat. in the red room, they were fed mushy messes of meals, filled with only the necessary nutrients that they absolutely had to have to survive. most widows can only get down one meal, maybe even a snack if they push it, until they throw it all up. they have to slowly eat slightly more each day for weeks until they can get down a normal intake of food. even then, it’s hard to push that, and every widow relapses into throwing up in those early stages. however, this isn’t normally a problem for most widows until a couple weeks into their life with freedom. that’s about the time that they make an acquaintance, who will eventually pluck up the courage to ask them why every time said friend will eat near the widow, the widow will lean over and whisper: “careful, that’s your whole ration today and i don’t want to do extra training.”

3) each “class” of widows had an extra mentor teacher in their early red room years. this was an older widow, someone who’d been falling behind in her recent missions, and with a look that the red room deemed “motherly”. their sole purpose was to be the person each widow got attached too, the parental figure. they were nice, they were helpful, they taught many different basic techniques. then, one day, the red room would have another older widow, (one already introduced to the children as the metaphorical “bad cop” of this scenario) come in and inform the mentor that she had failed her latest mission and proceed to, in front of thirty eleven year-olds, shoot the mentor. the mentor widow would not die that day- the red room refused to waste such a weapon- but the class of up incoming widows would be informed that she had. the official purpose of this exercise was to demonstrate to both the trainees and the trainer the consequences of failing a mission. the unofficial purpose? that would be the last psychological effects the mentor’s “death” would have upon the class, making them learn what happened to attachments in the red room. the day natasha’s class experienced this was the day she cut off all contact with her sister. the day yelena experiences this is the day she first another widow- because yelena killed that mentor with her own bare hands before the informant ever finished the announcement.

4) towards the start of the red room’s history, there were several attacks on the red room. the first ever attack was from a local police station who had been getting complaints of loud wailing, and, upon further investigation, realized what they were dealing with. they brought several other police and militia groups from nearby towns. the immediate action that was taken was to throw the littlest girls they had at the attackers. it stopped the police in their tracks, obviously, because you really don’t expect to come across thirty little girls while searching through a building of highly trained assassins. the red room then sent their fully trained widows and killed everyone. including the girls. the red room then found that footage from their cameras (because of fucking course they have cameras) and then showed it to the next batch of widows, just to show them how disposable they were.

5) yelena and natasha almost caused a whole fucking mutiny within the red room just because of their names. in the red room, you see, widows do not get names. they instead are bestowed with numbers, and even those are a twisted class ranking. they all wore little name tags with the numbers on them until came natasha and yelena came in. yelena, having just seen her mother get shot, complied almost immediately and was addressed as number 42. on the other side of that coin you have natasha, who had already been in the red room and remembered every gruesome detail, and went “fuck you my name is natalia.” upon hearing of this (word gets around fast in the red room. every girl must know they are being listened to at all times, and no secrets can be kept from the red room,) yelena too announced her name to the class.

6) this was met with blanching from every child in that class, because how on earth can you be called by a word? no, they thought, we are numbers, we are weapons, we are not people and we cannot have our own words, for we are not worthy. but secretly, internally, they wished for a name. slowly, they began piecing syllables together until they formed a coherent name, and for the first time in the red room’s long history, they didn’t have weapons. not anymore. they have two full classes of human little girls. the red room officials heard of this, obviously, and took to the only method they had now. violence. the classes were rid of the named girls, yet natasha and yelena were kept alive. they were kept alive to be ostracized, to be the girl the others pointed at and said “she’s the reason all my friends died.” they were kept alive so they could watch the carnage they had unwittingly caused just by saying their own names. and the worst part? well, the worst part was when the teachers accounted for those kills, and made them top of the class. yelena will never forget the day the teachers stood her and her sister up in front of all the widows-in-traning and told them what a good job they had done, how those tactics were sure to help them graduate. i mean, you’re practically a shoo-in if they rest of your class was killed by your school.

7) the red room could never fully stop the names, and so they decided to make a system, and the names would be the highest reward. they told the young, impressionable girls that while maybe outsiders such as natasha and yelena got names at birth, you had to earn them here. if you are to become a spy, you will take on the name of you very first official alias. if, instead, you become an assassin, you will take on the name of your very first official kill. of course, in reality, the widows couldn’t actually address each other with their new earned names, and instead used “team leader” or other such titles. but it became a small comfort for them, thinking of themselves in third person, with their very own names. in some small part they weren’t fully weapons anymore, no, they were people again. natasha took on the name natalia, because in her mind that life in ohio had been her first mission, even if she hadn’t known it. yelena took on yelena as well, but in her mind that little girl in ohio who was sitting in the backseat, caring only about which song they played, that girl had to have been yelena’s first true kill.

8) the names system worked well in the red room, but when you escaped it caused some serious problems. most would have to announce themselves to the russian government, saying they had been flying under the radar their whole life and never became registered. then, they’d give a non-russian name, and their whole ruse would fall apart. unfortunately, this was the least of their problems, because many a widow would someday meet a relative of their very first kill, and when they introduced themselves as the person they had killed all those years ago, the families and friends would often figure them out.

9) one of the biggest parts of the red room’s brainwashing was their little catchphrases they used. ironically, a lot of them were eerily close to boy scout mottos- “be prepared,” an iconic scout motto, versus “there is no safety, only preparedness,” the most frequently used phrase within the red room. when widows then escaped, the most small phrase could set them off. some unknowing widows even adopted little boys in their new lives, who often became boy scouts. the ensuing misery is something you can imagine yourself.

10) after clint helped natasha to escape, she immediately died her hair blond.  clint asked why, of course, and she didn’t tell him. (what, you thought i’d have another cute clintasha moment? never.) this was partly because she hadn’t admitted it to herself, though, because natasha couldn’t remember her sister without remembering all the suffering that came with her.

11) when the widows were smaller, more susceptible to the conditioning, the red room would stage infiltrations. older widows, ones who were closer to retirement, would come in in different uniforms, sometimes the uniforms of UN officers or local police, sometimes different organizations, all different types. the most recent uniforms made yelena sick looking at them, because each time the older widows would pretend to be the avengers there would also be one pretending to be her sister. each time she saw the fake natasha she wanted to break that widow’s neck because that’s not how my sister tilts her head, you’re doing it all wrong. you should be doing it like this, you shouldn’t be doing it at all, i should be doing this, i know my sister. each time those exact thoughts went into her head, and each time all she really wanted was for her sister to be there, for natasha to do her little head tilt upon seeing yelena and take her hand and say “you’re safe now, i promise,” and for natasha to be telling the truth. the only problem was that deep down inside herself yelena knew that this could never actually happen while yelena was still in the red room, because while yelena was still in the red room she knew that she would look at natasha telling her she was safe and tell her in return that there was no safety, only preparedness, and then murder her sister in cold blood.

[kashimos-hajime]

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh 

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care. 

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up. 

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time. 

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that. 

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but 

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone. 

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile. 

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

.

Distantly, he remembers flashes. 

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted. 

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.” 

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing. 

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I���m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows. 

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it? 

It has to be. 

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality. 

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him. 

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing. 

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up. 

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks. 

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field. 

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

 Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop. 

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you. 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything. 

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing. 

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner. 

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach. 

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise. 

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.” 

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.” 

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off. 

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you. 

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head. 

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

[zombifish]

“I could just use a hug.”

This one goes out to all the ‘Ed gets kidnaped and Roy goes dad crazy’ fic writers, yall are a hoot and I love ya. 

-

When Edward Elric was younger he liked to pride himself on being independent. That he could handle himself, and take care of his little brother Alphons Elric. Stand on his own two feet and try to be that pillar of support. 

Unfortunately, this became a far greater challenge upon the passing of their mother Trisha Elric. If you were wondering about the boy’s father, well he up and left a long time ago. So with an absent father and a mother now six feet under with no other living relative they know of,  it left the two boys alone. Only ever being checked upon by the Rockbells, a family friend. Occasionally (that’s a lie, it’s always) going over for a meal or any other necessity that didn’t revolve around alchemy. Speaking of which, about a year after their mother’s passing they met Izumi Certus- a housewife and a powerful alchemist, but most importantly a housewife. 

She taught them not only alchemy but how to defend themselves. Looking back on it, despite how terrifying that woman can be, she really was like a second mother to the two even if they, more so Edward, wouldn’t admit it (the same applies to Sig Certus, Izumi’s husband, next to Mr. Rockbell he showed them what a true father looked & acted like.) 

After a year with their monster of a teacher, the two blonds were back home and ready to commit the ultimate taboo. 

Human Transmutation.  

-

Another bust! Damn it stupid Mustang and his stupid false leads! 

At this point he’s just having them deal with the shit he didn’t want to deal with, the lazy bastard. 

Edward Elric - The Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People was seething. 

Since losing his leg in the taboo and his right arm to bind his brother’s soul to a suit of armour since Alphons lost his whole ass body to fucken Truth. (a bastard Ed just wants to punch silly-Mustang being the first, tied with Hohenheim that is)

Making his way through central headquarters Edward arrives at the front of Mustang’s office, Alphons having gone back to the barracks. Before he can kick the poor door in he spots a note tacked on it. 

Okay, that’s odd, that like never happened before, not even when they were stationed in Eastern Commanded, what the fuck is happening? Did something happen to the office and they had to relocate temporarily? 

Fullmetal, 

If you’re reading this, it means we haven’t come back yet.

The team has been dispatched to XXX. 

You can leave your report on my desk and take the rest of the day off. If we’re not back by the following afternoon it would be appreciated if you could meet us at our location. 

- Colonel Mustang 

“Bastard” The blond muttered pocketing the note, and for once entering the office like a normal person, and made his way over the Mustang’s personal office and placed the report neatly to the side. 

It was odd- odd not seeing anyone here. It felt empty.

Empty just like their old house after… 

Shaking his head to rid of old nightmares Edward stretched, some bones popping as he did so. 

‘Damn when did everything get so stiff?’ 

Just as he exited into the main office area the door creaked open, tensing Edward became hyper-aware of his surroundings. Having been attacked more than once in a closed-off space does that to a person, apparently. When the door fully opened it revealed a blue military uniform and a somewhat familiar face. Edward relaxed a little at that, but he was still very aware of his surroundings, not the first time military personnel have tried to lull him into a false sense of security only to strike. 

What can I say? boys got issues. 

“Major Elric! There you are, heard wind that you were back in central.” Ha, now Edward remembered him, all thanks to that scratchy voice of his. Colonel Marks, someone upon first meeting Edward didn’t like. In all fairness, no one on Team Mustang liked the guy, it was clear as day man had a thing against their Colonel, and was too blind to see they had already figured him out. So it was an unspoken rule to just avoid him, the same applies to all military officers that rub any of the team the wrong way(and to beat the ever-loving hell out of the ones that so much as look at Edward the wrong way but shhhhh the golden boy doesn’t know that rule) 

“Colonel Marks, is there something I can help you with?” Edward said, his voice indifferent not wanting to make his distaste for the man known just yet. 

“Yes, in fact, there is! One of my subordinates came across a strange-looking alchemical formation earlier this week.” ok that was interesting.

“And you want my help? Can you just take it over to one of the research labs for something? ``A valid question, after all the military's research labs, would be more suited to handle this than some random state alchemist. 

"Ha well, we actually did! But they were preoccupied with more important things" Okay bullshit, Edward has checked out the labs and they have nothing remarkable going on(especially since the Tucker incident). Best to say no to this guy and be on his way. 

"Sorry Colonel, but I can't help. My superior is off on a mission with the rest of the team and left instructions for me to stand by" not a total lie. Mustang’s note said he had the rest of the day off and should meet up with them at their location tomorrow afternoon if they are not in by then. Besides this left him and Al a good chunk of time to research the philosopher's stone, he wasn't going to waste it doing work for another Colonel. Mustang may be a bastard but he's Edward's bastard and will only report to him, the General and King Fuhrer Bradly himself, not some random Colonel with an inferiority complex. 

"Are you sure?" Marks pushed, Edward walked past him to the exit of the office. 

"Yes I'm sure, now if you'll excuse me I actually have to leave now my brother is waiting for me" 

As Edward stepped out into the hallway, making his way to the barracks the creeping sensation of some kind, like the one when you're being followed but you're not totally sure riddled his anxiety. As the Blond picked up the pace, he rounded the corner and something hit him dead in the face, causing the Fullmetal Alchemist to blackout. 

-

Did they really have to call in military enforcement for a protest? A god be damned protest! It’s not like these people were rioting; they had poorly made signs for heaven’s sake. And being forced to spend the better part of a week watching in case it did turn violent? What in the actual fuck was the General thinking giving them this assignment. 

THEY WERE PROTESTING FUCKING MEAT FOR FUCKS SAKE! 

Fucking hell man these are mostly vegans and animal rights activists, the MP’s should be handing this not the fucking military, let alone a state alchemist! 

Needless to say, the great Flame Alchemist was seething. The only thing that made it worth it was not doing paperwork-then again he’d have to write a report to hand it in. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

(no disrespect to vegans or animal rights activists(the VeganTeacher is the exception)- it was just the first thing that popped into my head) 

At least he can make fun of Fullmetal, that’s always a win. 

Speaking of the pipsqueak, where is he? They had just entered Central Command and were making their way back to their designated office space, and it was just about noon, they should have caught the brat if was making his way over to check for them, well that or he was in the office waiting to see if they’d come back but knowing the blond he would hold himself up in either the library or dorm with his brother and a mountain of books and scattered paper before realizing what time it was and scrambling to follow his commanding officer’s orders unless he wished to be court marshalled. Not that Roy would actually do that, as much as he pretends the older alchemist has a soft spot for the younger. And if anyone dares bring it up, pray that they are fireproof. 

Upon entering the office Roy was surprised to find it empty, as everyone filed in and got cozy, finishing off any conversation in preparation for writing the report due later in the week. 

Okay maybe he missed Fullmetal because of how small he is, so he peaked back outside, not seeing his major concern start to rise. Despite Edwards' abrasive nature, he’s never more than a few minutes late to something. 

‘Kids probably sleeping in just to spite me’ Roy reassured himself after all this wouldn't be the first time, then again the last time this happened Edward ended up getting kidnapped and almost smuggled over the border by spies. Okay so maybe there was something to worry about.    

Just as Roy was about to call in Fullmetal’s absence the clanking of armour caught his attention. Oh, thank GOD, Alphonse! And where ever the youngest Elric is the oldest is sure to be with him. Unfortunately instead of the office door getting kicked in like it usually does when Edward’s in, it was opened like, like when Al had to drop in and deliver field reports when Ed wasn’t able to. Sure thoughts days are far few and in-between, and Roy means far like it only ever happened maybe three or four times in the last two years. 

“Colonel Mustang? Have you seen Ed? He didn’t come back to the dorm last night.”  

Aww shit 

-

When Edward woke up, he had a splitting head ake. 

‘Son of a bitch by head’ as the blond started to gain focus in his sight. With each blink, Edward became more and more aware of his surroundings. As he was getting his sight back in working order, Edward started listening, for well anything that could give him a hint as to what was going on. 

“Well well well, it seems that the Fullmetal brat is finally awake” Colonel Marks, that damn bastard! How dare he- FUCKING HELL MAN Edward knew that colonel was up to something but kidnapping a State Alchemist? REALY?! To hell with the military the second Edward gets back he’s transmuting all the uniforms pink- then again that might be an improvement-

“So, what ya want?” Ed asked a hiss of curses hot on his lips.

“...no what’s happening? What are you going to do to me?” Marks inquired now genuinely confused. Edward gave him a dry look.

“Not the first time I’ve been Kidnapped you, shithead, now answer my question what the fuck do you want from me?!” 

Recovering from his confusion, Marks backhanded the boy.

“Shut up! I’ll be asking the questions here!” 

‘Welp I didn’t miss the physical abuse that comes along with kidnapping’ 

“Now, what did I need for you? Oh, that’s right! I’m sure you remember Dr. Tucker”

“Ya, how could I forget…” 

“Well before the military archived or destroyed his documents I stashed a few. And I must admit Dr. Tucker was an ingenious man- but his taste in test subjects is left to be desired” Marks walked off to the side, Edwards gaze followed him as Marks stopped at a nearby table. Marks picked up a stick, examining it. Despite the lighting, Edward was able to see a chunk of chock secured on top. 

I think we can guess where this is going.

“Using regular average people, and regular almost common and unintelligent animals, bah what a waste! What about the real animals the rare and exotic kind? The ones that have greater brain function!” as Marks made his speech he waltzed over to a switch, and flipped it, turning on the lights. BlinkingEdward’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, and his ears were met with the sound of several different animal cries. 

“And what batter human test subject to fuse them with than a Prodigy?” 

‘fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck’ Edward swallowed heard. It took everything to keep his breathing even, to not show fear. 

Back when Tucker had fused Nina and Alexander(the dog) there was a nagging part of him that always questioned why Tucker didn’t use him as a subject for his experiments? In fact, if Tucker used Edward Nina would be alive! But then, Ed would be…

AGHH this is so frustrating- frustrating and scary, very scary. 

As Marks started making the circle Edward tried formulating a plan. The idiot had left both his arm and leg, sure they were tied down but he could still try to carve an alchemy circle in an attempt to free himself, wouldn’t be the first time but definitely not the last.                       

Just as Edwards had carved out half of an alchemy circle with a screw from his Automail arm, into the backside of the chair he was bound to Marks grabbed the chair’s head and tossed it onto the now complete transmutation circle. The force used tipped the chair on its side causing it to fall side wase and for Edward to his is head on the floor, screw falling loose out oh his hand. 

“Now~ what animal to fuse you with hm?” Despite the throbbing pain in his head Edward was trying his damned hardest the unscrew another bolt. Sinelty prayed to whatever god could hear him,(despite not believing in holy ghost) that this was just a bad dream, that it wasn’t real- that Al would come charging in w-with Mustang and Hawkeye and everyone else that, that he could just escape! Escape this mad man and his deranged experiments!

“Links, bobcats, lions, apes…hmm squid maybe? No, they may be intelligent but one good hit and it’s dead. OH how bought a cheetah! Or or maybe an elephant!” 

“I know, how bought a crow? Common yes but they have great learning capabilities and like parrots can vocalize! I would have actually used a parrot but that shipment came in late and the blasted things ended up dead and I need living test subjects-” Marks continued to ramble as he approached the cage that held the blackbird. As Marks took the bird out of its cage(the poor thing squawking up a storm) inspecting it to make sure its flight feathers had been clipped the door burst open, a pillar of flame erupting from the now doorless entrance as the fire dimmed and the smoke cleared there stood one(1) vary pissed Roy Mustang, hand poised and ready to snap again. 

“Well isn’t this a surprise” Mustang hissed 

“Colonel Marks I’m going to ask you this once let my Major go and ill only burn you a little” And just to be clear when Mustang says ‘a little’ he means A LOT!!

-

When all was said and done Marks was arrested and awaiting trial. Edward was taken to a hospital, despite saying he didn’t need to go to the hospital, to have his injuries looked after.  

Alphonse had stepped out of the room for a little. While he’s glad his brother is safe he for some reason couldn’t help but think that Marks was working with or for someone, so to ease his fear that his brother was being stalked he opted to look around for anyone suspicious. Besides the younger brother, Mustang had opted to say a little longer as well, he was the boy’s legal guardian after all. As an added bonus he gets to slack off from his paperwork! 

“So how are holding up Fullmetal?” 

“...I’m fine”

 Roy let out a sigh, of course, the kid would say that. 

“You know it’s okay if you’re not right? Damn it Ed you were almost turned into a Chimera for crying out loud! By a fellow military personal, no less- doesn’t that bother you at all?” 

Ed just stayed quiet dwelling on his commanding officer’s words. He wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t scary, it was. If the Team hadn’t arrived when they did Ed wouldn’t be human anymore, or well less human than he already believed himself to be. 

“I-” Roy raised an eyebrow arms crossed as he looked at his subordinate.

“I could just use a hug,” The blond said truthfully.                    

- 

This was supposed to be fluff but here we are-  

Josh, it’s been 7-8 pages on my Dox… that is over 2,500 words! 

[refriedweeb]

YOU SAY I AM WHOLE WRAPPED UP IN YOUR ARMS (HAWKS + FEM!PREGNANT READER)

A/N: HEY BABIES! I'm back from the beach and ready to fuck up some feels. This comes requested by @peregrinestook <3 I listened to the softest, gentlest, saddest music writing this, so I hope you enjoy my babies

Prompt: “how about some hawks fluff with a pregnant reader? 🥺”

Tags: fluff, pregnancy, pregnant reader, domestic hawks

Word Count: 2,151

You shouldn’t have been surprised that what felt like a blink of time in you and Keigo’s relationship, you’d wound up pregnant. It was a two to party sort of ordeal, and as two adults there was only so much that could be spoken for. You knew Keigo went into periods of rutting in the spring, where all he did was want to claim a mate and to have babies with them. It was part of his instinct as an avian hero, and just because you’d been some several fresh months into your relationship didn’t make you exempt. As a matter of fact, while you’d been doing the deed that had gotten you pregnant, Keigo had uttered over and over again how he was going to put a baby in you. How excited he was to get you pregnant.

And you knew what they said about the things you spoke into the universe becoming a reflection of your reality...

Four weeks later, your period had been late. The first thought in your head had been that it’d just been thrown off by some hormonal shifts from the other women that worked around you on a day to day basis, but then it still hadn’t come after another week had passed. And then that lingering thought in the back of your mind had rolled all the way to the front of your thoughts. You might have been pregnant. It certainly would have added up, your last period before the missed one having fallen just in front of Keigo’s rutting season. Without telling Keigo what you thought was up (partly out of fear that he’d react poorly now that he was out of his rutting season and partly because you didn’t want to instill a false sense of hope if a family was what he wanted) you took a handful of pregnancy tests. They all came back positive. You made an appointment with a doctor to get tested. That came back positive.

Of course, Keigo had noticed it before you had. It was something in you that had shifted in a way he’d never seen before. The way that your skin just seemed to glow more than it ever had before. It was the way that the smell of you changed to something else he hadn't ever had to know before. Yet, even with his suspicions that you were carrying his child, Keigo didn’t say anything to you about it while you were still working out what was going on. The thing about Keigo wasn’t that he didn’t want a family. As a matter of fact, he did want one. The reason that Keigo waited for you to come to him with the realization that you were pregnant, was one much darker. He’d grown up without any true idea of what a family and unconditional love was. For someone like Keigo, the want and realization that he could have a family was terrifying. What if he wasn’t a good parent? What if he’d fuck his child or children up in the way the commission had done to him because that was all he’d known in terms of parental figure? Keigo couldn't imagine doing to an innocent child what had happened to him. What if his child came out with wings and the commission saw some way to capitalize or exploit it? There were so many points of confusion and contradiction in his head about how to feel about the impending news you were bound to tell him, he didn’t know how to feel about it.

He wanted a family. He wanted what he’d gone his entire life without. But just because he wanted that...didn’t mean he’d be any good at it.

Keigo had been relatively quick to change his tune on that. It’d started when you approached him with the collection of pregnancy tests you’d been hiding and the ultrasound you’d gotten when you’d gone to the first appointment to confirm with hard proof that there was indeed a baby growing inside you. He’d held those pregnancy tests in his hand, stared down at all those positive pregnancy signs on the little sticks. It’d hit him pretty hard in that moment, but had been nothing compared to the semi-truck that had plowed right through him when he’d seen that ultra sound of a little tiny chicken. One that was supposedly growing inside your belly. Keigo had been silent for a long period of time, his avian eyes glued to that little tiny thing that was developing inside you. He’d been quiet, stoic while you shifted around nervously, waiting for him to say something. 

When he finally remembered he had a voice, Keigo’s words were simple. Effortless in how they’d fallen off his tongue. “I’m going to be a dad.”

That’d been months ago, and since you’d handed that ultrasound to him, Keigo had known what he wanted with you. Now, you’d just passed your four month mark, just over halfway to when your due date was. And Keigo had been nothing shy of perfect. Every weird or odd craving you had, he’d jumped to get it or find it, or find someone who could get it. If he’d been obsessed with touching you before, it’d only been amplified since the appearance of your baby bump. You knew it’d always been in Keigo to have a breeding mindset, but the sex had turned an entirely different corner during your pregnancy as well. Things were different, though not in a bad way. He’d never thought you as weak or needing coddling before, but Keigo handled you in a very different way now. He was mindful that his child grew inside that beautiful belly of yours.

The past couple of months had gone by in a whirlwind. The place you and Keigo had gotten together (though really before that you might as well have been living together with how often you were at his place) was fully furnished, the nursery that would become your child’s slowly coming together as you and Keigo worked together to make it perfect. Despite the chaotic schedules you both worked around, Keigo hadn’t missed a single appointment. On his patrols and when he did his hero work, he carried a tinier version of that first ultrasound you’d given him. Folded up and creased well from how many times he’d opened it up to either show others or to look at it when he was hovered in the sky with a soft smile on his face. Despite his fears, his worries about his own ability to parent a (hopefully) mini-version of the child he’d been (and could hardly remember) before the commission had gotten a hold of him.

And you...he was so in love with the thought of you as a mother. As his wife, as his partner for the rest of his life. Keigo had never felt particularly fond of the domestic approach to life, so sure that he couldn’t have one of his own. But all it’d taken was the right person, the right time. All it’d taken was you.

Such were thoughts and memories that filtered through his mind as he rested his head on the bump of your belly, his index finger tracing idle shapes over the soft skin there. It was a lazy day, and neither one of you had thought it worthwhile to get out of bed. Keigo’s cheek was pressed up against your belly, letting out little coo’s and trills from the back of his throat, hoping that his son or daughter could hear him through the skin, muscle, and fat. He nuzzled his head against it, which only brought a giggle from you, causing your belly to shake as his head popped up.

“What?” Something that you’d taken notice to since the moment Keigo had jumped on the fatherhood bandwagon, was how much more protective he’d become over you. Any moan or groan from stretching or even the smallest pain that had nothing to do with your baby, set him on edge. There were times where it could become overwhelming, but you knew he did it with the best intentions. He just wanted to be able to protect the things that he thought were most precious to him. You and his unborn child.

“Nothing,” you answered, head propped up on several pillows. You reached out and pushed some golden blond hair from where it’d flopped onto his forehead. “You just tickled me, is all.” Keigo watched you for a beat longer to make sure that was all that was wrong, before he dropped his head back to your belly and resumed his tracing. He traced your belly, you combed through the usually windswept and knotted golden hair of his with gentleness. The two of you lapsed into a stretch of quiet, though it’d always been comfortable. You stared down as Keigo followed the route his finger too, the only sound following shortly after the sounds and tongue clicks that came from the back of his throat. 

“Do you think they’ll like me?” Came his sudden question. “Our baby, I mean. Do...will I be a good dad?”

It’d been a question you’d seen in Keigo’s eyes several times throughout your pregnancy so far, but never one he’d actually vocalized. To hear it asked then, his voice so hesitant as if he really considered the fact that the answer would be a no, broke your heart. You sat up straighter in your position. Keigo stirred, twisting around so that he could look up at you. His brows were turned up, eyes open and vulnerable as he waited for your answer. 

“Keigo,” you said, feeling the (pregnancy hormonal) shift of emotions overtake your thought process. Quickly enough, tears prickled at the corner of your eyes. “Keigo, how could you not be?” You leaned in as much as you could with your protruding belly. “You are going to be the best dad to our little chicken nugget,” you said, hand reached out to cup his cheek, the stubble tickling your palm. “And they are going to love you so much, and nothing is going to change that.”

He thought about the things he’d done in his life prior to meeting you. Prior to wanting to be a better version of himself that didn’t rely on a cynical sense of self-preservation in order to get through the days. It’d taken so long for Keigo to admit to himself that he had a life worth living. He averted his gaze from yours, looking down to your swollen belly. “You think so?”

Your grip on Keigo’s chin tightened, bringing that look back up to meet yours. “Of course I do. You know why I think that? Because you didn’t have it, and you would never want anyone to have to go through what you did. Because you have so much love already in your heart, for me, for our baby.” Your thumb brushed over his cheek, and Keigo leaned into your touch with closed eyes. “Because it’s too easy to imagine you waking up in the middle of the night and tripping over some toys in the nursery to feed them, teaching them how to tie their shoes, how to fly if they have wings like they’re incredible dad,” the tears in your eyes blurred your vision, and you felt wetness on Keigo’s cheek from his own tears. “Taking them up to look at the stars, to chase the sunset, and giving me a heart attack the entire time you’re gone,” you whispered. “I couldn’t have picked a better person out there in the world to raise a family with.” was your conclusion, the words final as you swept away his tears. “Please don’t doubt yourself like that ever again, Keigo.”

He opened his eyes slowly, golden eyes noticeably softer. The emotion behind your words were ones he felt straight to the center of his being. How heavy the conviction was behind them. Keigo leaned over and pressed a series of chaste kisses against your belly. A belly that held his future and half of his world in it. The imagery you’d made with your words played in his head like a movie he had yet to see. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

You shook your head, hand moving back to his hair. “Don’t be. Just know whatever it is you think you won’t be able to do...you’ll be able to do. Especially with me at your side.” Your stomach gave a little rumble, drawing both of your attention to it. “Though, I do think baby Keigo could do with some chocolate and marshmallow ice cream right about now...”

This perked Keigo right up, and with one final press to your belly he was sprung from the bed, throwing on some grey sweats and the jacket he wore when he flew. “I’ll be back in ten.”

[teresa-of-ficwill]

Silly Hat (Geraskier Fic)

I've got too inspired by Season 2 trailer and Jaskier's new look so here we are.

‘Your hat looks silly,’ it was the first thing Jaskier heard from Geralt after- well, it has been a long time. A year or so since what happened on the mountain. Since Geralt broke his heart with all the cruelty the witcher was capable of.

Jaskier wanted to say that he healed. That he was capable of leaving his feelings and his dear witcher behind. He wanted to say it but he couldn't because it would be a terrible lie.

He didn't heal, not even a little. Now, looking into these yellow cat eyes, it felt even worse than it was before. Because Geralt was here for some reason. And for some reason, he didn't like his hat.

Jaskier took off his hat. ‘I think it looks cute,’ he answered.

The hat was not the only thing that changed. His hair became longer and his clothes- well, they just became different. He didn't feel like himself recently. Actually, never since the mountain.

‘It's silly,’ the witcher repeated, and Jaskier didn’t feel like arguing with him so he left his hat on the table.

‘Well, maybe,’ he said and then sat on the bench. ‘Do you want something else or telling me I look silly was your purpose?’

‘You don't look silly. Just the hat,’ Geralt sat on the bench too. ‘You look- different.’

The bard chuckled sadly, ‘Should I take this as a compliment or-’

‘I liked your performance,’ the witcher interrupted him, and Jaskier looked him straight in the eyes, a little bit confused. Surprised.

‘Em- thanks,’ the bard muttered. ‘No need to lie tho. I know you don't like my singing.’

‘It's not true.’

‘Well, you said it's like ordering a pie and finding out it has no filling, so-’ Jaskier remembered, trying not to remember how much these words hurt him back then.

‘I don't like pies with filling,’ said Geralt and the bard's eyes widened. ‘They are too- sugary.’

Okay- now Jaskier was confused more than ever. So it was- a fucking compliment?

‘I like your singing,’ the witcher added in case the bard still didn't get it.

Jaskier shook his head. ‘Anyway, why are you here?’ he asked because everything felt strange.

‘I came to- to invite you with me.’

‘Where?’

‘To Kaer Morhen.’

‘Why? After all you said it isn't even logical.’

Geralt sighed. That's it, that's the talk he was so afraid to have. ‘I was wrong. And I'm sorry.’

‘You said that my disappearing from your life would be a blessing!’ Jaskier exclaimed. ‘Don’t expect me to believe that you are sorry.’

‘I am. It was a huge mistake. I didn't mean all these words.’

Jaskier shook his head, staring at the table. ‘It's not fair,’ he muttered.

‘What?’

‘It's not fair!’ Jaskier shouted, suddenly jumping to his feet and making Geralt flinch a little. ‘After all these days when every word you said tortured me and my broken heart didn't let me sleep, you just come and say you are sorry?! What do you expect me to do? Believe you FUCKING AGAIN?!’

‘Jask-’ Geralt reached out but Jaskier immediately jerked back.

‘I can't, Geralt. I just can’t. I won’t survive another broken heart,’ he said before grabbing his lute and running away.

The witcher sighed, looking at the silly hat the bard left on the table. Some mistakes cannot be fixed and it was so painful to think that Jaskier’s broken heart was one of them.

***

Jaskier wasn't sure where exactly he was running but he was definitely running away. He wasn’t ready to believe Geralt again because he had already felt like a fool after believing that Geralt would someday love him back during all these years. He was a fool. Such a fool.

‘Are you alright?’ a girl with long blonde hair approached him.

‘I- I'm not sure,’ Jaskier answered, completely out of breath.

‘Do you need help?’ she asked. ‘My name is Cirilla, by the way, but you can call me Ciri.’

‘I'm fine, don't worry.’ he tried to assure her.

‘Why were you running then?’

‘Well, I-’ Jaskier struggled to find the answer. ‘It's complicated,’ he finally said. ‘And what are you doing here?’ the bard asked because he managed to run away from town and now was somewhere in the field. To meet a 12 years old girl there was strange.

‘I'm waiting for my dad,’ she answered. ‘He said he needed to go to town to talk to someone very important. I think he meant “apologize for what he has said and done” but he actually isn't good at those things,’ Ciri chuckled.

‘And he left you alone?’

‘I can take care of myself. And also he said he will return soon,’ the girl smiled. ‘Our camp is near, do you want some tea? You can tell me what made you so sad.’

‘I’m not sad.’

‘Yes, you are.’

In a few minutes, he was sitting in a small camp near the fire. A few trees were hiding it from the main road. A horse was grazing not far from the hastily organized camp. Ciri held out a cup of tea to Jaskier.

‘Where are you traveling with your dad?’ the bard asked when the girl sat near him.

‘I’m not sure. He said that he would take me home. I've never been there so it’s kinda exciting.’

‘Never been- home?’ Jaskier repeated, a little bit confused.

‘Well, he is not my real dad, I’m kinda adopted. But he likes it when I call him that. Never admits it but I know he likes it.’

‘Mhm,’ the bard muttered, processing the new information. ‘Do you have a mother?’

‘Do you mean the real one or if dad has a wife?’ Ciri asked, smiling.

‘In all this situation, I think the second,’ Jaskier said, taking a sip of tea. If this girl was adopted by a man who wasn’t her father, it seemed like she didn’t have any relatives or all her relatives were dead. The bard wasn't sure what was better.

‘No, he hasn’t. But he has someone he loves. Really loves, like with all his heart. Talks about him for hours. Actually, he went into town to find him. I have never met him before but dad assured me that I would like him. Dad said he sings beautiful songs. It seems like you sing too,’ she pointed at the lute which was laying near them.

‘I’m a bard. Songs earn me a living,’ Jaskier answered.

‘Bards are cool,’ Ciri smiled, making Jaskier smile too. ‘What’s your name again?’

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Jaskier.’

The girl looked really surprised, ‘Jaskier?’

‘Yes. Why are you-’ he started but wasn’t able to finish the question because they suddenly heard approaching footsteps.

‘It must be my dad,’ Ciri said.

‘Well, maybe I should go then-’ Jaskier started but she interrupted him.

‘No, wait here. We’ll be back in a minute.’

***

If you wanna find out what happened next, follow the link to my ao3 😉.

[malereader-inserts]

To Serve Our King and Queen

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Daenerys Targeryen x Baratheon!Reader, Sansa Stark x Baratheon!Reader Summary: A story of heart break, love and heart break again. Word Count:  2,407 Request:  Hey can u do a Daenerys x Baratheon reader where he is the son of cersei and Robert the true son. He used to be In love with Sansa but she wanted Joffrey so she break his heart. Reader leaves king’s landing with tyrion and meet Daenerys where both fall In love with each other. Later Sansa sees the reader with dany and Jon when they arrive to the north. Sansa is being disrespectful towards dany and reader put Sansa in her place and tells her to not talk to his WIFE like that ever again please. A/n: I changed it a bit, I wish it was a little bitter but oh well. 

Cersei and Robert were married before he even became king, Tywin had faith that the Baratheon would overrule the Mad King. It was the start of the downfall of their marriage, the sex was lousy, but it got the lioness pregnant. You were a beautiful babe that Cersei had fallen in love with your looks.

You were a year old when your father overthrows the throne and becomes king of the seven kingdoms. You had a somewhat happy childhood, you were spoilt by your father more than your younger brother - Joffery. Whilst your mother somewhat loved you, you knew that she loved her golden crown children more than you, you had a suspicion about your siblings, they look too much of your uncle Jaime than your father, which was known that Baratheon seed was strong.

So, you were more of a father’s boy than your mother’s. At a young age, you were trained hard, went through advisers and teachers - teaching your expanding knowledge, your father demanded that you were to start off young in training to be king, making sure you know how to fight and be a respected knight just like your father. When you were growing up, you were told tales from your uncle Tyrion, who adored you because he could hold an intellectual conversation with you.

As you grew up, often at times you went with your father to go on hunting, even met with your dad’s best friend and his children. You often had playtime with them, being good friends with Robb and Jon, but you were always wanting to be with Sansa, your father laughs that you would marry Sansa when you two were older - Ned would laugh too.

As years gone past, you tried to ignore your father’s debauchery and your mother’s ever growing hatred towards you. You grew up to be a fine young man, despite being the son of two fucked up people, you were a loved prince - charming, caring and a fighter. You were too familiar with your mother’s manipulation that you were just as smart as her in playing games.

Tywin saw your potential to rule. The people will love you, they already do, because you weren’t fake but you knew when to stand your ground. You weren’t going to be pushed around, you knew your worth to that throne and you will be king whether your mother likes it or not. 

You knew what you wanted but sometimes that’s not how it works out.

You wanted Sansa as a bride, when you arrived at Winterfell after so many years later, you saw how beautiful Sansa was. But, you could see how she was ogling on your brother Joffery, you scoffed - he’s not that big of a deal. 

“Sansa be wise, pick (Y/n),” Robb says in their little family circle after being dismissed in greeting the king, “Jon and I know him better than you, and he’s a delight.”

“But, he’s not Joffery.”

Arya snorted, “Of course, you would want a little prat than an actual prince.”

“Joffery is a prince,” Sansa argued, “He’s handsome and I love him.”

“You barely know the boy,” Robb says with concern on his voice, “How do you even know if you love him?”

You tried winning Sansa’s heart, but before you left Winterfell, Sansa had pulled you aside, you had a little bit of hope but you had seen how she was all over your brother and was by his side every opportunity she could get.

You got your heartbroken by her, she was honest and you were thankful for that, but it hurt your heart. Sure, the two of you were still young, feelings can change like the wind and nothing is certain in the future. 

When you arrived home, you talked to your dad about it and for once, he got serious - talking about that even if you were rejected you should always try to pursue her. He then laughed it off saying Baratheon men don’t have much luck with Stark ladies, but you could see in the pain in his father’s eyes as he remembers Lyanna Stark. 

When your father died there were talks about who will inherit the throne, Cersei was quick on her game to get Joffery on the throne, you were livid. There was a screaming match between you and your mother in front of the small council before venomously bidding her hell. It was Varys, who started to tell you to leave because there were talks of your mother that she was going to hire people to kill you. 

You couldn’t risk that, so you took a route down to the deepest part of Kings landing, keeping yourself out of sight, picking up a stray sword that caught your eye.

That’s your story really.

Anyone back home would believe that you were killed or dead, and suffered in the rule of Joffery Baratheon. People called your the lost prince of hope, their last strand of hope.

Tyrion did not expect to see you alive and by Daenarys side when he entered Esso, running away with the potential of execution on his head. When he saw you, it had been a few years that had past, you were a lot different. 

Your hair was longer, you had grown more muscle mass, must of because you trained with Greyworm. You stood up straighter as if you had a purpose, but you looked happier. What your uncle did not expect was to look at the silver haired woman with such love.

It was a familiar look that he had seen, it was the same look you used to stare at Sansa with. But, to Tyrion’s surprised the look with returned. When you weren’t paying attention or was looking away, Daenerys would give you the same look of love. Tyrion asked Barristan, who laughs and nods.

“Those two? In love like any other teenagers!” He laughs, shaking his head, “They’re betrothed to each other, looking for the perfect time to marry. Daenerys has explicitly said that she wanted no one by her side when she becomes Queen, but learning Ser (Y/n) story, she realised that the two of them have the biggest claim to the throne, rightfully, and on the way, she fell in love with him as did he.”

“Of course,” Tyrion nodded, “I would have liked to see my nephew rule the seven kingdoms, at least he has the birthright unlike Joffery and his siblings.”

“Bastards?” Ser Barristan asked as Tyrion nodded, “Well, that explains the blond hair.”

“I know for the fact that (Y/n) would rule with a good heart, he was trained and he has compassion, he fought any manipulation and lies that were fed to him.”

“Yes,” the knight nods, “I wonder what the people of Westeros would think when they find out a Baratheon could ride a dragon.”

As months past, years past on, Tyrion watched his nephew enjoy his life fighting for what is rightfully his alongside his wife, who loves him as much as he did. There was no one better to rule the Realms other than two great leaders. Tyrion watched how Daenerys freed slaves and took control, Tyrion remembers how you were as a prince. 

“Was there someone you loved before me?” Daenerys asked once, it was on the sail back to Westeros, she could see how excited you were to return home.

You looked at her, “I did, once,” You say, remembering how Dany had disclosed her lovers to you before, “She was fiery, but unlikely you who is made of fire and blood, it was her striking red hair - her name was Sansa Stark.”

“Is she-?”

“My uncle has told me before he had fled that she was alive, but I have no idea where she is now or if she is alive. I’m sure she turned to be a fine young lady.”

Dany raised an eyebrow, “Do tell more.”

“Well, as you know I am of Lannister blood.”

“I am aware,” Dany says distastefully, cringing that you were of blood of the man who murdered her father and you were the son of the man who killed her brother.

“She was more in love with my brother, Joffery. Half-brother because I had my suspicion that he wasn’t of Baratheon blood. You could say he’s pure, like you.”

Dany nods, knowing what you mean, after all, she is in a long line of keeping her blood pure as her relatives were all related one way or another. She hates to think the fact if she were to marry her narcissistic brother, Viserys, whilst both of you acknowledge that you two were distantly related - it was a fact that she was willing to ignore. 

“He was a cunt,” You laughed whilst your wife giggles next to you in bed, “Spoilt and full of himself, I don’t want to imagine what his rule was like, but stories from my uncle it seems to appear as hell.”

“And she picked him over you?” Daenerys asked, raising an eyebrow, “Well, her loss, I think I have a great man before me. A true king.” 

You chuckle, smiling at her lovingly, kissing her forehead, “Shall we sleep, my love?”

“No,” She pouts as you can’t help but find it adorable, “I think you should tell me tales of Westeros, after all, it’s more of your home than it is of mine.”

You weren’t expecting to return to Winterfell, but, it demanded it’s independence, which you thought was outrageous - really. You were reunited with Jon, who greets you with a smile, a joke and good hug - it has been a while since you’ve seen your best friend, glad to see him alive.

You thought that you were going to take over Kings landing, but having to take a detour route to Winterfell to battle in a war of the undead. Although, you get to see your mother before going to the North.

You relish the sight to see her and your uncle Jaime astonished that you were alive and knowing you were going back to claim for the throne. Cersei did not miss how your eyes darken and the glimmer of your sword.

“Mother.”

“Son.”

It was the only interaction you had with her, she refused to come to talk to you, you weren’t surprised - you lacked a mother’s love as you grew up. But, Jaime tried his best to get you to talk to him. You shook off his advances before turning to Jon and Daenerys.

You were surprised to see Sansa, as she was with you. Arya had noticed how she was staring.

“You’re staring, do you have regrets?”

Sansa cleared her throat and stood up straight, “No, he’s just grown.”

“So, have you, perhaps you have a chance at wooing him,” Arya hums looking over to you, talking to Jon with Daenerys by your side, “I can’t deny that he is very handsome.”

You barely got to talk to Sansa when everyone was preparing to war, luckily that your group of people survived the war. But, Missandei was down in the tombs with Sansa and Tyrion where she had heard that Sansa was disrespecting your wife.

Missandei was going to tell her Queen, but rather think other when she sees you walking towards her with a smile - she knew that you were better to handle it. She saw how your jaw locked, no one was going to disrespect your wife.

“Thank you, Missandei, please be with Dany, I’ll sort her out.”

You went to Jon first, who was confused at his cousin after you and Dany told him that he was actually the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Jon had his whole heart to support you and Dany’s plan to rule the seven kingdoms, agreeing that despite Winterfell wanting independence, they would struggle.

Sansa was trying to find the right ways to talk to you, perhaps try and mend the relationship. But, when you were looking at her as you stride towards her - she thinks differently. 

Tyrion was in the room, trailing behind you as well as Varys. Jon followed closely behind whilst Arya looked confused, looking at her sister. 

“How dare you disrespect your Queen!” 

No greetings, no smile upon your face, fury on your expression and for once in her life, Sansa no longer recognise the sweet boy from many years ago.

“You should owe her your life after she came to rescue your home! She brought dragons and not once has she spoken about the clear disrespect that you and your people wore. She is not mad like her father at all.”

Tyrion, Varys, Jon and many other people could agree to that, Daenerys was nothing like her father and it was mostly because of you. You were her constant grounding, bringing her to reality and knowing that you will always be by her side. 

“She’s not my Queen!” Sansa snaps back, gritting her teeth, “I don’t think she should be if anything if someone was to take the throne it should be you! It’s been rightfully yours since your father died.”

“It is my throne,” You sneered as Sansa stops upon hearing your words, “You’re not only disrespecting your queen, you are disrespecting my wife.”

Wife.

Her hearts shatter, she wonders is that how you felt when she had rejected you. Your eyes were cold, your stance was stiff and the lost Valyrian sword matches it’s current owner - you. It reflected who you were, shiny and attractive, but can cut so deeply - it was hard to recover from it’s inflicted wounds.

“You shall never bad mouth the throne, you hear me?” You pressed on, your tone turning stern that she reluctantly nods, “Don’t test me, Stark.” 

With that, you turn on your heel and leave the room, leaving the occupants confused and somewhat terrified. 

“Well...” Arya breaks the silence, “Sansa?”

Her heart was broken, she thought this time she could find love. She was never Joffery’s, she refuses to be claimed by Ramsey and she lost Theon. But, she could not let a man ruin her thoughts, putting up a wall as she looks away from where you last were.

“I believe we all have a meeting on how we will accompany our King and Queen to the throne.”

She dreads to see you because she knows when she arrives - you will look at Daenerys with love and it’ll be returned. 

[ag3ntl3vi]

Kenma Kozume X Male Reader | “Fighter” | ☁️

I wrote this out of boredom at like, 3AM. 

Word count: 2,345

Trigger Warning: Fighting, cursing, blood. 

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

Such bullshit, you thought as a group of violent alphas glared up at you. You clicked your tongue, swinging your prized metal bat off your shoulders, slapping it loudly against your palm. 

"You're such a nuisance," you grumbled.

"Us?! You're the one spreading their pheromones like a whore!" The self-proclaimed 'leader' spat, venom lacing his words. You rolled your eyes, moving your body into a fighting stance. 

"Yeah? But aren't you the shitbag who touched that omega chick without consent?" You lowly growled. The alpha faltered, giving you your answer, before snapping back to reality. "She asked for it! Practically begged! Her scent-!"

"Her scent, what?" You took menacing steps forward, pushing your bat under his chin aggressively. You were relatively tall which made you intimidating along with your mean features but you weren't feared enough to be spared violence due to your second gender, and Omega. You could easily be mistaken for a powerful Alpha from afar. 

You were born with slanted, glaring eyes and a harsh resting bitch face, so you could understand why people tended to avoid you at first glance. 

Your eyes glared with pent up rage as you lifted your bat above your head and brought it down on the shitty alphas shoulder. 

A sickening crack echoed through the empty alleyway, the alpha gasping in pain before another blow from your knee slammed into his chin. He stumbled back onto his ass, gripping his shoulder pathetically.

"Your scent is disgusting," You grimaced, waving your hand in front of your nose.

"Get them, idiots!" He whined loudly. His goons charged you a second later. Swiftly, you dunked under one's metal pipe, kicking his gut and pushing him off his feet. You dropped to the concrete and quickly knocked another's ankles from under him, swinging your bat over your head (hitting someone's chin in the process), and bounced it hard against his soft belly. 

You rolled over but was forced back by a shoe to your cheek. You hissed, looking up before having your silky locks fisted and your face smashed into a hard kneecap. You gasped as blood oozed from your nose.

You forcefully shook off the pain and grabbed your offender's wrist and with a burst of short-lived power, swung him over your head and knocking him out cold against the hard floor. 

You laid there for a hot second, staring up at the baby blue sky. There weren't any clouds, you noticed sadly. 

You were tempted to fall asleep but you were sure when the sad excuses of alphas woke it wouldn't be pleasant for you. 

You knew the scene looked horrible to an unknowing eye, but you couldn't bring yourself to give a single shit. 

You sighed and picked your slightly bloodied weapon up to lazily toss it over your shoulders, walking to the entrance of the alleyway. 

Though, surprisingly, you had bumped into someone. It wasn't your fault you couldn't see him, you had the worst vision. You furrowed your brows internally, you needed to see an eye doctor soon.

The guy you bumped into bristled like a startled cat, taking a short step back as he clutched his Nintendo DS close to his chest. You glared down at him. 

"Ah... Sorry," He muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground. He glanced down the alley at the sound of a pained moan. 

You scowled at the noise, releasing a loud sigh through your nose. 

"No, sorry. I wasn't paying attention." You quietly said. Kenma nodded slowly, looking back to his gaming device, not caring too much about the very obvious fight that had just ensued. 

"You play Animal Crossing?" You asked, recognizing the soft music instantly. 

Though shocked a guy like you knew the game, Kenma nodded again.

"Cool, me too. Give me your name," You said smoothly, though internally you were ecstatic someone else played the game.

That's how you met the pudding haired boy. After exchanging your contact information, you went your separate ways.

You texted Kenma first.

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

I want to play COD. Do you have it?"

To: (Y/n)

From: Kenma 

yeah. whats your gamertag?

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

DyNaMiTe.

Don't ask.

To: (Y/n)

From: Kenma

I won't. 

Let's play.

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

Oh, btw, do you have a mic?

After adding your new friend on the Playstation, you connected to a call and played several rounds of COD before you got bored of slaughtering random enemies. 

"Let's play Mario Kart," You stated. 

"Okay," Came Kenma's short answer. 

You ended up playing until sunrise. You had to admit, the bloodshot eyes and sore muscles were worth it. Kenma was a surprisingly good player and you could say with confidence he was now a gamer buddy. 

More time passed since you met the setter, but he knew deep down it was only a matter of time before he was forced to introduce you to his childhood friend. As of now, he was thankful he told him very little about his newfound friend.

The more you hung out with Kenma at school the more open he became, giving you longer answers rather than his short, to the point ones. Sometimes he'd call you randomly at night requesting you play Animal Crossing with him and everyone else had gone to sleep. 

It was a lie. Kenma didn't have any other friends, but he wouldn't admit that anytime soon. He had to go when a loud voice called for him to get his ass to bed, though you weren't sure who it was. Maybe his dad? But he sounded young. You shrugged it off, it wasn't your business anyway. 

A week later you and Kenma sat on the roof of the school. You took a large bite out of a thick sandwich layered with meat and cheese. Kenma favored a neat bento his mother made him the night before. Occasionally, you'd glance at his teriyaki and whine. It took a while but the blonde finally gave in, holding a ball of meat in between his chopsticks towards you. 

"You wanted one, right?" He muttered, avoiding eye contact. You grinned and sloppily took it from him, thanking him as you chewed. Kenma grimaced and wiped at the corner of your mouth with a napkin. 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, idiot.." He whispered.

Aw, look! He's being nice~ Your inner Omega swooned. You pushed down a blush, though Kenma could've sworn he saw a thin layer of pink dusting your cheeks, though he couldn't tell due to a large bruise. He brushed it off. 

More time passe. As the days increased so did the bruises, cuts, and even a few stitches. Kenma had noticed you being pulled out of class through the window of his classroom but never really questioned it, assuming you were skipping with your friends.

He couldn't have been more wrong. 

"You're fucking joking," You muttered, staring at that shitty alpha from a few months ago standing in front of your classroom. He had innocently claimed his teacher needed to talk to you, something about your grandma's passing or some bullshit excuse. Your grandmother had been dead for three years. 

"Come along now, (Y/n)," He whimpered sadly, patting your shoulder. "You wouldn't want anything bad happening to your little blonde pal, would you?" He whispered dangerously in your ear. You allowed him to lead you out of the classroom.

You glared, growling. "You're bluffing," You accused, crossing your arms across your chest. 

He raised a brow. "Am I? I have a buddy in his classroom, all I have to do is get him to bring your pal out. He doesn't look like a very strong alpha..." he trailed off, a sick grin pulling at his cheeks.

You cursed under your breath, an image of Kenma's small, shy smile crossing your mind. No way in hell would you let this dickbag of an alpha touch what's yours.

Mine.  Your Omega growled loudly. 

 Ours, You thought back. 

You would protect him all you could.

After school Kenma went to volleyball practice, per normal, but you weren't waiting for him when he left his classroom. Normally you would pick him up and walk him to the gym then wait on the side of the gates where Kenma would make up an excuse to walk home with you instead of Kuroo. 

He furrowed his brows, confused. He checked the bathrooms on his way to the gym, not seeing you. Did you get sick? He made a quick stop at the nurse's office, asking if you had gone home. She shook her head, claiming nobody had gone home today. 

As nervous as he was, he made his way to the volleyball court, changing into his proper shoes. As little as he normally played, he couldn't get his mind off you. He had a sinking feeling something was very wrong. 

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had started to develop feelings for the taller Omega. He had denied it for a while, but he had soon come to terms with it. What was the point in acting like they weren't there? It would be there anyway. He couldn't act like his heart didn't start to pound in his chest every time he saw you or how worried and protective he felt when he saw a new bruise or cut on your body.  He felt butterflies when you laughed at your victories in first-person shooter games or that childish grin you got when he caved and let you have his teriyaki at lunch. 

"Kenma!" Kuroo called, jogging over. Kenma hummed, looking up at the raven. 

"Are you alright? You're more out of it than usual," Kuroo asked, his brows knitting together worriedly. The blonde bit his lip, looking down, to the left and right before meeting his gaze again. 

"You.. Know that guy I told you about?" He muttered.

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. "The one you're madly in love-" Kenma yelped, slapping his hands over his mouth quickly, his face exploding into a red blush. "Sh!" he hissed. 

Kuroo smirked behind his friend's hands, giving them a wet lick. Kenma gagged, jerking his hands away and wiping them violently on the rooster haired male's black shirt. "Gross..." He whined.

Kruoo laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know the guy. What bout him?" 

The setter sighed, voicing his concern. "He wasn't here today to get me," He started. "He didn't text me he was leaving and it looks like he's getting.. hurt more often." His voice dipped into a whisper as worries and anxieties flooded his brain. Something wasn't right, he just knew it.

Kuroo hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. "Have you asked him?" Kenma shook his head. "You should," Kuroo gave him a long stare. "I don't see why you haven't." 

Kenma opened his mouth, then closed it. "I don't know." He said. "Somethings wrong," He looked down, shuffling his feet. "Really wrong. With him."

An overbearing scent caught his attention. Faintly he smelt the omega's natural scent, pine, and fresh campfire. 

"Find him," Kuroo smiled. "I think there's something between you two, more than a bro-bro relationship." He teased. Kenma blushed, wasting no time in changing into his outdoor shoes and Volleyball jacket before he bolted out the door. He zipped the red jacket up to his chin and smelt the cold air, searching for his crush's scent.

He ran to the gates of the school and made his way to the empty park. It was concealed by the thick forest and thicket, but the unmistakable smell of him. 

He pushed through the thorns and sniffed the air. His smell was strong, he was close. A heavy feeling of anxiety and excitement settled in the pit of his stomach as he broke through the bushes. 

Kenma's golden eyes caught sight of a figure hunched over in a swing and he jogged over.

"(Y/n)?" He asked. You flinched at his voice, as comforting as it may have been to you, you lowered your head, your hair blocking your face.

Kenma's nose picked up on a dreadful, and disgusting scent. Blood.

"(Y/n), what happened?" He lowered himself to the dirt, looking under your bangs. "Please, look at me.." he muttered, reaching up to brush the hair away from your face.

You sniffed and looked up, tears brimming your narrowed eyes as blood dribbled down your face from a large cut across your temple, your nose, and busted lip. Your knuckles were a bright red, dotting with blood. A tear slid down your cheek and you hurriedly wiped it away, jerking your head aside.

"It's nothing," You growled. Kenma narrowed his eyes, standing up.

"It's not." He said. 

"It's nothing, Kenma." You whispered, smearing the blood across your face when you rubbed your sore nose. "Just a stupid fight." 

"(Y/n), talk to me," Kenma muttered, glaring down at your hunched form. "I can't help if you don't fucking talk to me, you know." You winced at the harsh curse. The shorter one didn't cuss often, only at games when he lost a hard round or when he was pissed. 

"I said it's nothing, drop it." You hissed, your (e/c) orbs piercing into his honey eyes. He held your stare sternly. 

You caved. 

"Someone threatened to hurt you if they didn't get revenge. They wanted a punching bag for a while. In exchange, they'd leave you alone. Satisfied?" You huffed childishly.

Kenma gaped at you. 

Had you really gone and got yourself beat to a pathetic lump all so he was spared a little pushing around? 

When he didn't answer you took a breath. 

"I'd rather be a human punching bag than allow the guy I love to get hurt," You grumbled, holding your breath. Yeah, fuck you, you knew what you were saying. You were low enough and if the setter didn't return your feelings the internally bruising would heal with your external cuts. 

"The guy you love?" Kenma whispered. "You... Love me?" he stared at you, slightly wide-eyed. You nodded stiffly. 

"Me too."

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

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku: Chapter 4 "My depression may be chronic, but my ass is iconic"

I bet you didn't think you were ever gonna see an update. well neither did I. What can I say? writing with a broken hand is a struggle.

Link to the fic on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929483/chapters/81090403

Izuku’s first day of high school was interesting, to say the least, or it would’ve been if he actually went to school instead of spreading mayhem amongst UA’s first years. Shinjuku Metropolitan has been rather lenient in regards to his attendance or lack of thereof, thanks to whatever bullshit Shin wrote to the school on his behalf to ensure that the faculty would accommodate his ‘condition’. Which is just fancy wording for ‘I got a get out of school card’. Truth be told, this is probably the best thing that the doctor has ever done for him since Izuku was nowhere near ready to return to mainstream education, not after everything that has happened in middle school. The last thing he needed were looks of pity and guilt-induced niceties from people who otherwise had no problem laughing at his misfortune.

So instead Izuku has decided to spend his time productively - if you could count tormenting your ex-childhood friend and having an accidental family reunion as such.

Uncle Shouta always had a bit of a mean streak to him, although it never really felt as such when Izuku himself interacted with him. From what little of his childhood he could remember that didn’t involve trauma and discrimination, his uncle was a somewhat kind, but grumpy man. He believed in a brand of tough love - that somehow did not correspond with the way his mother raised him in the slightest and went above and beyond for things and people he held close to his heart. Sure they haven’t seen each other since Izuku was 4, but if his uncle’s empty threats from today’s Quirk Apprehension Test are anything to go by, not much has changed.

Which brings him back to now; sitting in an empty classroom that he does not belong to - a school that he does not belong to, writing down his ever-so-detailed notes about the quirks he will only be able to admire from afar. Not much has changed , indeed.

It almost feels like a betrayal. Almost , being the operative word, because he has no reason to cling onto the things that he no longer cares about - should no longer care about, for they had died along with him that day on the roof, and were properly buried within the four walls that Izuku called his own during his stay in the hospital.

But well...looks like today Izuku is in a mood to dig up old corpses.

Metaphorically, that is.

“God, you’re still here!”

“Kacchan we’ve talked about this” he replied, rather dramatically “God is dead and all that’s left is me”

Kacchan clearly did not appreciate his superior sense of humour, if the lack of response is anything to go by. “No seriously, why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same”

“I actually study here you fuckwit!” the blond exclaimed in his ever explosive fashion “Besides I had to come back and get my change of clothes since that demonic pet of yours was sitting on them when we were all leaving for the test”

“Huh, that actually reminds me...where’s Bandit?”

“Oi, don’t change the subject you shitty Deku” replied Bakugou, as he kicked one of the chairs over towards the desk that was currently occupied by Izuku and slumped down in it in a way that would perhaps appear as non-caring to absolutely no one “I didn’t know your uncle was a pro-hero.”

Ah, so that’s what he was bothered about.

“That makes the two of us”

“Wait, really?!”

“Honestly Kacchan! Did you really think that IF I knew my uncle was a pro-hero that I would be able to ever shut up about it?”

“No way in hell!”

“Exactly!”

Well, now that the topic of his uncle has been cleared up, there wasn’t much else to talk about, at least not much that wouldn’t result in collateral damage or a Bakugou shitshow 2.0. Both of the boys were well aware of it of course, but let it never be said that either of them could be stopped by things like common sense, especially when it came to avoiding conversational land mines.

“So...what are you scribbling over here?” asked Bakugou in a rather poor and possibly the most awkward attempt at establishing small talk that has ever been known to man and sheep kind alike.

“Ok, no! That is not happening” snapped Izuku, who very much saw where this was going and was having none of it “We are NOT having a civil conversation!”

“Why the fuck not?!” replied the blond, his anger as booming and apparent as his quirk.

“Because that is not something we DO Kacchan!” shouted the teen, banging his hands against the desk, his notebook long forgotten.

“Well, maybe we should?!” exclaimed Bakugou, who was quick to anger, yet quicker to notice his ex-friend’s unusual mood as he tried to make an effort to de-escalate the situation.

“Oh? Should we really? !” sneered Izuku, feeling the kind of anger and disdain he hasn’t felt in a long time, not since that fateful day in the ward.

“That’s rich coming from you” he continued as he stood up form the chair, unable to keep still in his fury as he circled the classroom “All you ever did was shout at me, insult me and throw baseless accusations at me left and right for god knows how long, but suddenly YOU want to have a conversation with me? Isn’t it enough that we kinda talked about our feelings that one time when I was still stuck in the psych ward?!”

Honestly, what do you expect Kacchan?” asked Izuku, feeling raw and hysteric and all kinds of wrong, spilling his metaphorical guts to his ex-bully/friend “That we will just start having normal conversations like nothing ever happened, act like we’re friends or some shit? Because let’s be honest, we haven’t been friends for a very long time, that ship has sunk long before I even attempted suicide! ”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” screamed Bakugou, feeling equally angry, but mostly out of his depth in the situation. He expected Deku to possibly mock him for his awkward attempts at small talk. What the blond didn’t expect was for him to snap, in a way that was somewhat familiar but not quite, as even the few times they’ve spoken back when Izuku was in the hospital or when he got released, his tempter felt controlled in a way it was not at the moment. Katsuki wasn’t sure what exactly triggered such a strong response, but he was not looking forward to having another fight, at least not one initiated by him.

“I’m not trying to pretend it didn’t happen” he explained “I just want to move forward. I’m not the same asshole I was last year and neither are you, so I don’t want to be stuck on how things used to be ! It makes me feel like I’m going nowhere.”

“Ok! Fine! You wanna talk?! Then let me fuckin TELL you something! You asked me what I was ‘scribbling’ over here?” exclaims Izuku, as he stomps his way back towards the desk and snatches his notebook, waving it aggressively in front of Bakugou “IT’S THE SAME STUFF I’VE BEEN SCRIBBLING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME!” he screamed “Those quirk analysis notebooks you used to mock me for? It’s another one of those because as it turns out  I still AM the same asshole I was last year! Now then, can YOU tell ME how many of those I’ve had?”

“Thirteen…” mutters Bakugou, feeling like he’s walking into a proverbial trap.

“Good boy, you can count! Now, can you tell me what number does it say on this one?” sneers Izuku sarcastically as he points once again at the notebook in question.

“Is this a trick question? There’s fuckin nothing on it”

“EXACTLY! And you want to know why?” screamed the distressed teen, no longer feeling angry, but tired and vulnerable, unable to stop himself from having a conversation he didn’t even want to be a part of “Because these notes used to serve a purpose, a purpose I no longer have. Hero Analysis for the Future , to be exact. But guess what Kacchan…” he whispered, no longer looking at the red eyes that used to bring him so much pain “...I no longer have a future…”

The blond hung his head in shame as he listened to his childhood friend break down in tears while hiding his face behind the very notebook that started their argument, all the while Trash Bandit who woke up due to their screaming was trying to get his owner’s attention with pathetically quiet ‘baaah’s.

“You have the right to be angry with me, after all this shit I put you through” stated Bakugou after what felt like an endless silence broken only by Izuku’s stuttering sobs. He never thought of himself as a coward, but at this moment he could not find enough bravery to sit face to face with the crying teen.

“I KNOW that you shithead-” replied Izuku as he shakily tried to take a breath in between the sobs “-but what good is that gonna do?! You’ve actually admitted that the way you treated me was wrong, hell you even voluntarily went to therapy! You’re basically going through a whole-ass redemption arc and what do I do? * sob * I’m still stuck in the past and I can’t let go of my grudges, which isn’t doing me or you any favours. I’ve told you to get your shit together, and this is exactly what you’re trying to do and instead of being h-* hic *- happy for you I’m mad-”

His rant broke off as he took another breath with tears still rolling down the freckled cheeks despite the boy’s best efforts. Izuku slumped down in his seat and with shaking hands he took out a cigarette and lighter from his backpack that was still hanging by the hook on the side of the desk. And although putting the cigarette in his mouth was relatively easy, lighting it was another matter. As Izuku grew more frustrated with the quiver in his hands, so did Bakugou. The blond became impatient as he grumbled “give it here damn it” much more quietly and gently than he normally would’ve done as he leaned forward, all the while grabbing the other teen by his shoulder with one hand, as he used to the other to quickly light the cigarette with a small explosion. Izuku’s flinch at the sudden but familiar noise and heat did not go unnoticed.

To say that Izuku was shocked by his ex-friend’s action would’ve been an understatement, but he was pleased nonetheless. If anything it proved his point that Kacchan was trying to be nicer to him, even if the attempts were somewhat awkward. The freckled teen, feeling only marginally better, leaned back in his chair facing the ceiling as he continued to blow circles of smoke up into the air, trying to regain his original train of thought.

“You’d think they would have a fire alarm in here or something” mused Bakugou as he stared at the disappearing circles.

“Hmm” replied Izuku, absentmindedly “You’d think”

The silence has once again stretched between the 2 boys, although this time it felt less oppressive in its need to be filled. Bakugou was happy to wait for Deku to finish what he started, it was the least the blond could do seeing as he was at fault for the current state of things between them.

“I’m so fuckin angry...” stated Izuku as he crashed the burnt out cigarette against the desk, which Bakugou conviniently ignored seeing as the desk was his. “I’m so fuckin angry-” he repeated despite his tone and words not matching at all “-because this proves that you could’ve gotten your shit together this whole time” he continues while gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

“You could’ve stopped this bullshit and apologised to me!” exclaims Izuku in a tone that is half resigned and half accusing “You could’ve spared me the misery, and yet you didn’t. I feel like I’ve suffered for nothing-”

“You did!” interrupted the blond.

“What?”

“You’ve suffered for nothing” clarified Bakugou “There’s literally NO good reason for you to have gone through even half the shit you did”

“I dunno about that Kacchan” teased Izuku “I’m pretty sure the reason is sitting right in front of me”

“I said no good reason damn it, don’t go around twisting my words you fuckin Deku!”

And Izuku couldn’t help but break out in laughter, because he was pretty sure that this was the first time ever that Bakugou had made a joke at his own expense and this moment was going to live in his brain rent free from now on.

“Oh God, Kacchan-” he wheezed, trying to stop himself from laughing “You were right, you really aren't the same asshole that you were last year!”

“I sure fuckin hope not” replied Bakgou who was just as close to laughing “Otherwise I would’ve had to demand refund for all of those shitty therapy sessions”

“Look at us Kacchan” said Izuku, his laugh now subdued “We’re still a fuckin mess”

“I guess we are” agreed the blond as he stared down at his friend’s notebook in a thoughtful expression.

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

After the truthfully embarrassing heart-to-heart with Kacchan, Izuku wanted to do nothing more than sink into the void for the next eternity, or at least until he gets his reminder text that he’s running late for yet another therapy session. Unfortunately neither of these options were viable seeing as he was on a self-appointed mission to catch up to his uncle. The boy hoped that uncle Shouta would still be somewhere on the premises seeing as his ugly-ass sleeping bag was still in the classroom. Izuku used that to his advantage as he gave the sleeping bag to Bandit who promptly sniffed it and began to follow the scent of a premature-midlife-crisis. Who knew that sheep could make such good hounds?

Bandit had dutifully led their owner through an ever inconvenient maze of corridors, which eventually ended with the two entering the teacher’s lounge like they had every right to be there (which they kinda did, shoutout to Nedzu!). As expected, Izuku’s uncle was in the lounge, surrounded by fellow members of staff as they tried (unsuccessfully, at least by Izuku’s standards) to get any information out of him regarding his class this year. Uncle Shouta for the most part looked like he’d rather be doing anything else and so Izuku has made an executive decision to insert himself obnoxiously into the situation.

“In my humble opinion-” he said, as he sat down next to his uncle, while Bandit jumped up on his lap “that Mineta kid should’ve been expelled. Like, we get it uncle, he has potential ” continued Izuku, as he spat the word distastefully “But how far is that potential gonna get him when all he does is harass the entire female population, like every other mediocre straight guy with self awareness of a sea cucumber?”

“A sea cucumber? Really?” asked uncle Shouta, sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he is.

“I mean don’t get me wrong” he continues, completely ignoring the unnecessary commentary “Straight people are already embarrassing as they are, but this guy is on another level, the kinda level that usually leads to a straight jacket, am I right?! Hah- I just made a pun!”

“The little listener does have a point, Shouta” replied Present Mic.

“Also, did he just say uncle ? Shouta, is there anything you’d like to tell us?” asked Midnight, you know, like a traitor.

“No”

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

It wasn’t until they walked past the gates of the school that his uncle finally stopped in his tracks to voice at least a portion of the questions that have been bubbling in his mind since the impromptu family reunion with his nephew.

“Izuku” says Shouta, with as much concern as an uncle-who-you-haven’t-seen-in-almost-a-decade is allowed to voice “What the fuck?”

“Look, I heard that question far too often in my lifetime, mostly from my therapist, so you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific” replies Izuku sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he hopes to evolve into through the sheer power of genetics and generational trauma.

“Look kid-” says the hobo looking man that has the privilege of being related to Izuku as he puts his hands together, takes a deep breath and prays to whichever God he believes is not yet dead for some guidance on how to handle this “-as much as I’d love to elaborate on the sheer amount of confusion I am experiencing right now due to your questionable way of life, I do actually have to go on a patrol so this conversation is gonna have to be postponed. In the meanwhile give your mother my regards, and I’ll hopefully see you in the near future when you decide once again to wreak havoc in my classroom.”

“No” replies the freckled teen in a total disregard for other people’s prior engagements, thus truly earning his title of a problem child.

“What do you mean no ? Izuku, I have a job to do!”

Instead of replying, Izuku has decided to simply pull a pro-gamer move, by quickly taking out a familiar pair of handcuffs from the side pocket of his backpack, cuffing one side to his uncle’s hand and the other to his own. That on its own is probably not particularly impressive, however it is the speed of the action that has earned it the title of a pro-gamer move, which Izuku is quite proud of. His uncle on the other hand is definitely less so, looking at his cuffed wrist like it has somewhat betrayed him.

“Please tell me you did not just do that”

“I did not just do that”

After wasting about 10 minutes of his life on fruitless struggle of trying to get the handcuffs off like an untrained dog trying to chew off its own leash, Aizawa Shouta; the underground hero Eraserhead, the infamous Erasure Hero has slumped in defeat, internally swearing to himself to one day get revenge on his unruly nephew.

“God, I am so going to have a talk with my sister about this” he says, as if a threat of authority had any meaning to the green headed teen.

“Yeah, no shit, that’s the whole point, we’re going to my house now” replies the teen, completely disregarding any attempt at ‘ an adult asserting their authority ’ over him.

“I still have to go on a patrol tonight” repeats Shouta, as if it was somewhat relevant.

“That sounds like a you problem”

[dudeandduchess]

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 2]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married. To make matters even more difficult for them, they were from two different walks of life, with (Y/n) being the Prime Minister’s daughter, and Kyōjurō being the heir to his clan’s Yakuza group.

Warnings: Smut, Kabedon, Groping, Making Out, Marking

Chapter 1| Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

***

No matter how much (Y/n) tried to shake the memory of those piercing eyes from her mind, she never could forget just how hauntingly beautiful they were— especially when they were trained so hard on her the night before.

It was why she had made a hasty escape; tucking tail and practically shoving her champagne glass at a waiter, before making up some halfhearted excuse about forgetting a prior engagement.

She could tell that the ladies she had been with were skeptic of her reasons, but had still let her go; just in time, as well, because Kyōjurō would have gotten to her if they had tried to keep her any longer.

Still, hours after that ordeal— even while she laid on her bed— with the warm, morning rays of the sun shining down on her through her windows, she could still feel the less-than-proper intent behind them. They were the eyes of a predator; someone who was silently telling her that he was going to devour her.

And if she were being honest, it scared and thrilled her at the same time.

“Hopefully, I’ll never have to see him again,” The young woman whispered to herself, right before closing her eyes and stretching her limbs outwards; it felt so good on her tired muscles. But her peaceful time alone was cut short with a soft but firm knock on her door.

“Good morning, (Y/n)-sama.” She almost groaned aloud at the sound of her temporary secretary’s voice; wishing to all hell that she were back in her university dorm— protected by a bodyguard, but still living with relative privacy.

But, unfortunately, it was summer break and she was obligated to stay at the Prime Minister’s residence; much like how her brothers were also required to live there when they weren’t living at their dorms. And, being the youngest— as well as the only girl— out of three children, her father was much stricter on her.

(Y/n) sighed then, deciding not to stall any longer and calling out a flat ‘come in’. It was then followed by the quiet creaking of the door, as well as the soft footsteps coming towards her bed.

As much as the young woman still wanted to just go back to sleep, she decided not to be difficult and opened her eyes— only for them to fall on Rin. She was a frail woman in her mid-thirties, looking very strict with her neatly pressed uniform; but it was her severely tight bun that had (Y/n) and her siblings knowing that the woman meant business at first glance.

“Good morning, Rin-san, may I know my schedule for today?” (Y/n) asked with a forced smile, knowing full well that she had a full roster for that day— what with her mother forking over some small charity appearances over to her and her brothers; all to show the people that they were very much active in society, despite also being busy with their own passion projects.

Rin nodded at that, before referring down to her clipboard and flipping a page— which had (Y/n)’s eyebrows quirking, since she saw so many things highlighted on one of her brothers’ schedule sheets.

“Your schedule has been cleared today, (Y/n)-sama.” That explained why she saw all those neon yellow lines on the pages before hers, but that had her stomach tightening with apprehension; because having a clear schedule at the last minute didn’t really bring good things.

“And why is that?”

“The Prime Minister has requested an audience with you for brunch, and he asked that you clear your schedule for the rest of the day to entertain his guest.”

Suddenly, she wanted to switch schedule with either one of her brothers. Hell, she would have rather been giving speeches and kissing babies, if it got her out of whatever clown show her father was about to put her through.

“Can I get out of this brunch?”

“No, Miss.”

“Alright, then. What time is this… fiasco? Nine-thirty? Ten? And do I already have something to wear for it?”

***

Who comes in late to meet the Prime Minister? The barbed thoughts reverberated around within (Y/n)’s head, as she presented a calm and collected façade for the world to see.

The dress she wore was modest enough for brunch, but with a touch of sexiness that had her quirking an eyebrow at the stern Rin when it had been handed to her earlier. Because, normally, Rin had her dressed up with the most modest of dresses; it would have been enough to put any miko to shame.

That already had her mind reeling with possibilities, yet she didn’t dare jump on any of them— since there were also numerous other things that could happen. Nothing was impossible, what with her being the daughter of Japan’s Prime Minister, after all.

For all she knew, she could be meeting the Prince of Wales with her father.

“Are we meeting Prince Charles, otou-sama? I didn’t brush up on my English last night,” She whispered to her father, who stifled his laughter and dabbed his table napkin to his lips— if only to muffle his humorous chuckles.

Yorihiko, (Y/n)’s father, turned to her then— before lowering his table napkin back down to his lap and showing her his bright grin. For someone who was in his mid-sixties, he still looked as youthful as ever. And, save for the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes— as well as the greying hair atop his head— she would have gandered him as not a day over fifty. “Not the Prince of Wales, (Y/n)-chan, but someone who will be much more important to this family in the future.”

Maybe it was just her being a little chilly, but she felt shivers race down her spine at those ominous words. However, she couldn’t even collect herself before the butler announced that their long-awaited guest was finally there.

And she had to try really hard to pick her jaw up from the ground when she saw two heads of blond hair coming out into the garden. The one she knew as Rengoku Kyōjurō wore a crisp, black suit with a blood red tie— one that matched his eyes and hair very well; while the older man next to him wore a formal kimono with a sleek, black haori perched on his shoulders.

“The yakuza, otou-sama?” (Y/n) whisper-yelled at her father, who only gave her a nod before getting up from his seat— all while smoothly laying his table napkin on the table— so he could greet their guests.

She followed suit immediately, but she couldn’t help her unsteady legs as she walked around the table and gave the Rengokus a small bow. “Welcome to our home, dear guests.”

“Don’t be too stiff, daughter; call me otou-sama,” The older man spoke in a gruff tone, smirking all the while as he looked at (Y/n).

The young woman couldn’t even speak, but managed a small nod— right before turning to the man that she had been under just the night before. A chorus of “oh no”s kept playing inside her head, but she couldn’t even voice out her panic, nor her disapproval at whatever arrangement had been arranged between her and the Yakuza heir.

“How about we have our meal as we talk, Shinjurō? And then we can leave the kids to be acquainted?” Yorihiko suggested with a bright smile, all while motioning over to the table that he and (Y/n) had been sitting at earlier.

It already burned (Y/n) to even be in the same vicinity as the man who had been between her legs just the night before, but it burned her even more when he smirked right at her— before offering his arm to her; as if he was the perfect gentleman.

And with her being who she was, couldn’t even turn him down. So, she found herself slipping a hand into the crook of his arm; holding on to him as he walked her back to the table. To make matters even worse for her, he even pulled out her chair for her, before helping her sit down.

That action hadn’t been done for mere chivalry, however, as Kyōjurō took it as a chance to whisper right by her ear, “It’s nice to see you again, baby. You look really… fuckable in that dress.”

“Fuck you.” (Y/n) managed to whisper back, which earned a sexy little chuckle from the blond.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her by the hair and make her face him, just so he could kiss her breathless and show her that he wasn’t to be messed with, but they were in front of company, and he didn’t want to disrespect her like that in front of their fathers.

After all, he was going to be his wife. And he was always taught that Rengokus respected their wives above all else.

“You almost did, baby. Maybe on the honeymoon, though,” Kyōjurō whispered back with a grin, before finally pulling away and taking the empty seat right next to her— much to (Y/n)’s chagrin.

Lunch passed by in a blur for (Y/n), however; with conversation being led by the two patriarchs. She was nothing more than a spectator at the table, since she was still trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

And, from what she could catch, she and Kyōjurō really were arranged to be married. In this day and age, arranged marriages were such an archaic concept but, apparently, the Rengokus had a lot to do with her father getting the Prime Minister position— and he owed them a lot.

So, now that the Rengokus are being pinned with crimes that weren’t their doings— and with Shinjurō facing multiple life sentences if things aren’t resolved— they had to cash in that favor with (Y/n)’s father.

After all, what better way to clear someone’s name, than to get related through marriage to the very man who signs them? No other man’s vouch could be stronger that the Prime Minister’s; if he said that he trusted the Rengokus enough to have his only daughter marry into their family, then all those pending cases would be dismissed as nothing more than baseless accusations.

(Y/n) had always known that her father was involved with all kinds of people, but she had never even had an inkling that he had been rubbing elbows with the Yakuza— of all people.

***

Once brunch was over— with her food having been barely touched— the patriarchs left both (Y/n) and Kyōjurō in the garden to ‘get acquainted’. However, (Y/n) had much more different things in mind, so she got up from her seat and tossed her table napkin onto the table; all before making hasty escape back into the house.

Kyōjurō’s eyebrows quirked at his fiancée’s actions, but it didn’t dampen the smirk that tugged up at the corners of his lips; as he watched her hips swaying so seductively a few ways away from him.

Last night, he had been pissed to have seen her walking away from him— and that time was no different, but it posed an extremely exciting challenge that he was more than willing to take on.

So, that was how he found himself getting up from his own seat and following after her— but not before glaring right at the guards that had been about to keep him from following her.

That kept them right in their places, which was good enough for him— and had him resuming his leisurely stroll right behind his charismatic bride-to-be.

But she didn’t get to go much farther than the back door of the mansion; as Kyōjurō quickly took his chance to press her back against the wall— making sure to cushion the back of her head, as he caged her in with his right arm and his body.

“Don’t walk away from me, baby,” Kyōjurō stated with a smile; right before dipping his head down to brush his lips against hers in the faintest of kisses.

That move didn’t fail to make (Y/n)’s toes curls right in her heels, but she tried so hard to ignore the tingles that were shooting across her skin; even taking to looking at anywhere but at Kyōjurō.

All because the events from the night before were playing in her mind— hot, raunchy, and filled with so much lust for him.

But the blond wasn’t deterred by her reaction at all, coming to press his hips right against her— and making her feel the bulge that was slowly growing bigger beneath his pants.

“Come on, sweetheart. Kiss me like you did last night,” The young man teased once more, then dipped his head down to catch her lips once more‚ but in a much deeper kiss that, inevitably, had (Y/n) melting against him; especially when he lightly tugged at her hair, all while gently nipping at her bottom lip.

All the while, his right hand snaked itself down to cup her right hip; kneading it in a gentle massage, before slipping down further so he could cup her ass. He then gave it a squeeze, which had her gasping right into their kiss; giving him enough time to slip his tongue right between her lips, all so he could play with her own.

When Kyōjurō felt her responding to his kisses— much like how she was last night— he took that as his chance to tease her even further by pulling away; latching on to her neck and trailing kisses down to the crook where her neck met her shoulders— and biting down on the skin, before sucking on it to leave a love bite.

He wasn’t contented with just one, however, and found himself leaving more of his marks all over her neck as well. Every single one had her moaning softly and, somewhere along the way, one of her hands had made its way onto the back of his own head— where she was gripping his hair tightly.

She was really melting under his touch, and he loved it so much.

And things only made a turn for the better when he quickly bunched the back of her dress up with the hand that had been groping her ass, before slipping his hand down further so he could cup her pussy from behind; grinning when he felt her so wet beneath her underwear.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asked, all while rubbing the tips of his fingers against her soaked entrance; loving the way that her fingers kept tightening and loosening on his hair— especially the subtle way that she was trying to rub her pussy up against his cock.

(Y/n) was silent at first— refusing to give in and answer him— until the blond readjusted his hand and made quick work of slipping it up the front of her dress; right before pushing her panties aside and pinching her clit between his index and middle fingers. The move had her hips jerking involuntarily, and also had her moaning softly when Kyōjurō began to play with the little bud.

“…Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

(Y/n) was just about to give in and actually beg him to fuck her right there— up against the side of her father’s residence— when all sense came crashing down on her and she yanked on Kyōjurō’s hair… hard. “Get off of me!”

It was clear on Kyōjurō’s face that that move had pissed him off, but he couldn’t help but obey (Y/n)’s words— albeit reluctantly. And he wanted to just scowl at her, but the sight of her looking so disheveled had him laughing; outright laughing, as he took in her messed up lipstick and crazy hair.

The glare that (Y/n) was aiming right at him looked mildly threatening, but it was the best she could do— especially when she heard the blond’s attractive laughter. How a laugh could be attractive, she didn’t know; it just was— and it was highly unfair, since he already had such a handsome face.

Even the fresh love bites all over her neck and shoulders added to her ‘just fucked’ look, diminishing the aggressiveness in her expression even more, and that pleased Kyōjurō so much.

He couldn’t wait until he really messed her up. He’d make sure that she wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed in the morning.

[amerrierworld]

Oh, brother

for the request: Galadriel and her brothers

Summary: Galadriel’s surprise birthday bash! Modern AU 

Characters: Galadriel x Celeborn, a whole lot of Silmarillion and LOTR elves :D

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none really, family fluff, annoying older brothers. a whole lot of blondes. 

If there was one thing Galadriel couldn’t stand, it’s surprises. She likes to know when things happen and have everything planned out. If she had the choice to foresee the future, she totally would.

But Celeborn wasn’t like his wife. And he really couldn’t refuse three ruthless blondes from barging into his home to throw a surprise birthday party for Galadriel, their baby sister. They would’ve broken the door down anyways.

It was a weekday, so of course Galadriel was working. Celeborn had taken the day off to pick up the cake that Galadriel had chosen for herself, and pick Celebrian up earlier than usual from school to help get a few decorations. The decor included a handful of balloons, and some party hats, which were mostly for their daughter than for Galadriel herself.

The door practically shook in its hinges at the sudden knock later that afternoon, making Celeborn jump. If it had been Galadriel, he would have been worried, but she had said she was working late. So who on earth...

“Celebooooooorn!”

“Oh... great.” Celeborn sighed and cursed internally. He set his laptop aside next to where Celebrian was colouring and hurried to the door, bracing himself.

“Is that Uncle Angrod?”

“Sadly.. yes,” Celeborn grumbled. He opened up and nearly fell back at the sight of three grinning faces. They were carrying large plastic bags and a few gift bags, and he immediately regretted opening the door.

They pushed inside, with Celebrian jumping into one of her uncles’ arms without any preamble, and Celeborn had a looming sense of dread about why they had shown up randomly at their home.

Finrod was the eldest, and the more approachable of the three. He explained their plans to set up a surprise party. 

“You know she hates surprise parties! The actual birthday dinner is this weekend, you know that!”

“Yes, yes, we know, but we figured we’d do something different this time.”

“Why?!”

“Galadriel works wayyy too much, Celeborn,” Aegnor huffed, flopping down on their couch. His blonde mullet was sleek and straight, and Celeborn caught a section of pure white that shot through one side of his hairdo. Another last-minute dye job, no doubt. “You both work way too much. If you’re not going to do anything about it, then we will.”

“She’ll kill us all.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Come on, help me with the disco ball.”

“The disco ball?!”

-

Galadriel knew what was going to happen the minute she pulled up to her home. If the half a dozen extra cars in the street didn’t say anything, the flashing lights from the living room window gave enough away. She sat inside her car, genuinely debating if she should speed away and just come back in the morning, leaving Celeborn to deal with the aftermath of what looked like an attempt at some sort of party.

But then she remembered her chosen cake and pursed her lips in defiance. She had been very excited to eat it, and curl up with her own  family to just watch a silly movie the rest of the night. She’d find a way to enjoy her birthday, even with her nagging extended family.

But the first person who greeted her at the door wasn’t her husband or any of her relatives. It was Gandalf, with a butterfly painted on his cheek and a top hat on his head. He had a juice box in hand and pulled her into a hug when he saw her in the hallway.

“Happy birthday, dear friend!” 

“Oh, Gandalf. What have you done?”

“For once, this idea wasn’t mine. I was simply invited.”

“I’m sure you arrived on time.”

“I always do!”

He promised there’d be no fireworks this time; when he had set off his pyromaniacal schemes last, poor Radagast’s hedges and flowerbeds had burned to a crisp. 

In the kitchen, Celeborn was nursing a wine glass filled with apple juice. Galadriel didn’t see any alcohol opened anywhere, which did help relieve her stress. He saw her come in and his face scrunched up in an apologetic expression, and it made her laugh.

“My love.. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t start, Celeborn. What’s done is done. I suppose I’ll be forced to enjoy my birthday now?”

He grimaced and sipped his drink a little more. “If it helps, Celebrian is enjoying herself immensely.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Orodreth is here. I promise everything is family-friendly, even if it is a little... wild.”

“Was the disco ball Aegnor’s idea?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

Galadriel’s siblings were all successful, hard-working people. At least, when they were on their own. Once you put the three brothers together, all hell would break loose. Despite their sheer differences, they were able to put things together and become a team. Often to the dismay of their younger sister who had to endure the torture.

Finrod was the eldest, and therefore the most responsible. He was a successful CEO who took his time to travel and explore every corner of the world. He was stern-faced, and defiantly defensive of his family and his life choices. 

Angrod was the middle brother, and the most outlandish. His passion could lead to anger very quickly, but it made him the most emotionally expressive. His son was practically the sheer opposite of him. Orodreth was a little older than Celebrian, and very soft-spoken and quiet. He was incredibly gifted and intellectual, but you would never be able to read his face and discern that yourself.

And Aegnor was the unhinged youngest brother. As an artist and creative thinker, he explored one medium of art to the next. Galadriel believed he had a lot of potential, and being the two youngest they bonded and got along very well. But she had no idea where his life would lead him. One week it would be pottery, the other it would become architecture. But he was kind and encouraging, which made him the most favourable to babysit Celebrian out of the three uncles.

But once put together, all precedented rules of their characters went out the window.

Eldalote was in the bathroom giving people painted faces, and Galadriel assumed that was where Gandalf got his colourful butterfly. She knocked on the door and came in on Orodreth getting a big fish painted on his forehead. Her daughter was watching diligently next to her aunt as she painted. She had a large flower and heart on one cheek, and a party hat tied snugly on her head.

The minute she saw her mother she squealed and ran into her arms. Galadriel picked her up swiftly, and suddenly felt she  couldn’t be mad at her brothers anymore. Nor could she be mad about them getting ahead of themselves and starting the party before she got home. It made it easier to blend in rather than have all the focus on her as soon as she had opened the door.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she nuzzled her daughter’s unpainted cheek who began babbling about the party thus far. Orodreth said a shy hello and wished her a happy birthday. Galadriel wondered how her idiot, reckless brother had ended up with such a diligent and sweet son. Nonetheless, she gave him a hug before Celebrian tugged her back to the living room, where the main socializing seemed to be happening.

The three elder brothers were plotting in a huddled group near the disco ball, and as soon as they saw Galadriel, they swarmed her. Aegnor set Celebrian on his hip, and Celeborn rushed to Galadriel’s side, still looking a little forlorn and guilty for letting the party get so rowdy.

“Sister! Happy fucking-”

“Hey! There’s kids.”

“Sorry. Happy freaking birthday, sis. Do you like our party?”

“I hate it.” Galadriel crossed her arms, but her eyes were twinkling. “You know how I hate surprises.”

“Hey, that’s why we’re not giving you a speech, alright? You should thank me.” Aegnor bumped Finrod with his fist. “Fin was planning on drawling on for forever if we hadn’t stopped him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finrod rolled his eyes, but he gave Galadriel a quick side hug. “We know you never celebrate yourself, Galadriel. So this is for you. We practically had to tie down your husband to let us decorate.”

“I mean, clearly.” Galadriel looked at the overwhelming amount of  paper decorations and bright balloons. “He’d never allow it to look so hideous if he could help it.”

“You wound me, sister,” Angrod clutched his chest. 

“Your cake remains untouched though,” Celeborn pointed out. “That’s the one thing I was able to protect. The rest of the house.. not so much.”

“Oh, well I suppose that’s alright,” Galadriel sighed. She watched the small group of friends and other people in her life gather in the living room and other spots in the house. The music was cheery but not blaring. And from the looks of it.. people brought their own dinner items, like an impromptu potluck.

Elwing and Earendil came over to greet Galadriel with happy smiles and a congratulations. The couple were constantly glued to each others’ side, and Galadriel was glad to have another set of seemingly sane parents in their social circle.

Their twins, Elros and Elrond, were sprawled out on the carpet with Lego and toy cars. Elrond’s face had been smeared with cupcake icing that he had scarfed down, and Galadriel watched, amused, as her daughter went over to him, tutting like she often would. She had a napkin in hand and proceeded to wipe his face, effectively smearing the icing even further onto his cheeks. 

The sight made her chuckle, and the initial stress she had seemed to finally leave. She supposed she could enjoy as much of it as possible. 

“To be fair, this party is looking to be the best I’ve ever had.” She looked around, slipping her hand into Celeborn’s. “Food I don’t have to pay for. No idiot college friends or condescending relatives. Kids who are actually enjoying themselves? I’d rank this in the top five, boys.”

“Then our work here is done!” Aegnor declared, bouncing Celebrian who giggled happily in his arms. “Now let’s get that cake.”

“Nuh-uh,” Galadriel wagged a finger at him. “That’s for me and my family alone. There’s enough food for you behind you. Go on, you swine.”

Aegnor stuck out his tongue, and she swatted him. He went off to explore the dishes that were laid out on the dining table. So did the rest of the group; going to get their faces painted or wolf down whatever fatty snacks were in reach. Galadriel turned to her husband and gave him a firm kiss.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t defend our fortress, my lady,” he sighed. She rolled her eyes. 

“It’s quite alright. I’m not angry. Maybe because I was met with a very gleeful Gandalf at the door rather than my overbearing siblings. Besides, we didn’t even have to cook.”

He laughed. “I knew that would be the thing to win you over.”

A/N: I love these guys ;-; This is my character interpretation of Galadriel’s brothers/family in a modern AU. I posted this out of order for CB’s birthday- I finished it over a week ago but then I realized how close it was to the 14th so I just waited! I hope you enjoy my loves 

[jazzistolkienfanfics]

Beads and Braids - Kili x reader

Type: Imagine  Pairing: Kili x reader Summary: post BOTFA, everyone lives!AU, in which Y/N, a girl from Rohan seeking shelter in Erebor, befriends the Princes, and the mischievous Kili needs better ways of confessing his feelings. Warnings: ‘fuck’, ‘shit’ Word Count: 2735

All italicised, non-English words are in Khuzdul, one of the main Dwarvish languages.

Y/N was no stranger to being alone, nor was she unused to being unusual. Being on the run from a dangerous league of hunter assassins that were sweeping through her hometown of Rohan, spending months trying to reach Erebor, the Mountain of Gold, then arriving only to be turned away, had taught her not to care too much about loneliness.

Sure, she’d been allowed in eventually, after she’d insisted to the stingy King Thorin Oakenshield that she had ‘absolutely no fucking interest in your goddamn gold’, but the reminder that she wasn’t wanted in Erebor still stung dully day after day, even as she attempted to bury the emotion beneath layers of stone. 

Although, she was no longer completely shunned while in Erebor. The first few weeks had been difficult, especially as she was at least eight inches taller than everyone else, even as a relatively short human - Y/N was surrounded by Dwarves, and it was a transformative experience (she enjoyed being tall for a change). 

But as time went on, the Dwarves became far more accepting - mostly because when Bard visited with his children, Sigrid and Tilda (who was the reason they were there, to say hello to the ‘lucky Dwarves from the toilet’, namely Dwalin, her favourite) and saw her, he spouted a whole speech on the helpfulness of humans in the Battle of the Five Armies, especially how a number of them had charged Azog’s numbers, saving the line of Durin. That made Thorin begrudgingly become kinder to her.  

Y/N spent most of her days outside the cold fortress, reading old books on Dwarven culture and their previous interrelations with other relations on the ramparts or the grasses below the Mountain. It was on one of such days that she ran into someone who would change her life.

Well, Y/N didn’t run into him.

He really ran into her.

Y/N had been sitting on the ramparts, her legs swinging over the side and continually tucking her h/c hair behind her ears as the wind blew it into her face. A large book with a f/c leather cover that had stood out to her in the towering shelves of the Library was sitting in her lap, gold-leaf lettering across the front of it boldly proclaiming ‘A History of the Honourable Line of Durin’. She’d been told by Balin (a frequenter of the Library) that it was updated often with the latest triumphs of the youngest of the Line of Durin: Thorin, Fili and Kili, the Royals Under the Mountain.

Y/N wouldn’t lie, she was mostly reading it to make fun Thorin, but then again, history was interesting. 

She looked up from a particularly hilarious passage about Thorin’s ‘incredible bravery and innumerable acts of service to the Throne of Erebor’ at the harsh cry of a raven. It circled around her, cawing enthusiastically with something less akin to malevolence and more to happiness in its black eyes, before flying off. 

Y/N had been smiling but she frowned when she realised that the raven was not flying towards Erebor, as most did, but away from it.

Then it had to be flying away from something … Y/N connected the dots just as the door to the battlements whipped open and something slammed into her back just as she was turning around, knocking her off the ramparts.

She screamed loudly, looking at the ground beneath her and envisioning the fifty different ways she would splatter all over it.

A hand encased in a brown glove but for the fingers suddenly swung into her view, catching ahold of hers in a startlingly tight grip.

Y/N looked up, seeing a Dwarvish face that was at once familiar and entirely seperate from her small existence in Erebor, and she couldn’t put a name to him.

His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, and was not braided. Paired with his beardless, kinda attractive face (stubble did not count in Y/N’s eyes), Y/N reached the conclusion that he was still young, definitely under 100.

He was holding onto her with one of his hands and his other was held by a blonde Dwarf with much more facial hair than the former and a messy blonde mane like a lion who stood behind the battlements where she had been sitting prior to being knocked off by (presumably) one of the two. 

Y/N was very impressed that the Dwarf was holding her up with one hand, as she was at least more than half a foot taller than him, but she had no energy to be focused on that emotion beyond the hot fear coursing through her veins.

“Oi! Pull!” the brown-haired Dwarf yelled, and the blonde did so, clenching his teeth and heaving, until all three of them were safe on the ramparts.

“I am so sorry for my brother’s clumsiness, Miss Y/N!” the bearded, seemingly older Dwarf apologised. 

“Itkit! (Shut up!)” the younger brother hissed, giving the blonde a scathing glare. “But I do apologise, Lady Y/N.” He emphasised the title he gave her, though it was definitely not one she actually possessed.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N replied to the two enthusiastic Dwarves with confusion etched all over her face. Here they were, having knocked her off the side of a fucking Castle, calling her ‘Lady’ and apparently knowing her name when she could not match a name to either of their faces. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

“Oh, that’s right,” the brunette said thoughtfully, turning to his brother. “Uncle Thorin said she was new.”

“He also said she was a-”

“Oh Mahal, shut up! How many languages do I have to say that in?”

Uncle Thorin? Oh shit ....

“Anyway. Prince Fili-”

“-and Prince Kili-”

“At your service!” they both chimed, bowing low in unison and springing back up with wide grins that made them seem a lot younger than they probably were.

“Fuck...” Y/N muttered under her breath, curtseying as low as she could. “My Princes, I apologise-”

Her embarrassed apology was cut short with a squeak flying from her mouth as she was yet again jerked up by Kili, who brushed off her f/c dress that was dirty from falling off the ramparts. 

“Lady Y/N, you needn’t apologise; it is technically my fault for knocking you off the walls of Erebor!”

“Then you needn’t call me Lady Y/N,” the girl retorted, almost instantly regretting the familiarity with a royal figure, but also proud when Kili gave a loud laugh and wide smile. “I’m just Y/N.”

“Alright then, Just Y/N,” Kili teased, wiggling his eyebrows and taking her hand, kissing it gently. “On behalf of the Prince of Erebor-”

“-Princes, you little shit,” Fili interrupted, casually spinning a knife on his fingers.

“... Princes of Erebor,” Kili rolled his eyes. “Welcome, new friend.”

---

“You two are unbelievable,” Y/N complained, though a wide smile was affixed on her face.

“We know,” Fili and Kili replied, both still covered in flour from when they’d begun to throw it like snowballs in the middle of baking with her. 

“Well, at least we salvaged-” Y/N cut herself off as she took the cake out of the oven. “Mahal. What is that?”

The cake was less a cake, and more a complete mess. Half of it looked gooey and porous, and the other half burnt. Y/N just turned to the brothers, raising an eyebrow.

They eyed each other too, shuffling their feet. 

Y/N sighed. “This is why we don’t have food fights in the kitchen, guys.”

Fili and Kili had the decency to look a little sheepish as Y/N turned to dump the mess in the bin. As she did so, she glanced out the window and flinched.

“Shit! I’m meant to meet Bard soon - it’s a meeting of great importance. And I’m not ready, there is flour everywhere, my hair is a mess-”

“Well, we can handle at least one of those things,” Kili told Y/N, lightly pushing her into a chair, his hands clean of flour now. “I know a really good hairstyle for special occasions - our mother used to wear it.”

He began to run his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the knots with a brush Fili gave him (honestly, how much did that Dwarf have in his coat?) and braiding it. Y/N closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hands in her hair and its soothingness. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, flushing red. 

Was she falling for the Prince of Erebor?

No, surely not. After all, he was a dwarf, and she a human: a human the King of Erebor didn’t exactly have a partiality towards. It would never work out.

That doesn’t mean feelings just stop, dumbass. Y/N’s brain reasoned. She rolled her eyes at herself. 

 “Alright, it’s done! And Fili and I will clean up the kitchen,” Kili announced, pulling her up and lightly dusting off her f/c dress, careful to avoid any areas it was improper to touch, a small hint of pink on his cheeks as he did so. Y/N pulled some of her hair around her shoulders - Kili had done several braids amongst her loose hair, most of them tied with black bands but one with a beautiful bead in it that she didn’t get a proper look at.

(A/N - imagine this hairstyle, but only one bead, and that bead has lots of jewels all in different colours)

“We’ll clean up what?” Fili protested. Kili smirked, pushing her out the door.

“We’ll see you later, Y/N!”

---

Y/N ran as fast as she could, considering her annoyingly impractical skirt, and she finally skidded to a stop in the snow outside the great doors, taking in who was there.

Bard bowed his head in greeting, his eldest daughter, Sigrid by his side. (Y/N had thought she had heard faint giggles from inside, meaning Tilda was hanging out with Dwalin again), Thorin stood impatiently, leaning on his sword, and next to him, keeping a petty distance was …

“My lord Thranduil,” Y/N bowed, having also read all about the infamously glamorous Elvenking of Mirkwood. “I apologise for my tardiness.”

“You are on time, Y/N,” Bard said, giving Thorin a side-eye. The damages of the Battle of the Five Armies went far beyond death. 

Thorin chose to sit on a ledge that a) placed him higher than all of those present and b) allowed him to rest. Recovering from being impaled by the Pale Orc was a lengthy process, and one still far from finishing. 

“What is the importance of this meeting?” Y/N asked, eager to go back to her chambers and think on the startling discoveries she’d made on what her heart told her about Kili Durin.

“The purpose, Y/N, is for this …”

---

After the meeting, Y/N went to leave, but Thorin called her name, stopping her.

“Yes, my King?”

He reached for one of the braids Kili had put in her hair, smiling kinder than she had ever seen him do so.

“Kili’s bead. So you have not tamed the Lion, but you have chosen the Fox. Loyal, yet cheeky and sweet.”

Y/N opened her mouth, confused, but Thorin kept speaking.

“I congratulate you on your courtship, Y/N. I wish you much love and happiness.”

“My King, I’m sorry, but I am not courting-”

He swept off in a majestic swirl of furs, leaving Y/N with a finger raised and her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

“Courting?” she wondered aloud. “What in Middle-Earth ...” 

Suddenly, she recalled Thorin’s observation of ‘Kili’s bead’, and she pulled her hair in front of her face, scanning it for the singular, beautiful silver bead, with its nine differently-coloured gemstones, and some vague thought buried in the back of her brain called to her.

“That Dwarf ...” Y/N cursed colourfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder, picking up her skirts and running as fast as she could to the most familiar area of Erebor.

The Library. Shelves upon shelves, thousands stretching out further than Y/N could see from the entrance. She raced for the section on Dwarvish customs, pulling a dusty red tome titled ‘Dwarves and Their Secrets - The Rites and Customs of Their Culture’ and flipping through it, coughing as swirls of dust swam into the air.

Finding the page she was after, she slammed the open book onto a nearby table, running her finger down the page as her h/c hair fell in her face.

“That little fuck,” Y/N hissed, closing the book with a slam and sliding down one of the shelves until she sat on the floor, her arms curled around her knees, her face hidden from the world and vice verse by her h/l hair.

“So you found out,” a meek voice said, prompting Y/N to lift her head as Kili sat next to her.

“You bet your non-existent beard I did,” Y/N grumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” Kili mumbled, burying his face in his hands, which were large, the same size as yours. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I liked you. I chose the coward’s way out.”

“I can understand that,” Y/N admitted. “Although telling everyone that why were courting via my hairstyle was not the smartest way of going about it.”

“Well, technically, your hairstyle doesn’t say you are dating. (A/N: this part here is completely made up) These braids in this style, paired with the loose hair actually means unrequited love. And seeing as I did your hair, and I have a matching braid-” he briefly pushed his hair behind his ear, pulling on a small braid, that was, indeed matching, even with a simpler version of the bead, with only two gems. “-it basically tells everyone that I have a crush on you. Uncle Thorin just misunderstood because he only looked at the bead, which he knows I own.”

“What do the gems mean?” Y/N asked, knowing she was avoiding the topic of Kili’s love for her and her possible love for him, but too afraid to cross that bridge.

Kili smiled nervously, already flushing from what he anticipated Y/N’s reaction to be, and he pulled the bead from her hair, pointing to each gem as he explained their meaning.

“The white one with the blue sheen - moonstone. It means patience, like how I am willing to wait for you. This pink one is morganite. It symbolises divine love and prosperity. These two are the ones that I have in my matching bead.” And Y/N saw that this was indeed true.

“The red ruby, which symbolises passion.” Kili’s cheeks looked as red as the jewel as he hurriedly moved on. “An emerald, green, which is fertility. Not only in children, but fertility in the soil that grows the flowers of success. Old wive’s tale. The purple one’s an opal - which is for emotional purity. It’s meant to guard against jealousy and anger. The garnet and the citrine - orange and the yellow - both stand for protection, though the citrine also provides prosperity and success.”

Y/N was completely entranced by his knowledge of the gems, even as he came to the last few.

“This pastel blue one is for fidelity, although I don’t think you need that, you have loads of it.” Y/N and Kili laughed together, and Kili fixed the bead back in her hair.

“Wait! You didn’t explain the last one!” Y/N protested, eager to hear more.

Kili stopped, smiling. “Oh. That’s a sapphire, which means trust, like how I’m trusting you with my heart. But I put it in there because it’s the exact colour of your eyes.”

Y/N was so touched by this last one, that he trusted her with his heart, even after she heard that it had been broken by the death of the Mirkwood elleth, Tauriel, that she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. On the floor, they were a similar height, and he hugged her back lightly.

“You know, Kili of the Line of Durin,” Y/N said teasingly as her arms lingered around his neck, though she pulled back so she could look him in the eye. “I think I need to thank you for the bead and the braids, because you made me realise something.”

“What?” Kili breathed.

“I realised I’m kinda in love with you.”

And hidden in the endless shelves of the library, Y/N kissed him, right there and then.

Hi there guys! I’ll be putting up a dialogue prompts request list soon for you to request UP TO THREE numbers.

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to heart this imagine, give me a follow and/or request (it makes my day so much!).

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x F!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas​, @bnhastories​, @brittkimm​, @ ellieitstimetosleep, @belladonna-the-aphrodisiac​

Chapter 1, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Crumbling down

"You can't be serious, Kacchan...This is going way to fast! I am sure that we could make him keep quiet until we are past the traditional engagement period! If not, I could send her to some of my relatives until the rumors had died down. Away from the capital. Away from society."

"Damn Deku! Are you really that fucking starry-eyed to take a chance like that? Your sister was attacked a mere few hours after you were publicly declared as the heir to the throne! As if she would be safe anywhere else than with you or me."

"P-Perhaps no one realized what happened on the festival. Even if, such a swift action will only make people more suspicious, maybe even casting you in a bad light! In the worst case they'll think you've laid hands on her before your wedding."

"What do I care about that? Let them think that I couldn't keep my hands off of her long enough. In their eyes, I'm already the bad guy anyway. It's better than having followers of Shindo trying to spread lies and people to start questioning the hell out of you in response. When they are going to question her reputation, they are going to question yours as well!"

"Like that's even remotely better, when they are going to question yours!"

"Are you deaf, you dumbass? It does not fucking matter! They should fear me anyway!", the shogun interrupted his interlocutor in a sharp voice before continuing his explanation a bit more quietly but just as urgently after he paused for a second to take a breath:"He could lay a claim on her, forcing you to concede, if you want to prevent a scandal. You'd be forced to break off the engagement between her and me to give her to Shindo at worst. Do you really want to give that slimy liar the power he would automatically receive as the brother-in-law of the next emperor?", Bakugou growled dangerously agitated behind the closed doors of Izuku's study.

All the servants of the household had to retire earlier that night by Lady Midoriya's instructions in order to put the illusion of privacy to their noble masters minds. The now dead silence in the halls of the mansion was only broken by the dull sounds of the quarreling men which sounds penetrated through the thin walls, giving the lonely almost creepy mood a dramatic atmosphere. The banging of shattering porcelain and the vigorous shouts of the men, startled the two lady's who were standing in the hallway all alone by themselves. Sobbing, (Y/N) pressed her head against her quivering mother's shoulder, flinching every single time when either one of the men exchanged too harsh words with one another. Both ladies listened to the heated argument between the furious shogun and the equal upset head of their family, not daring to interrupt them in any way. With trembling fingers, the young girl clawed at the fabric of Lady Midoriya's kimono, hiccuping every few seconds due to the endless tears that streamed down her face. Her mother tried to calm her down by gently stroking over her now loose hair, but the resounding sounds of the quarrel, made her flinch over and over again.

"I'm so sorry... I-I'm so so sorry!", (Y/N) repeated desperately against her mother's neck, who tried to soothe her daughter, by rocking her back and forth like a child that cried out of the loss of its most precious toy. "Shh, you're not to blame. Everything will be fine!", she whispered into (Y/N)'s hair as she hugged her tighter against her soft, motherly chest, hoping to shoo her daughters inner fears away. Clanking and rumbling sounds came from the study as Bakugou began to shout again:"Do you think I feel like tying a damn, troublesome woman to my leg right now? I've got more important things to do than to deal with your family's shit, but we don't have a fucking choice, because all the other ways this could turn out are even shittier!", Bakugou's aggressive voice echoed through the walls, like the roaring of thousand thunderstorms as he loudly stomped around the closed room like a rampant bull. Wincing, (Y/N) dug her face deeper into her mother's shoulder as she heard him talking about her like she was a nuisance. The young girl clutched at Lady Midoriya, like she was the only thing that prevented her from drowning in her own sorrows. As if the woman was the only one that could save her from the path she would have to take after that life changing night.

How could she have been so careless? What had she done to deserve that fate? By a single moment of not thinking straight, her entire world had turned upside down once again. Only to boost her unstoppable fate to the immeasurable. With each passing second her control over the situation had slipped away, like grains of sand incessantly trickling between her fingers. She had conjured up a disaster that had fueled his dislike against her and her family and had managed to become a burden for her brother and her fiancé in a mere few hours. How should she survive such a start to her predetermined future and turn it around for the better?

"Kacchan, please! It was not my sister's fault that she was attacked. If anything, it was my fault. I should have taken better care of her. I should have anticipated that people would try to use her to get to me.", Izuku replied in anguish. Even through the barrier, (Y/N) could hear her brother's voice breaking as he blamed himself. He, too, was on the verge of tears. She heard it loud and clear. Her compassionate brother blamed himself, though he could do even less about Shindo's act than she could. If she had just stayed with him, or asked him to accompany her, none of this would have had to happen.

.

.

.

It had taken an eternity until both men had calmed down enough that their voices could no longer be heard through the thin walls. Another eternity had passed until, all at once, heavy footsteps sounded near the door before it was pushed open with a loud thud, revealing the illuminated study. Wincing, mother and daughter pulled apart as the looming shogun appeared in the doorway. His vermilion eyes scanned the hallway until they finally landed on his quivering fiance. When he caught sight of her teary eyes, his grim expression softened minimally, while he beckoned her over with a gesture of his right hand:"Come here, girl. There are some things we need to discuss!"

Nodding obediently, (Y/N) followed her future husband into the room where her brother was standing by the window, looking dejectedly through the cold glass. The darkness swallowed up the details of the garden behind and plunged everything into barely discernible shadows. The dimmed light of the individual candles, gleaned on the glassy surface and reflected Izuku's lamenting face. Without hesitation, the young girl knelt down on the soft tatami mats before stretching out her hands in front of her in a pleading pose, asking for forgiveness. Her forehead almost touched the ground as she quietly raised her thin voice: "My actions has brought grave repercussions upon our family. No matter what the consequences will be, I will endure them without hesitation!", the youngest Midoriya announced with a trembling voice, before she heard her brother draw in his breath sharply. "By the gods, (Y/N)! You can't help what happened tonight! I should kneel before you and beg for forgiveness!", exclaimed Izuku after turning to his sister, trembling resentfully. With brisk steps, he had run up to the youngest Midoriya to hastily pull her up by her upper arm, pressing her against him in a firm hug. Bakugou was silent as he watched the spectacle for a few moments with an unmoved face, before shortly after he cleared his throat to draw the sibling's attention:"We don't have time for this sentimental nonsense!", the blond shogun growled softly as he turned his gaze exclusively on his fiance's quivering frame, to address her directly:"It doesn't matter at all who is to blame for this fuss. As you had said, we're in a predicament now. So either way, you're not going to avoid having to endure the consequences.", he added as he busily began pacing the room with long strides. Izuku broke away from his sister, nodding sadly, as he placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "Bakugou is right.", the newly appointed heir confirmed as he briefly pressed his fingers against his sister's collarbone, looking her straight in the eyes. Nodding, the young girl bit her lower lip as she waited for the consequences to be revealed.

An uneasy feeling spread through the area of her stomach as she gazed with teary eyes from her brother to her grimly looking betrothed, just to look back to Izuku, when he spoke up again: "I am sorry, sister, but we do not have time to wait for the proper engagement period to be over. To counteract certain rumors we will have to hold the wedding at the end of this week. That means you'll be leaving together with Bakugou in a few days to accompany him to his lands!", Izuku explained softly as he sadly averted his eyes.

A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine as her brother uttered the words she had secretly feared to hear. She hadn't even noticed that she had been holding her breath with pent-up tension, but she couldn't explain otherwise where the slight dizziness came from after she finally exhaled thin air out of her aching lungs. Nodding dejectedly, the youngest Midoriya clutched the thin fabric of her robe before letting her gaze drift to the side to look ultimately at her future husband's face. When her glassy eyes collided with Bakugou's vermilion ones, her breath caught within her throat for a brief moment. All of a sudden, it felt as if the youngest Midoriya's heart had burst out of her chest with all its might. It raced in unison with her thoughts as she slowly became aware of the full extent of her situation, clenching achingly, as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

Gone was the time to prepare herself for her inevitable future. Gone were the future opportunities to get to know Bakugou before their wedding. Gone was the vast amount of time she previously had left with her family, suddenly vanishing into thin air. All at once the memories she could have collected with them before her departure were torn away from her because of one single moment. One single mistake. One single power hungry man. In a mere few days she would belong to Bakugou Katsuki. She would have to ultimately leave her home to go with a man she had met only twice. Never in her life had she left her family for more than a few hours at once.

Forcing herself to come to her senses, (Y/N) ripped herself out of her depressing thoughts, shaking her head absently, before she averted her gaze away from the Shogun's captivating expression. She nodded again, accepting her fate, as she swallowed hard. "I-I see!", she murmured relentingly, as she turned her saddened gaze back to her older brother, who's eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Good, then we can now move on to the short term planning. We don't have much time to prepare, since I can't postpone the journey.", declared Bakugou bluntly, without trying to sugarcoat the situation as he sat down at the table and picked up a quill and some sheets of paper. With a faltering breath, (Y/N) listened to her future husband's words, after she and her brother had joined him at the table. Izuku sighed heavily as he briefly reached for his sister's hand to give it a firm squeeze before responding to his guest's statement: "...That would mean we barely have time to organize a proper ceremony!", he remarked gloomily as he briefly glanced in (Y/N)'s direction. Bakugou, however, just shrugged disinterested, before replying nonchalantly: "I don't mind. I'm not interested in throwing a huge celebration and having my feet kissed by some lickspittles, anyway.", the shogun grumbled, before he suddenly paused, turning his eyes towards his fiance. (Y/N) took a moment to realize that Bakugou was looking at her questioningly. He hadn't said it, but it seemed surprisingly like he was waiting for her opinion. The young girl blinked a few times before she dared to speak up: "A-ah.. a small ceremony sounds pleasant, I guess. P-Perhaps only with our closest confidants. It would be quite... private.", she breathed uncertainly, though truthfully, while she tilted her head to the side in thanks. When Bakugou nodded in satisfaction, the youngest Midoriya relaxed a tiny bit, watching how her betrothed began to write down some notes on the blank paper. The scratching of the quill on the paper echoed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room, before Izuku cleared his throat to share his own thoughts as well.

"We already handled most of the details in the previous contract. However, I have decided that I would like to send my sisters personal maid with her, so that she has someone around her who is not a stranger to her...", Izuku began slowly, before hesitating for a moment. He watched as the blond man included his request in the supplemental contract before the heir began again: "A-As for the dowry..." "I'm still not interested in the dowry, Deku. Save it for your sister, or do something else with it.", the Shogun interrupted brusquely, surprising (Y/N) who listened in astonishment. Her dowry was extremely high. She had never thought anyone would let that much money slip away, but Bakugou brushed it aside as if they were talking about some pocket money. Izuku caught himself, clearing his throat before nodding in defeat:"Very well, then, as it is customary from the bride's family, we will at least cover the cost of the wedding ceremony. I'm sure we can get the temple master to organize a mass in short notice when we offer a larger donation.", he murmured as he also reached for his own quill to write down a few sentences in the process. It took some time for Bakugou and her brother to finally agree on all the last minute changes, but in the end they both signed the amended contracts, finalizing the youngest Midoriya's short-term change of fortune.

Finally, Bakugou clicked his tongue as he rolled up his copy of the contract. Rain pattered against the pitch-black window, which successfully warded off the cold of the looming night. Red eyes gazed scrutinizingly in the flickering candlelight over the masses of scrolls and books which rested on the shelves against the walls, while the shogun let his rolled-up document disappear into the inside of his traditional robe.

"We are getting married this Saturday and will leave early the next morning. Use the rest of your time to prepare yourself.", the Shogun spoke as he turned his attention to his fiance. After receiving a sad nod from (Y/N), he slowly rose from his seated position. Izuku did the same to escort his future brother-in-law out of their home, but before Bakugou started to move, the blond man silently bent down once more to place a small box on the tabletop in front of the young girl.

"I would have actually given it to you before I left, but now that you're coming along, you get your second engagement gift now!", the blond shogun grumbled dismissively as he turned his face away with the corners of his mouth pulled down. Astonished, (Y/N) glanced up at Bakugou, before she accepted the gift as she slowly reached for the small box.

When she opened it, she caught sight of an ornately designed fan. The intricate woodwork of the dark handle was set with gleaming auspicious-looking copper-colored gems, while the silken fabric shone in a velvety black. Gulping, the young girl carefully lifted the gift out of its box so that she could open the fan with equal care. On the dark background, forest green and blazing orange lines formed a carefully drawn stylized dragon, which was surrounded by its own brightly burning fire. In its sharp claws it clasped a white flower, protected from the flames that surrounded the majestic beast. The motif seemed almost bizarre to her. As if the monster would want to crush the fragile flower in its paws, while at the same time it almost seemed as if it wanted to guard it. Its sharp eyes flashed dangerously up at her and reminded her in a strange way of the man who had given her this gift. A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine, but she tried to pull herself together in front of her fiance. Never in her entire life had she seen anything so fierce looking on such a delicate object. Holding her breath for a short moment, (Y/N) gazed at the precious craftsmanship before looking up again to try to smile gratefully at the Shogun. "It is beautiful, your grace. Thank you!", she breathed truthfully. Bakugou nodded briefly in response before turning away from her. (Y/N) could hear the two men moving away from her as she looked back down at her engagement gift. Her fingers carefully traced the fine lines of the sublime dragon as she took a shaky breath, asking herself if her fiance associated her with the delicate flower just as she had associated him with the mythical creature which gloomily looked up to her.

.

.

.

"Knock, knock!", sounded the gentle voice of Lady Midoriya, who cautiously entered her daughters chambers some time after the shogun had left their estate. Startled, (Y/N) spun around from her position at her small table, but smiled sadly as she caught her mother heading towards her with a tea tray in her arms. Her young daughter had been sitting alone for what felt like an eternity, unable to fall asleep after that dreadful night. "I thought a soothing tea would be just the right thing right now.", she murmured in a put-upon cheerful tone as she carefully set down her favorite tea set.

"Thank you, mother!", murmured (Y/N) as she rose slightly from her kneeling position to reach for the warm pot in trained expert fashion, to pour her mother and herself a soothing cup of warm herbal tea. Silence enveloped them as they both let their gaze drift aimlessly around the room after (Y/N) had leaned back again. Sighing, the older lady ran her fingers through her green hair, untied from it's usually elegant knot, before finally turning to her daughter and smiling lovingly at her. Seeing her grown-up girl dejectedly trying to suppress the quivering of her lips, Lady Inko raised her hand to place it reassuringly on (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Don't worry, my little one! It'll be alright!", she whispered comfortingly as she patted her daughter's arm.

Hoping to take away some of her mother's worries, (Y/N) tried again to put on a small smile, but she failed miserably. Taking a deep shaky breath, the young girl tried to sort out her thoughts, before she dared to speak her mind: "What do you think about the Shogun?", she finally asked uncertainly, reaching for her cup of tea to occupy her fidgeting fingers. Rain pattered against the cool window, which was covered by velvet curtains to block out the darkness of the night. A few candles illuminated the comfortably furnished room in dim light, wrapping it in a soft blanket of warm shades. Humming silently to herself, Lady Inko lifted her gaze toward the ceiling as she pondered over her daughter's question.

"Well... The Shogun is an excellent match.", her mother replied after a moment. "Despite his reputation?", (Y/N) quietly probed further after taking a sip of the warm liquid. Lady Inko nodded after a moment's consideration before looking at her daughter again. "You know, your father and I are old acquaintances of Lord and Lady Bakugou. The young Shogun's father, worked side by side with your father in the Emperor's court. And Lady Bakugou is from the same province as me. I have known Mitsuki since childhood. We lost touch after she moved to the countryside with her husband, but I know that she is a good person just like her husband. They wouldn't be able to raise a cruel man. It's a pity that the two of them can't attend the ceremony, but by the time they would have arrived in the capital, you would have left long ago.", her mother began, smiling bittersweetly. Seeing that she had (Y/N)'s full attention, Lady Inko continued her descriptions with mild amusement:"Probably the shogun got his brusque trait from his mother. You should know that Mitsuki was incredibly fierce even back when we both were still unmarried. I remember that she never minced her words, no matter who was in front of her."

The youngest Midoriya's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at her mother in disbelief:"But it's not looked upon favorably when a woman simply speaks out what she thinks." Giggling, Lady Midoriya nodded in agreement. "You're right, but just because the noble society determines what's proper and what's not, doesn't mean there aren't people out there who think differently. Besides, not every man prefers a silent woman, you know? And hardly anyone shows his true face in public. I think there's more to the Shogun than the cold-blooded warrior everyone thinks he is, and I know you feel the same way."

Thoughtfully, (Y/N) let her mother's words sink in while she fixed her gaze on the liquid contents of her cup. On the moving surface, she could see a distorted vision of her own face, but instead of looking at it, she tried to imagine the man she and her mother were talking about.

In less than a week she would have to leave her entire life behind to follow Bakugou. The thought frightened her, no matter how much she tried to give herself courage throughout, but her mother was right. She truly believed that there was more to the Shogun than what met the eye. He was temperamental and aloof, and yet he had proven that he intended to protect her in spite of it all. He had told her in the gardens that he would not agree to marry a woman who let herself be trampled upon and had encouraged her to speak for herself.

But... Was it perhaps naive of her to interpret more into a person she only met twice?