#brought to you by that thing i do sometimes

[darkbluekies]

Cannot take what was never meant to leave

Yandere!king OC x fem!fairy!reader

Summary: Edmund walks out in the forest and finds something he never seen before: a tree fairy. Upon learning that he can't take her as long as her tree is there, he does the only thing he can think of.

Warnings: Edmund is a bit more insane than usual, reader is in a lot of pain, kidnapping, basically killing, use of an ax

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Erutan's song "The Willow Maid"!! I have absolutely loved that song for ages, and after seeing PurestarMedia's music video of it on YouTube, I had to write something!! Edmund felt like the perfect fit for it!!

Summer is almost over. He can tell by a slight shift in the winds that colder times are approaching, even though barely any of the trees show any signs of autumn. He can't wait until he can bring out his thicker coat. He likes the colors of it much more.

Ten men he brought with him on his hunt for rabbits. They've decided to go into another part of the forest in hopes of finding anything.

Suddenly. A sound.

“Shh!” Edmund hushes and holds up a hand, signaling the others to stop.

He listens closely. It sounds like humming. It's a tune he has never heard before, but one that feels weirdly familiar — as if he has heard it in a dream or past life.

Quietly, they follow the sound until they reach a field full of small, white flowers. In the middle of the white field stands a tree with dark leaves. A scene taken straight out of one of the paintings hanging on the castle walls. Edmund notices someone sitting by the foot of the tree, resting among the roots. A woman?

The group of men creep closer. The woman is lying on the tree roots, leaning her head against the tree trunk, having a root under her knees for support. She's dressed in a long, white gown reminding Edmund of the small flowers. On her head rests a flower crown made of the very flowers. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth hums. 

A fairy.

One of Edmund’s men steps onto a branch on the floor, which snaps in half and pulls the fairy out of her thoughts. Her eyes snap open, revealing them to be deep and dark — and full of fear. She shoots up from her root and stumbles backwards, hiding behind her tree.

“Who are you?” she asks quickly. “What do you want?”

“You are a fairy”, Edmund says, still in disbelief.

“Yes … what do you want?”

“Have you seen any rabbits around here?”

She peeks out from behind the tree.

“What do you want them?” she asks and seems to notice the rifles hanging over their shoulders. “I'm not assisting you in killing harmless creatures.”

Edmund meets her dark eyes. They're hypnotic.

“You humans are despicable sometimes”, she says. “Killing innocent creatures who haven't done anything to you.”

“If I wouldn't, someone else would — man or animal.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Yeah, we should move on. We have rabbits to hunt.”

He can feel her eyes burn through his back as he walks back over the field of white flowers. He hopes that she will watch him until he disappears into the forest.

“Did you have a good hunt, your majesty?” his secretary asks as Edmund and his ten men come back to the castle.

“Caught a few rabbits”, he answers and smiles, thinking of the memory. “We encountered a fairy.”

They start to walk inside. 

“A fairy?” the secretary asks and holds the door into the castle open for the young king.

“What do you know about fairies?” Edmund asks. 

They walk down the large hall.

“I know that, like humans, there are different types of fairies”, the secretary says. “You found her in the woods, you said?”

Edmund nods. 

“She’s probably a tree fairy”, the secretary continues. 

“Yeah, she was sitting by a tree … almost like it was holding her”, Edmund says, furrowing his dark brows as he thinks about it. 

He holds out his arms as if he was carrying a woman, imagining her knees bending over his right arm and her back supported by his left … her head resting on his shoulder — like she had done to the tree bark. 

They walk into Edmund’s office, closing the door behind them. 

“What do you know about tree fairies?” Edmund asks and throws himself in his chair. 

“I know that they live in the woods and that they are connected to a particular tree. They feed off of sap from the tree and flower nectar — and if their tree bears fruit they eat that too.”

“What happens if they eat something else? Like meat? Or potatoes?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.”

“Would it kill them, do you think?”

“Perhaps. What I do know kills a tree fairy is killing their tree.”

Edmund looks up at him. “What?” 

“Their life source is connected to their tree. They live as long as their tree does.”

“So you’re saying that a fairy can become hundreds of years? Thousands even?”

“Could be.”

“Interesting.” He sighs and throws his head back. “You should have seen that thing. Before she noticed us she looked so … peaceful. She was resting and humming a tune. When she realized that we were there she flew up and hid behind her tree. All of that seemed so young and naive. Her tree wasn’t that large either. I think I’ve found myself a young fairy.”

“The fairy seems to interest you.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a fairy. I didn’t believe that they actually existed. But now, I’ve found one. I think that I’m going to make her my wife.”

The next day, he returns with his ten men and his secretary, dressed in his autumn coat. On the way to the glade, Edmund picks a few flowers with the biggest nectars he can find, hoping that they will be a good enough gift. He is going to ask her to marry him. 

She is walking around the white flowers, picking up a few and putting them in her flower crown. She looks up as they come. This time she doesn’t look as startled, but there’s something wary in her eyes. 

She’s beautiful and delicate, there’s no denying. Edmund needs her. Every fiber of his body needs her. She needs to be his wife, to be the mother to his children. He refuses to leave without her. 

“What brings you back?” she asks as Edmund gets close enough, but doesn’t sound like she wants to know. 

He can tell that she wants to get back to her tree. She gives it quick glimpses and takes small steps back towards it. 

Edmund holds out the flowers towards her. She hesitates before taking them out of his hand. Her fingertips barely graces his skin. Her touch is humanlike, kind and delicate. 

“Thank you”, she says and smells them softly. 

He smiles. He wants nothing more than to hug her, to hold what belongs to him in his arms, but he has to ask the question first.

“I want you to marry me”, Edmund says. 

The fairy drops the flowers in shock. They disappear underneath the small, white ones. Edmund furrows his brows.

“Marry you?” the fairy repeats, shocked. “How could I possibly-? No, no, I shall not.”

Edmund stares at her, eyes darkening, unable to understand how anyone could turn down his proposal. Women would travel far and wide to hear those words come from his mouth, and this fairy — who does she think she is — doesn’t even think twice before rejecting him. It should crush him, but instead it has the opposite effect. He will not leave without his fairy. 

He looks over his shoulder, at his ten men. “Seize her.”

Just as the ten men are about to grab the fleeing girl, his secretary grabs his shoulder. 

“Your majesty, don’t”, he says quickly. “That won’t be possible. She can’t leave the glade.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund scoffs.

“She’s connected to that tree.” He nods towards the tree in the middle of the field. “She can’t leave it.”

Edmund glares at the tree. That damn tree. The woman runs through the flowers towards her tree, hugging it tightly. Edmund finds it humorous how she thinks a simple tree could protect her. He could do it a hundred times better, will do it a hundred times better. 

He sees how she sinks down by the tree, huddled up by the tree bark, crying. Soon, she will search for comfort in him, not a damn tree. 

“We can’t take her”, the secretary says. “I don’t know what would happen if we tried, but as long as that tree is there, we can’t remove her.”

Edmund doesn’t answer as he walks back into the forest. The ten men follow him. His secretary keeps a distance. Edmund feels like he could explode with anger. He had pictured himself leaving the forest with his new fiance hand in hand. But he will not give up. He will get his fairy. 

He returns a third time the next day. This time he’s by himself … and this time, he’s brought an ax. Determined to take her with him. She will be his wife. This time, he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. He will not walk away empty handed. The thought consumes him as he marches through the forest, towards the glade. 

He can see her lying in the same spot he had seen her the first time. This time, she’s not humming. She opens her eyes as he gets nearer and jumps to her feet as her eyes fall on the sharp edge of the ax. 

“No!” she screams in pure panic. “No, what are you doing?! Don’t!”

Edmund lifts his hands and lands a blow on the bark, cutting away a piece. To his right, the fairy screams in agonizing pain and clutches her heart. He continues to hit the tree. The woman continues to scream. She cries in pain. 

It takes longer than he expects. He takes his eyes off the deep cut in the tree and turns them towards her. She’s lying between the roots, curled up with her hands pressed against her heart, crying and screaming. 

“Please stop!” she screams and sobs so that her entire body trembles. “Y-You’ll kill me! Please s-stop, please! I’m begging y-you!”

If he continues to hit the tree, she will die. 

Edmund will have to bring a piece of the tree with him and replant it in his castle’s garden so that it doesn’t die — so that she doesn’t die. He continues to chop. She continues to scream, cry and plead for him to stop. 

A loud creaking echoes through the air. He watches as the tree bends in half and falls. The fairy stumbles upon weak legs and hugs her fallen tree, sobbing. 

With the ax, Edmund manages to dig up root systems of the tree. He holds it in his left hand and grabs the fairy’s wrist tightly with his right. He yanks her up on her feet. 

“You belong to me now”, he says. 

She only sobs for an answer. She tries reaching out for her tree, but Edmund pulls her with him. She stumbles. He drags her into the forest. 

“Please …”, she sobs. “Please …”

He doesn’t know what she begs for. The tree is fallen, he can’t undo what he has done. 

“Please, I’m in so much pain”, she pants. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t have time for it. He has to get her to the castle, where he can lock her in, so that she can’t escape out to the forest again. 

He can feel her collapse. Edmund gasps and watches her lie lifeless on the ground. He shoves the tree roots in his pocket and hurries to check her pulse. She’s still living, for now. Edmund stresses to pick her up. Her limp body rests in his arms as he runs out of the forest, towards the castle. 

He runs into the castle yard, into the hallways and out to the garden. He lays the fairy down on the grass and hurried to dig a hole with his hands. Oh, how he hates the feeling of dirt under his nails. He can’t think about that now. 

He places the root in the hole and covers it with the soil. Edmund runs over to the fountain, cups his hands and fills it with water. He runs back and forth until enough water has been poured over it. He feels for a pulse on the fairy’s neck. There’s still a faint pulsation underneath his fingers. He removes his coat and places it on the ground beside the tree root before lifting the fairy onto it. He caresses her face. 

“You actually got her.”

He looks over his shoulder at his secretary. He stands there, looking at them in disbelief and horror. 

“Is she dead?” he asks. 

“No, not yet”, Edmund replies  breathlessly. “I brought a piece of the tree here and I have replanted it. She should survive. But we need flowers — lots of flowers. And anything else a fairy might eat. We need to nurture her back to life.”

“I’ll prepare some honey water, I think that should be drinkable.”

Edmund sits by the fairy, waiting patiently. 

Hours go by. She doesn’t move. Barely breathing. Edmund wonders if he she has fallen into some kind of limbo, where the tree is barely alive, and so is she. If the tree doesn’t survive, neither will she. He has to nurture both. 

He feeds the tree water and nutrient dense soil and tries to pour droplets of honey water into the fairy’s mouth. Sometimes she responds by swallowing softly, and sometimes let it drip out of her mouth. 

Hours turn to days. Days to weeks. As the tree slowly grows roots in Edmund’s soil and become stronger, so does the fairy. Edmund doubts that she will ever become as strong as she was before. The tree will never be in its full glory again, and neither will she. She can’t walk, her body is too weak to move more than a few minutes. He lets her rest by her short stub. When he can’t stay with her, he watches from afar, from one of the windows. She’s always curled up, hugging her stomach as if she’s got cramps. The poor thing never smiles anymore. 

He holds a glass of warm honey water in his hands as he walks out to the petty excuse of a tree. It'll take years to become as big as it originally was, but it will never be the original tree.

“Hi”, Edmund says softly and sits down beside the fairy, holding the cup to her dry lips.

She doesn't seem to care what she gets fed anymore. Maybe she hopes that it will kill her.

In a sense, Edmund has killed the fairy.

She drinks slowly.

“I don't know what to feed you when winter comes”, he says. “I have harvested a lot of nectar and sap, but I don't know how long that will be good for.”

A tear runs down her cheek. Edmund wipes it carefully.

“My fairy, don't worry”, he whispers reassuringly. “I will figure it out.”

He wishes that she could respond, but he hasn't heard her voice since that day she screams in pain — when he killed her.

He stands up, gives her forehead one last kiss before walking back inside. In the beginning, he used to have guards watch over the garden to make sure that she wouldn't run off, but he realized that as long as that tree is there, she isn't going anywhere.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Unexpected things you did that delight them:  

Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Trey Clover, Ruggie Bucci, Malleus Draconia

You learned proper tea etiquette for Riddle  

It starts out with you just listening to him correct others as they go throughout the various teatimes of Heartslabyul. How it leads to you thrifting a tea set from a local shop is hard to say, and it’s chipped a bit on the plates, but it holds, and the lady gave it to you for a far cheaper price than she should have. But it cleaned up beautifully, you filled in the cracks with some leftover clay and didn’t even have to repaint it! It was already in Ramshackle blue and green.  

It is embarrassing when he finds you quizzing yourself on the different spoons and plates, but the smile that blooms is worth it.  

You have no idea that when you invite him over for a tea party a few weeks after, it’s the first one that he hasn’t hosted himself. He borrows the same book from the library to brush up on his guest etiquette.  

“Prefect, what are you-ah! A lovely set. If you were needing to learn I would be happy to assist! What teas do you prefer? I will bring complimenting savories or sweets.”  

You carry glasses cleaner for Azul  

Assuming you don’t carry it already or if you don’t wear glasses. You and Azul usually spend a lot of time at Octavinelle but occasionally he will come to Ramshackle. He has since seen the work that you put into fixing up the place and the furniture you've built and appreciates it a way that the others can’t. Afterall, many of his own pieces are repaired or thrifted antiques for authenticity.

Lounging on the couch while listening to one of the jazz records he brought, you take the glasses from his hand when he realizes that he forgot his own cleaner.  

“Prefect, why would you have glasses wipes, you don’t wear any. Ah, you carry them for me. How thoughtful of you, my friend! I hope I’m not putting you out any.” 

You baked him a birthday cake for Trey  

Everyone gets nervous when Trey’s birthday comes around. How do you bake for a baker? He got past the disappointed feeling a long time ago though, perfectly prepared to make his own birthday cake.  

What isn’t accounted for you is pushing him out of the kitchen, declaring it against the rules for him to bake his own birthday cake. He could fight you on it, but he’s intrigued at this point on what you will make.  

What he doesn’t anticipate is a simple vanilla cake with a blueberry filling, a light buttercream frosting and candied violets and almonds scattered on the top. It’s simple but delicious and clearly just for him.

“You’ve got some real potential here. Where did you learn to make candied violets? You foraged and learned how just for me? Ah, that was too much for me. Thank you.”  

You clean Ruggie’s ears 

Ruggie does a lot of things to ensure everybody else gets taken care of, which means sometimes he neglects himself a bit. The showers got trashed over at Savanaclaw so he asks to use yours after a particularly messy Spelldrive Practice. As long as Grim can play with the disk in the backyard with the ghosts, it’s a deal for you.  

He comes out fluffy, hair sticking out in all sorts of places, which means you can see inside his ears and see the dirt still stuck in there. Offering to clean them wasn’t a big deal to you, you have to for Grim all the time.  

It gets awkaward for a minute when he lays his head in your lap, but as soon as the cotton hits the inside and starts wiping up all the dirt and grim, he’s putty in your hands  

“I swear they weren’t that bad but-oh. Oh that’s nice. I think I can hear colors now. And your heartbeat. What’s got you racing, huh? I didn’t moo. I did not!” 

You got pictures of his family for Malleus  

This man has pictures of himself and his parents up on the walls, but none of the rest of his family. So, you work with the ghost for a long time, getting candid shots and other bit and pieces and slowly pulling them together. When Malleus’s birthday rolls around, you actually feel nervous about it.  

When he opens his present, to see the photo album, he gets unexpectedly quiet and soft, scanning through the quotes and stories written off to the side. You give little tidbits of how you get some shots, especially the times where you were sure that Lilia knew but didn’t say anything.  

Some even had him! Silver putting him in a headlock during some play wrestling, Lilia tapping his nose while playing chess, a rare moment of him and Sebek reading together where the half fae is actually relaxed.  

At the bottom are small, framed photos of what you thought were the best ones. Silver in his armor, surrounded by animals and birds alike, his sword gleaming with sunlight, looking gentle and graceful and alert. Sebek on horseback, wind streaking his hair to his skull and grinning like a madman, his favorite stead racing fearlessly. Lilia leaning against the railing of the balcony of Diasomnia dorm and watching the sunset, eyes fond and pink in the dying light. 

“I can’t think of a single present I have ever received that has been as thoughtful as this one. Your heart truly knows a kindness that is rare, my friend. But you are missing. Let us take one together. A selfie, yes?”  

[dumblilb]

I Could Be Enough

Vi x Fem!Reader

(Synopsis: They weren’t super close as children, but running around in the same crowd kept them in the know of each other. But years later she might be all Vi’s got left.)

(Warnings: drunk!vi, alcohol, mentions of physical violence ‘ not towards reader’, it’s mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, no mentions of physical attributes, just she/her pronouns, not proof read)

(Requested: yes)

(Words: 1,585)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚☆ 。

You don’t even know how it got to this point. Sitting at the booth in a gross, sticky, and dark club, watching over a girl you didn’t think you would ever see again. And maybe you were right. Cause she’s not the same girl you remember running around the streets of the under city as a child. The one who always had a bright look in her eyes as she tried so hard to live up to her father’s name, and keep her siblings safe.

But one thing was the same behind those, now dark and sad, slate grey eyes. She was a fighter. In the most literal sense. She couldn’t keep her fist off a jaw if she tried. Night after night she would cover her distinct tattoos and red hair with dark paint. Disguising herself from the public who claimed her strength as a prize. Or maybe even hiding from herself. She wasn’t to sure anymore.

But as the nights carried on the paint got messier and the drinks were getting stronger. And it was hard to watch. But here you were. Watching. So hard you thought your eyes might bleed from all the strobing lights and smoke filling the air. Any other night you might have gone to bed. Ignored the aching feeling you had, and left her to party the rest of the night away. But you couldn’t. Because there she was also watching you. As she sloppily got up with a bottle in her hand and started to walk towards the exit, the urge to follow consumed you. Because you knew she wanted you too. She was practically begging. And so you did. Meeting her by the stairs leading to her small apartment.

“Thank god you came, I thought I was gonna have to drink all alone tonight.” She slurred and you sighed resting your hip against the wall, propping yourself up.

“What would you do without me.” You smiled at her. Trying not to be angry with how fucked up she sounds. Slyly taking the bottle from her and helping her steady by the waist you walk her home.

“You know you’re so pretty when you’re mad at me.” She sighs as you push her door open. You just roll your eyes. She’s been doing this for months. Ever since her first pit match. You were hired as a sort of nurse for the ring. Patching up the people who were getting their shit rocked, and the people doing the punching. Making sure they were healed enough for their next match. And the second you saw her step in that ring you knew it was her. Sure she looked a little different. But her deep upper cut. You could never forget that.

So you causally brought up growing up in the lanes while bandaging her fists that day. How you were pretty shy but always friendly with a boy named Ekko. And he had introduced you to his friends a few times. You could tell she remembered you. But she didn’t say anything. Which was okay. You could tell she didn’t really want to be known at that point. But as time went on she spent more time talking to you after matches. Sitting at the bar just trying to figure out how life got both of you here.

But she also found alcohol along the way. And that concerned you. She would always assure you she was fine. And you chose to believe her. Even though it sometimes seemed she would look right through you. Like she wished something else was there.

But even before the alcohol, the casual flirting was always there. Comments about how attractive you looked and how nice you were to her compared to the other fighters. Claiming you made her feel ‘so special’ and not just because it was coming from a beautiful girl like you.

So as you sit her down on her small bed and pull out some supplies to remove her makeup you can’t help but shake your head at her.

“Your dumb fake flirting isn’t going to get you out of this one vi. You’re a mess.” You sigh pushing her hair back with one hand, removing her makeup with the other.

“It’s not fake and you know it.” She rolls her eyes. “I want you. Please.” She says griping the hand with the cloth in it. Rubbing her thumb across your knuckles softly. The difference between her ruff scared hands and yours now glaringly apparent.

“You’re drunk and exhausted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bit of a concussion after today’s match. I haven’t seen you get hit that hard in a while.” You say ignoring her advances. As you’ve done before.

“I’m fine. You know I’m fine.” She reassures you. But the wavering of her eyes says otherwise.

“I know you think you’re fine-“ you remove your hand from hers and finish wiping her face. “But I see you, Vi. And this isn’t fine.” You say pointing from the bottle resting on her little table to her bruised fists.

She groans tossing her head back. And you gear up ready for a fight about how you don’t know what you’re talking about. But she rubs her eyes a little, her breath slowly becoming unsteady.

“You’re right I’m sorry.” She breathes out looking at you. The small bit of light roaming the room makes the wateriness of her eyes sparkle. “God I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do.” She cries.

You don’t even know how to respond. She’s never really cried in front of you before. She’s always been so tuff. But as she sits before you, even her toned and muscular body couldn’t make her look strong.

“I’m so lonely. All I have at this point is you. And you don’t even want me.” She continues and your face softens. Kneeling down in front of her you softly stroke her hair, pulling her in for a hug. She cautiously wraps her arms around you. Like just her touch might scare you away.

“You have me. You do. I think you have for a while now. I just didn’t think you were serious.” You reassure her. Her head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and you can hear her breathing steady slightly.

“I’m always serious about you.” She says softly, it being a bit muffled by her position. She pulls away from the hug, resting her forehead to yours. “Can you stay please. I don’t want to be alone.” She asks quietly. Her warm breath hitting your lips.

“I’ll stay.” You grin and she moves to get up and grab a blanket. You help get her ready to lay down, removing her thick boots and setting aside the dirty cloth.

She props the blanket in your lap and she lays down. At first you just smile at how dainty she looks compared to how you usually see her. But her strong arm pulling you down next to her snaps you out of it pretty quickly.

Pulling the blanket over you both, you run your fingers through her hair. Analyzing her face one feature at a time. Her eyes seem a little more blue in this lighting. And you can finally see the small freckles adorning her skin.

��Are you trying to seduce me.” She asks with a soft laugh. “Cause it’s working.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas. That’s not happening. At least not tonight.” You say and you could have sworn her cheeks got a little pink.

“Well then you’ve got to stop staring at me like that… At least not tonight.” She jokes rolling over. Making you smile.

With her back to you, you place an arm around her waist holding her firm. You could feel her body stiffen and you try to remove your arm but she stops you. “No wait. This is good.” She whispers. “This is good.” And she holds your arm tight to her. Rubbing circles across it with her fingers. Her whole body relaxes against yours and you smile against her neck.

“You know I’m not that same girl anymore.” She sighs a little out of no where. But you get it, she’s trying to give you an out. A chance to run. You hum in response. “I’m different I think. I’m not as strong as I used to be.” She continues and you know she’s not talking about muscle, or brawn. She used to be a leader. Someone people looked up to. And now… most people didn’t even know her real name.

“That might be true. But that’s okay.” You say pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck. “You’ve been through a lot. I think you’re holding on to a girl who didn’t know what life was yet. And you’re grown up. It’s normal to not be the same. Or feel the same.” You continue and she turns to face you. Caressing your cheek softly.

“I think maybe I can be okay. With you.” She muses. Placing a light kiss to your lips. Making you smile.

“Good cause I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t know if tomorrow she would go back to drinking. Or if she would get her ass kicked in the pit. But tonight she was safe. And she was with you. And as she fell asleep to your heart beating against her, you couldn’t help but hope it could stay this way. Cause for you. This was enough.

[m0nnypie]

DATING DEKU (BUT BEING KATSUKI'S SISTER)

Warnings: just Deku being fool for reader, 'n Katsuki being a jealous brother.

synopsis: You're dating this cute green-haired boy, but you're related to that stressed-out blonde bitch 💔

- Well, it's obvious that you've known each other since you were kids. And according to both parents, you've shown that you liked each other since you were young (Katsuki says that's stupid)

- Because you were a year younger, you didn't go to U.A. with them. But that doesn't mean you didn't spend time with Deku.

- To be honest, Katsuki did everything he could to keep you away from Deku. Saying things like "he's a loser, and we're amazing" and "you're my sister, you shouldn't hang out with a nerd like him". But it's not like you listened to the blonde. Since you didn't want the blonde bothering you, you continued hanging out with him, even in public.

- But that stopped after Katsuki simply called his friends to beat up the green-haired one. You literally stopped talking to the blonde for a whole month, and that worried your parents, because besides affecting Katsuki, they could hear you crying every night, saying how stupid Katsuki was. In the end, you guys resolved it after he promised he wouldn't bother Deku anymore. Not that he kept his promise.

- After what happened, you started sneaking out with Deku. Whether it was going to his house, or going to play somewhere, when you knew Katsuki was going to train. And it's obvious that he never told you about Katsuki. That's why, the day he arrived all hurt, you almost had a fit.

"WHO HURT YOU?"

Sometimes he forgot that you were capable of screaming as loud as Katsuki.

"I-it was nothing!"

"NOTHING? DEKU YOU'RE ALL HURT!!"

He simply held your hand and smiled.

"It's okay! No need to worry! I already told you."

The simple contact made you blush. It was funny how children dealt with affection.

- Over time, you started to drift away. It wasn't that you hated him, but most of your time was spent training with Katsuki. So in the last year, before the two of them went to U.A, you barely saw Deku.

- You were on good terms with Katsuki. That is, until you found out that he never really left Deku alone. The moment you walked into the classroom in a rage, he thought it was strange. But as soon as the blonde felt you attack him with all your force, he was in shock.

"DON'T YOU EVER COME NEAR HIM AGAIN! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME YOU SHIT?! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE MY BROTHER"

you pulled Deku with you, leaving behind an extremely angry blond, yelling that he didn't care about you.

That afternoon, Deku comforted you while telling you that everything was going to be okay. But you didn't believe it.

- Obviously things got weird between Katsuki and you. Especially because you would stay in the same house for months before he went to U.A. And even though your parents tried everything to make things work out for you, nothing worked. He was too proud to do anything, and you had too much anger built up to be on good terms with him.

- You continued to be close to Deku. Staying with him all day now, and threatening anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way. And even if he said he didn't need all that, you just told him to shut up. You two became really close after that.

- At the time, when he would just disappear sometimes, you were really worried. Even though you didn't have much time, as you were busy with your own training.

- Of course, when you found out he got into U.A. you wanted to celebrate. When you brought up the subject of the quirk, he got all weird, so you let it go.

- At the same time, you and Katsuki still haven't made up. Neither of you wanted to apologize, you were too proud for that. And now, it would be even harder with him at U.A.

- At first it was really strange, when you didn't see Deku as often anymore. Even though he always called you every night, and sent you messages all day long.

- He was saying how wonderful U.A was. That he had met All Might (he said he told you about it, and you almost had a heart attack). You were so excited for him! (and for Katsuki even though you wouldn't admit it). But of course things changed when he was kidnapped.

- As soon as you found out about the kidnapping, your first instinct was to call Deku. You were desperate, and he tried to calm you down by saying he would fix everything. That's when you had your first fight.

"IT'S NOT GOING TO BE OKAY, DEKU! HE'S BEEN KIDNAPPED!"

"You need to calm down... I told you! I'll find a way! You need to trust me!"

"A WAY, DEKU?! MY BROTHER WAS KIDNAPPED BY THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS! IT'S NOT SIMPLE!!! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? HUM? UNTIL A MONTH AGO YOU DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK"

the silence that fell was deafening.

"I'm going to hang up."

"(Name) Wait-"

You hung up on him, you knew what you said to him was wrong. But your concern for your brother's life was greater than any guilt. You ignored all his other calls for the rest of the day.

- As soon as Katsuki came back. You punched him in the face. Well, brotherly love, right? But you didn't let go of him for a whole week.

As soon as you met the blond again, with the weight of your fight and the worry you felt, all you could do was punch him.

Everyone was shocked, your parents, All Might who you didn't even realize was there. Even Deku wasn't expecting it. Of course, Katsuki didn't take it personally, certainly not. But before he could yell something stupid, he felt you hug him.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

He simply gave you an ironic laugh and hugged you back. He didn't like hugs, but he knew he couldn't deny you that.

Well, now everyone was really in shock.

- Well, they gave you a week to stay with Katsuki (With All Might asking for it, it became easier for it to happen). No one had ever seen this hot-headed blonde treat someone well, so when they saw how he treated you (despite still having the insults), everyone wanted to meet the grumpy blonde's dear sister. And he hated the idea, although he wasn't the only one. A certain green-haired boy, perhaps, was quite sullen.

- Of course when you saw Deku, the first thing you did was apologize. It was funny that even though you were as proud as your brother, when it came to Deku, things were simpler and easier. He obviously accepted your apology, you spent an entire day together, with Katsuki obviously hating every second of it.

- Well, the rest of the year was tense too. With all the fights and stuff. The only times Deku could relax were when he was with you.

- It didn't take long for him to realize that he was in love with you. Because of course, with his friends making jokes about it, it was hard to hide it. He had no intention of confessing, he didn't want to ruin his friendship with you. But of course Uraraka, Mina and Denki thought otherwise.

- After coming up with a plan to make you two finally confess, everything went wrong. Katsuki was suspicious, so he simply wouldn't let go of you the whole time. Until, of course, the guys decided to bring All Might into the plan (bros are determined). Somehow, they convinced All Might to distract Katsuki. So when you were finally alone, he got nervous, not knowing what to do. And before everyone could intervene to help him, they saw you kissing Deku.

- Obviously you started dating. Everyone was happy for you, your parents thought Deku was adorable. But of course one person didn't like it. A certain blond guy was totally against your relationship. But not that he would do anything other than threaten Deku, saying that if he touched a single hair on your head, he would end up underground (he takes threats seriously). Anyway, he would always be in the corner complaining, not that you care.

- The best thing that could have happened was when you started at U.A. Many nights, he would sneak into your dorm. You would have lunch together, walk hand in hand through the hallways. He would train with you (you loved it when training turned into a kissing session, which embarrassed him). Anyone who looked at Deku would realize how much he loved you, even Katsuki knew that.

- Most of the make-out sessions were initiated by you. Sometimes in the bedroom, during training, or during breaks. One time, you almost got caught. He almost died because he thought he would get caught, while you could only laugh.

- Every time you went home, you always took Deku with you. Katsuki hated that. You also went to his house a lot, his mother adores you! She loves showing you pictures of him, which makes him embarrassed.

- You two love to sleep cuddling. One time you were cuddling on the couch kissing, and Katsuki decided to get between you. You were sulking, and Deku didn't know where to hide his face. Poor Deku if Katsuki knew more.

- Even if Katsuki doesn't admit it, he trusts Deku. And he'd much rather you date the green-haired boy than any other guy.

SERIOUSLY I'M SO OBSESSED WITH THESE TWO!! I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT!!!

'N SORRY FOR MY ENGLISH!!!

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier 

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 

Gosh, he was so cute. 

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 

Zayne 

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 

So, what did you decide to do? 

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well. 

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 

Rafayel 

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 

He was also so easy to fluster. 

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 

“Huh?” 

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 

“Again.” 

Now, it's your turn to be confused. 

“Raf, what–” 

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 

Okay, you got this. 

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 

“Sure, kitten.” 

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

[innerfare]

Mihawk Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: a random collection of Mihawk relationship headcanons

Genre: fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

He never imagined himself in a relationship. He’d had plenty of one night stands and situationships (he's notorious for allowing sexual tension to fester and never doing anything about it), but an actual relationship had always been off the cards. Until, that is, he met you. He didn’t really think too deeply about it, just started pursuing you. On some level, he knew he was putting you in danger, but he couldn’t stay away. 

Was definitely a victim of love at first sight. He fell first, and he fell harder. 

He is very secretive about his relationship with you, at first only visiting you in the dead of night and leaving before day break, appearing on your balcony like some sort of vampire or succubus. Shanks is the only person who knows about you, and he intends to keep it that way. 

Always brings you something- a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, a piece of jewelry, a pastry he wants to share with you, a piece of lace, silk, or tulle he wants to see you in. Will also bring you books he thought you might like, souvenirs from far away lands, and even pieces of him to hold on to, such as his favorite dagger that now lives on your person (he spent an entire night teaching you how to use it and was ecstatic when you held it to his throat, definitely turned NSFW). Being in a relationship with him is basically like having tamed a wild animal that brings you dead mice he caught. TBH wouldn’t hesitate to bring you the severed head of an enemy if you so desired. 

Of course, he plays all of this off, either saying nothing or giving you a small lecture about how you needed that thing. “I happened to find a copy of that book you mentioned.” “I don’t suppose you have any use for this.” “I brought this vintage wine for myself but I suppose you can have some if you really want.” When he brings you flowers, he tells you it’s because your place is rather drab and if you won’t bother to liven it up, he’ll just have to do it for you (the man lives in a gloomy castle but shhh). When he brings you lingerie, he lays it on your bed without a word or says something along the lines of, “those panties you wore the last time were so cheap they chafed my skin. Wear these from now on.” Alludes to finding the jewelry he gives you in some sort of pirate horde he won’t go into detail on it since it’s in violation of his Warlord contract with the World Government, actually just purchases the pieces from various jewelers he meets on his travels; sometimes seeks out famous jewelers far off the beaten path if he thinks you’ll like that jeweler’s work.

Insists your relationship is not a relationship but is rather an affair. The sort of man to lie about cheating- not about not doing it, but about doing it so you don't get the impression he's committed to you. Won’t tell you he wants to be exclusive, but will yearn for it. Not good about communicating in general, very bad about just thinking things and hoping you’re thinking the same. 

For a long time, he didn’t even want you to come to the Muggy Kingdom for fear the Navy was watching him there and would find out about you. He also refused to speak to you over a transponder snail for fear they had tapped his. 

Never really warmed up to the idea of keeping you close but eventually grew so attached that he couldn’t stand to have you far away. Had no appetite if you weren’t at his table, couldn’t sleep if you weren’t in his bed, didn’t even want to take a shower if he couldn’t use your floral shampoo. Eventually, he convinced himself you were safer with him than without him, and that was that. 

Late nights cooking dinner (dinner is never before seven at Mihawk’s place). Afternoons gardening. Mornings spent discussing whatever’s in the newspaper. Evenings spent making out in the wine cellar because you went down to select a bottle for that night and got carried away. You sitting atop some ruins and watching him practice. Very domestic, but he hates that word. 

Won’t really tell you he loves you unless it’s a late night and he’s very drunk and you insist upon hearing it, certainly won’t admit to needing you, but will press a kiss into your hand and assure you he has deep affection for you. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[inkspiredwriting]

Countless cups of coffee

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves stared at the half-empty cup of coffee on the kitchen table. The steam curled into the air, mingling with the morning light filtering through the curtains. It was a quiet moment, one that he had come to cherish in his otherwise tumultuous life. The coffee was strong, just the way he liked it, but it wasn’t the caffeine that he looked forward to. It was the company.

Across from him sat Y/n, her hands wrapped around her own mug. Her eyes were still sleepy, her hair tousled from the night before. Five found solace in these simple moments, the world reduced to just the two of them and the warmth of their morning brew.

“I think this is the best part of my day,” Y/n said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was like a soft hum, comforting and familiar.

Five smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Mine too,” he replied.

Their lives were often chaotic—filled with timelines, apocalypses, and the never-ending struggles of time travel. But here, in the soft glow of the morning, it was just them. The rest of the world could wait.

Their relationship had always been complicated, fraught with the trials of Five’s time-hopping existence and the burdens they both carried. Yet, somehow, they always found their way back to each other. Coffee had become their ritual, a way to ground themselves amid the madness.

Y/n reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Five’s. “Do you ever wish things were different?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

Five considered her question, his gaze lingering on the way their hands touched. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think about how lucky I am to have you, even in this crazy life.”

Y/n’s smile was soft, her eyes filled with understanding. “I feel the same way. These moments... they make everything worth it.”

The peace of their morning was suddenly shattered by a loud crash from the other room. Five sighed, knowing exactly who it was. The Hargreeves household was never short of chaos, and his siblings had a knack for disrupting even the calmest of moments.

“Klaus!” Five called out, irritation creeping into his voice. “What did you break this time?”

Klaus appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Just a vase. I was... uh, redecorating.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “You and your redecorating.”

Klaus grinned, unrepentant. “Hey, if you guys didn’t want chaos, you wouldn’t live here.”

Five rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Despite the constant disruptions, he wouldn’t trade his family for anything. And he knew Y/n felt the same way. She had become part of their crazy world, fitting in seamlessly with the dysfunction.

As the day went on, Five found himself caught up in the usual whirl of events—family squabbles, and the occasional existential crisis. Y/n was right there with him, her presence a steady anchor in the storm.

By evening, they were both exhausted, sinking onto the couch together. Five’s mind was still buzzing with the day’s events, but Y/n’s hand on his arm brought him back to the present.

“You’re thinking too much again,” she said, her voice a gentle tease.

Five sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Can’t help it. There’s always something to worry about.”

Y/n shifted closer, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. “Then let’s not think for a while,” she suggested. “Just be here, with me.”

Five looked at her, taking in the warmth of her gaze, the softness of her expression. He nodded, his heart feeling lighter. “I can do that.”

They spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the familiarity of home, that Five realized how much he cherished what they had.

As they sat together, the memories of their journey played through Five’s mind. Their first encounter, the struggles they had faced, and the way they always found their way back to each other. It was like their relationship was written in the stars, no matter how many times the timelines tried to tear them apart.

“Hey, Five?” Y/n’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something,” she said, her gaze steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll always find our way back to this. To us.”

Five nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. “I promise,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what.”

The next morning, Five woke to the smell of coffee brewing. He smiled, stretching as he got out of bed. Y/n was already in the kitchen, her back to him as she poured their cups.

“Morning,” he greeted her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Y/n leaned into his embrace, her smile evident in her voice. “Morning. Ready for another day of chaos?”

Five chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as I have my coffee and you, I can handle anything.”

Y/n turned in his arms, her eyes sparkling. “Then we’re set.”

They took their coffee to the table, savoring the warmth and the quiet. It was another day, another chance to face the world together. And in that moment, with the scent of coffee in the air and the person he loved by his side, Five knew that together, they could face anything.

Years later, Five and Y/n still held onto their morning ritual. Life continued to throw challenges their way, but their love remained a constant, unbreakable bond. Over countless cups of coffee, they built a life together, finding strength in each other’s presence.

And as they sipped their coffee, sharing dreams and fears, they knew that no matter where time took them, they would always find their way back to each other. Their love, like their morning ritual, was a testament to their enduring bond, a promise kept through every twist and turn of their extraordinary lives.

[swanimagines]

Hola can i request a Morpheus x f!Reader fic where her son is running over all the palace because he doesn’t want to take a bath?

Sorry English is not my first language

A/N: Ahem ahem, excuse me... this may be the first time in a very long time I'm actually genuinely HAPPY with something I wrote?? If there's a writing deity or a saint, I will pray to them and hope for this kind of skill and motivation and inspiration and whatever hell I need to produce THIS kind of content in the future too, thanks bye!

"Aridus!" your voice echoed through the grand corridors as you chased after your son, who had decided today was not the day for a bath. He turned around slightly, his face scrunched up in anger.

“I don’t want to take a bath!” he declared for the hundredth time, before taking a turn to yet another maze of hallways. You let out a frustrated groan, even though you tried to keep it in.

“I know, sweetie, but after all that playing with Goldie, you’re all muddy, I can’t let you go to bed like that!” You stopped, as you took the turn to where he went. “Aridus, please just—”

“No! I don’t want to sleep either!” His voice echoed through the hallway, it was impossible to know which nook he took as a hiding place. “Daddy never sleeps either!”

It was true, the everlasting bickering with him. Why is daddy able to go around day and night, why can’t he stay up to play all night as well. But the thing was, Aridus was your offspring too, and you were originally from the Waking world — and you needed sleep, so Aridus needed sleep too. Your husband had told you that Aridus may need less sleep than a “regular” human as he grows up, but as a toddler he was just like regular children were. Getting tantrums out of being tired, while the tantrum is about not wanting to go to sleep. “I know sweetie, but he’s–”

“No!” he screamed, and you heard the patter of feet going further again.

You barely heard Morpheus coming to stand beside you, but you felt his presence and turned to look at him. “I can’t catch him. He’s persistent and knows how to tire me out.”

Morpheus's lips had a small hint of a smile. “He is much like you, then.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “Me? Are you sure? You’re the one who’s refusing to listen to any other opinions of change when you’ve already decided the ‘best’ way. I think he’s more like you than me.”

Morpheus smiled properly now, inclining his head forward. “True.”

A loud crash interrupted the sound of running, and you heard something rolling through the floor, followed by a soft thud and a whimper from Aridus. You walked forward with Morpheus following close behind, and discovered the source. Aridus had collided with one of the pedestals, which had sent a stack of dream scrolls all over the room. You moved to stand in front of him and brought your hands to your hips, sighing.

Suddenly your son, who had been so angry just a moment earlier, looked more remorseful as ever. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

Before you could answer, you felt Morpheus’s hand on your shoulder. “Allow me, my love.”

Aridus sat there frozen in place, looking at his father kneeling in front of him. Morpheus reached out, carefully tucking a curl of hair behind Aridus’s ear. “Do you know why we need to take baths, Aridus?”

Aridus’s shoulders slumped. “I know, father. Mother doesn’t want my bed to get dirty. But I don’t like to get wet.”

Morpheus shook his head. “It is not only because we get dirty. Every day, all living beings get dream dust on them. If there’s too much of it, it weighs us down. It affects our mood and eventually… it may make us fall asleep and never again wake up. Be stuck in nightmares forever, and not even I would be able to help.”

Aridus stared at his father, his mouth opening slightly before he whispered, “Stuck?”

Morpheus nodded. “Yes. Even the stars must cleanse themselves of the night sometimes.”

For a moment, Aridus stared at the floor, clearly trying to contemplate his options. But eventually, he looked up again and nodded. “Okay.”

You smiled slightly, ushering him towards the bathroom before you looked back at your husband, who was left cleaning the mess up.

—

Later, when you watched your son sleeping in his little bed from the doorway, you felt a slight gust of air as Morpheus appeared to your side again. You smiled at him and whispered, “You’re good at making up stories. I think he’ll be much more willing to take baths in the future.”

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on your son. “I merely spoke the truth.”

You frowned. “Really?”

He turned towards you slightly. “Yes. Well, maybe I dramatised it a little, but much of it was true. Even stars need to be born anew sometimes. They too resist, hang on, but ultimately they yield and give way to new stars. Just like our son did.”

You nodded and let yourself lean against him slightly. "I’ll admit, I was starting to lose hope there for a moment. I didn’t think anything could convince him to take a bath, let alone willingly. He certainly takes after both of us. I thought I'd never tire him out, but you…” you murmured and looked at him. “You have a way with him. Maybe I should let you handle all the tantrums from now on."

Morpheus pushed you away slightly, tracing his fingers against your bare arm. "I would handle them all, if you so wished," he whispered. "But I believe Aridus needs you as much as he needs me. You are his anchor to both worlds. Without you, he might wander too far in the night."

You smiled a little at that. Morpheus certainly knew his way through words, it was in his nature, in how he was created, sure, but you felt like he had learned a thing or two from love since he fell in love with you all those centuries ago.

You sighed, looking at your sleeping son. “He seems to like wandering. He has told me so many times he wants to be just like you, and I don’t know how to tell him that it isn’t possible.”

Morpheus was quiet for a moment, running his hand up and down your arm. “He must learn to walk in both worlds because when the time comes… Waking world may call out to him. In any case, balance is essential. And he must learn to control and thrive, whatever his place will end up being.”

You swallowed, remembering that once your son grows up, he may only be able to visit you at night. You’d watch him grow old year by year, and only get him back once he dies. Which will take centuries, if not even millennials with his Endless blood. And even then, he may choose the Land of the Dead if he has loved ones there. But Morpheus made it sound… like it was natural. Which it of course was, you reminded yourself. “You make it sound so simple. That it will be simple to accept it.”

"Simple, no. But necessary, yes." His hand stilled on your arm.. "And you, my love, have always excelled at guiding him in ways I cannot."

You were quiet for a moment again. “I just don’t want him to grow up so fast.”

He was quiet for a moment too, taking in a deep breath. “I wish he did not grow so fast either. But moments like these, they will linger. Forever, if necessary. We need not fear losing him.”

You nodded, finally closing the door and following Morpheus towards the throne room. “I guess I should just remember he’s going to be a half-deity like you. And that hopefully he’s going to make the world a better place.”

Morpheus turned to look at you, taking your hands in his. “He will have both of us with him when he enters the Waking world, and be more than us. He will be a dream, but also a heartbeat. And that, my love, is his gift.”

You swallowed, but then closed your eyes and dropped your face towards the floor. “I know. As long as he has both of us in him, he’ll be alright.”

Morpheus cupped your cheek, tilting your head to look at him again. “He will thrive. He will flourish in ways we cannot yet even imagine.”

You nodded, glancing back towards Aridus’s room and then you turned back to Morpheus. “I love you.”

His smile appeared again, an expression only reserved for you before he kissed your forehead. “And I, you. Always.”

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[allieslittlewritings]

*not my gif <3

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Sick Day

Summary: Reader has a cold and Spencer takes care of her

Warnings: Mild sickness, none that I know of

Word Count: ~1.1k

Dread filled your stomach when you woke up and felt the annoyingly familiar feeling of a sore throat and blocked nose.

You tiredly looked at the time on your phone and saw that you were almost late for school.

Begrudgingly, you got out of bed and started to get ready, doing your best to ignore your worsening sickness.

You heard your dad knock on your door and mentally prepared yourself to pretend to be fine.

Spencer was always incredibly attentive when you were sick, sometimes overly so.

Usually it was comforting and nice, but right now you just needed to get ready so you wouldn't be late for school.

You didn't fully register that you hadn't actually said anything yet.

"Sweetheart? Can I come in?" Spencer asked.

"Yes." You prayed he couldn't hear the difference in your voice from your stuffy nose.

He opened your door and entered your room, a plate of food in hand, "I know you're almost late but I made you some breakfast."

He put the plate down on your desk and noticed your frazzled behavior.

Your bed was still unmade. A few random items of clothing were thrown here and there, presumably from when you got dressed, and he noticed the frantic way you tried to make sure you had everything you needed.

"Are you okay? Did you oversleep?"

"Uh, yeah, apparently." You grabbed your hairbrush and started trying to make your hair look more presentable.

It was apparently one of those days where your hair would just not comply.

Spencer saw your breathing get heavier, a tell-tale sign that you were getting frustrated.

"Your hair looks fine," he remarked.

"Fine isn't good enough," you grumbled in response.

Your preoccupation with your hair meant you didn't see the way his eyes narrowed as he studied you a little closer.

It was nearly impossible for you to hide things from him, with his mixture of parental instincts and profiling skills.

"Are you sure you're okay?" It was honestly kind of a trick question, he could tell you weren't.

You swallowed less often than usual, an indication of a sore throat. Your breathing was quiet, and less frequent. And he could in fact hear the tiny change in your voice. He saw the way you paused to think about every little thing, like everything you did took a lot of effort.

You also showed no indication of being about to eat the food he brought you, your tastebuds tended to get weird when you were sick.

"I'm fine." A harshness you rarely displayed was evident in your tone of voice.

"Sweetie, I can tell you're sick," Spencer finally said.

"I'm not sick," you insisted.

"Yes, you are," he said more sternly.

"Why didn't you just tell me, sweetheart?" he asked gentler.

"Why would it matter?" You started heading to the door but your dad stopped you by lightly holding your shoulder.

"You can't go to school if you're sick, you need to rest."

"I'll be fine, just let me go." You shrugged his hand off of your shoulder in annoyance.

"Baby, I'm serious. If you force yourself to go out and sit through hours of school, you'll make your health worse, and you could get other kids sick."

You frustratedly looked at him. "I'm fine," you repeated.

"Come on, odds are you already know everything your teachers would say. And it's Friday, you'll probably be better by Monday."

He wasn't wrong.

But you had it so ingrained in your head that you couldn't miss a day of school. You couldn't honestly explain why.

Spencer was well aware of that thinking pattern of yours, but your health and wellbeing would always matter more.

He noticed you pondering it in your head.

"I don't have work today," he reminded you. "We can have a nice, relaxed day together, it'll be fun."

"Okay," you finally agreed.

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm gonna call the school quickly to let them know you're not going."

Hearing that phrase left a bad taste in your mouth, but you also felt a weight lift from your shoulders knowing you could just rest.

You put your backpack down and got changed into comfier clothes again.

Spencer came back to your room after calling your school.

"I can make you something else to eat if you don't want to eat that." Spencer gestured to your still untouched plate.

You looked over at the food. "I don't want to be wasteful." You looked back at your dad with a twinge of guilt in your expression.

"You won't be, I'll eat it," Spencer assured you.

You nodded your head, not wanting to talk more because of your sore throat.

Spencer picked up the plate from your desk and started exiting your room, with you following behind him.

He made you food that was more appealing to your taste buds at the time and then you both settled comfortably on the couch.

Spencer grabbed a blanket for you and some tissues for your nose.

He let you pick a movie to watch. Unsurprisingly, it was the same one you always wanted to watch.

He didn't mind. Although it wasn't exactly his favorite movie, it was yours. Which automatically meant he loved it, too.

It made him happy to see the awe in your eyes everytime you watched it. The way you quietly mouthed the lines to yourself.

Spencer took your empty plate to the kitchen and came back with some medicine and a glass of water for you.

You quickly drank it and then turned on your favorite show.

While you watched your show, Spencer made your favorite kind of soup. Also the only type of soup he knew how to make.

You ate in silence, except for a few chuckles every now and then at the series you were watching.

Spencer read for a while after you both finished eating, seeing as he'd already watched every episode of your favorite show at least twice, and could recite almost all of them word for word.

You finished the last episode of the season you were on and just sat in silence for a minute.

The sun set and Spencer turned on a few lights before going back to his book.

"Dad?" You said quietly.

"Mhm?" Spencer hummed in response, turning a page.

"Can you read to me, please?"

A soft smile graced Spencer's face, "Of course I can. Anything specific you want me to read?"

You sat up slowly and shook your head.

Spencer held one of his arms open and waited for you to lay down on his chest.

He gently stroked your arm and pulled the blanket further up your body.

Although you didn't care much about the topic of his book, hearing his voice was soothing.

"Dad?" You interrupted him after a bit.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Thank you for taking care of me," you mumbled sleepily.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. That's what I'm here for."

"I love you," you said quietly, cuddling into him further.

"I love you, too."

Your tired eyes finally shut and you fell asleep.

Spencer let you sleep for a while before eventually picking you up and putting you in your bed.

Sick days weren't so terrible when you got to spend them with your dad.

fin. ♡

[destinationtrekk]

what's something your wesker would infodump about (prompted? what about unprompted?) in what tone? how would you describe your wesker's vocal range when speaking with no malice?

how would he respond if his partner was listening aptly, but after responding thoughtfully, admits to him that he has a beautiful / melodic / enjoyable speaking voice?

have a nice day :3

wesker went to school for a very long time, even if it was because he was basically brainwashed by spencer, but regardless - dude knows A LOT of science facts

he kind of unconsciously rants and infodumps about any and all medical information that gets brought up. for a modern take, when covid first appeared he was all. over. that shit. learned every possible detail about it and was constantly proving why most scientists were idiots and incorrect and how he could actually do so much better-

sometimes you have to stop him because he is a very intelligent man but his ego is also the size of a house. you have to tell him that just because he knows things doesn't mean he has to get so worked up about them!

on a casual note i also think he likes to infodump about a lot of plants and animals. he's not really a pet guy, but they did a lot of research into what plants and animals would be best to test their viruses on, so you bet when he sees a little bird at the park he knows exactly what it is (and he will tell you exactly why they didn't want to experiment on them)

as for tone of voice, i think he gets very neutral and deadpan when he's explaining things. he's not a very expressive person in general, so when he's sharing a lot of information at once he's just kind of explaining it like he's in a boring conversation - even though you can see his eyes twinkling and his mind working in overdrive to get out everything he wants to say.

on a normal basis, he isn't intimidating to speak to. he doesn't actually like to use his low and dangerous voice, he only does it to manipulate people. usually he's quiet and even a little snarky, but i imagine him much like erwin smith (attack on titan) in that he has a deep and warm voice and sounds very in control and calm unless otherwise needed. he gets all blushy and embarrassed when you say you love his voice though - he thinks it's just the way he talks and there's nothing special about it, but he does love the way you get all starry eyed and smiley when he talks for a long time.

[bluetoes-andstuff]

A Hidden Desire

Chapter 2 - Once Upon A Time

Summary: Once upon a time… you wish to be rescued. Your rescuer is not who you would expect, but he hears your plea and rushes to your aid.

Rating: T (Eventual NSFW)

Word Count: 4.4K

Relationship: Caesar x Fem!Human Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, implied sexual abuse

Previous Chapter

***If you are under 18 I would advise not reading, this is not an explicit chapter but this will be a story that explores nsfw themes later on. Best to just not go down the path to begin with. Be safe***

You wake up to the familiar, harsh reality of this dreadful camp after a long night of restless sleep. The tent you’ve recently started to call home is a tattered, makeshift structure, barely held together by willpower alone. In short… It was a mess. The fabric was worn and stained, letting in drafts of cold air with every slight breeze. The ground beneath you is hard and unforgiving, littered with pebbles and uneven clumps of dirt, and a thin blanket being your only comfort against the harsh chill.

Your pitiful collection of dirty, ripped clothes lie in a pile across the tent beside your other meager belongings. It didn’t amount to very much considering your camp’s habit of spontaneously uprooting, forcing you to leave behind whatever you couldn’t carry on foot.

The subtle aches of your body greet you as you slowly sit upright. You glance down towards your legs, covered in your baggy sleep pants, the gross memories from the day prior surfacing. You reach forward and wince as you slowly roll up your pant leg to expose the nasty gash bordered by a developing purple bruise. That was going to make it kind of difficult to get your chores done today.

You poke at the sore bruising. The entire area burned and you had a feeling it was going to be a difficult healing process. Your stomach spasms with a loud grumble, bringing to attention the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, and you push your face into your knees with a soft sob. Sometimes the reality of your situation just hits you all at once, and you can’t do anything more but cry, because what else can you do about it? You’re stuck here, and you’ve come to accept that now.

Your few personal items scattered about were almost like remnants of a life from a distant memory. A life you can only see through the eyes of childhood, reflected upon by a maturity brought on not only by age but circumstance. Abuse and misfortune is all you’ve known since the plague first took your parents six years ago. Even if you happen to escape this camp of abusers, you’re bound to stumble across another one eventually. It’s just how things worked now and you’ve come to accept it.

As you step outside, the camp comes to life around you. The air is thick with the smell of sweat and unwashed bodies, a smell you’ve sadly grown quite accustomed to. Everywhere, men are hollering and laughing, a general hum of conversation and jokes. You keep your head down to avoid any unwanted attention. You’ve resigned yourself to a life of torment, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try your best to avoid it at all costs.

Your first task of the day is to fetch water from the nearby stream. The bucket is heavy, and your arms tremble as you carry it back to the camp. Your injured leg adds a whole new level of difficulty, slowing the process to almost twice the time it’d usually take. No one takes care, or even notice, of your limp, or the constant grimace on your face. No one offers help, but you didn’t really expect them to.

As you pass by one of the larger tents, a man you’ve come to know as “Tommy” steps out. He frowns at you, and roves his eye up and down before scoffing.

“Don’t be so dramatic, kid. It ain’t that bad. Move faster.” His mouth actually upturns into a snarky grin and he laughs, but you know it wasn’t because it was a joke. You don’t say a word, because you know better than to argue. So instead, you nod quickly, pick up your pace and try your best to walk as normal as you can.

Back at your tent, you set the bucket down and begin cleaning the pile of boots piled up beside it. As you take a careful seat, another couple of men pass by and toss their boots into the large pile without even a simple word or glance at you. Your hands are raw and blistered, but you work diligently. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can get out of their line of sight.

As you scrub the dirt from the boots, your mind drifts as it usually does during these mindless chores. You escape into your recurring fantasy world, surrounded by lush green meadows, and wildflowers dancing at your feet. The air is crisp, the sun warm against your skin.

In these moments, you felt a fleeting sense of peace and comfort, a stark contrast to your reality. These dreams were a sanctuary; your final cling to sanity. A place where you could escape from the harsh reality of the fear and pain dominating your life. You longed for someone to come and take you away, to offer you the love and protection you had never known. Something you were rarely able to even receive from your own parents.

The daydreams, although always slightly different, always revolve around a particular event; a savior, someone strong and kind, coming to rescue you from this nightmare. The thought brings a faint smile to your lips, a giddy excitement as your fantasies bring to life a futile hope. You know better than to cling to such dreams. In this world, hope is a dangerous thing, a fragile illusion that can shatter with the slightest touch.

Yet, despite everything, a small part of you refuses to let go. It’s the part that dreams of freedom, that believes in the possibility of a better life. You hold onto that hope, even though you know it’s fruitless. It’s what keeps you going, what gives you the strength to face another day because maybe, just maybe, if you hope hard enough, your dreams just might come true.

****

Caesar led his group through the dense forest, the sound of thumping hooves muffled by the thick underbrush. The horses moved with practiced silence, their riders alert and watchful with weapons ready. As they neared the human camp, Caesar raised his hand with a quick sign and the group quickly dismounted and scurried up the nearby trees in a practiced order, their movements fluid and silent to blend seamlessly with the shadows.

From their new vantage point, Caesar observed the camp below. It was a sight he’s seen many times before through the years when humans got brave enough to venture into his territory. The area was a stark contrast to the natural beauty surrounding it, a blot of harsh order amidst the chaos of the forest. Tents were being set up in a precise, almost militaristic fashion, each one identical and devoid of any personal touch, fabrics worn and stained from years of constant use.

A crude fence was already being erected around the perimeter, its jagged edges a clear statement on their intention of permanence. Caesar was quick to note the weak points —areas where the wood was hastily patched or still unfinished. These would be the entry points for his attack if it came to such drastic measures.

Inside, commands and varying conversation were barked out, and the occasional burst of cruel laughter echoed through the camp. Not one voice he heard was that of a kind man. These men were not just survivors, vying for peace and a desire to live; they were predators, hardened by years of conflict and driven by a relentless need to dominate. Caesar had become well accustomed to men like this through the years.

This was all he needed to know to proceed. This camp was a place where fear would soon rule, and any semblance of humanity had already begun to fade. They needed to prevent this camp from becoming a permanent blight on their forest, and if they didn’t act now, they would only become stronger.

He was just about to pass on his orders to Koba, but a sparkling “light”, so-to-speak, caught his eye.

A human woman—You. Enveloped in an innocence so rare to find amongst humanity. You moved with a grace that stood out amidst the harshness of your surroundings, your beauty a stark contrast to the brutality of the camp.

Your clothes were worn and ripped, not at all a compliment to the beauty you possessed. You deserved far better. Caesar pictured a blue dress, to compliment the vibrant color he’s sure you held in your eyes. A flowy material, soft to the touch, to tease and foreshore the softness and gentleness of the skin it hid beneath.

His chest tightened and his stomach began to burn and roll as he watched you. It had been a long time since he had seen a human woman, especially one as alluring as you. Your hair, though unkempt, shone in the dim light, and your eyes, even from a distance, held a depth of emotion that drew him in. A desire to speak to you, touch you, and hold the entirety of your attention.

You carried a heavy bucket, your steps unsteady, revealing a soft, yet pronounced limp, causing a strain in every movement. He noticed the dark bruising on your arms and the way you cower and flinch when a man shouts and laughs at you.

It angered him in a way he wasn’t familiar with. It was fervid and dangerous, as he didn’t know if this was an instinctive emotion he’d be able to contain. He knew in his mind that any rash move could endanger his group, but that burn drew a curtain between his mind and heart. They needed to act fast before his anger called on him to do something stupid.

Caesar turned towards Rocket and Koba perched on branches beside him. Rocket was still focused on the camp and the guards spread around the perimeter, mouth parted open as it usually was when in deep thought. Koba, however, wore a scowl as he looked down upon the camp.

“We need to be careful,” Rocket eventually signs, his hoots of caution low and urgent. “There are many of them.”

Koba grunted in agreement, but his eyes were hard. “Humans are dangerous,” he signs, his expression filled with disdain. “We need to act before they do.”

Caesar’s mind raced as he considered their options, the thoughts of you begging to pull his attention away. “We need a plan,” he grunts as he signs. “We can’t just charge in. We need to create a distraction, something to draw the men away from her.”

Without any thought to mask his true intention, Caesar reveals his thoughts as they are and his chest immediately convulses with a weird nervousness as he stares at his two friends, waiting for their reactions.

Both Koba and Rocket give him a weird look, before looking down at where Caesar pointed. Right there, on the outskirts of the camp is a young human woman, and both apes look back to Caesar who now seems to act as a young chimp caught in the midst of a bout of mischief: guilty.

“What do you mean, “her”?” Koba signs emphatically “what about her?”

“She cannot get hurt,” Caesar quickly defends. “She is innocent.”

“How?” Koba retaliates, “she is human.”

“No, she is victim of humans… just like us.” Caesar doesn’t plead; he never pleads. But at this moment, he needs the others to understand. You cannot get hurt… he can’t allow it. And they need to understand.

Rocket nodded thoughtfully, cutting Koba off before he pursued the argument. He trusts in whatever Caesar decides. “We could use the horses,” he suggested. “Send them running through the camp. It will cause chaos and give us a chance to get her out before we attack.”

Koba’s scowl deepened. “Why risk our lives for a human?” he asked, hissing with contempt. “They are not worth it.”

Caesar looked back at you as you scrubbed away at men’s boots, his resolve hardening. “No one deserves to suffer like this. We will help her.”

He wants to help, he tells himself. It is for you, not for him. He expects nothing to come of this. He will not touch you, he will not pursue what he’s been wanting. He will not be selfish.

Rocket grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “And while they’re distracted, we can take out the guards,” he added. “Quick and silent.”

Caesar nodded, ignoring Koba’s glare. “Good,” he said. “Rocket, you handle the distraction. Koba, you and I will take out the guards and get her. We move on my signal.”

The group nodded in agreement, though Koba’s reluctance was palpable. They moved into position, each ape taking their place in the plan. Caesar’s heart pounded with a mix of anger, determination, and maybe just a little bit of misplaced excitement. You deserved the world, he knew it, and he would make sure you got it.

Caesar watched as Rocket and a few others moved to enact the distraction, leaving him and Koba in position. His eyes returned to you and never left, your every movement drawing him in. He could feel Koba’s gaze boring into the side of his head, but he ignored him in favor of watching you. He would savor every moment he had to gaze upon you, because who knew how much longer he’d be able to. You were cleaning those boots with a quiet determination even despite the pain he could see etched on your face. But he could also see a glimmer of hope that refused to be extinguished.

Suddenly, one of the men approached you from behind. Caesar’s muscles tensed, nostrils flaring with a possessive huff. The look of a predatory male was universal across the animal kingdom and humans were not an exception. The man grabbed your arm roughly, yanking you to your feet, causing you to buckle on your bad leg with a soft cry. He yanked you again even as you tried to pull away, but his grip continued to tighten, his voice a low, menacing growl.

“C’mon sweetheart, you remember what happens when you put up a fight,” the man teases, his eyes raking over her with a lecherous gaze. The panic that overtook you was palpable, and you struggled harder in the man’s grip.

If Caesar was not so distracted by the occurrence of events, he would have noticed Koba’s accompanying growls of dissent and anger.

But his own heart was pounding in his chest, that surge of protective rage flooding through the very veins in his body. His muscles cramped with the restraint to act. Because if he didn’t act he knew something terrible would happen to you, something he didn’t dare want to think of. His vision narrowed, focusing solely on the man as he began to drag you, a poor little girl, across the camp while your body wracked with pleas and sobs. The world around Caesar seemed to fade, leaving only the burning need in his gut to protect what his heart had already apparently claimed as his own.

His nostrils flare with the heavy breaths and pants that leave his being, lips turning up to bare his teeth.

“Koba, stay,” Caesar whispered aloud, his voice tight with his barely controlled fury. He didn’t bother waiting for a response. With a roar that echoed through the forest floor below, he leaped from the trees, propelling him into the camp. He lands on the ground, immediately ducking into a roll to keep momentum, barreling forward on all fours towards the man his eyes are set on.

The man turned towards him, shock and panic flashing across his face at the sight of the approaching ape. His grip on you releases and you stumble back in fear. You gasp in shock as Caesar’s body collides with the man’s, the force of the impact sending him flying several feet away and left sprawled out on the ground.

“Do not touch!” Caesar barked, his canines on full display for the rest of the camp to see. An act of disobedience was an open invitation to be mauled by the towering ape king and they knew well what that meant.

You sat on the ground, cowering, knees tucked close to your chest as you tried to fit yourself beneath a nearby stand.

Koba had stayed back to watch the entire scene unfold, his eyes wide with shock, his usual disdain for humans momentarily forgotten. He had never seen Caesar act so impulsively, so stupidly. Without care for his own safety

The man Caesar had thrown scrambles to his feet, a newfound bravery at the sight of his comrades surrounding them, but Caesar was on him in an instant, vaulting forward in all fours once more. He grips the front of the man’s shirt, lifting him clear off the ground. “You will never… touch her… again,” Caesar spits, voice low and dangerous. His muzzle inches closer, his teeth bared to where the tips of his canines nearly brush against the man’s turned cheek.

The man whimpered, his bravado shattered. “Please, don’t kill me,” he begged, his voice trembling.

The other men surrounding him begin their onslaught, and he throws the one in his hands across the camp, sending him flying through one of their tents. He turns and positions himself between you and the others. He could see you trembling behind him, eyes boring holes into the side of his skull.

He would prove himself to you. He will prove he will protect you; that he can. You will see that he can provide you what you need.

The first man lunged at Caesar with a club, swinging it with all his might. Caesar raises a hand and halts it in the air, caught in his fist, and he tugs the man forward to hiss in his face. He yanks the club from his hands then swings his other arm around into the man’s gut, sending him skidding across the rocky ground.

Another came at him with a long knife, slashing wildly. Caesar grabbed his wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground and the fragile bone snapped in his grip.

He had no care to be gentle.

***

Koba watched the chaos unfold, his eyes narrowing. He knew Caesar was strong, but even he couldn’t take on so many men alone. It baffled him why Caesar stood to protect a mere human woman who hid so cowardly behind him. However mad Caesars actions appeared, Koba would stand by his king no matter the circumstance, so he shook off the distracted thoughts and flung himself into a hurried descent.

He rushed towards where Rocket and the others were waiting for Caesar's signal. He hoots to get their attention as he approaches. “Rocket!” he signs urgently. “We need to go now! Caesar’s in trouble!”

Rocket’s eyes widen and he hoots in alarm. “What happened?” he asked, him and the others already moving towards the horses.

“Humans attacked him,” Koba signs, approaching his own horse. “He’s trying to protect the human woman, but there are too many of them.”

Rocket didn’t need to hear more. He mounted his horse in one swift motion, the others following suit. He howled, a command the others knew well and they spurred their horses into a gallop, racing towards the camp.

The sound of hooves thundered through the camp as Rocket and the others burst through the unfinished barricade. The men surrounding Caesar turned, immediate panic descending upon the group at the sight of the approaching apes. Rocket leaped from his horse, landing in the midst of the fray with a fierce battle cry.

Caesar, bloodied but unbowed, felt a surge of relief as his friends joined the fight. Rocket tackled one of the men without hesitation. The other apes followed suit. And Koba, despite his earlier reluctance, fought with a savage intensity, his anger and resentment for the humans fueling his attack. He knocked a man unconscious with a single blow, grinning down at the bloody face left in his wake.

“Are you alright?” Koba signed to Caesar on his approach, his gentle hoots gruff but concerned.

Caesar nodded, then turned towards you who he still stood in defense of. “We need to get her out of here.” You remained huddled behind him, completely at loss to the signed conversation as you stared at the two apes with a wild, frightened look in your eyes.

The fight ends quickly. The few men remaining had fled not too long after the others arrived.

Watching the last of the men flee, Caesar turned to you behind him, his scowl immediately softening as he crouched low to the ground. “Safe,” he grumbles softly, offering one of his large hands to help you up. You hesitate for a long moment, your eyes wide and teary.

“Safe,” Caesar reiterates, pulling his other hand to his chest in a gesture to himself. Your eyes darted around towards the other apes gathered around him, lip beginning to tremble pitifully before reaching out a trembling hand. Caesar reaches the rest of the way to gently grasp onto your dainty fingers, pulling you forward gently to help you rise to your feet.

The moment your hands touched, he felt a spark igniting a dormant flame in his chest; that same warmth he felt earlier. Your hand was so small, so delicate, the skin so impossibly soft against his rough, calloused palm. More so than ever imagined it could be. He wondered how it would feel if you would thread your fingers through the fur of his chest and up his shoulders, down his arms… it makes his body spasm with a shiver.

He could feel your innocence, your vulnerability, in that simple contact. It was as if your very essence was communicating with him, whispering of the pain you had endured and the hope you still clung to.

Your small fingers trembled in his, as you gripped tightly to his fingers. Your fear and hesitance shivering through your body… yet your fierce grip clinging to his hand ignited something fierce within him, a desire so strong it took his breath away. He didn’t want to let go. Holding your hand felt like holding a fragile piece of light in a world shrouded in darkness. Letting go felt unthinkable, as if releasing your hand would mean losing a part of himself.

He wanted nothing more than to draw you closer to him and embrace you, blocking out the fears and uncertainty that swarm your mind as he nuzzled his face into the soft skin of your neck and breathed you in. But he doesn’t— he won’t… instead his eyes linger on your bruised and weary form, and the desperation in your eyes.

He didn’t want to let go… but he knew bringing you back to his camp could be dangerous, not just for you, but for his people. And he knew if he did bring you back, who knows how long he could cling to the control he had over his desires.

So he gently released your hand, your own hovering in the air, frozen in the moment he released her.

“Go,” Caesar grumbles, his voice heavy with reluctance, nostrils flaring with the internal frustration and restraint. “Find a…safe place… away… from here.” He gestured towards the forest.

You stared at him, confusion and conflict bleeding through her gaze. And then you spoke to him for the first time, a meer whisper of desperation, voice soft and sweet. “But… I have nowhere to go. I-I-I… Please, don’t leave me here.”

Caesar’s heart constricted at your words, heart beating rapidly, like he was in fear for his life. He wanted nothing more than to protect you, to keep you safe, to hold you close and never let go. But he also knew his own limitations, his own fears. Bringing you back might mean losing the little bit of control he’s been clinging to. It wouldn’t take long before his instinct and desire won over and he became possessive and controlling. It was a risk he couldn’t take. He couldn’t put you into a situation like that, you deserved better.

His lips crinkle in apology, eyes softening towards you. Then he tips his chin in a gesture for you to go and he turns towards his own horse to leave. But before he could take more than a few steps, you throw yourself forward, body colliding into his as you grab his arm, your small fingers digging into his fur, brushing against the rough skin beneath. “Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “I have no one else. I-I…Please.”

Caesar stopped. He turned his head and saw the desperation in your eyes. The way you trusted him, needed him. The way you wanted him, even if you didn’t realize it yourself yet.

Rocket and the others watch in silence, all in awe at the sight of their leader buckling beneath the plea of a human.

Caesar’s chest heaves with his heavy breaths, his resolve finally cracking. He couldn’t just send you off, not when you had nowhere else to turn. And if you were asking to come with him… then it wouldn’t be his fault what might happen. It’s not him, deciding your fate for his own selfish reasons.

“Alright,” he said softly, his voice filled with a gentle determination. “Come.” He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling it from your grip to ease you forward towards his horse. He can feel the warmth radiating off you, the tantalizing brush of his fur against your clothed skin. One of the other apes holds the horse in place as you two approach and before you can so much as try to climb up on your own, Caesar grips you around the waist and lifts you effortlessly onto the stallion’s back. You squeak softly at the sudden movement, and you grapple forward once seated to grasp onto the horse's mane. Caesar can’t help but smile at your innocent anxiety and mounts behind you to ensure you wouldn’t fall.

The other apes around them mount their own steeds and Caesar grabs the reins with one hand, the other wrapping around your waist to pull you back into his body, slotting you so you sit comfortably between his legs. He spurs the horse forward with a soft hoot to direct the others to do so as well, and you grip tightly to his forearm as you move forward, pressing your back further into his chest to steady herself.

Caesar smiles and tightens his hold as they pick up pace to a gentle trot. He never would have pictured things turning out this way… a human woman pressed so closely to him, holding her, smelling her, feeling her against him. He already knew he was going to have a difficult time controlling himself.

In the midst of his thoughts, you lean back slightly, your body relaxing into his as you get lost in your own. For the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. This ape, whoever he is, is safe… you are finally safe.

Taglist: @night-shadowblood-writes2 @edynmeyer1 @chermg @httpvomitello @hrlzy

**Thank you all very much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts. If you want to be added to the tag list let me know. Next chapter is when it starts to get pretty good, so stay tuned XD**

[nottskyler]

Dear President Russell M Nelson,

Congratulations on making it to 100. I know it was a significant goal for you and you worked hard both physically and spiritually to make it this far. I know there are a lot of things outside our control to having a long life, but it also takes work.

Thank you for the challenge to read the Book of Mormon before the year was out back in 2018. My life has been irrevocably changed for the better for following that counsel. I learned much about myself and the world and Gd’s plan for me and began a path of repentance that has brought me closer to Christ and brought joy into a life that was characterized by despair before.

And that is simply a personal way that I know you are called of Gd to be our prophet. It is very clear how you were prepared to lead the Church at this time, especially with how your responses to revelation prepared the Church for the pandemic. A pandemic following a change in policy that barred me from sharing the joy that I found by following your counsel. It is sometimes hard to reconcile the exclusionary policy that you have permitted to be put in place under your leadership with my testimony that you are a prophet of Gd because following your counsel led me to Christ and the good things that come from repentance.

It is the same juxtaposition of you having a medical degree and then claiming that life (when the spirit enters the body) begins at conception because a unique genetic code was created. Conception comes before the medical definition of pregnancy which is before the latest point identical twins can be formed. Identical twins are clearly two different spirits with the same genetic code. The truth we learn from science is giving a different truth than the one that you claimed in your press conference on the reversal of roe v wade.

Not to harp on something you said one time not even during General Conference, but I was finally pregnant after years of infertility and it seemed to mock my pain of late periods and failed fertility treatments. I came to the conclusion that you were wrong and speaking your personal opinion and not the thoughts and feelings of Heavenly Father or our Savior Jesus Christ. A conclusion that many would think contradicts my previous statement about believing that you are a prophet of Gd.

But to believe that the prophets can do no wrong is idolatry. To claim that the truth is only what prophets have confirmed first is priestcraft. This is not the Lord’s way who said: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17); “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” (Matthew 7:20). Or even Moroni closing his addition to the Book of Mormon “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” (Moroni 10:5) and “For behold, my brethren, it is given unto you to judge, that ye may know good from evil; and the way to judge is as plain, that ye may know with a perfect knowledge, as the daylight is from the dark night.” (Moroni 7:15).

Besides, how can we be fit for the Celestial Kingdom if we, as individuals of the Church, are to surrender our agency to you and never learn how to discern truth for ourselves. You set yourself up as the king of the Church when you say you are the only source of truth. Then all the sins of those who follow you without question become stains on your garments.

It is a difficult task to reconcile these types of mistakes with someone upholding a high calling that presumably has direct access to Gd, but then I realized that the traditions of our fathers was what made me ignore Gd telling me to repent much earlier than the 2018 Book of Mormon reading challenge. False traditions drain true intent and curiosity when you ask Gd because you feel confident that you know the answer and so you study with bias to confirm your worldview and you don’t have intent to do anything different if the answer isn’t what you expect. False traditions frame revelation so that you ignore key pieces because your mind fills in the default expectation instead of what actually exists in the revelation. In the end, I’m glad that I’m a nobody who only has to deal with the consequences of my own actions instead of being in your shoes where my same mistakes would’ve cause much more damage and would’ve been much harder to change direction when I learned I was wrong.

So I pray that your mind will be open to look past the false traditions of our fathers, to be open to the testimony of those othered by the Church organization. I pray that you realize that what you are doing is priestcraft so that you will swiftly repent and put effort into making sure you aren’t standing between us and Christ. I pray that you will repent in this life so you can share our joy.

Sincerely,

nottskyler

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hiii♡♡ so I recently completed my second novel and am looking to get it published. However, I’m unsure where to begin with the process. Should I focus on sending manuscripts to literary agencies, or is there another route I should consider? I’d prefer not to self-publish, as I’m concerned about the challenges of marketing. Any advice or guidance would be greatly appreciated. I hope you're having the loveliest day💌!

Seeking Traditional Publishing: Where to Begin

If you're planning to seek traditional publishing, querying literary agents is absolutely the best place to start. Here's why: there are lots of publishers out there, but of the legitimate ones, the vast majority do not accept unsolicited manuscripts. What that means is that they only accept manuscripts brought to them by literary agents. Now, there are definitely small and independent publishers who accept unsolicited manuscripts, but the problem is it can be tricky to differentiate the legitimate ones from the predatory ones. Literary agents can make sure your manuscript gets into the hands of the right publisher, whether that's one of the big ones, a small publisher, or an independent press.

And, the great thing about literary agents that a lot of people don't realize when they're starting out: you don't pay them upfront/out of pocket. They will take their chunk of change out of the sale of your manuscript to the publisher, so you don't have to worry about saving up for a literary agent.

There are lots of ways to find literary agents to query. The Publisher's Marketplace web site is a great place to start. Query Tracker is another good option. You can also look at comp titles (novels that are similar to yours) and see who represented the author at the time of publication. This information is often found in the acknowledgements, or sometimes you can find it on the author's web site. I would definitely spend some time reading up on the querying process, as well as how to polish your manuscript ahead of querying, and how to write a good query letter. You will also want to make sure you follow the submission guidelines specific to each agent when you do send your query.

Happy querying!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[live-laugh-legolas]

Hiiii!

Since the fellowship are all pretty traumatized(😕)how do you think they deal with their nightmares?

They get nightmares

Aragorn

-He shoots awake (that scene where he wakes up with a knife)

-He has mastered the art of centering himself and moving on

-Deals with them by busying himself to take his mind off his troubles

-If he can’t fall back asleep then he will lose himself in a monotonous task like sharpening his sword

Legolas

-So elves don’t really sleep?

-I imagine nightmares aren’t common

-He possibly thinks it’s some sort of glimpse into the future and it takes a lot to convince him it’s alright

-I actually think he would often talk about his bad dreams when he does have them

-He takes care of his mental health

Gimli:

-He’s very quiet after waking up from a nightmare

-Keeps to himself but does appreciate company

-Sits close to the fire and stares into it

-He might talk about it and he might not; it depends on his company and what the subject of the dream was

Boromir:

-He gets up and walks

-He has to leave the room instantly

-I could see him logging his dreams in a notebook

-Especially considering a dream is what brought him to Rivendell

-He’s always worried his dream could be another prophecy type of thing rather than just his brain

Frodo:

-He wakes up cold and sweaty

-He feels ill

-He definitely doesn’t go back to sleep

-He gets dreams that cause a phantom feeling of still having the ring

-And he has often woken up to phantom pains on his scar from being stabbed

-I think he gets lost in his memories when he wakes up and would need someone to come pull him out

-Maybe before the journey he handled nightmares well and generally wasn’t too bothered

-But trauma really fucks with you

Sam:

-He wakes up scared but often doesn’t remember the dream

-Sometimes he does remember parts and it usually involves other people

-So he will go and check to make sure they are ok

-Even if he ends up waking them up; which he then apologizes profusely for until he is invited in for some tea

Merry:

-Depending on the dream he will either go back to sleep or he will go make himself some tea

-If it’s a nonsense nightmare he will generally go back to sleep

-But if it’s a memory or memory based he can’t fall back asleep

-The Witch King definitely makes appearances

Pippin:

-Doesn’t want to be alone

-He will come knocking at the door and want to stay with you

-Sweet sweet boy needs a hug

-I imagine he would have dreams where Frodo and Sam didn’t survive the explosion of Mount Doom

-I think he may feel a lot of regret for things he did during the journey

-Definitely has nightmares about Gandalf falling and Frodo being stabbed; he feels like he fucked up even though everything that happened lead to their success in some way

Gandalf:

-Grumpy after waking from a bad dream

-He needs time to think about it

-Probably won’t discuss the details of it but will express his feelings

-Similar to Boromir he will be trying to figure out if there was any meaning to the dream or just a figment of his imagination

[chvoswxtch]

a wrap on the bodyguard

this is a really bittersweet moment for me. i've been trying to find the words to really capture how i've been feeling about this whole thing, and I don't know if these are even enough to fully express it, but i've been sitting with this for a few days since posting the final chapter and watching y'all respond to it, and they feel right in this moment

when I first got the request for bodyguard frank, I had no idea it would turn into what it did. it never would’ve been possible without kate, whom I am immensely grateful for and forever indebted to, who gave me the gift of this incredible idea, and her wonderful friendship

even when so many of you asked for a part 2, I didn’t think it would go beyond that. but this very quickly became a passion project for me that I spent over a year and a half on, spanned 26 chapters, and is made up of roughly 130k words. it challenged me to step outside my comfort zone, and showed me I could do something I didn’t think I was capable of

to all of you who took the time to read this series, whether you kept up with it from the beginning, or you just recently found it and binged, to all of you who interacted with it and me in any way, from the bottom of my heart, genuinely and sincerely, thank you. you don’t know how much it meant to me. every single one of y'all have helped me to become a better writer and gave me more confidence in myself, and showed me to grant myself more grace when it came to being overly self-critical

I have loved books since I was a shy kid who struggled to make friends, whose only way of traveling and meeting new people sometimes was in those books, and being an author and creating that feeling for someone else has always been a dream. because of y’all, that dream has come true. I looked forward to seeing the reactions and comments and feedback from every single one of y’all every single time, and getting to watch y’all fall in love with something I created was such an incredible experience

if you’re looking for your sign to start that project or post that thing you did, do it. creating is hard, and sharing it with the world is scary, but it is such a rewarding thing, and you never know what it could turn into

I am so unbelievably honored and overwhelmed and blown away by the kindness and love y’all have shown this story, and me. I am so happy it brought so many of y’all to me, and that it’s created friendships I cherish so much. this story was a gift to me that I feel so lucky to share with all of y’all. so please, enjoy it as much as you like, it’s yours

with all the love in my heart,

court 🖤

[sorinethemastermind]

Family

In which Corvus realizes that he's a part of Soren's family. #Sorvus

 They didn’t talk much on the walk back. What was there to say? Aaravos was out, and they all had to assume that it had been Claudia who had freed him. Who else could have cast the spell? Not Viren after-

 Corvus tried to keep pace with Soren, but the other man seemed to be processing his grief by walking as swiftly as possible. But exercise couldn’t fix everything. He could hear him muttering something under his breath, his breathing focused. 

 “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

 Corvus doubted Soren knew he could hear him, so didn’t mention it. Sometimes space was the best thing you could give someone. 

 It wasn’t fair. None of this was. Soren had already blamed himself for what happened in Katolis enough, and now knowing that the real pearl had been there all along? It had crushed him. He hadn’t said anything, but Corvus had seen it in his eyes. And Claudia… 

 Soren didn’t talk about his sister much, if ever. But Corvus remembered the two of them from when they’d first met. They had been inseparable. Sometimes Corvus forgot that his and Soren’s first real interaction had taken place after he hit him in the head with a rock. What a way to meet the man he loved.

 Lost in thought, he nearly walked straight into Soren, who had frozen on the path ahead of him. Coming to an abrupt halt, Corvus stepped up beside his partner, following his gaze. He let out a sigh of relief. Callum and Rayla were back. They would know what to do. And, by the looks of it, they had brought help.

 The elf standing beside them had deep blue markings similar to Rayla’s and the same, faintly curved horns twisting back from his head. His long, white hair was held back from his face in a loosely braided tail. 

 Corvus placed a hand on Soren’s shoulder, turning to reassure him, only to find the other man’s expression not at all relieved. He looked, and felt, tense.

 “Is there something wrong?”

 “It’s complicated.” Soren said with a heavy breath. Then he blinked, turning back to Corvus. “But I guess that’s the sort of thing we talk about now, isn’t it?”

 “Yes, I guess it would be.” Corvus replied, feeling a smile cross his face despite the circumstances. 

 “Do you want to talk about-” he began, but Soren was already barrelling into an explanation.

 “So that elf guy was one of the assassins - oh yeah, from back when Harrow uhm, you know - anyway, he was the one who did it and afterwards I was gonna kill him - cause bad assassin dude, obviously - but then Cla- my sister said that would be a waste so Viren locked him in the dungeon and I sort of assumed he was dead? But I guess he’s not. Oh, and also he’s Rayla’s Dad. One of them, anyway. So she wanted to bring him back from the dead? Except he wasn’t dead. But that was a while ago so I sort of thought she’d given up but apparently not and this time it worked! Yay! But also not yay because the last time I saw him I tried to kill him and also he tried to kill me and he did kill King Harrow and yeah.” Soren took a deep breath. “Tell me if I did that wrong.”

 Corvus stared at him, still processing everything he had just said. Soren blew a strand of hair out of his face. 

 “You deserve a break.” Corvus said finally. It was all he could think to say. Katolis, his father, his sister, and now this? Soren deserved a proper night’s rest without worrying about the end of the world. He needed one. Even though they’d managed to rest a bit earlier, Corvus could still see the bags under his eyes and the slightly slumped way he was holding himself.

 “How about this. I’ll go and talk to Rayla and Callum, tell them about the pearl-”

 “No.” Soren said it quickly, shaking his head. “She’s my sister. I need to be the one to tell them.”

 “Soren, she’s not your responsibility.”

 “Yes. She is. Corvus…” Soren wouldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead drifting to his shoes. “I’m not going to give up on her. I can’t.”

 “Of course not.” Corvus placed both his hands on Soren’s shoulders, turning him to face him. “But you can’t do anything right now. You’re exhausted and the others need to know about Aaravos.”

 “You can tell the-”

 “No.” Now it was Corvus’ turn to shake his head. “We’re going to do this together. I just got you back. I’m not letting you go again.”

 They both stared at each other for a moment. Corvus hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud. “What I meant was-”

 Soren leaned forward and kissed him quickly. It was all they had time for right now. 

 “I know what you meant. Me too.” he said after he’d pulled away, eyes sparkling.

 Corvus felt his face grow warm and hoped Soren couldn’t tell.

 “Well.” he said briskly. “If we’re going to do this, we’re not going to be able to do it alone. Those people over there.” he pointed towards where he could now see Ezran standing with Rayla and Callum, the two brothers embracing fiercely. “They’re your family. They’ll want to help you.” 

 “I don’t want to drag them into this.” Soren said with downturned eyes.

 “You won’t be. They’ll want to help if you just tell them what’s happened. That's what families do.”

 Soren seemed doubtful. Corvus knew that family was a loaded subject for him. It probably always would be. But he also knew that Soren had one of the strongest families he’d ever seen. 

 “Trust me.” 

 “I do.” Soren said. And that would have to be enough for now. 

 He squared his shoulders, turning to walk into the camp, and Corvus followed him. He saw Soren’s fingers twitch towards his empty scabbard as the other elf turned and looked at them. He was standing apart from the others, hanging to the edge of the camp. And now Corvus knew why. He’d thought that the past was just that, the past. But now he saw just how many old wounds were sitting just below the surface, waiting to be reopened.

 “Soren!” Rayla called, spotting them. “You’re okay!” she stopped, seeing the look on his face. “Soren?”

 Everyone turned to look at them then, and Corvus could see the lines of worry on Callum’s face, the tightness in his shoulders, the way that his hand still rested on Ezran’s shoulder The way that the king leaned gently against his brother’s side, as though the contact would help to alleviate some of the burden he carried. The nervous glances Rayla shot in Callum’s direction, as though to make sure he was still there. That he was okay.

 “We need to talk.” Soren said, voice low and quiet. “Someplace private.”

 “Soren, what happened?” Callum asked, grip tightening on his brother’s shoulder.

 “He’s out.” 

 The words were inconspicuous to anyone passing by. Trivial, even. But to them it was world shattering. 

 “How!?” Callum exclaimed, earning worried glances from a few passing civilians. He lowered his voice. “We had the pearl with us the whole time. We took it somewhere safe.”

 “We shouldn't be talking out in the open.” Ezran said, stepping out of his brother’s protective grip. “We don’t want to cause a panic.” And so that was how they found themselves, all five of them, crammed into Soren’s small tent on the outskirts of the encampment. Callum was sitting beside his brother, Rayla leaning her head against his other shoulder. They had left the other elvish man - Runaan, Rayla had called him - outside. Rayla had asked him to keep watch so that they weren’t disturbed, but they all knew that wasn’t why. He’d seemed to understand.

 As the hushed murmurs of explanation began, Corvus stepped back himself, ready to leave them to their discussion. He was a part of the council, sure. But this was far more private than that. A council within a council. Or, as Soren called them, the Dragang. They were more than just a governing body. They were a family, just like he’d said. 

 So he tried to step away, happy to leave them to it and not wanting to insert himself where he didn’t belong. But Soren’s hand closed around his wrist, pulling him back. 

 “I’d like you to stay, maybe. If you don’t mind.” he said, voice quieter even than the whispered discussion around them. 

 Corvus paused, glanced around at the group of them. There were no looks pointed in his direction to tell him that he was out of place. So he sat back down, clasping both his hands around Soren’s. 

 “Okay. I’ll stay.”