#dear fate piss off

[deer-with-a-stick]

"Oh Jergal gave up his portfolios so his power level is like that of a demi-god lol"

I am a firm believer that if Jergal had the motivation to, he would absolutely fuck up the Dead Three, Kelemvor, and Cyric's shit all at once. Just yoink the power back. Dude just doesn't give a fuck. Sure, he hates Cyric and the Dead Three, but no matter what kind of bullshit they get up to, they a) can't kill him and b) really won't interfere with his paperwork. The whole non-interference thing is very Death God of him. The guy's Lord of the End of Everything, but killing everything at much was too much work and actively holding the power was too boring for him lmao

[aeralux]

"Hard To Resist" - Cregan Stark

Summary: Betrothed to the one and only Cregan Stark. Your first meeting with him luckily goes better than expected.

Content warning: smut, oral (f! receiving)

-- aera xx

As a proper Lady of the North, your fate had long been determined before you learned to walk. Your father and brothers had found the perfect match for you, another northerner. “A proper man,” as they described him. Big, burly, and rough. Those were the only descriptive words you knew of him, not nearly enough to draw a picture of your betrothed.

Alas, the day to meet your future Lord husband has arrived. You were doing everything in your power to calm your nerves. Like playing with your wolves, Wane and Cusp, even resorting to having a strong drink. Nothing seemed to work. For a moment, you were contemplating escape and riding off into the distance with your wolves.

Your daydream was interrupted by your eldest brother knocking on your door. The loud sound startled you. 

“Yes?" You asked, fearing that your soon-to-be husband had arrived. “Open up, dearest,” your brother answered with his usual affectionate nickname for you. Being almost 20 years your elder, he had become a second father figure to you than a brother.

"Come in, Arthur,” you answered, sadness evident in your voice. "My dearest sister, this should be a joyful day. Not a sad one," he tried cheering you up but to no avail.

How was one supposed to be happy when being married off to a stranger? "Easy for you to say. You got to choose who you married. And you knew your wife beforehand," you complained to your brother, getting pissed off. "I refuse to be treated as a broodmare and be sent off to some hairy northerner," already on the verge of tears, fuming. "My dear sister, it is your responsibility to strengthen the bond between our families, and you are fully aware of this."

You scowl, looking down at your feet. "I am well aware of my responsibilities and duties. It seems like that is all I was born for. To marry some Lord that I have never met, all for the greater good." Your tantrum was cut off by the sound of marching hooves.

The Starks have arrived. You looked at your brother with big eyes, feeling vulnerable and scared. "It will be alright, sister. You are beautiful, bright and cunning. He will take good care of you," he caressed your arms, trying to soothe your nerves. "Now let us go. Father and Albert are probably outside already, greeting our guests. And your soon-to-be husband," Arthur smirked at you, but his words only made you feel more uneasy.

You began walking downstairs, Arthur protectively placing a hand around your shoulders. As you reached the front door, you took a deep breath. "I'm ready," you said as you looked at your older brother. "Excellent!" he said before the guards pushed the massive entrance doors to reveal your eventual Lord husband.

Your breath caught in your throat upon seeing him. He was indeed big, burly, and rough but also wildly handsome. Cregan Stark looked every part of the "King of the North" title. Tall, muscular, and rugged. A true warrior. He studied you as he took in his first sight of you. Cregan had a stern look on his face, and as you met his grey eyes, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You walked over to him and curtsied. "Hello, Lord Stark. I am Lady (y/n). My family and I welcome you to our lands."

Cregan nodded his head respectfully. “Thank you, my lady.” He then stepped forward and took your hand in a firm, but not uncomfortably tight, grip. He raised your knuckles to his lips and planted a light kiss on them. “You look lovely,” he said before looking up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t help but blush, hearing soft words from such a brute man. Cregan smirked faintly, as he observed your cheeks tint with a light shade of pink. He found it amusing, how he could make you blush with a simple statement like that.

Cregan greeted your parents and brothers, giving each a strong handshake. “Arthur good to see you again,” Lord Stark said to your brother, giving him a tight smile that your brother returned.

“If the Lords find it fit, I would like to speak to my Lady in private,” boomed Cregan’s deep voice, gesturing to your father and two older brothers. Your father and brothers looked at each other before nodding in agreement. You didn’t say anything in return and led him to your castle's library. The library was modest, with big windows yet little light due to your House being far up in the North. At least you would feel at home in Winterfell, you thought.

“Here,” you walked into the library, waiting for him to follow suit. Cregan followed you as you walked to the library. He couldn't deny that his eyes were glued to your backside as you walked ahead, his gaze slowly running over the curves of your hips. Once you reached the library, you gestured for him to step inside, and he closed the doors behind him. You were alone now. Just the two of you, in the quiet, empty, library. Cregan glanced around the large room for a moment, before his grey eyes settled on you once again. He then smirked faintly and leaned back against one of the bookshelves, crossing his arms over his muscular chest as he regarded you. “Now I believe we should get to know one another, don’t you think?” He said, his voice coming out in a low tone.

“Oh? Yes, yes, of course,” you were a bit surprised by his boldness, but it made you smile nonetheless. Cregan chuckled, finding your slight smile rather adorable. He pushed away from the bookshelf and began to slowly close the distance between the two of you.

“Now, I want you to be entirely truthful with me, my lady.” He said as he stopped just in front of you. He was much taller, towering over you. “Tell me, what do you think of me, at this very moment?” Cregan’s gaze wandered over your face, studying every feature. The way your hair fell, the contour of your nose, the shape of your lips, the length of your eyelashes. He couldn’t help but think you looked absolutely beautiful. The boldness of his question took you back. “Well… seeing as I do not know much about your personality. At this very moment, I would say that you are handsome. My brother was right when he said that you are the very picture of a Northern man. And I must say that I am rather pleased with whom my brother decided to betroth me to,” you look down blushing, not wanting to see his reaction to the last part.

A smirk tugged on the corners of Cregan’s lips as your cheeks flushed pink once again, and you kept looking down. He found it amusing how he was able to make you blush so easily, and he took a step even closer, barely leaving any space between the two of you.

“Quite pleased, you say?” He repeated, his voice coming out in a low, teasing tone. “Now tell me, do you say that simply to flatter me, or are you being entirely truthful, my lady?”

“I do not care for lying my Lord, I will always speak the truth,” you smiled at him, finally daring to look him in the eyes.

Cregan chuckled lowly, enjoying the sound of your voice saying the words “my Lord”.  “I like that about you. I can’t stand liars.”

He then raised a hand and gently lifted your chin with his index finger, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes once more. His thumb gently stroked over your lower lip. “And you certainly wouldn’t lie about thinking that I’m handsome, now would you?”

Your breath got caught in your throat when he gently touched your lip. Goosebumps rise on your skin. “No, of course not,” you muttered quietly. Cregan chuckled. “I know you wouldn’t, my lady.” He leaned in slightly, the distance between the two of you even smaller now. His face was only mere inches from yours now. He kept your chin raised with his thumb, slowly running the digit over the smooth skin. “You’re honest. I like that.” Another low chuckle came from him, as he slowly leaned even closer, his breath now warm and hot against your skin.

You tried to keep your composure but having him so close was making you slowly lose your self-control. “Arthur didn’t mention anything about me?” You asked upon hearing his words. Didn’t your brother mention what kind of a woman you were?

Cregan shook his head. “He didn’t.” He ran his fingers through strands of your hair before continuing. “He simply told me you were a good fit for a Lord. That you would be a proper Lady of Winterfell. That you could hold your own in the North... and make a good mother one day.”

A smirk tugged on his lips once again as he continued to twist your hair around his fingers. “What he failed to mention, however, is how gorgeous you truly are.”

I chuckled. “Well, I guess it would be unforeseen of my brother to call his own younger sister gorgeous.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Cregan laughed faintly, enjoying the sound of your laugh.

He stepped even closer, and gently pushed you backwards to press you up against one of the bookshelves. He gently ran his hands down the sides of your arms, running his calloused fingertips over your smooth skin. “He also neglected to mention how I would have to keep you away from all other men in the North…”

“You think I can’t hold my own?” You asked in a teasing tone, tilting your head.

Cregan chuckled, the low sound making your stomach flip. He found your attitude entertaining, the little smirk on your lips, the way you tilted your head. He took a moment to study your face with his gaze; the long, delicate eyelashes that framed your eyes, the way your lips curved into that little smirk. “Oh, I’m sure you can.” He said, his smirk widening. “But I don’t want other men to even think about how utterly ravishing you are.”

“I don’t see how that would matter, as you would be the only one doing the ravishing, no?” You smirked, joking ofcourse. But Cregan didn’t seem to take it as lightly.

His smirk grew wider at your reply. He liked this slightly bratty, sassy side of yours. It was a nice change, as most women he interacted with tended to swoon in his presence. He took another step forward, completely closing the space between the two of you and trapping you between his body and the bookshelf. He leaned in, his face barely a centimeter away from yours as he whispered in a low, silky tone. “Careful with those words, my lady. They might tempt me to do more.”

“And as much as I would love nothing more. That will be saved for later.” You said in a sultry tone, control slipping from your grasp. Resting a hand softly on his strong and sturdy chest.

Cregan’s smirk turned into a small, amused smile at your reply. He knew you were right; it would hardly be proper to do anything too inappropriate in this library. He then looked down at your hand, resting on his chest as you spoke. He gently picked it up and interlaced it with his, bringing it up to his mouth to plant a light kiss on your knuckles. “I suppose you’re right…” he said, his lips gently brushing over your skin, “As much as I would very much love to.”

You blushed and yet again looked down. His words make your stomach flip, pleasure shooting right to your core.

“Although I did have a question for you, my Lord. Will my two wolves be able to make permanent residence in your castle? I have grown far too attached.”

A small, amused smile tugged on Cregan’s lips at your question. He was a tad surprised that you’d even ask him that; he’d assumed you would’ve brought them with you anyway.

“Of course, you can bring them. I expected you would bring them along. After all, how is Lady of Winterfell supposed to get along without her dire-wolves?” He said with a slight chuckle.

All you could do in response was smile shyly. His demeanor so different when with you.

Cregan smirked faintly, finding your shy smile endearing. He also found it a bit peculiar, that a northern woman would be shy. In his experience, northern girls usually were quite forward, even brash, whereas it seemed he was making you nervous. He kept his hand firmly grasping yours, gently squeezing it as he spoke, his eyes locking with yours. “I have a question for you, too, my lady.” He took a step forward, closing the already small space between the two of you even further. He now had you completely pressed up against the bookshelf as he spoke in a low, deep tone. “You said you were ‘quite pleased’ with me, after taking me in… but I want to know. Are you truly content, with the idea of marrying me?”

You found his question odd, considering men usually didn’t care much for a woman’s opinion on the betrothal. But you answered nonetheless.

“Yes. I am. Why would I not? I trust who my brother and father picked for me.” 

Cregan smirked faintly as you answered, his lips still over your knuckles. He liked the way your soft skin felt underneath them, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss more of you.

He looked back up at your face, and gently brought his free hand up to your chin, lifting it slightly so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“Just ‘yes’? No other answer?” He teased with a slight smile, his thumb gently caressing your jawline.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, cursing yourself for feeling so weak from a man’s simple touch.

“What would you like me to say then?” You asked breathlessly, mind starting to go blank.

Cregan chuckled lowly as he gently tugged you even closer. You were now pressed against him, his broad, muscular chest completely enclosing you. “Perhaps I’d like you to give me a different response. Maybe tell me…”

He began to slowly and carefully lower his lips to your jawline, planting gentle kisses along it before moving to your ear and whispering.

“How much you want me…”

Hearing his provocative words, you threw all caution out the window. “What if I just… showed you,” you replied as you gently placed your hand from his chest onto his cheek, pulling him closer. Planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Cregan’s eyes darkened as you planted a delicate kiss on his lips. He couldn’t help the feeling of desire that began to ignite within him. He was taken by surprise at your bold move. He would have assumed you were shy, but here you were, taking the initiative. Cregan quickly got over the momentary shock and decided to match your boldness. He deepened the kiss, tilting his head to the side to get a better angle. He then wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his large form, completely pressing you against the bookshelf.

You let out a quiet mewl, feeling his strong hands around you. His rough touches turning you on. He chuckled at the sound of your mewl and quickly decided he wanted to hear more of them. His hands slowly traveled down over your hips and to your thighs, which he grabbed a hold of firmly and lifted you, easily manhandling you to pin you against the bookshelf. He kept his body pressed flush against yours and continued to hungrily kiss you, his hands still holding your thighs.

You let out a breathy gasp, your hands immediately going to rest on his shoulders as he lifted you.

Cregan smirked faintly at the sound of your gasp, the sound making his lust for you grow, he let his hands slowly slide up your thighs to your ass, grabbing a firm hold of it.

You continued to make quiet sounds of pleasure, the desire to have him only growing in you.

Cregan found himself growing more and more addicted to the small noises you continued to make. He found them adorable, and it only encouraged him to kiss you even more passionately. He pushed his body even closer to yours, as close as he possibly could, and began to kiss down your neck and collarbone.

Your mouth fell open as he did that and you couldn’t help but moan his name.

“Cregan,” you whimpered.

Hearing you moan his name for the first time almost made him grow feral. He loved the way it sounded, the way it rolled off your tongue. He continued to slowly drag his lips down your neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin.

“Again.” He breathed out against your skin, his grip on your thighs and ass tightening. “Say my name again.”

You started to feel dizzy the way he was sucking purple marks onto your neck. Letting out a gasp.

“Cregan…please” You whined and begged him, not even knowing for what. Your mind was already foggy with arousal.

Cregan smirked faintly at the way you moaned his name, the way you begged him. He knew exactly what you were craving, even if you did not, and placed another kiss on your neck, letting his tongue slowly drag against your skin before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

"Please, what, my Lady?" He asked in a low, teasing tone, his hands digging into your flesh.

Your breath stuttered as you felt him drag his tongue across your neck, hips involuntarily bucking against his.

Cregan let out a low growl as he felt your hips buck against him. He was barely able to remain in control of himself, resisting the urge to completely rip your clothes off and take you right there in the library.

He placed a final kiss on your neck before speaking, his words coming out in a low, rumbling growl. “You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you, little wolf?”

You whined pathetically, hoping that no one could hear the inappropriate scene that was going on.

He took ahold of your hips and started moving them against his. You pulled him into a rough and passionate kiss, giving his hair an experimental tug. To your surprise, Cregan seemed to enjoy it, letting out a low growl.

He quickly moved you to a nearby sofa, laying you down. He was almost desperate in his moves, needing to take you as soon as possible. 

He opened his eyes again, looking down at you with darkened eyes. He was no longer trying to hold back, no longer trying to rein in his desire for you. He needed you, and he was going to have you, right there in the library if that’s what it took.

“I need you, little wolf.”

"Is it that hard to resist me?" You giggled. Your teasing only egging him on.

Cregan huffed at your words, his eyes narrowing slightly. He could tell you were enjoying taunting him. He could see the smirk on your face.

“It’s very difficult.” He admitted, his tone was low and strained as if it was taking all his willpower not to just fuck you until you could no longer walk.

“I don’t like to be patient.” He added with a slight growl, his hands moving up your dress skirts, bunching them around your waist before sitting down on his knees in front of you. Letting his hands caress your now exposed thighs.

You covered your mouth to stop the whines from spilling out your lips. His light touches kept traveling upwards, getting closer and closer to your cunt. You couldn't help but shiver in arousal and anticipation, needing his mouth on your heat already.

Cregan started placing light kisses near your chemise, looking up at you for permission. When you nodded your head, Cregan pulled them down forcefully.

"Soaked already, my Lady?" He questioned and smirked, cockiness in his voice.

You didn't even get a chance to respond before you felt his mouth on folds. Licking at your wetness like a man starved. All he got in response from you were loud whines. He began to suck on your clit, doing everything in his power to draw more moans from you. Pressing kisses on your slit and opening, flicking his tongue over your pussy over and over again, swirling his tongue over your sensitive bud, your thighs began shaking.

"Ohh, Gods, Cregan!" You moaned like a whore, his tongue bringing you closer to your release.

At that, Cregan began to move his tongue quicker, adding two fingers into your pussy, working you open.

"Ahh!" You couldn't help but moan loudly at that, his big fingers stretching you open deliciously. You began to move your hips against his fingers and face, trying to get your dripping cunt even closer to him.

"Mm, just like that, ride my fingers," Cregan mumbled against your cunt, the vibrations almost sending you over the edge.

He curled his fingers expertly against your soft spot, starting to go faster.

All he wanted right now was your sweet release to coat his lips. After all, there is no nectar sweeter than your wife's cunt. At least that's what Cregan thought.

When you arched your back and let out a loud moan, he knew he hit the right spot.

"Faster! Please let me cum!"

Cregan was surprised by your bold words but couldn't deny that they turned him on even more. Knowing that you were desperate for him.

Cregan began pumping his fingers into you even faster, his erection already painfully pressing into his breeches. He will deal will that later, right now he was focusing on getting his Lady to come all over his face.

With a pointed tongue, he began to quickly flick your clit. Your legs trembling around his face, he couldn't help but smirk. It felt like he was splitting you open with his fingers, the pain of the stretch only adding to your pleasure, whines, and moans spilling from your mouth.

"Ohh, I'm... I'm so close, make me cum, please" You begged your soon-to-be husband, clamping your thighs around him.

He hummed against your cunt, and his movements became sloppy, his own arousal making him feel dizzy.

As he felt your cunt begin to pulse around his fingers, he knew you were close. Cregan gave a final few sucks to your pearl, and that is what threw you off the edge.

You came with a loud moan, your legs shaking and hips bucking against his face. 

Cregan kept thrusting his fingers in you, working you through your release. When he pulled away from your cunt you saw how his face glistened with your juices and his spit. The sight so erotic and lewd.

You still felt the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body shivering.

"Your cunt tastes divine, my Lady. I can't wait to enjoy this every single night." Cregan said with a smirk, placing wet kisses on your thigh to calm you down.

You gave him a lazy smile and leaned down to kiss him, tasting your release on his tongue.

"Hey! You might want to save some for the wedding night!" Came your brother's voice from the other side of the door.

Author's note: This was quite literally my first smut so if it feels rushed, weird etc., it is probably because of that. Although I did enjoy writing it. Any feedback would be appreciated. THANK YOUU MWAHH!!!

[stealingyourbones]

Prompt Idea: Danny has plot armor.

To start off, Danny’s whole family knows he’s Phantom, and they had to run from Amity because of the GIW. They wind up in Gotham because that’s the one place that The Government doesn’t really mess with.

The reason behind Danny’s plot armor is that in this world, Danny became incredibly overprotective of his friends and family in order to make sure he doesn’t wind up as Dan, ironically making the chance of that happening much greater than before.

In order to prevent this, Clockwork gives Danny and his family a blessing. It works like this.

Imagine you rolled a dice. To Clockwork, there are now 6+ possible alternate timelines that can ensue. Clockwork’s blessing allows those possible timelines to be restricted to only one or two, all of them good for the Fenton family.

In effect, it was like plot armor. Scarecrow attacks a library with Jazz inside? Oh, looks like her parents need her to pick up Danny early, or she drank too much water and needs to go to the bathroom, which just so happens to have a window just in reach that she can escape from.

Maddy needs to get a job? Well, Jazz’s university needs a new chemistry professor (last one was kidnapped by a rogue) and they’re in a bit of a rush so they’ll skip looking for a teaching certificate. No one cares anyways, it’s Gotham.

Jack needs something to do? Well, besides hunting ghosts, he’d always wanted to open a food truck! With Jazzy making sure nothings contaminated and some (slightly modified) recipes from the Ghost Zone, he can finally chase his dream in a big city with his Phantom Food Vehicle! He wonders what some of those shady men came up to him for, or that odd stout fella in the tux.

(The Phantom Food Truck has become a recent cryptid in Gotham. Except it’s not a cryptid, because everyone’s seen the video of the truck hurtling down the street like it’s chasing down the devil, cop cars and vigilantes alike on its tail. And yet, no one could find it. Not even the Bats. That’s about when everyone gave up. When they learned that you don’t find it, the Phantom Food Truck finds you.)

As for Danny? He’s entirely unaware of this, to focused on keeping his head down. It works, for a while. Before fate came knocking in the form of a wicked smile, as if there solely to ruin his day.

The Joker wasn’t having a good day either. He started out having a jolly old time, joker toxin gassing a small high school, making sure to leave macabre presents for his dear Batsy, and then what happens? This random kid just starts running around, helping students, saving teachers, what’s he gonna do next huh? Save a cat from a tree?

What’s worse, his useless henchmen couldn’t even land a hit on the kid! He swears, Bill doesn’t even seem to be trying.

Whatever, they managed to corner the brat, looked like he was standing in front of some other children. So Joker lines the shot, and he fires.

The gun jams.

Alrighty, he takes one from a random mook, and he shoots again.

The gun jams.

No one’s moving at this point. Where there was once dread and tension in the air, there’s just confusion. So Joker points the gun at a goon, pulls the trigger, the shot goes off.

He turns back to the Robin-ish looking twink, and he pulls the trigger.

The gun jams.

And as he starts walking towards the kid to just kill it himself, he wakes up in the Arkham hospital wing with his last memory of the encounter being him slipping on the glowing green contents of some weird looking thermos that the kid had thrown earlier in the fight. What the FUCK was that.

Clockwork doesn’t even care how pissed the Observers are any more, this is hilarious.

it's to the point of ridiculousness that the Bats have an entire file on Danny and they think he's a meta with a luck ability and nothing else.

[euhla]

𝑻𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐄 ☆ sunday

⋆. ✷ 🪽 spoiler for trailblaze mission, possessive & obsessive behavior and thoughts, mental abuse, gaslighting, slight yandere, stockholm syndrom ??, heavily implied ill! reader, angst w comfort, major character death, an attempt for sunday character study (spoiler; i failed). this fics is heavily inspired/referenced by that one comment from chasing kou at yt

a/n : i write this when it’s raining outside with my calm playlist n it’s the best feeling ever! ^ 0 ^ this is kinda rushed btw

and the moment a firework bursts and lights up, like an exalted flower standing in the middle of a sea of people, his cerulean blue hair is a contrast to the dark starry night.

you try to hold his hand, trying to found your way to slip underneath his gloves, and embracing it. you flinch at first, because his hands are cold like a living corpse.

“your hands are cold,” you said as you look at him in the eyes. and you can’t help but feel small whenever you two lock gaze.

“it’ll get warmer.”

“how do you know?”

he smiled, “because you hold it now.”

inside of the spacious universe under the moonlight, as the people in the background shouted happiness the moment the dark starry night were now filled with fireworks and lights of joy. you found another reason to live, again.

the distorted reflection of light that you see when you jump into water, as you two slowly count how long you can hold your breath un, deux, trois … and when you both gasping for air, feeling the breeze pierces straight.

now his hands— finding their way to hold yours. a solace intertwined for a moment as he speaks, “this is a foolish thing to do.”

no one— not even the wandering lost souls —expected the professional and well-behaved man to do the childish thing like this out of all place. mr sunday? the head of the oak family? jumped into water like a child? no one’s gonna believe you if they don’t see it themselves.

you laugh it off. “but sunday, you enjoy it.”

“of course, my dear. it’s because i do this with you.”

again, his smooth talking that he has trained since kid pissed you off sometimes. but again, maybe this is the only way to search for comfort within the cruel fate.

the sound of trees swaying in the wind is calming, you think. the sound of trees swaying in the wind is calming, you think. and suddenly life is worth living again when you finally lean against a big tree, blocking the raindrops with other than hanging on to thick leaves.

ready to face another shallow dream, you started to shut your eyes, expecting another endless void to enter your mind. but a hand— almost feels like a salvation—reaches you first, preventing you to fall into another abyss.

you gasped in response. “sunday..?”

“in your current condition, you should’ve know that you should stay inside the mansion, right?”

sunday removing his luxury white coat, then placing it on you.

“i—“ but you can’t say anything. trapped inside a fragile body means that any words that spilled out are just another excuse. “—i’m sorry.”

sunday exhaled. “i’m sorry i sound a bit harsh earlier, but i suppose you already know that i’m doing all of this for your safety, right?”

you smiled in response. “.. of course. always for my safety.”

the feeling of your hair blowing in the wind and your vision becoming narrower as the sound of laugh filling the air, ignoring completely the gloomy dark sky and the smell of rain and wet ground, make you feel like you finally regain your freedom once again. or when you're running when it’s only the silence after rain that’s linger around.

you know that you shouldn’t do this, and you know it better than no one else. but you can’t just leave your childhood urges when you already grow into adulthood. it keeps telling you go, as far as you can and don’t look back.

but something chained you down. it trapped you with nothing but sweet whispers; giving you a safe place to live, but treated like a porcelain doll who can’t do anything by themselves.

and it keeps whispering to you; “i’ll make you a beautiful flower in my the garden. blooming beautifully that other flowers are jealous of you.”

but it never told you that inside the garden, the flower bloom under humiliating watch. that it makes the flower feels like they’re a monstrous flower that bloomed too soon.

“so this is how running under the rain feels like!” you shouted, knowing that no one would hear you.

and not far away, under an absolute command, a bird is watching you with a rage.

The sound of the wind blowing in your ears or the sound of your breath is the last thing you enjoy before facing the consequences.

you can tell that his rage is uncontrollable even when he still keeps his charming calm face. and your heart keeps beating faster, you can tell.

“sunday, i’m sorry i– i just want to get some fresh air and i– idontknowthat it’s going to be raining.” your words spilled out in an irregular rhythm.

“and you don’t straight come back to the mansion?” he massaged his temples. and this is the first time you see him stressed out.

“because i just want to know how it feels to running under the rain again..”

“of course you just want to feel what you want to feel, my dear. and you will never want to know what i feel— stressed out when i know that you’re not inside the mansion. do you really want to escape that much? just because i prohibited you to go out of the mansion?”

guilty, you feel guilty now.

“all of my actions and orders are right, okay? because i’m doing this for you and your safety. if i didn’t save you that day, you wouldn’t have feel your own happiness.”

you smile and nodded.

because sunday is always doing the right things to do.

the sound of your heart when you fell in love is something you never knew are going to feel. you always wonder what is love anyway? does it feel like when you’re running under the rain? or watching a firework bursts and light up in the air?

your heart still hesitant to think that this is all called love; the way sunday would delicately touch you as if you can break, the way sunday would make sure that you’re safe on his mansion ( he said that it’s the only way to make sure you’re safe, so you can’t go anywhere without his company ), or the way he whispers sweet words that always make you flustered.

or maybe this is the love that people always talked about? he’s sincere about his feelings anyway. everything he do is always for the right things.

so you lean in his touch. you surrender, and you fall into his warm embrace. his wings twitched a few times, and he hesitantly try to cover his face with it, but you noticed it.

you noticed how he always ended up embarrassed and flustered everytime you return his affection. but you always caress his cheek, as if saying that it’s okay.

“please just trust me, okay?” he whispered.

…oh, and the feeling of being fulfilled when you hugged the person you love for the last time. because that’s finally the time that the bird realized that he’s the one who’s on a cage.

an outstretched hand faintly looked like a salvation for him when he’s falling into the abyss ( and that’s when he finally realized that no one is going to save him ). it must be ena’s hand, he thinks. but when he blinked again, he realized— it’s you.

and when he thought that you’re already gone, becoming one with the rain droplets you loved, you came back to him.

a hand reaches him and pulls him into a tight hug. he’s not surprised, or that’s what he thinks. because it will be the last hug you’ll give him.

he closed his eyes. now that he realized that he should let you go, and it’s time to wake up from this long dream. just like your last words to keep moving forward.

“.. i’m sorry.” a faint voice whispered.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 8 part 7

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

more Oz references! fury of the elements, one very pissed ex, same thing.

god but how much I love rio going feral?! it's so stupid I'm giggling and kicking my feet about it. you'd think a very old, very wise being would react like a grown ass adult after a breakup, especially because it was such a long time coming. but does rio go home to process things quietly? noooooooo she summons a whole storm and sits on a roof waiting for agatha to come out of her basement, so she can be an ass about it. if they were humans rio would be slashing agatha's tires and smashing windows and throwing rotten eggs at her house drunk at three in the morning, and you know what? good for her!!! she's been fucking trying to work out things in a mature responsible way, and it was never going to work, agatha was never going to grow up. so fuck it. agatha wants to be immature? we'll show her immature! I support my girl going full petty and unhinged, let her cry and scream and eat a whole ice cream tub and then throw it all up, let her piss all over agathas' rhododendrons, my girl has earned it.

AND she's brought her favorite soul-reaping orchid with her! she's like, I'm gonna do it! this time I'm gonna getcha! I will drag your ungrateful ass to our son kicking and screaming if I have to!!!!

...girl. we both know you ain't. like agatha is literally about to die and you still won't reap that soul without her consent. absolute loser behavior.

and agatha... well, agatha never backed off from an immaturity showdown. oooh she's gonna out-toddler you for sure.

but it's so interesting that the Road didn't give her her powers back. tbh I don't think she ever lost her powers at all, seeing as she's first and foremost a succubus and that power works just fine, if alice's fate is any indication. it's more like, three years under the spell completely drained her battery and she desperately needs to feed.

and agatha wasn't planning on joining the Road at all, as far as she was concerned it didn't even exist. like with lilia, jen and alice the Road gave her not what she asked, but what she needed all along: her prize was that moment of closure with nicky

so rio cannot kill people, she can only make them wish they were dead, and I just realized, her special talent is also being fucking annoying, just like agatha

by the way, rewatching wandavision I realized that his name is JOHN, not herb! I'm so sorry I've been calling you the wrong name this whole time, my guy. ALSO MOVE OUT OF THAT NEIGHBORHOOD DEAR LORD

same goes for you two. harold you have a daughter!

(omg a literal harold, they're lesbians.)

agatha sees the fire moon and it reminds her of alice. she draws a circle for the expelle hoc malum protection spell she's learned from her. she had a coven only for a day and look how much they've gotten under her skin.

rio gives an incredulous sigh. are you calling me "evil"? it's like, we've been over this!

I know that baby and I love you, but also you're very much sitting on a rooftop cackling like a maniac. how can these two be both so tragic and so so fucking ridiculous at the same time.

it's like, she's absolutely right, she's no villain and she's no demon, agatha should stop treating her like one and punishing her for it. but also... stop begging her to, for fuck's sake. rio, my love, have some dignity. stop chasing. you did a dramatic exit half an hour ago, WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE

agatha trying to exorcise her ex wife with a spell: clownass behavior.

rio blowing the circle away with a kiss: also clownass behavior.

but is she wrong????

lilia's turn to come in handy!

I'm sorry but... a whole sink? she threw a whole sink at her head?? this scene is so fucking hilarious, like I know some people found rio ooc but to me it makes perfect sense. I'm just sorry she didn't throw a toilet.

GO HOME, RIO. it's okay, we're gonna put up a picture of agatha in your living room and throw poop at it until you feel better or smth, it's gonna be okay, you let it all out.

^^literally rio

jen's moment: vulnus ab aqua curare.

I don't think it's going to help you much though, babe. remember when agatha kept poking wanda with a stick and got her ass kicked to oblivion in return? she's been poking DEATH for two hundred years. what did she expect???!?!

THAT IS THE HOTTEST SOMEONE HAS EVER LOOKED, DEAR LORD

and considering that rio chooses an outfit for each soul she reaps: this is what she chose for agatha??? girl, be for real!!!

aaaand she gets kicked into a wall a moment later. after her devastating sexy ass walk with the high slit dress and all. complete loser behavior.

(also hilarious: agatha's laundry hanging there the whole time)

billy came back to save agatha (awww) but not before conjuring a cool wiccan costume and doing a very dramatic entrance (awwwwwwww). literally her son.

I agree tbh

agatha's face when she realizes billy is choosing to give her magic: this is the first time someone does it willingly. and sure he is super powerful (she drained poor alice in a second), but I keep imagining a world were agatha is an important, cherished member of a community, maybe playing the vital role of teacher and knowledge keeper, and the community willingly donates magic in return, all together and on a regular basis, like people donate blood, so that no one dies and she doesn't starve.

look at how the beam changes color, and just how happy she is to finally eat. it's just the way she was born, you know? I hate that evanora turned it into something horrible when it didn't need to.

oh god, that stupid outfit again. that is agatha's "I'm such a scary merciless bitch and I don't care about your feelings" outfit. as if.

and then she realizes she's killing billy. look at her face, a moment ago she even said how good all this power feels. she could easily take it all. but of course for billy she has to stop.

so, can agatha actually control her powers? well, it's complicated, isn't it? she definitely couldn't when she was very young. possibly she never sought to learn how to as time went on.

(thank you for your patience, everyone, I'll update more regularly from now on. and you all know what happens next entry.)

go to episode 8 part 8

[kasagia]

I love you... I am sorry II

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader

Summary: You and Aleksander talk, scratching open old wounds from the past, you come to the conclusion that some things are simply a lost cause.

Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 1 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 3 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Do you think I'll tell you what to do by moving soldier figures around on the map without any logic?"

"I know you, Aleksander. Eventually you'll crack and arrange those wooden soldiers the way they need to be on this map to win this battle. Give me two hours, and I'll make you so annoyed that you will do whatever it takes to get rid of me." You respond teasingly, playing with the pawns on the Ravka map in front of his cell door.

A few days had passed since your first meeting after years. During that time, you had managed to discover exactly what changes had taken place in Aleksander.

He was apathetic, not paying attention to those around him. You had been watching from hiding as Alina and Baghra tried to talk to him, but he clearly showed no interest in Ravka's fate. And worst—Grisha. Or at least he pretended not to care. You had to find out why.

Luckily, you and Ulla were able to stir up… a lot more emotion in him than those two hags. Even if it was just irritation, it was still a greater success than Alina or Baghra could achieve. Or at least that's what Baghra told you.

"Since when have you been friends with my mother?" He asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You lazily move the figurine representing Grisha's troop to the pass between Ravka and Fjerda. With your ability to read the Shadow Summoner, you immediately notice the slight twitch at the corners of his eyes. A shitty place then. You move the figurine to a different spot and, seeing no disapproving little reaction from him, you leave it there.

"Since when did you become a pain in the ass?" You reply with a cute little smirk, grinning when you see his annoyed expression.

You pull away from your poor reenactment of battle and lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. You watch him carefully, keeping your poker face on as he analyses you too. Talking to him was like playing chess. You had to know when you could afford to lose your pawns.

"You never really said why you are here." He starts, stepping a little closer to you. Like a vulture slowly circling its prey. You liked him in his analytical hunter mode. He was so absurdly sexy…

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You are not my man or something." You scoff, glancing out of the corner of your eye at his reaction. The clench of his jaw might have gone unnoticed if you didn't know him any better, but the way he clenched his fist and hid it behind his back didn't. You pissed him off. Good.

"I am not." He only agrees coolly, this time being the one to stick the needle in your side. Bloody bastard.

"Alina wants to take me north. You know... to help calm down a situation with Fjerda by using my powers." You tell him, leaning back in your chair. You reach for the pendant around your neck and play with the glass heart, looking at him as intently as he does you.

"Have you become her errand dog?"

"Please... do you truly think so little of me?" You snort in amusement, but your mockery dies when he says nothing in response to your words. Bad move. Of course he thinks so little of you since your stormy breakup. "You don't have to answer. No. I am not going to help your little saint or queen or whatever you wish to call her with the war you wanted to prevent. No matter how dramatic the measures you resorted to, at least Ravka would not now have to deal with the united forces of Shu-Han and Fjerda. And as you could notice in the centuries we spent together, I do not support idiots and ignorants like your dear Alina."

"So you are here to say that you see my point of view, and actually you want to take my side? Perhaps you are even jealous of my 'relationship' with the Sun Summoner?" He mocks you as he approaches the bars.

You stand up furiously from your seat and approach him too, seeing only the red fire of your rage as he dares to throw your jealousy in your face.

"No. I came here to see you writhing in this cage, irritated and eager to take some action, maybe even plotting some king's slaughter. I didn't expect to be left with a boring shell of who you used to be."

"I am terribly sorry if I disappointed your expectations. Do you see now how it feels on the other side of your own treatment?"

You stare at each other for a long moment, both of you seething with anger, resentment, and bitterness built up over years of you ignoring him and running away from him and his distrust and anger towards you.

"We broke up."

"Indeed we did."

"Then why did you come back to it?"

"And why did you come back now?" You shiver at his words and pull away from him. You try desperately to maintain your neutral posture, but it becomes an increasingly difficult task as he hits all the right spots.

"Your girl ruined my peace with the war that shouldn't have happened and wouldn't have if you were in power. I couldn't stay any longer in my hiding place. Even if I wished so. I had to come and clean up your mess."

"Alina is more than you care to think about her. Much more." His words hurt you, but you know they were the best answer to your lie. After all, nothing connected you anymore. It was logical that he would defend his Sun Summoner. His little damn Sankta.

"I don't care what she is. But order your little minions once more to put me to sleep, or do anything against my will, and I promise you, Aleksander, you will remember why it's not worth teasing me."

"I remember the times you loved my teasing." He replies with a small cocky grin. And you don't know what you want to do more, punch him in the face or kiss him for being so frustratingly, irritatingly absurdly handsome.

"Don't recall them if you despise them so much."

"Why? Because you regret what you have done? Because you realise how terrible a mistake you made. Because you want back what you lost ages ago? Because you know that we could have so much more if it weren't for your selfish actions?"

"How dare you, you demon from the woods..." You growl at him furiously and step closer to the bars, tightening your hands on them in an attempt to vent your anger on him.

"I am. You shall never forget this, witch without a coven."

"And who is the reason I don't have one?" Your words ignite a fury so hot and great that he presses his body against the bars as well. You stare furiously into each other's eyes, and you know that if his power were not in bondage, the room would be filled with his shadows right now.

"I never asked you for anything or for sacrificing anything for me. What you did for me then... it didn't matter when you did this only because you felt guilty. Not after what you did TO me."

"But you asked me once to stay with you. No matter what. Remember?" You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, summoning old, distant memories. And even though centuries had passed since those events… It didn't mean it hurt any less with the passage of time.

"How convenient for you to keep only those promises that suit you. Now I'd appreciate it even more if you'd disappear for good. Or rotted in some nameless grave." You slam your hand against the bars, making him shiver in surprise at your sudden outburst.

You feel your power tingling under your skin, begging to be released and unloaded on him, but unfortunately, the last thing your stupid heart wants to do is hurt that big, stubborn idiot. So while your heart is busy calming your wild power, your wounded pride takes over and controls your mouth, providing a perhaps more painful weapon than your magic.

"Fuck off, Aleksander. You can get rid of every little reminder of your past, but you'll never get rid of me. We're too deeply connected with each other, and you damn well know it. You'll see me forever, everywhere, in every fucking breeze, the scent of flowers, and the glow of crystals. And you know how I know that? Because despite all these centuries of you being far away, I still see you in every fucking corner. In every dream, in every place, in every little memory of the past I recall. I feel you with every breath, every blink, every little touch—exactly in the places you used to cherish my skin. You've tainted everything I know and love. We are a scourge to each other and always will be. And until Ravka becomes a relatively safe place to live again, we are both condemned to each other's company."

"There is a very simple solution to all of this." He says and looks at the heart-shaped pendant hanging around your neck. You swallow hard and catch it tightly in your hand, protecting it from his gaze. "Haven't you ever thought about that? To cut yourself off from this for good? From me? You can finally be free. Maybe you'll even find your peace?"

"There is no peace for me. And neither for you." You see that your words have caused some internal stirring in his conscience.

He hesitantly places his hand on yours and takes your chin in his hand—the one on which he has a black scar from the amplifier with which he connected with Alina. You hold your breath as he strokes the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb, staring at you intently, too mesmerised by his sudden closeness and tenderness from him after centuries apart to listen to your better judgement and pull away. You cling to him blindly. You fall into the trap of his dark eyes as you drown in his touch.

"I'm tired of fighting, Y/N. I will find peace. Even if it means losing the lives of thousands of others."

"Even my life?"

"We both know that your death would be my salvation." You smile bitterly and snort as if he's just told a funny joke. But in reality, you're doing everything in your power to keep the tears from falling from your eyes.

"Same here." You mumble, focusing your gaze on the black scar on his hand instead of his eyes, afraid his dark depths will somehow see through your lies.

You hold your breath as he grabs your chin tightly and forces you to look into his eyes. His fingers dig into your skin unpleasantly, but you don't care. You're drowning in his angry, hurtful, resentful gaze, unable to move an inch.

"Ex-lovers quarreling? Should I just go out and wait until Mom and Dad make up?" Ulla's sudden intrusion makes us both recoil from each other as if burned. You clear your throat and glare at the black-haired one madly.

"Don't call me that. I am not old like that hag who gave birth to you."

"You are talking about my mother."

"Mother, you hate, as I would like to point out. Actually, I start to wonder if there is anyone who didn't deserve your wrath, my dark general." You scoff at his remark, knowing full well that his relationship with Baghra has only worsened since you left. With a little unwanted help from you…

"In case you haven't noticed, all those dear to my heart that I came to dislike have a tendency to betray me."

"In case you haven't noticed, they may not be cheating on you, but doing what's best for you, you stubborn, damn, proud fool who can't see beyond the tip of his own dick!"

In your anger at him, you step too close to the bars, giving him the perfect opportunity to grab you by the neck. And he does. You gasp in surprise and instinctively reach for the pendant around your neck, holding the glass heart in his secure grip. Aleksander wraps his other hand around yours, trying to squeeze it hard enough to break the glass heart you try so hard to protect.

You gasp, struggling to take even one short breath, and look him straight in the eye as you mumble the words of the spell with the last of your strength. Aleksander hisses in pain and releases his grip on your necklace, but he still holds you tightly by the neck to the point where you know he'll leave bruises in the shape of his hand and fingers... which doesn't bother you as much as it should...

"Okay, stop! Both of you!" Ulla walks over to the two of you. Aleksander shifts his gaze from you to her for a moment. You feel his hand on your throat tremble as he considers letting you go. "Sasha, let her go. Before you do something entirely stupid that you will regret."

Aleksander hesitates for a few moments, then lets you go. You don't give him the satisfaction of moving away from him. You take a few deep breaths, staring at him with a hateful, cold gaze that he stubbornly avoids by looking at his sister.

"Torment me again, and I promise Ivan will put you to sleep for a thousand years." He mutters his empty threat without even looking at you, which gives you reason enough to decide you'd rather fucking die than give him the last word in this little argument between the two of you.

"If you wanted me to be your sleeping beauty and you to be my prince, all you had to do was ask, Aleksander." You mock him, and he moves to grab you painfully by the throat again. But before you can respond with one of your curses, Ulla steps between the two of you and gives you both a disappointed, irritated look.

"Y/N! That's enough for today."

"I didn't start…"

"Y/N!"

"Fine! Got it. I am on my way." You raise your hands and walk out of the barred room, but not before sticking your tongue out at Aleksander—something that escapes Ulla's watchful eye because her back is turned to you.

And as you leave, you wonder how the hell you're supposed to get this dense, stubborn asshole to cooperate when he clearly still despises your insides as much as he did all those centuries ago.

"Is that what you call taming him?"

You sigh and stop in your tracks on your way to your rooms. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, cursing the name of every saint you know under your breath before turning to the person you hate most in the world with a fake smile.

"Baghra. I wish I had the mood and time to talk to you. Unfortunately, I don't have the former, and I'd rather spend the latter on something else. Have a nice night." You turn on your heel, intending to make a quick escape, but the woman summons her shadows, blocking your path. You sigh, tired of dealing with another Morozova, and face Baghra again.

"Your methods don't work." You almost growl at the pretentious tone in her voice. She expected you to work a miracle, knowing full well what her son was like… and knowing full well why he was as hostile towards you as he was.

"Did you really think he'd just follow me and hang on every word I say? He's not some fucking puppet you can order around. He needs to trust me again. At least when it comes to saving Ravka and Grisha."

"Well, it seems like he won't come to it so soon. I thought you had a little more influence on him. Maybe you actually broke his naive little heart?"

The silence that follows her words is like a slap in the face to your pride. You can barely push back the unbidden tears, and it takes a huge amount of effort to control yourself when Baghra is giving you her infamous mocking smile. The old woman had the irritating ability to scratch open wounds that you thought had long since healed. Besides, she knew perfectly well what, or rather who, your only sweet spot was.

"Then I did exactly what you wanted, right?" You ask; he winces a little when he hears the slight tremor in your voice. Damn witch.

"I told him to stay away from you. But the stupid boy didn't listen; he loved you so much. Witches like you, wielding such power... you're all the same. You have no feelings. Self-absorbed, wanting to live forever. Tell me, Y/N, what did you need your eternity for? Was it worth it to fight for? Has it paid off for you to deceive my stupid son for so many centuries?"

"Without Aleksander by my side? No. But at least I can keep an eye on him. At least I can make sure that he will survive long enough to get his happy ending. And torment you forever. Until the end of time, my dear mother-in-law. Or your death. I personally prefer this one." You give her a contemptuous look and turn away from her, walking into the darkness of her shadows to reach your rooms and escape, just for a while, from feelings of guilt, helplessness, and wrath that the damned Morozovas have aroused in you.

"What do you mean by mother-in-law?" Baghra asks, confounded, but fortunately she doesn't follow you. She's everything but dumb. She won't expose herself to possible harm as a result of you unleashing your wild power.

"Ask your son!" You shout over your shoulder, not stopping for a moment.

You know perfectly well that a minute longer in Baghr's company would make you cry. And you promised yourself that this old witch would never be the reason for your despair again… her son was another matter.

So when you get to your room, you wave your hand over the windows to close the curtain with your magic, turn off all the lights, and let yourself curl up on your bed. You sob quietly, lying on your side, legs drawn up as you grip the necklace tightly in your hand and let yourself have a much-needed crying session. Your head spins as your power slides through you, causing storms outside. And you can only hope that Ulla is keeping Aleksander busy enough that he doesn't see the rain your crying has caused. The last thing you need is to show him how much you still care.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" You shiver as Aleksander wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your bare shoulder. His light stubble pricks your skin, but you don’t care, too fascinated by the rings on your joined hands.

"About 10 times, but who's counting?" You mumble and turn around in his arms. A smile creeps onto your face as you gently cup his cheek in your hand. "Husband. That's weird."

"Weird? Why?" He asks, frowning at you in confusion. Yet his grip on you doesn't loosen at all; if anything, he tightens it, protectively wrapping himself around you, as if his touch alone would be enough of an anchor for your raging thoughts.

"I can't believe that such a handsome and powerful man is mine. Only mine." You whisper and press your lips to his cheek.

You smile, feeling his breathing quicken slightly, and you start to feel his familiar, comforting scent surrounding you. And warmth. Which was pretty important, considering you were in a cold, damp, abandoned cabin in the woods. All alone, out of nowhere. You wouldn't trade that honeymoon for anything.

"I was yours long before we exchanged those rings. And I will be yours long after today. For as long as my heart beats and beyond. You are a part of my soul, connected to me by a force I cannot fathom. And I am grateful for anything or anyone that bound us together, that brought you on my path."

"You can't promise me things like that. You don't know what the future will bring." You mumble, panting as he begins to press kisses into your neck. You sigh and tug on his hair as he bites into you. You decide that the beard is a rather… nice new accessory. Especially when it teases your skin so nicely.

"But I can promise you today. And then tomorrow. And the day after that. And so on and so forth, until all eternity."

“Assuming we have forever.” You moan, intoxicated by both his words and the caresses of his lips and hands as he slowly removes your dress.

"I will fight with everything I have to always have you by my side." He promises fervently, cupping both of your cheeks and placing a hot kiss on your lips that instantly warms your insides. You smile as he pushes you onto the bed.

"Even with your mother?" You tease him and raise a questioning eyebrow at him. You almost break and snort at his hurt expression.

"I'm offended that my mother even crosses your mind in this situation, let alone that you're brave enough to talk about her." He mutters menacingly and reaches for your sides.

Before you can react, he's tickling you, attacking all your weak points. You laugh and squirm beneath him, screaming at him and cursing him to stop, but he just laughs and redoubles his efforts. And as much as you can't breathe anymore and are almost crying from his teasing, you enjoy his wicked, carefree laughter.

“Mercy! Mercy!” You cry out with laughter, and he finally takes pity on you. You laugh some more, recovering as he simply hovers over you and looks at you, drinking in your dishevelled appearance beneath him. “What?” You gasp, breathing deeply and wiping tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Nothing. I love you,” he says and shrugs. Your heart clenches and warms at his words, and another wave of tears nearly fills your eyes as he reaches for your hand with the silver claw ring he placed there just an hour ago.

“I love you too. More than anything.” You mumble, grabbing the glass heart that dangles from his necklace—your wedding gift to him—and pulling him to you, connecting your lips in a needy, heated kiss.

You would give away all the treasures in the world to have back that ring on your finger instead of the heavy pendant on your neck that felt like a muzzle for you. The muzzle of your eternal sin against Aleksander and you both.

"You again?" You allow yourself to roll your eyes when you enter his cell a few days later, which he greets with his mocking smile and cold gaze. He frowns, however, when this time, instead of sitting in the chair like you always did, you walk over to the bars separating him from you.

"Do not worry. I won't bother you much longer. Actually, I came to say goodbye."

You say and hand him a small box through the bars. You wait patiently for him to come over and take it from you, but his wounded pride apparently won't let him do even that. You roll your eyes as he turns his back to you and shifts his gaze to the book in his hands.

"Goodbye? That's not really in your style. Since when do you say goodbye instead of disappearing into obscurity?" He mocks you without even bothering to look at you. You swallow and nod, only now realising just how deep his resentment of you runs. But you don't have the strength to fight him any longer.

"Well, I learnt that from you, but since we're not together anymore, I guess I'm ditching your habits for some new ones."

Over the centuries, you and Aleksander have gotten back together and broken up a million times. You let him come back into your life as if he had never ripped your heart out and taken it with him countless times. Each time he was leaving, he put his plan into action to ensure that Grisha was safe from whatever enemy they currently had. He was choosing the good of his people over yours.

Every grand plan that was supposed to end with the restoration of freedom for Grisha usually ended in failure. And every time, he came back to you. To your arms. To hide there from the world, lick his wounds, and hide his shadows in the safety of your home.

But just as suddenly as he came, he left you. All for Grisha. His whole life was dedicated to ensuring a better fate for his people than he had as a child. And so he ended up in a cell. Alone. Maybe not completely. You knew he had many supporters in the 'underground.' But what good were supporters when he had no one to stand by his side? Supported through thick and thin?

On the other hand… you never joined him in his plans. You always stuck to your own woods and paths… it was pure fate that for a time you both followed the same one.

"Well, I'm actually glad about that. I should have noticed sooner that you're just like everyone else. The greatest liar among liars. A witch without a coven that no one ever trusted or wanted to be near."

You give him a small smile, perfectly keeping your true emotions from surfacing. You drop the box and let your magic transport it to the table he's sitting at. With a quick wave of your hand, you make the box clatter loudly against the wooden table.

Luckily, that catches his attention enough for him to finally look at you.

"You want to talk about liars and cheaters? Go ahead. There's a big war coming. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. Alina and Nikolai won't let the Fjerda get away with invading their lands and killing Grisha like they used to do and still do. So why do you pretend it doesn't bother you? That it doesn't concern you? Why do you sit here obediently and do nothing when we both know you have the means to escape? Who are you trying to convince that you don't care anymore about your people, us, or yourself?"

This time, you are the one to look away from him. You don't wait for his response and just move away from him. You walk over to the part of his bookcase that wasn't behind bars, running your finger over the titles on them.

"And who is us?" A shiver runs through your body, and you thank yourself for keeping your back to him. You don't know what he would read on your face as you say your next words.

"Ulla. Me. People that really care about you."

"You left me." He points out stubbornly again, as if you didn't know what you had done against him.

But the truth was that you had both hurt each other equally. It was just easier for him to blame you than for you. Or maybe your guilt against him was actually greater than whatever he did behind your back...

"You didn't mourn my leaving much."

"Maybe I mourned too many in my life to add you to this list?"

When you finally find the book you were looking for, you take it and turn to face him. He steps towards the bars, his hand around one and his gaze fixed on you. You can barely hold back a small smile as you see his shadows hovering in the corners of his cell.

"Believe what you want… but not everything was a lie between us, Aleksander. And you've had your fair share of lies for me, before I've even considered doing what you hate me for. Does the fact that you managed to tell me your lies before Baghra reported my secrets to you make any difference? You and I... we are similar. I am a witch without a coven, and you are a Grisha without an order. We are both alone in this world. But I admired the fact that you continued to fight, even when everyone else was against you. You may have been a villain in everyone else's story, but you've always been a hero in mine. In Ulla's. We admired you for what you were, for the strong leader who would do anything for his family and people. And who are you now?"

"I am the man your lies and manipulation created. All of yours. My mother's, Alina's, yours. So don't you dare stay here and say that I am meant to be something more when you stabbed me in my back and left when I needed you the most."

"You hated me then."

"And what gives you the impression that I still don't?" That I didn't need you even when I was furious with you?"

"I..." You're at a loss for words. You have no idea how to answer him, especially when the stormy blackness of his eyes overwhelms you as much as his words.

He couldn't mean them, could he? He couldn't be mad that you left him. He had to play with you… There was no way he'd want you around after you'd supposedly betrayed him.

You snort and shake your head at his words. No. You won't let him enter your mind and manipulate you. Although… You can't say your heart has shifted indifferently at the revelation he's told you. Because what if he really needed you by his side? What if… he loved you more than he hated you?

"It doesn't matter. Say what you want or get out." Well, his words only prove that you are right about this. And they reassure you in the decision you want to make.

"I'm going north with Alina. You can either join us or rot here. And to be honest, I don't care anymore. I was never your enemy, Aleksander. But if you so desperately need one, then all right. Make me your villain. But know that everything I did, I did for you. For us. Even if I hurt you in my desperate attempts to protect you, for which I do not intend to apologize. Everything I did, I did for us, for you. But maybe it really is time to change things between us once and for all."

After your words, you take a few seconds to look at him. Your gaze lazily follows his dark hair, his eyes, the set of his jaw. Without a word, you nod to him and leave, as if saying goodbye for the very last time.

"Protect me from what?" You hear him walk over to the table and open the package in a hurry. Then he freezes when he sees the familiar object you've placed there. "Y/N?! Answer me! Y/N!" He shouts after you, banging on the metal bars, but you don't spare him a second glance. You just walk out of there, hoping your little trick will work.

Because if he won't follow you to war after you give him a necklace with his blood—the same blood you tricked him into taking and enchanting to give you immortality—then you don't know what'll get him out of that stupid cell.

Taglist (I hope that everyone who wanted to be there are there. If not, I am soooooooooo soooo sorry): @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat @barnes70stark

@zeeader @the-desilittle-bird

@thepassionatereader @budugu

@sinistersnakey @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic

@aryhyuuga

@oh-thats-cute

@meadows5

[sera8273]

“I see now why you were so adamant into freeing your mortal now.” He joked as he smushed more insects in his hand.

When Athena practically promised that her Mortal would make everyone bleed he didn’t at all think that it would also, literally, include everyone.

Said Goddess was currently choking on those bugs of hers in her Talon whist shaking like she was having a nother seizure. Trying to stop any other laughs that hurted her so.

A gurgle of anger caught his attention as he stared in amusement at his now bandaged-up-like-a-mummy uncle.

“Shut….your….fucking…mouth….” He hoarsely replied when one of his tentacles twitched uncomfortably as he coughed up more blood.

Just like Athena, who became her more Owl like form and acted more like one with talons, feathers, and more beak like mouth. Poseidon was more sea creature like. Tentacles, fins for ears, gills for hands, and he was glowing.

A smack on the Sea God head made him stare directly into glowing yellow and irritated eyes.

“Fates above Uncle, when I say to not talk I mean it! That mortal did more damage than we all have realized. One more strike and he would’ve pierced through your skin-“

“Like a fish kabob!” A certain messenger piped in resulting in more laughter from the War God.

“Or worse, your heart and skull would’ve smashed open! Now drink!” Apollo finished hastily as he placed a mint-green and blue potion in the unwilling lips of his Uncle. Not at all caring if he choked on it or not.

“And to think that my own bloodline did that to you.” A chuckle escaped from Hermes who looked at his two other siblings. His eyes turned to pity as he saw his dear sister eyes twitch while her smile looked crooked, forced, and lopsided. Shaking his head, he stared at the War God who was feeding, or trying too atleast, feed their dear sister smashed insects, the only thing she could stomach at the moment. “As much as I despise you with every bone in my body, that was amazing darhling!”

Ares let out a ‘tched’ at that. “He had a lot- and I mean a lot of pent of rage mixed with guilt built up in him. I just gave him one final tipping point for it to break.” His eyes wandered to his bandaged uncle who coughed weakly. Another chuckle escaped from him. “I was not at all expecting for Athena’s Mortal to do that to him however.”

“I have never seen that much loyalty in one singular human before, and that’s saying something.” A certain peacock piped in while sipping at her wine. She was standing in a corner watching both Poseidon and Athena. Mostly the latter however. “And to do this for said loyalty, now that’s a deal.”

“Hah! I heard that he broke off Circe’s spell because he thought of his wife! No wonder Ody got pissed off when Uncle over here said that he would never see them ever again!” Hermes, now with a bag of popcorn, Hermes looked over to his uncle again. Rolling his eyes as Poseidon groaned in pain once again. “I still don’t get how he managed to even hurt you, more or less make you of all Gods bleed red.”

Said God let out a shaky pained filled laugh. “Don’t….fucking….start….with me…..” more blood flowed from his mouth. “He used…my own fucking- ack! Weapon….of all things!” Apollo stared at him with disregard as he turned to his siblings. “From what I’m able to gather. Our dear Athena was able to bleed red because she showed emotions:remorse, guilt, teasing, anger, and will power. Our Uncle also showed emotions, however, not ones that Athena got;Pain, Fear, a taste of his own medicine.”

Poseidon groaned once again in annoyance as Hera and Hermes laughed. Apollo shared a smile with them.

Ares watched and then commented - “Heh, now we just need to try that on dear old Father.”

[granddaughterogg]

You Let Me Complicate You - Part 1

This is a love story about Simon "Ghost" Riley and you, starting with a random hookup and later navigating your increasingly complex feelings and desires towards each other.

~~Reblogs are always Greatly Appreciated!~~

PART 2 HERE

SUMMARY: You're all alone in London because of Reasons. On a particularly dreadful, windy, rainy Halloween evening you venture outside for a quick pint - but find Simon "Ghost" Riley instead. He's a consummate fuckboy who uses fleeting trysts to blow off steam collected at his deadly job, and you're a cynical, world weary girl who nonetheless very much enjoys no-string-attached sex. None of you are prepared for the horror of Actually Falling In Love. Also - the mask stays on for ridiculously long. What, oh what will become of this fateful encounter?

Chapter 1: SKULLFACE

As with many other adventures in your life - this one started only because you wouldn’t quench your curiosity.

It was an insatiable force, one that has driven you into a lot of shit over the years. On the other hand, you could call your life path - that collection of irregular zigs and zags off the beaten trajectory - anything but dull. And you owed it to that ever-present itch at the back of your head.

Let’s go back to the very start, shall we?

The start was unpromising. For one, it was Halloween evening, but you were on your own and it was pissing it down outside.

You sat in a tiny squalid apartment, its walls painted a nauseating shade of green and stared at the darkness behind your windows. Cold water splashed against the glass. Technically speaking, those windows weren’t yours. Nothing here was. You’ve just Airbnb’ed this hovel for a few weeks. The thing is, you’ve been awaiting news about a job.

They haven’t contacted you yet. You’ve been paying through the nose for this musty abode, bristling at the prices of groceries – at the prices of anything, really. London’s famous charms were lost on you. You hated this city. To you, it felt as if someone had squashed a dozen smaller towns into an amorphous heap. You didn’t know a single soul in those streets and you weren’t sure if you wanted to change that.

But how long can a lonely girl sit on her ass, browse youtube and marinate herself in misery?

And it was All Hallow’s Eve after all.

You always loved Halloween.

The weather discouraged kids from trick-and-treating. Yet you could still hear multiple footsteps going every which way on the wet pavement below, snippets of conversations and muffled laughter. Londoners decided to enjoy themselves tonight, weather be damned. 

You paused the video (it was about a groomer, tending to a particularly matted, hissy cat). You stood up with a sigh, slammed your laptop shut and went to the suitcase lying in the corner.

It’s been a week here and apart from your sensible job interview clothes, (which have been hanging on the door, properly steamed) you still haven’t found it in yourself to unpack.

Never mind that now. You unceremoniously threw the suitcase’s contents on the wooden floor and fished one particular object out of the pile; a little velvet dress, as black as the night.

You stood in front of the dusty mirror and pulled the garment on. It was one of those strappy numbers which start late but end pretty early. Hugged all your curves, not leaving much to the imagination. Your dear mother would’ve described this dress as „slutty”.

Just the way you liked it.

You’ve learned before that excessive preparations only dull your enthusiasm for the unknown. So you’ve slid your feet inside your trusted combat boots, smudged some black eyeliner here and there, put your hair up in a French twist with a simple metal pin, and threw on a jacket - and you were good to go.

Wherever those streets would take you.

***

It turned out that the streets wouldn’t take you far. Because it was raining fucking hard. 

It's one thing to merely observe the skies opening, and another to withstand their fury. You were trudging the pavement under your flimsy foldable umbrella, almost bent in half because of the gusty wind. You walked turned to the side, trying to avoid getting ballistic rainwater in your eyes, one half of your face damp and cold already. The light jacket offered little protection; soon you were soaked to the bone, and furious.

Screw it, you thought. I’m just gonna get inside any old place, have a pint and then go home.

You turned the corner and came upon a narrow crooked staircase leading below the street level, as was usually the case with pubs in this area. Some people were just leaving the premises, laughing and talking as they went. You caught a glimpse of bluish light, pouring from the inside along with some muffled bass beats.

Good enough.

You descended down the staircase; concrete steps crumbled under your tractor soles, threatening to throw you off balance. You passed by some folks on your way, squeezing yourself past them on a narrow path cutting through an overgrown courtyard. You pulled the handle of a heavy iron door. It was covered in graffiti and layers upon layers of old stickers. 

You stepped inside.

Your first thought was: This is not a pub.

You weren’t a local – hell, you weren’t even British – but after some time spent in this country, you’ve more or less become acquainted with the trappings of this cornerstone of any local community, what with its cosy nooks, mandatory fireplace and dark polished woodwork. Those kinds of places you knew. The beer wasn’t half bad, the tunes were usually tolerable and bartenders had this well-practiced cordiality to them. You liked the atmosphere of an English pub.

This, however, was different. Like, much noisier.

Your ears got filled with the metallic beats of dark industrial music. You couldn’t name the song that was playing. Deep inside there was a small dancefloor, where bodies swayed along with the slow, reverberating rhythm. 

This place was so dimly lit, that you had to squint just to adjust. The walls were raw concrete, with exposed brass piping running up and down in complicated patterns. It reminded you of a bunker. All the furniture seemed to be worn down and mismatched as if someone scavenged it from various vacant buildings. The bar counter was one giant slab of concrete too, its greyness punctuated by rows of tiny lights hanging from the iron truss under the low ceiling. 

The patrons all wore black. Not just your basic, nondescript black, oh no. You looked around (as much as you could while drifting in this neon blue semi-darkness, which revealed so little) and noticed some people in gothic finery. Velvet, lace, the works. Others chose leather or elaborate corsetry.

Ah, it’s one of those places.

You got your shit together, folded the damn umbrella, shook your damp hair to get at least some of the water out of it, and beelined to the concrete bar. At this point of the evening, you’d kill for a hot beverage.

The bar area was not too crowded, thank fuck. You clambered gracelessly onto one of the free barstools and smiled at the bartender. He was completely bald, with a ginormous nose ring and a thin face, eternally crumpled into an expression of faint disgust.

"Hello! One hot tea, please", you said breathlessly.

Dude looked at you as if you’d just spat on his mother’s grave.

"Tea? You sure 'bout that?"

"Well yeah", you answered. "It’s bucketing down out there, and I got chilled to the bone..."

The bartender wasn’t moved by your plight. 

"This is a club, not your Granny’s living room, see? We serve adults here..."

"Give ‘er a damn tea, Geoffrey. Don’t be a cunt."

A man’s voice rang out from your left. It was low and throaty, but also perfectly even in tone. It cut through the music and the bustle like a knife wielded by a steady hand. Your ears twitched pleasantly at this sound.

Geoffrey blinked at whoever it was that scolded him. Then he made a face and turned away to fulfil your order.

"I’m just saying, we’re trying to run a business here…" he muttered, putting the kettle on.

"I see that”, you assured. "Make that a tea and a glass of Scotch then. I could use both."

"Right." The bartender was seemingly placated by your offer.

When he put the drinks in front of you and turned towards other customers, you emptied the sugar packet inside the cup, stirred your tea for a while, finally sipped it - and sighed with delight. It all took a while. When the life-restoring elixir started to course through your veins, you stole a glance at the man who spoke earlier.

"Thanks for putting in the word for me", you said with a slight smile.

"Geoff's not a bad bloke. Just overworked." 

The stranger was tall and dressed in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head. He was looking straight ahead, away from you, cradling his whisky glass in two large, strikingly pale hands.

"I can imagine, with the place being so busy on Halloween and all...Anyway, I’m feeling better by the minute." 

"Drink up then, and that whisky too. You look like a half-drowned cat."

That voice was something to behold. So deep and guttural, with a thick accent that made short work of most of the consonants. As your ears helpfully suggested, it was probably Mancunian. One doesn’t simply grow such a voice. One earns it through incessant smoking and other recurring bad life decisions, no doubt. It was kinda hot.

...Wait a moment, did this perfect stranger just smack-talk you?

Your head darted upwards. 

"Did you just say that I look like shit?" 

Your tone was still playful - if underlined by a suggestion that you’re always ready to drop the playfulness.

The hooded man must’ve heard that undertone because he chuckled. That rumbling sound reverberated somewhere deep within you. Probably in your bones.

"Don’t be so hard on yourself, love. You're just a little worse for wear, is all."

That impassive tone of his stabbed you in the solar plexus. You've straightened up as if pulled by a string. The teaspoon fell into your tea, making a soft clatter, while you spun around on your stool to look this insolent git straight in the face.

"How do you know?" you bit out. "You weren't even looking -"

The following words got stuck in your throat.

Not only was the man hooded, but he also wore a mask. A tight black one, covering his head and the lower part of his face. A balaclava, your brain hinted helpfully. It looked like a part of the regulation equipment of the armed forces, and that's where the similarities came to an end. For the mask has been printed over – or painted, maybe? - with the image of a skull. Mainly its lower jaw. White paint glimmered in the bluish light, forming a wide, ghastly smile which grinned at you.

But even more striking were his eyes, large and protruding. Your stunned stare met two opaque irises, as dark and dense as a black hole. You weren't able to decipher their expression. That cryptic intensity of his gaze seemed to bend space-time. 

His eyelids and skin around the eyes have also been blackened, but his long lashes remained pale as frost.

You stared at this vision with your mouth ajar, like a dead fish.

"What?" He asked calmly and quietly. "Do I have something on me fuckin' face?"

You were always quite outspoken, but at that moment words eluded you.

"Cool mask,” you said finally because something needed to be said. „Cool...disguise. Is it for Halloween?"

He didn't blink. It was unnerving.

"I don't do 'alloween, love."

"So you wear this thing 'cause it makes you more interesting and mysterious and shit?"

The tall man leaned towards you, his eyes creasing in a smile.

"Look at you, sweetheart. It's clearly workin'."

"That's because of that stare of yours. It could pin a person to a wall...", you murmured.

"I could pin you to a wall. Just ask nicely.”

You felt suddenly weightless. Out of breath. 

"For how long?" you quipped, trying your damnedest to sound flippant. 

The nerve of this fucking guy!

"For as long as you'll need me to. I'm a dedicated man.”

There was no bravado ringing in his gritty voice. Just a calm statement of fact.

You cut a look at his arms. The black cotton of the hoodie did little to conceal their immense size. 

He could probably deliver on his promise.

You took a long breath, trying to regain your lost composure. It wasn't easy when this hulking freak stared you down, but you'd been in tighter spots before.

Goths, amirite, you thought. Ever the contrarians, regardless of their age. They tended to be good in the sack though.

You studied this new specimen very thoroughly - and there was plenty to stare at. The man was built like an industrial-sized fridge. Ridiculously tall even while sitting down and broad-shouldered, with a firm chest stretching the plain black cotton of his sweatshirt. Which, by the way, he wore zipped up almost to his very chin, like a layer of protective gear. Weird.

Those dim little lights over the bar made it hard for you to discern the details, but you also noticed the width of his torso and his powerful thighs, clad in simple blue denim. He was by far the plainest dressed patron of this edgelord cellar joint. Apart from the mask you didn't notice anything even remotely Gothic about his style or bearings. Although he sat motionless, cradling a glass of whisky in his long, strong fingers – he still exuded that kind of primal strength which you've learned to associate with the outdoorsy hiker type or the avid sportsman.

"Like what you're seein', love?”

You winced, a bit perplexed that he had caught you taking stock of his impressive physique. But you weren't about to let him know that.

"Yep”, you blurted out instead, staring boldly into those eyes, as dark and impenetrable as a shark's. "Do you?"

"I do, yeah."

Aaand here we go, you thought, relaxing immediately. For now, you were on a beaten path.

"You've said that I looked like -", you chuckled accusingly, leaning back on your stool. His stare was gliding all over you without any shame, probably filing the best finds away for later.

"I know what I said," he cut you off calmly, leaning closer. The height difference between you two was striking.

"Your mascara got smudged and ran off...to there."

You stilled as this complete stranger traced a pale finger across your eye socket. You drew in a deep breath as he touched your zygomatic bone, where nothing possibly could've smudged. His fingertip travelled even further, brushing over your sensitive skin and freeing a lone strand of hair from behind your ear. It was still damp from the rain.

He did it very slowly. Very gently.

You let him. As if you were hypnotized. Attempted a smile, but the corners of your mouth felt strangely numb.

"See? Now that's perfection", he stated in the same hushed, impassive tone of voice before turning back to his drink. The whisky glass disappeared in his hand.

You were silent. Your head was buzzing as if someone had set the radio inside to a non-existent channel.

The thing is, you knew perfectly well who you were dealing with. When it comes to seasoned fuckboys like Skullface here, it's all very simple; they're nothing to be afraid of. Such men are what a high wave is for the swimmer. An opportunity for a fun ride.

Back when you were a teenage girl, you liked to spend hours on end in the sea. At the time you'd like to imagine that this cool, salty, malachite green vastness was your lover. You drifted in the water, letting the wave carry you, surrendering yourself to its tender ruthlessness, allowing the element to hold you for a moment without dealing any harm, to guide you like a dance partner, and then to pass by and disappear into the distance.

It is just like dancing. As long as you know the steps, something beautiful can come out of it.

And you haven't had the chance to let loose on the dancefloor for so long.

You calmed your body by taking a few deep breaths. You couldn't calm your heart. What you could do, though - was to let your audacious spirit take the wheel.

You grabbed at your glass and emptied it in one sweep. Vile whisky did as it always would; it burned your gullet only to flare into a ball of pleasant warmth once it reached your insides. It was not a connoisseur-worthy beverage, but its aggressive sweetness suited your current mood.

You threw your head back and exhaled slowly.

He was watching, you could tell. He tilted his head slightly. Amusement emanated from behind the black mask.

"Say..." you drawled, leaning towards him with your eyes sparkling, for you felt a surge of vigour and boldness along with a freshly bloomed, alcohol-induced blush. 

"Does your mum know that you being a goth is not a phase?"

Skullface snorted softly.

"I am not a goth, love."

"Then why are you in this den for kinky weirdos?" You gestured around the dark interior, including the bare walls, the blue neon light and the throbbing, metallic, dark rhythms pulsing around you.

"I like goth chicks”, he admitted. Cheeky git.

"Why?" you prodded.

"Tattoos in fun places."

"Animal”, you chided him, setting your empty glass down with a bang.

"Excuse me, sir!" you called out to the bartender. "I shall have another."

"Like you came here for some lofty purpose. Wanna discuss the works of Kierkegaard...dressed like that?” The masked man snorted, summing up your entire scantily clad person with one tilt of his chin.

You chuckled quietly, taking no offence.

"I'm surprised that you even know how to pronounce his name."

He remained silent, so you fired away again, buoyed by the alcohol in your veins: 

"Weren't you supposed to add something scathing after the 'dressed like that' part? I'm still waiting for that burn to sting."

"If I did, I'd be a fuckin' hypocrite", he muttered. "Cause I very much enjoy it."

That solemn note of appreciation in his voice made you smile and nod. What an earnest freak.

The bartender came over and took away both of your empty glasses.

"What can I get you?" he asked, his gaze moving from his face to yours.

"Two glasses of bourbon, Geoffrey", the masked man said.

He noticed that you were opening your mouth and nipped those objections in the bud by raising a finger.

"Hey. Bear with me here. If you don't like it, you might drink whatever you want next. Even more of that fuckin' coal sludge you've been having."

"Excuse you, Scotch is hardly a sludge".

"That's what the bloody Scots would tell you. In much more...colourful terms, I s'ppose. I have a Scottish coworker and every time that we go drinkin', he gives me a bloody earful about the superiority (he pronounced this word rolling his r's) of the local distilleries over that Kentucky brew."

"You're friends with a highlander?" you asked. "Does he curse at you in Scots whenever he gets agitated?"

"All the fuckin' time. He's a twonk." A smile laced his words.

"You sure are passionate about your liquor choices." 

You propped your chin up with your hand, smiling at him.

"If I wanted to taste a fuckin' fireplace, I'd chew on a burnt log. Bourbon is the way to go. Much sweeter."

You couldn't help but laugh at his sudden fervour.

"You don't seem like the kind of lad who pursues sweetness," you quipped, trying to look into those impossible eyes of his and not blink. So far, it was a downhill battle. 

The bartender came back. Two glasses full of amber liquid landed on the counter with a dull clink. You didn't have the time to focus on them, because Skullface leaned towards you, shading you with his powerful torso and obscuring the source of the blue light. Your nostrils were suddenly filled with his pleasant manly scent, mixed with the fragrance of fresh laundry, some kind of a woody-citrusy aftershave, and a hint of something you couldn't decipher even though you knew that smell. Its memory, devoid of a name, tickled at the tip of your tongue. Fireworks?

"Sweet and rough things should go hand in hand in life. That's how you make it all bearable somehow."

"Somehow?..” you asked absentmindedly, mesmerised by his deep voice. By the promise tilting at the edge of those slowly, intently enunciated words.

"Hey, true balance is hard to find, 'cause life's a fuckin' mess. It's chaos, it's cruel. No point to it at all."

Holy mackerel, you thought. A goth girl admirer, an apparent powerhouse of a man and a homegrown nihilist in one. With eyes like two abysses and a voice like grit. This was going to be an enchanting evening.

Don't go crazy just yet, you admonished yourself. Don't let this stranger in a mask get the upper hand on you. Keep your calm so that he doesn't sweep you off your feet prematurely.

"So," you murmured, your tone casual, "What did Kierkegaard have to say, exactly?"

Dark eyes twinkled. 

"Many things. Like that our whole existence is absurd. It doesn't really matter what we do, so we might as well do whatever the fuck we want. And right now, I want to do...this."

He dipped a finger into his glass of bourbon and glided it across your lower lip.

You parted your mouth without protest, giving in to the shamelessness of this gesture.

"Just taste it."

[sugarcreambiteskingdom]

what would a poly relationship with the 5 female legendary cookies from cookie run kingdom be like with a quiet male!reader and can I see some dialogue with them please

Cream Oreo Cookie: Dialogue Coming right up! :D

Sea Fairy Cookie:

You both are quiet actually but not as much as you

Unlike Sea Fairy Cookie she talks a small bit but you..you barely talk to her but just make squeaking sounds and just nod or shake your head or shrug whenever you we're asked a question

She doesn't mind Ofcourse since she understands

You both take good care eachother and show affection by action

You both stay at her tower watching the stars and looking over at his sister's Moon(yes I Headcannon Sea Fairy Cookie & Moonlight Cookie as siblings don't kill me please 😭)

She would at times do your hair and loves to play with it at times

She will tell you stories about the sea and the creatures that lives in

You both always take long walks by the beach or on the water

Sea Fairy Cookie: My Dear Seashell are you ready to go out for our daily morning walk?

You Nodded happily

Sea Fairy Cookie: Here hold my hand and let me protect you my dear

Moonlight Cookie:

At first she thought she was making yo uncomfortable or was doing something wrong to make you upset and not talk to her

Are you scared? Sad? Angry? What is it?! It's been so long since she had any kind interaction with the outside world because of her slumber

But then when you reassured her with writing something on a paper that you don't mind her company she calmed down

She was glad she wasn't doing anything wrong for her Sunshine

Now she doesn't mind if your quiet since that's just how you are and if you don't want to tell her then that's fine

For some reason even in your dreams you don't talk

The two of you cuddle whenever it's time to sleep and would sing to you

Moonlight Cookie: When the river flows~ Surely to the sea...Darling so it goes...Somethings are just meant to be~

You smiled softly as you we're held by Moonlight Cookie

Y/N Cookie: Mm..

Frost Queen Cookie:

You we're a very interesting Cookie for her

A Cookie who prefers not too speak and yet is gentle but kind and energetic even

You have caught her eye and maybe...just maybe melted her cold ice ridden heart

You we're such a gentle and Handsome Cookie she has ever met

You always come by to have hot Cocoa and play board games with her

Despite being a quiet and shy Cookie you we're very entertaining and smart

If you ever needed her for something just call out her name and she will protect you and take good care of you at all cost

Frost Queen Cookie: You called me my little Snowflake?

You nod and hugged her wearing a ton of clothing just to not freeze from her iced body and get stuck like last time

She was surprised but then smiled and hugged back

Frost Queen Cookie: I love you too my little Snowflake

Stormbringer Cookie:

She was confused at first to why you don't want to talk...

She thought it was out of fear for being stroked by lightning since she is the Goddess of Thunder

But when she found out that you are just like that she laughed but not at you Ofcourse (Kind off)

She laughed at how interesting it was for her to meet such a shy Individual let alone be it a Male Cookie

You Mortals never fails to entertain her and surprise her

You we're her listener and she was your Yapper

Stormbringer Cookie: And then! I went and said " YOU DARE CHALLENGE THE ALL MIGHTY THUNDER GOD MORTAL!?"

You just nod and nod and made some "Hm" sounds to show her that you we're listening

Stormbringer Cookie: AND JUST LIKE THAT I STRIKE HIM WITH ONE POWERFUL STRIKE AND THEY WE'RE GONE INTO CRUMBS!!!! HAHAHAHAH!

Black/White Pearl Cookie:

She was annoyed and pissed to why you can't scream or beg for any mercy for her to not crumble you..

It's not fun when your Cookie just stays quiet and accepted fate without a fight or any means to beg and bargain with her

But you we're very interesting for offering such jellies and even seashells to show how a male Cookie like you who tends to be ruthless from her past experience are

She was glad to meet a gentleman let alone be a small little Male Cookie who's so Handsome, Cute and Sweet

Despite being a shy talker you we're loved and given gifts by the all mighty Black Pearl Cookie

If you needed anything from her she will give it to you no second thoughts

Black Pearl Cookie: Where have you been all of this time my darling little Land Cookie?

You tilted your head to the side a bit confused

Black Pearl Cookie: I have met such Awful and Ruthless Male Land Cookie's and goodness by the name of the witches are they HORRIBLE

Is that why she tried to kill you back then?

Black Pearl Cookie: But now your finally here in my arms my little knight and shining armor despite being so small and weak and can be crumbled in seconds

You gulped at that thought but smiled nonetheless and thank her in a very quiet voice for he compliment

[spahhzy]

Pyrrha: I can't stop that damn cat from getting to Jaune...why!? I've been sent back countless times, I've changed my fate and survived even my death, but I can't save Jaune!? Then what was it all for!?

Blacksmith: ...

Pyrrha: Why is Jaune slated to be controlled by that monster! In every reset I do, it's like that cat follows hi-

Blacksmith: ....

Pyrrha: No... no- it couldn't

Blacksmith: ...

Pyrrha: Please...

The Blacksmith sighs.

Blacksmith: It was in a universe where the cat, using Jaune, successfully left this realm and back onto remnant, along with Team RWBY, the Cat, helped kill Salem and her allies and were successful in summoning the two brothers back to the world.

Pyrrha didn't interject as she listened to the Blacksmith speak.

Blacksmith: At long last, the Curious Cat would finally be able to get the answers it had long been wanting to get for so long... but when they told him why... the answers he received...weren't the answers he wanted.

Blacksmith: And like a child, the cat threw a tantrum, and in his rage struck out at the gods. Of course, it was nothing, but the gods were curious about this new development of seeing one of their creations here In your realm but also pissed off a tampering with one of their 'golden childs' ...Jaune.

Pyrrha: The gods considered Jaune one of their 'golden child' ?

Blacksmith: ...Wanting to see humanity endure and co-exist, but also wanting to teach their creation a lesson, they simply cursed their 'golden' child.

Pyrrha: No... they wouldn't...

Blacksmith: ... They cursed The Curious Cat and Jaune that once they die, they would return to a fixed point in time, and that point in time was always the same. This way, the Curious Cat could have new curiosities to explore but also be punished for interfering in their plans.

Pyrrha: So you... you mean to tell me...all these times ive...I've been partnering with...

Memories of her times with Jaune, moments precious and dear...all fake and manipulated by two gods and twisted creation.

Blacksmith: You weren't the first one to reset...at this point, the Curious Cat has been in countless loops using Jaune's body that now even the tree couldn't tell the two apart anymore.

Pyrrha had a haunted look on her face as she began to shed tears.

Pyrrha: Why... why bring me back? Why make me reset? What's the point? If I die, the world reset... if he dies, the world resets... we're stuck...stuck stuck stuck!

Blacksmith: ...

Pyrrha: What do you want from me!?

Blacksmith: To endure and find a way.

-

Pyrrha awoke to see herself back on bullhead, heading for Beacon Academy.

Memories rushed back to her head before she raced to a trash can and emptied her stomach.

-

[thebluemallet]

My Favorite Portia Featherington Moments

Throughout all three seasons of Bridgerton, Portia Featherington has been a complicated character. On the surface, she's completely unlikeable. She treats Penelope poorly. Her fashion sense is excessively gaudy. And she seems either unaware or willfully ignorant of the social faux pas she makes from day to day.

But she is also a survivor who was dealt a shit hand in life with her useless husband. And she did what she had to do to ensure the safety and well-being of her daughters in desperate times. So here are a few of my favorite Portia moments.

10- Showing Marina What Her Future Holds

When Portia finds out that Marina is pregnant, her first instinct is to protect her girls and her family's reputation. She wants to send Marina away and back to the country but she can't because of her useless husband's dealings. George hasn't answered Marina's letter telling him about her condition. Without knowing that George's fate has already been sealed, Marina's insistence that George will come for her seems naive--especially to Portia.

When Marina refuses to even entertain the idea of being married off quickly to an older man in need of an heir who won't ask too many questions, Portia, like the Ghost of Christmas Future, shows Marina what her life will be if she continues to hold out for George.

It's a much-needed wake-up call but it does not work on Marina. The forged letter may have seemed cruel at the time, but if I were in Portia's shoes, I would have assumed the worst of George, too.

9- Confronting Her Husband

When Lord Featherington puts a premature end to the courtship between Albion Finch and his middle daughter Philippa, Portia is outraged. A man has taken an interest in one of their daughters, seems besotted with her, and wants to marry her. What possible objections could there be?

When she tries to press him for answers in public, Lord Featherington uses his position as a man and a husband to silence her. But when Portia uncovers that he has gambled away all of their money--including their daughters' dowries--her husband is revealed for the sniveling coward that he is. Outside of the eyes of society, he is a weak man who can't curtail his vices even for the well-being and future of his family.

They may not like each other, but even Portia wasn't expecting this level of betrayal from her husband.

Cry those crocodile tears, Archibald! I don't feel sorry for you whatsoever. I'm Team Portia on this one.

8- "You find things to love, my dear."

Even a blind man could tell that Portia and Archibald were not a love match. She married him for security and he failed to even provide that. But she managed to find silver linings in the many clouds of her marriage.

Her talk with Marina in the final episode of season 1 gives the audience more insight into the kind of woman Portia is and how strong she had to be to endure her marriage with her late husband for so long. It's the kindest and most motherly we've seen her be all season. And her talk gives Marina the final push she needs to do what needs to be done to protect her babies.

Portia, as we'll see, is better off without her deadbeat husband. She has more strength than she gave herself credit for in this scene. And she has the three best things her husband gave her by her side.

7- "I am a MOTHER."

After the death of Archibald, the Featherington women are in financial stasis until the new Lord Featherington finally shows up. When Cousin Jack finally arrives some things are starting to look up. But he is making some questionable decisions right off the bat.

Portia is, once again, at the mercy of a Featherington man who makes piss-poor financial decisions when Cousin Jack comes into the picture.

She navigates the situation as best as she can, even getting into his fraudulent gemstone scheme when she's backed into a corner with no way out. Desperate times, desperate measures.

After Colin uncovers the scheme and Cousin Jack proposes not only running away from the country, but even leaving Prudence and Penelope behind and sending for them later, Portia has had enough. If you think this woman would ever seriously consider abandoning her daughters to save her own skin, then you don't know her at all.

Portia doesn't always make the right decisions. Portia doesn't always say the right things. Portia is far from a perfect mother. But she'll ALWAYS choose her daughters over mediocre men who only care for themselves, and for that, I'll love her forever for showing Cousin Jack the door.

6- Sex-Ed With Philippa and Prudence

The moment Philippa said that she and Albion were "very passionate" I KNEW that we were in for some comedic gold.

And I was RIGHT.

At first, Portia thinks her biggest problem with the Featherington Heir Race is Prudence. But at least she can relate to Prudence's problem of not enjoying the marital act. Poor Portia's not even aware that it can be enjoyable for both parties.

But to her horror, BOTH of her married daughters are the problem. Prudence isn't having sex because she doesn't like it and Philippa isn't having sex because she has no idea what it is.

You can see the wheels turning in both Prudence's and Portia's heads when Philippa asks that infamous question.

If Lady Featherington went home that night and screamed into her pillows, I wouldn't blame her.

5- Chaperoning Polin

Portia's finally realized that she's been a little lax with chaperoning Penelope over the years. No matter, she'll make up for it now and chaperone her daughter when her fiancee comes for a visit!

Colin and Penelope are just not used to having a chaperone and they have no idea how to conduct themselves with one in the room. Colin looks downright annoyed every time he sees Portia out of the corner of his eye. Penelope's staring at his lips the whole time and probably wants Colin to compromise her again right there on the window seat.

But the real comedy of this scene is knowing that Penelope is already pregnant. So the chaperoning was too little, too late.

4- Finally Bonding With Violet

For most of the series, Portia and Violet have gotten along like oil and water. They're not great friends like Penelope, Colin, and Eloise. They don't hang out at social events. Portia is envious of the Bridgertons and their social clout. Violet barely tolerates Portia on a good day. And as much as Violet loves Penelope, you can tell in 3x05 and 3x06 that she's not looking forward to having Portia as an in-law.

But when Colin and Penelope are on the outs just before their wedding, the two mothers have finally found some common ground.

3- Handling Lady Whistledown

I was not expecting Cressida to actually tell Portia that Penelope was Lady Whistledown. I thought she'd make a vague comment that Penelope would have to play off as nothing and then she would work with Colin and Eloise to overcome the Cressida threat.

But no, Cressida really tells Portia.

The threat of Cressida's blackmail hanging over her daughter's head and what this could mean for the Polin marriage is enough for Portia's protective mother instincts to kick in and she teams up with Colin and Eloise to find a solution and protect Penelope.

And she gets extra brownie points from me because one of her first reactions to learning about Whistledown is to point out that Penelope was the one to write horrible things about herself. ("The things you wrote! About your family! About yourself!")

Yes, Portia's angry about Penelope's secret and what she's done as Whistledown, but she puts that anger on the back burner for a short time while she tries to navigate her family through their latest crisis. To paraphrase what she said to Cousin Jack at the end of last season: she and Penelope are on the same team.

2- Portia and Penelope Finally Talk

Portia might have put her anger to the side when she found out about Whistledown, but it returns when Penelope finds out that Portia kept the money Cousin Jack had embezzled from the ton.

Portia and Penelope finally have it out and mother and daughter realize that they are more alike than they had previously realized or were even willing to admit.

1- Portia as a Grandmother

Portia started out the season anxious that none of her daughters would have a son and secure their family's future. By the end of the season, she's a grandmother to two granddaughters and one grandson--the new Lord Featherington. Her family's future is finally secure at last.

Now that she has her grandchildren, Portia will finally be able to relax a little. It must have been hard being in survival mode for so long. Now she can enjoy her life and watch all three of her daughters have marriages filled with love and happiness.

[raineandsky]

Bite at the Hand That Feeds

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“You know how to use a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Knives?”

“Obviously.”

“Your hands?”

“What do you take me for, [Villain]? I’m a hero,” the hero says incredulously. “Knowing how to fight is a pretty important part of the job.”

“Ah!” the villain cries like he’s caught the other in a lie. “But you’re not a hero anymore, are you? You’re my guard dog now.”

The hero scowls. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Today is the most conversation the hero’s gotten out of him, since the villain seemed content to spend most of the past week ignoring him. From previous attempts, pity, doubt, concern, and any sort of empathy are emotions the villain isn’t exactly well-acquainted with.

So the hero’s still here, stuck with a villain that doesn’t seem to care about the means by which the hero ended up here. If he had a boss that handed out people as gifts, he sure as hell wouldn’t be revelling in it like the villain is. Maybe that’s just what villainy is about nowadays.

“I prefer knives—I like keeping death close to my hand,” the villain says with a bright tone that doesn’t match the words at all. He turns to the hero, flipping a dagger handle-end first towards him. “Take that.”

The hero stares at it blankly for a moment. “You’re giving me a blade.”

“You’re under my jurisdiction now, [Hero],” the villain says flatly. “You’ll use whatever I give you.”

“No, like—you trust me enough to give me a knife?”

“Oh, god no.” The villain laughs. “But I have places to be, and I need you to do your job. Don’t stab me, and you won’t have to worry about [Supervillain] hunting you down for revenge, okay?”

The hero’s first jaunt out of the villain’s house is a literal breath of fresh air. The breeze out here is clear, light, and smells a lot less like forgotten junk food. The villain has the hero tailing him, walking perfectly on his heel, and the hero feels every bit the dog the villain wants him to be. The villain, from his innocent smile, is well aware of this.

The supervillain meets the villain with a smile and a light kiss on the cheek. “A wonderful afternoon to have you with us, my dear,” they say sweetly. Their gaze flits to the hero, drinking in the obvious delight in seeing a gift well-used. “I’m glad to see your little dog is being obedient.”

“I’ve been training him,” the villain says simply. “He learns fast when you know his weaknesses.”

That much is true. The villain had discovered pretty quickly that the hero is rather adverse to pain, and he’d utilised it every time he deemed his new plaything out of line.

The hero trails behind the villain as he wanders ahead with the supervillain. The pair pass into a room, and the villain turns back to push a hand to the hero’s chest. “Not a chance,” he says coolly. “You stay out here and guard the door.”

The hero takes a thoughtless half step back, out of the doorway. The villain smirks lightly. “Good boy,” he says innocently, and with that the door shuts in the hero’s face.

The hero takes his spot next to the entrance, fiddling with the knives the villain gave him. It’s not like he can go anywhere else—he’s in the middle of the lion’s den here, and there’s a particularly pissed-off looking lion glaring at him from the other side of the door frame.

“I heard what happened to you,” the henchman says eventually. Her gaze is still entirely too cold, too hateful, when the hero turns to her. “This doesn’t make you one of us.”

The hero can’t imagine a worse fate than being bunched in with villains. “I know.”

“You’ll never be welcome here.”

“I know.”

The henchman runs her fingers over the blade in her hand—it’s long enough to probably be a sword. “Remember who you are, [Hero],” she says plainly, “and remember who you’re with.”

It’s hard to forget. The hero stifles a scowl. “What’re you suggesting?”

“Nothing of note. Just remember that you’re surrounded by a lot of dangerous people.” The henchman sniffs, giving the hero a blatant once over. “People who hate you.”

A nervous shiver works its way up the hero’s spine that he tries his best to repress. “Thanks for the heads up.”

After a second, she lets out a short “hm,” and returns her stare to the corridor stretched out before them.

The silence is suffocating after that, the hero’s eye constantly drifting traitorously to the henchman’s blade. The door, after what feels like a thousand years, swings inward and sweeps the villain and the supervillain into the hallway.

“Alright,” the villain says simply, “let’s head home.”

The hero has never been so happy to follow an order.

~~~

(next part)

Taglist:

@epiclamer @nevermore-ramblings

[sara-scribbles]

The Thing About Strings

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Idia Shroud/GN!Reader Word Count: 6,348 Notes: This is loosely based off the concept of red strings of fate Warnings: None

Idia isn’t sure what god he upset, but something he did must’ve pissed someone off because he’s currently being stared down by some very aggressive looking Savanaclaw students. Not in a million years would he ever leave the safety of his room to seek out someone from another dorm, especially one filled with muscle heads.

However, Ortho had asked him to help out a friend, and Idia couldn’t say no to his brother. The only downside was that his friend did not answer their phone, so he was forced to seek them out. It is somewhat of a comfort that his brother came with him, but he’s very much regretting his decision.

A wolf beastman finally comes forward. “Um, can I help ya?” He at least isn’t glaring daggers at him. Idia vaguely recognizes him as a freshman.

Ortho greets the beastman cheerily, “Hello, Jack Howl! We’re looking for (Y/N).”

His brows scrunch together as he speaks, “Oh… Think they went to the field to help Vargas. They left a bit ago, but they should still be there.”

“Thank you!” Turning to Idia, who’s sweating bullets while clutching his tablet for dear life, Ortho tugs on his sleeve. “Come on, let’s go to the field.”

He willingly follows, glad to be away from all that aggressive energy. They arrive at the field but don’t see anyone.

Ortho does a quick scan before pointing them in the right direction. “I detect a bio reading over there.”

Nearing the edge of the field that borders the forest, there’s a single person out there. Standing with hands on their hips, they’re busy studying a dead tree. There’s a handful of power tools nearby. They touch the trunk of the tree and seem to give it a push, but it doesn’t budge.

As the brothers near, you proceed to wrap your arms around the middle of the tree. With a deep breath and slight grunt, you rip the tree from the ground. Idia’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull as he stops dead in his tracks. Balancing the tree on your shoulder, you turn and nearly smack him.

“Woah!” Eyes widening, you manage to avoid giving the dorm leader a concussion. You set the tree down while still keeping it up from falling.

“Hello, (Y/N)!” Ortho greets, waving excitedly.

“Heya, Ortho.” You turn a concerned gaze to Idia. “Sorry, didn’t see you there!”

Idia’s mouth opens and closes without a sound. He just witnessed someone uproot a tree without much effort with their bare hands. And they’re acting as if it’s not a big deal! There’s a nudge from his brother that finally brings Idia’s scrambling thoughts to a halt.

He quickly types out something on his tablet. “Ortho said you had some computer trouble that even he couldn’t figure out.”

“Oh yeah!” You snap your fingers. “I recently got some kind of virus because someone idiot decided to download something illegal without checking to see if it didn’t have anything fishy.” You roll your eyes. “Last time I let anyone borrow my laptop,” you grumble to yourself.

Sounds fairly simple. “Do you have your laptop with you now?”

“No, it’s back in my room. Hold on, let me drop this off and we can head back.” Hefting the tree back onto your shoulders, you carry it off the field and to an area piled with similar dead trees.

“Did you take care of all these?” Ortho asks, he’s busy already scanning the material.

“Yeah. Vargas needed help, and said he’d give me some extra time off from class if I did this.” You drop the tree in the pile.

Your strength stats must be off the charts, Idia thinks while eying the uprooted trees.

“Alright, let’s head back to my dorm.”

Idia internally screams at the idea of going back to Savanaclaw. However, he follows behind without a word as you and Ortho chatter. It’s not odd for his brother to make friends, though you seem to be fairly close to him. Idia had heard about you a few times, but never gave much thought. As long as his brother’s happy, Idia let him live his school life unbothered.

Thankfully the crowd from before is nowhere to be seen. You let them into your room, which is very tidy. A small cactus sits on your desk bathing in the sunlight. You hand over your laptop once you unlock it.

“I hope my documents can be saved. Those are the most important things since I already have photos backed up,” you explain, taking a seat on your bed while Idia uses your desk.

Concentrating on the screen, Idia starts going through your systems. “Did you not have any AV software? Do you know where the virus was downloaded from?” he asks.

Rubbing your temples, you sigh, “I do, but it was turned off. Not by me! The idiot wouldn’t tell me what site it was from. I can only assume it was some shady site since all the history was deleted.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), Idia is the best at this,” Ortho reassures.

As he clicks through your files, he notes a very familiar one. “You play World of War and Cats?”

“Yeah, it’s something I play to unwind,” you chuckle, scratching the back of your head. “I know it’s an old game, but I think it’s still better than anything new that’s come out.”

“Totally! It doesn’t need to rely on loot boxes and RNG unlike the newer games! It’s noob friendly and they have so many login bonuses! Plus all the kitties are so cute!” Idia gushes, his eyes glowing.

A slow smile spreads on your face that quickly causes the words to die from his throat. “W-what’s with th-that look?!” he stammers out, suddenly finding interest in your desk.

“Just nice to hear from someone else who enjoys the game. Most of my friends have moved on to other things.” You shake your head. “Hey, do you wanna share handles? I’d love to do a raid if you’re up for it.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Idia glances at Ortho. His brother gives him two thumbs up. “S-sure… After I fix this.”

Turning back to the laptop, he pulls out a thumb drive. As he clacks away on the keyboard, you show Ortho a shelf filled with small succulents. “Jack gave these to me. I wanted something to brighten up my room. He said they’re easy to care for too.”

“Based on a few articles, succulents are very beginner friendly. They don’t need too much direct sunlight and just a little water.” Ortho inspects the plants. “These are very nice! It seems Jack made sure to give you the best ones.”

“Yeah, Jack’s a pretty sweet guy. I couldn’t ask for a better soulmate,” you say absentmindedly as you check the soil of one plant.

Ortho’s eyes widen. “Soulmate? You already found yours?”

You rotate the plants. “On his first day at NRC actually.” You glance down at your pinky. Though no one else can see it, a red string hangs from your pinky finger and trails along the ground before disappearing. “He was just as shocked as me,” you continue with a chuckle.

Idia’s nibbling at his lower lip as he listens to the conversation. Shoulders slumped, Idia thinks about the fact that he doesn’t have a soulmate. Of course someone like him wouldn’t have one, but hearing you gush to Ortho about your soulmate just reminds him of the sad truth. Sure not everyone has soulmates like him, but it feels like the world is doubling down on telling him he’s meant to be alone.

Not that he cares of course! He doesn’t need an RL relationship! Not one bit!

“...okay?” Your questions snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He frantically looks between you and Ortho. You both stare back expectantly. “Uh… this should be fi-” He turns back to your computer but sees that his usual methods of taking care of a virus failed. “Eh? That’s not right…” He eans closer to the screen as he frantically types away.

“Everything okay, brother?” Ortho asks, concern seeping into his tone. He peaks over Idia’s shoulder, but the warnings don’t change.

“Impossible!” Idia bites down on his thumb as his program continues to fail at removing the virus. After a few more attempts, the third year sighs. Pushing away from the desk, he turns to Ortho. “We need to take a look at this virtus in more detail, Ortho.”

Shaking your head, you can only shrug. “Do what you have to. I mean if I can’t save anything, I guess a complete wipe is fine…”

“Don’t worry! We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Ortho assures as he takes your laptop.

Before Idia can leave, you hand him a piece of paper. “Here, my handle is on there if you wanna add me.” You smile at him warmly, but Idia can’t quite return the gesture.

“Ri-right…” He shoves the paper into his pocket before following Ortho.

---

Gloomurai has entered the chat

Anon123: hi!

*Anon123 waves*

Gloomurai: Hey. Is Muscle Red not on yet?

Anon123: He popped in a bit and said he couldnt make the raid tonight

Gloomurai: Oh k.

Gloomurai sent you a private message

Gloomurai: Is your computer doing okay still?

Anon123: yup! thanks to you, it seems to be working much faster!

Gloomurai: I got rid of bloatware. All those apps you dont use only slows down your processor lol

Anon123: i dont know much about computers, so im glad ortho recommended you! hes right that youre a genius

Gloomurai: hehehe well it wasn’t anything too difficult

Anon123: oh did you hear that theyre releasing a world of war and cats spinoff game!?

Gloomurai: OMG YES! I already preordered the deluxe pack! wheeheeheee!

Anon123: ooohhh lucky! my old system cant handle new stuff so probably have to wait :(

Gloomurai is typing…

Gloomurai is typing…

Gloomurai is typing…

Anon123: you okay idia?

Gloomurai: You could come play with me since its multiplayer. If you want! No pressure!

Anon123: really??? thank you so much!!! let me know when you want me to come over. ill bring snacks! :DDD

Anon123: whoops! Need to go. see ya later! :)

Anon123 has left the chat

---

Though Idia had invited you over to game, he’s a nervous wreck. Once Ortho learned that he had invited you over, he had been super excited. He knew his brother would be happy that he was getting along with you. Though you gave him your handle, it had taken Idia a week before he finally sent a friend request. After much prodding by Ortho, he bit the magic bullet and reached out.

You seemed fairly calm and relaxed despite being in Savanaclaw. It also helped that you didn’t glare at him or ask anything of him. Playing World of War and Cats, Idia found you were surprisingly good. Though it shouldn’t be much of a surprise since you did start playing at launch. So after a few raids you helped with, he invited you to raid with Muscle Red.

Thankfully everyone got along and synergized really well. Idia couldn’t ask for a better team to play. With his new team, he was able to clear a lot of raids in a short amount of time. Of course knowing you in RL sometimes made him feel a bit self conscious. Especially when he happens to see you around school.

Still Idia found it easy to converse with you through chat. You basically acted the same way when he met you. Though he came off a lot more confident in chat, you never made a comment. And even better, you never made it a thing to approach him in school. You did give him a smile whenever you saw him, but that was the extent of your acknowledgement.

“They’re here!” Ortho’s voice broke Idia from his internal panic.

Chewing on his thumb nail, Idia mutters, “Is it too late to say I’m sick and cancel?”

“Don’t be like that, brother! They’re really nice and have been super excited to play this game with you.” He gave his brother a supportive thumbs up.

“R-really? Did they say that?” Who on earth would be excited to spend time with him?

Ortho nods enthusiastically. “Yup! They mentioned it a few times when I saw them around the school.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Idia? Ortho?” your muffled voice sends his heart rate up and his palms begin to sweat.

“M-maybe this wa-was a bad idea…” However, Ortho decides to open the door. You’ve been standing in the hallway long enough.

You step inside the room with two bags in hand. “Hey! I stopped by Sam’s and bought a bunch of snacks. Ortho mentioned some of your favorites, so I bought a little of everything!”

Between Ortho’s enthusiasm and your excitement, Idia feels like he’s being attacked from both sides by the sun. It’s too bright!

“Where do you want these?” You hold up the two bags.

“You c-can put them on the b-bed. Or whatever…”

Though he would typically play on his computer, he didn’t have another chair for you. Instead he and Ortho had rigged up a holographic screen. His floor isn’t the most comfortable, but it provided room for both of you. Plus there’s enough room for him to put a good amount of space between you.

Ortho quickly leaves to do his rounds and Idia is left alone. You settle down on the floor no problem and open a bag of fruity gummies. Sitting down but making sure to leave a good amount of space, he boots up the new game. You grab a few more snacks and put them in the middle.

“I’ve been keeping myself away from spoilers, so I don’t actually know what the game is about,” you confess. The theme music starts playing.

“It’s similar to the original except we get to play as the cat companion and no raiding. I’ve already decided which one I want to be as well as my stats. Maxed for both efficiency and ultimate cuteness!” He grins widely as the character screen comes up.

“So many kitties!” you gush. “How am I supposed to pick one?”

“I know right?! I mean this calico is adorable but there’s something majestic about the Scottish fold.” Idia shakes his head in dismay. “Even though I know which one I’m going for, they made it really difficult.”

As you select your cat and start tweaking the stats, you sigh. “I wish I could have a cat. But I’m allergic. Just being in Trein’s class causes my eyes to water and itch.”

“Ugh, that sounds like a terrible bane.” He can’t imagine not being able to be near cats.

You finish with your character. “Guess pictures and games of cats is as far as I’ll ever get.”

“...”

---

“Morning, Idia,” you greet him in the hallway.

He’s dragging his feet to gym class. There’s no one else in the hall. “Uh, hey.” It’s the first time you’ve verbally greeted him.

You seem to notice his hesitation. “Sorry, I thought that since we’ve been gaming for a few weeks, I could greet you aloud. I didn’t think you’d mind since there’s no one around.”

He quickly shakes his head. “N-no problem! I mean, if you wanna say ‘hi’ I don’t really mind.” It’s not like many people outside his dorm greet him to begin with.

“Really? Great! You know I would like to be friends, outside of gaming that is. But you’re under no pressure to accept that!” Your earnest gaze is a lot for him.

“You want to b-be friends with m-me?” he asks, shocked and a little concerned.

Nodding, you smile brightly. “Of course! You’re pretty fun to be around. Plus, I enjoy our gaming sessions a lot.”

It’s true Idia has fun when you come over. You even moved on to other games to play together. There’s something comforting about your presence. You’re not demanding or overbearing. You seem to be keenly aware of Idia’s comfort levels and stay within the zone. You never pushed him to do more than he wanted to.

A hand waves in front of his face. “Earth to Idia. Come in, Idia.”

“Idon’tmindbeingRLfriends,” he mutters quickly.

It takes you a second to understand his mumbling. Once you do, you smile so brightly he feels like he needs sunglasses. “Alright!!!” you cheer, but quickly cover your mouth as your voice echoes down the hall. “Whoops…”

He surveys the area, but it doesn’t seem anyone heard you. Honestly, he can’t understand why you’re so excited. It’s not like he’s a S tier friend to unlock. If you became friends with someone like Vil, that would be something worth cheering about.

However, he can’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Not when your eyes glimmer with excitement and you smile like that. And maybe deep down, he’s a little flattered.

---

“Hey, can we stop by my room? I forgot to water the plants this morning,” you tell Idia.

He merely nods and follows your lead. Walking into the Savanaclaw dorm is still terrifying, but he’s gotten somewhat used to it. As long as he stays by your side, most of the dorm members don’t give him a single look.

You were headed to Idia’s place to study, but had to make a couple of stops. In your room, you grab the small watering can and fill it up in the bathroom sink. Idia stands by the doorway as you water the plants and give them a few encouraging words.

“Excuse me?” Someone coughs from behind Idia, causing the third year to jump out of his skin. Clutching his tablet to his chest, he stumbles further into your room.

“Uh, sorry…” the intruder apologizes while rubbing the back of his neck.

Looking up from the plants, you wave. “Hey, Jack. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to return your notes. They were really helpful. Thanks.” He hands over a worn black notebook.

“No problem! Runes can be tricky but once you have the basics down, it gets easier.” You place the notebook on your desk. “What do you think?” You gesture to the shelf of plants. “They look great!”

Jack presses a finger in the soil of one pot. “Yeah, you’re doing a good job. Just remember to rotate them every so often so that each side gets some sun.”

“Right, I remember you said that. What would I do without your green thumb? You’re a lifesaver, Jack!” Nudging his arm with your elbow, you give him a teasing grin.

The freshman coughs, looking away. “You’d figured it out eventually. You’re smart and resourceful on your own.”

Chuckling, you set the watering can back in its place. “Anyways, I’m going to head out. I’ll see you later, Jack.”

“Sure. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Bright and early!” As Jack leaves your room, you turn to Idia, who was watching the exchange silently. “Alright, I’m all set. Let’s get going.”

Leaving Savanaclaw, you walk through the halls of Ignihyde. “Whacha thinking about, Idia?”

“What are you doing early tomorrow?” he asks through his tablet.

“I sometimes join Jack for a morning run. I haven’t been keeping up as of late since I’m usually too tired from our gaming session. But Jack made me promise to go tomorrow,” you explain. “He said I’m losing my form, which we can’t have since my dorm participates in spelldrive

“He’s your soulmate, right?”

Arriving at his room, you drop your backpack on the floor near the bed. “Yeah. Jack’s very sweet despite his gruff exterior. I couldn’t have asked for a better one.”

“...”

As you pull out your materials to study, Idia silently watches. There’s something twisting his insides. Watching as you and Jack causally talked reminded Idia of where he stood in your relationship. For many, their soulmate would always be number one. Idia didn’t mind. At first.

The more time he spent with you, the more he wanted your time. And maybe he’s reading too much into it, but your interactions with Jack are playful, almost flirty. Usually he’d cringe at the normies having banter and then ignore them. With you, he can’t ignore it. There’s an obvious affection in the way you speak to each other.

“Can you go over summoning with me?” you inquire. “I just can’t get the symbols and positions right.”

Deciding not to dwell on whatever he’s feeling, Idia joins you on the floor. “First, that’s wrong. Noob mistake. You need to…”

---

“Meowww!” The robotic cat purrs as it rubs against your leg. With a sleek black and electric blue design, the robotic animal is rather cute.

“And it’s solar powered,” Idia explains, finishing up his little show and tell. Though it looks like a tornado hit his room, you’re too busy cooing at the cat to notice.

Picking up the creature in your arms, it curls into your hold. “This is the cutest kitty ever! You’re amazing Idia!”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he can’t quite meet your gaze. The edges of his hair are a light pink. “Eh, this is nothing. I could put this together while playing DDR.”

“If you can do both then you’re definitely a genius.” You chuckle as the robotic cat continues to purr. You hand the creature back to Idia, who doesn’t take it. Instead, he taps its nose, which turns off the cat.

“Keep it. It’s yours.”

Eyes widening, you look at the cat and then back at him. “Are you sure?”

“From one cat lover to another and all that.” He tries to come off as nonchalant and wonders if he succeeded.

“Thank you so much, Idia!” You hug the cat closer to you while beaming at him. Just having your bright smile directed at him sends his pulse into overdrive. You set the cat down. “Hey, can I give you a hug?” You always ask before touching him. Even when he declines, you don’t make a big deal about it.

He agrees with a quick nod.

You slowly and gently wrap your arms around him. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable,” you tell him.

Your hugs are full and warm. It almost feels like he’s being wrapped in a weighted blanket. It feels nice. He tentatively relaxes into your hold. In these moments he can almost forget that you don’t have a soulmate.

---

“W-what ar-are you do-doing?!”Idia screams. Despite his feeble movements, your hold on him doesn’t loosen. “I-I ca-can wal- ouch!”

“You can definitely not walk,” you say firmly. Carrying Idia bridal style to the nurse's office, you sigh as he proceeds to continue his whining. You ignore whatever he says.

“It’s not like I hurt myself that badly,” he grumbles.

Giving him a glare, you shake your head. “You fell down two flights of stairs and flat on your face. And you broke your tablet,” you pointed out. “Would you rather I bring you to Ortho?”

Idia shuts his mouth. Knowing his little brother, he’d react even worse. You arrive at the nurse’s office without much incident. While he’s being patched up, Idia is forced to lay on the cot.

You chuckle when you notice his miserable expression. “Don’t be like that. You’re acting like you just pulled on the wrong character banner.”

“This is worse.” His frown deepens. “...never mind that’s still worse.”

Shaking your head, you ask, “Hey, do you want to do a gaming session tonight? It’s the weekend~”

That seems to make him forget the current situation. “There’s a special raid where we can only get the limited five star dragon scale armor. Are you geared up?”

“Yup. I’ll bring snacks!” You glance at the clock. “I should get to class. I’ll let Ortho know you’re here. You give one last wave before heading to the exit.

You hear Idia complaining, “Just leave me like this…” as the door closes. He’ll be fine.

Later, you’re carrying a handful of bags filled with snacks from Sam’s. You easily navigate Ignihyde to Idia’s room. Knocking on the door, you let yourself in. “Hey, I may have gone overboard on the snacks, but we should have enough to stay up la-” Your words cut off once you take in Idia.

He’s laid out on his bed with his leg propped up on a pillow. The thing that made you stop is the sling his right arm is in. “Uh… didn’t you just sprain your ankle?” Ortho is fluffing up Idia’s pillow.

“Hello!” Ortho greets.. “Idia did sprain his ankle when you last saw him. However, he decided not to wait for me to pick him up. Because of this, he fell down some more stairs and sprained his arm,” he explains with a deep sigh and shake of the head.

“Oh… So I guess no gaming tonight?” You hold up the bag of snacks.

Idia pulls the cover up over his face. “Leave me in my misery. This is why I don’t leave my room.”

Setting the snacks down on his chair, you glance around before your eyes land on his bookshelf. “We could binge movies instead,” you suggest.

The covers lower enough that you can see his eyes. “...are you sure?”

“Yeah, why not. Why don’t we watch Creepy Hollow? You were raving about it a few weeks ago.” You pull the DVD from the bookshelf.

Perking up, he sits straighter. “You’ll love this! The Pumpkin Knight costume is peak design! And the twist is just so satisfying!” he babbles.

As you put the disk in the DVD player, Idia scoots closer to the wall to make space for you on the bed. Ortho settles down on the floor leaning against the bed once he makes sure Idia’s leg and arm is properly set. You grab the snack bags and lightly throw them at Idia.

“Acck!” One smacks him in the face.

“Whoops…” You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Idia gives you a dirty look as you make yourself comfortable. Pulling your legs up against your chest, you grab a random snack to open.

The night turns into a movie marathon. Before every new film, Idia has to talk about it and hear your thoughts. There are so many movies that you lose track of time. By the time 4 AM rolls around, you’ve both fallen asleep. Somehow you’ve managed to move from the foot of the bed to the head. You’re curled into Idia’s side. The flame haired third year sleeps on his back with his mouth slightly open. Despite his sprains, he’s dead to the world.

Ortho peers down at the two sleeping figures. He pulls the covers over them. Smiling to himself, he’s happy to see his brother being so comfortable around someone else. “Sweet dreams,” he whispers.

---

“Big brother, you can’t avoid them forever,” Ortho says.

Idia pulls his hood over his head. “Yes I can.” He leans forward as the screen of his computer flashes.

The younger Shroud hovers behind his chair. “Idia, just talk with them. It’s not good to bottle up your feelings.”

“I’d rather die,” he mutters.

Sure it had been a week since the movie incident where he woke up cuddling with you. Sure it’s been a week since he freaked out and shoved you unceremoniously out of the bed while also hurting his sprained wrist. Sure it’s been a week since he last spoke to you, doing everything possible to avoid you. But Idia feels it’s justified since he was caught cuddling with you like some love-sick normie.

You did text him an apology even though it wasn’t your fault. Your last text was from three days ago where you were checking in on him. Idia had left you on read. But you seemed to get the message that he needed time alone and stopped messaging him. A part of him was relieved, but another part felt bad for ignoring you.

Maybe you weren’t embarrassed to wake up cuddling him, but he was and is mortified. He wishes the earth had swallowed him at that moment. Idia will begrudgingly admit to himself that he likes you. But that’s something he planned to take to his grave. However, it seems Ortho’s figured it out. And though his little brother is happy, he seems to have forgotten the one big glaring reason why he can’t tell you.

You have a soulmate.

Idia may have looked into Jack a little more once he got to know you better. And he may have seen that the first year is pretty smart and likable. And he may be a little jealous that you two get along and seem close. There’s no mistake in his mind that you and Jack would make a good couple. Just standing next to each other, you both just look like you fit. You and him? Wouldn’t go at all!

“Idiaaaaa!” Ortho shakes his chair causing him to lose focus. “I won’t allow you to wallow in self-pity!” Crossing his arms, he gives the older Shroud a glare. “You don’t know if they don't like you. Just because someone has a soulmate doesn’t mean they’re bound to end up together. There’s a 47% chance they’re just friends.”

Setting aside the controller because he knows Ortho won’t leave him alone, Idia spins around in his chair. “What do you expect me to do, Ortho? This isn’t some shojo manga where the loser confesses to the popular student and they magically end up together!” He throws his hands up. “I’m an NPC while they’re the main lead. And Jack’s the love interest that’s been fated since birth!”

Shaking his head, Ortho sighs. “You have to at least try, big brother. Are you really okay with never letting them know how you feel?”

“Yes.”

“No!” Ortho makes a big X with his arms. “You’re supposed to get fired up after my rousing speech! If you can’t do this for yourself, do it for me!”

“Ortho…” Idia can’t ignore the pleading look of his brother. “Fine!” Throwing up his hands, Idia gives in.

“Yaaaay!!” Doing a little jump, Ortho pulls Idia to his feet. “Let’s go!”

“Now?!”

“Yes, before you change your mind!” Idia is unceremoniously dragged out of his room.

Outside on the field, Ortho gives Idia a reassuring pat. “You’ve got this, brother! Just pretend your on your way to the last level of a super difficult dunegon.”

“…right.”

“You’re super awesome!”

“…yeah…”

“Who can dual play two shooter games at once?”

“Me…!”

“No one has beat your DDR score in the last three years!”

“Yeah!”

“Go!”

---

Seeing you and Jack laughing together, Idia is reminded that you have a soulmate. A strong, buff, kind, hardworking, good looking soulmate. Compared to Jack, he’s trash. There’s no chance you’d ever look at someone like him when the universe literally made your perfect match.

Despite his initial bravado and confidence boost from Ortho, every fiber in his body screams for him to run. He should just slink back to his room and stay there. Forever. Just as he’s about to turn around, you spot him.

“Idia!” calling his name, you exchange a few words with Jack before jogging over to him. The smile you give him sends his heart into overdrive. He’s suddenly feeling sweaty and jittery. It would be so much easier talking to you through text or voice chat. Especially now that he’s caught these disgusting normie feelings!

“Idia! How have you been?” you ask, head tilting to the side.

How he wishes he brought his tablet! “I-I wa-wanted t-t-to talk…” The urge to melt into his hoodie is strong.

Glancing behind you, the other members of the team are idly chatting. “Sure. Do you wanna head to my room? I was about to go back.”

He nods mutely. As you lead the way, Idia can’t help but admire your form. His face heats up when he realizes he’s staring not too discreetly. If anyone were to see him, they’d probably think he’s some creep! Hands stuffed in his pockets, he nervously clenches and unclenches his fingers. Arriving at your room, it’s the same as always except for one little change. The small robotic cat he had made sits right on your desk.

“You kept it…” he mumbles in awe.

“You made it for me, so of course I’d treasure it,” you tell him matter-of-fact.

His heart does another weird flip-flop. Because of you, he’s having heart problems at a young age! “Uhhh…” Real smooth Idia! He mentally facepalms himself.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, you gesture to the desk chair. “Do you wanna sit down?”

Usually you’d pat the spot next to you, but you’ve been keenly aware of Idia’s growing discomfort. Giving him some space would be for the best. He gratefully takes the seat.

“So what’s going on, Idia?” you ask, your tone gentle.

Whatever he had practiced flies out of his head. He stares at you blankly. You wait patiently as he tries to gather himself. Finally, you realize he’s not getting anywhere. The obvious signs of distress on his face intensifies. He’s visibly sweating.

Pulling out your phone, you stand up. Walking into your bathroom, you close the door. The sound of the lock clicking in place snaps Idia out of his stupor. Sitting in your room alone, he starts to freak out.

Did you leave because he’s being too awkward? He ruined everything by being a weirdo! What now?!

Before he can start spiraling, his phone rings. Answering without looking, he shakily takes a deep breath. “Ortho?”

“Try again!” you voice chirps through the earpiece. Bewildered, Idia pulls the phone away from his ear to look at the caller ID. Sure enough, it’s you. Calling from the bathroom.

“Idia?” He hurriedly puts the phone back to his ear when he hears you calling for him. “You still there?”

“Y-yes!”

He can hear you laugh. “I thought I lost you for a second. So, what’s going on with you?” Your casual tone causes his body to relax just a bit.

Palms still sweaty, his heart starts to slow to a more normal pace. “I-I was just thinking… Can we play a game tomorrow?”

“Sure!” you agree happily with no hesitation.

“And the day after?” He pushes past his nerves.

“Of course.” Again no hesitation.

Getting a little bolder, he confesses, “I want to game with you all the time.” He holds himself back from asking you to be his player two. That’s way too cringy even for him!

Your soft laughter fills his ear. His heart does a somersault. “I’d like to game with you all the time too, Idia. I’ve been wanting to for awhile now.”

Heart soaring, he quickly comes back to reality when he spies the shelf of plants. “...what about your soulmate?”

“Well, Jack’s a wonderful soulmate.” There’s a pause, then, “But I can only see him as a lifelong friend. And the feeling’s mutual.”

“Huh?? B-but he’s got everything! The entire package! He’s literally your custom made sim!” Oh how he’s screaming at himself to shut up!

“Just because Jack is my soulmate, doesn’t mean I have to have certain feelings for him. A soulmate doesn’t dictate your choices. At least not for me,” you explain.

Even though you’re not in front of him right now, Idia wants to hide so he can scream in peace. This is too much for his poor heart. It’s like a final scene from one of his dating games but much better because it’s real.

“Idia?”

Pulled out from his internal thoughts, he nervously swallows. “S-sorry! A-are you sure? About me?” One last chance to back out. He can pretend this conversation never happened. Sure he’ll hole himself up in his room for a long time. But he’ll get over it. Eventually. Hopefully.

“Are cats cute? Is Premo the best idol group?” The door to the bathroom opens. Stepping out, your radiant smile almost turns him into a puddle of goo.

He remains frozen in the chair as you close the space. Hovering over him, you end the call before setting your phone on the desk. “So, Idia, I have a question for you.”

“Y-yes?” he squeaks. The ends of his have turned a pale shade of pink.

“Would you like to be my player two?” you ask with a grin. It’s so cringe but when it comes out of your mouth, it’s the most romantic thing he’s heard. And he’s played a lot of dating sims!

“Yes!” Though he usually doesn’t like people crowding his personal space, he wants you closer.

Bending down, you press a soft kiss to his forehead. His hair explodes into full on pink. He can feel your laughter against his skin. He isn’t sure if he can handle another kiss before dying. But it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, he decides.

Instead of doing anything more, you pull away. “We’ll have plenty of time for more,” you say with a wink.

A little disappointed, an alarm rings, breaking the mood. “Whoops, that’s me. Sorry!” You quickly shut the alarm off. “Do you want to do a raid now??”

“S-sure.” Once you’ve gathered your stuff, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. He lets out an ‘eeep’ as his hair once again burns pink.

“Like I said, plenty of time for more~!”

“S-so embarrassing,” he mumbles as he follows you out.

As you walk side by side, he notes you act as if everything is normal. No mushyness except for that one kiss before leaving your room. He’s relieved there’s no PDA, but the more he glances at your hand, the more he wants to hold it. You move closer to him and hook your pinky with his. His heart beats rapidly.

There might not be a red string connecting you to him, but Idia decides that he doesn’t care. He’ll decide his own fate, red string or not.

[loveslibrarywp]

Too good

Osferth x fem!reader

Summary: Osferth can’t bring himself to kill another in an ambush to save Æthelflæd. You couldn’t help feel bad for the monk and choose to comfort him.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff. Mommy issues Osferth.

Authors note: This lowkey doesn’t make sense but I love Osferth with all my heart soooo.

Lady Æthelflæd had been captured by the Danes, which Uhtred had been tasked with bringing her back to her father, the king.

Uhtred and his men hid about the docks in order to ambush the Danes. You and Osferth hid in the bushes, away from the fight to keep safe. Had you been brought with them, they wouldn’t let you fight even thought you had been training. So, they set Osferth with the task of defending you.

You didn’t mind being stuck with Osferth. He was a kind and gentle man, and fairly attractive for a monk. He was quite nice to look at, actually, but you would never say that to his face.

You watched the battle begin with one of Uhtred’s men sneaking up on a man pissing in the river and stabbing his straight through the stomach, making you wince at the sight.

Then, Uhtred and the others came out from behind a crate and fighting off the other guards. Osferth quickly pushed himself out of the bush and followed the men, holding his sword incorrectly.

You wanted to stop him, but that would draw too much attention. So, you didn’t. Your gaze trailed on him as he stood there, taking the sight of men fighting in.

The poor boy looked so lost and scared, like a kicked puppy. You wanted to so badly run out and pull him back with you but you didn’t need to bout yourself in danger as well.

You saw him look down at a man crawling towards him. You began to panick, clutching the dagger on your side. But to your surprise, Osferth had stuck his blade in the man’s neck and began stabbing him repeatedly before Uhtred called out to him, “you! That’s enough!”

Osferth looked up, scared, “He is not your kill.” Uhtred said as he pointed at the man. He stalked towards him and picked up the discarded axe, “That is not how you wet your sword!” He scolded, Osferth looked as if he would burst into tears at any giving moment.

Uhtred snatched the sword from his hands, “find your courage!” He shouted as he shoved the axe into his grasp. “Or find your cross and go back to the monastery as Alfred would wish.” He spat.

Osferth was near tears, which made you feel for him. “Osferth!” You whisper-shouted to him, catching his attention. His expression was filled with sorrow and tears. You waved your hand for him to come to you, which he did.

“Osferth…are you alright?” You asked as you brought him back into the bushes and the empty space in them. “I’m sorry, I am weak..” he cried, your face was covered with a sympathetic expression. You quickly took him into a tight hug.

He grasped onto you as his body shook with tears, you quietly hushed him and rubbed his back as his face buried into your chest. “It is alright, sweet boy.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the side on his head.

He began to wondering if this was what a mother’s love would feel like. He clinged onto you for dear life, as you were the only thing he wanted right now, the only thing that cared for him.

He had thought you were so beautiful, it couldn’t be a motherly relation he had felt with you. His heart would pick up in pace whenever you were around and his eyes would drift onto you whenever you were in the room. Your soft touch lit his skin on fire and your voice made his heart flutter.

“You did well for your first time, my sweet. You just need practice.” You cooed at him, taking his face in your hands to make eye contact. His beautiful blue eye were glossy with his tears and his cheeks rosy red. He hadn’t looked more angelic than he had in this moment.

Your fingers wiped his tears from his cheeks and your thump flicked over his bottom lip, making your eyes drift down to them. You hadn’t known Osferth for much time but something pulled you to him, like fate.

You smashed your lips onto his, which surprised the boy. Your lips pecked his over and over again, savoring this moment. He didn’t pull away once, he couldn’t, not when he had the most beautiful girl in the world kissing him.

His kissed you back as much as he could, his breath being stolen by you. Once you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead onto his. “You’re too good for this world, sweet Osferth.” You whispered.

“I do not like killing, my lady. If that makes me weak, then I am weak.” He confessed, which made you giggle, “it is okay to be weak, sweet boy. You are strong in faith, which is honorable.” You smiled at the man in your arms.

“Does this mean you feel for me?” He asked, referring to the kisses you shared. You nodded, “Yes, my sweet boy. Perhaps God has put us together for a reason.” You caressed his cheek, placing a soft kiss on his head.

[finifugue]

Reject reality (Hungary GP) embrace delusion (Landoscar Bridgerton AU) - opening snippet of a fic which I will update whenever Event Horizon gets too depressing and existential. Pre-landoscar, pre-lestappen (minor). 1.6k so far and I'll probably edit the fuck out of it. One day.

It is in the words of another anonymous Lady, that the truth of our merry ton may be found: “a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Are you quite sure it’s hers?”

“Who’s else might it be? There aren’t any copycats brave enough to write under her name!”

These words, though plain to the learned man’s ear, ring clear to those nervous mamas which, on this bright day, are finally given the opportunity to demonstrate their mettle in a battle of wit, courage, and pride which has been tended to from near the moment of our country’s consummation. For today, dear reader, is the day the marriage market opens, and the sharp teeth of society await the new nobility to step from the solitude of darkness, to the blinding light.

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Ow ‒ do not push me, George!”

For many a family, young misses are being decorated with as much wealth as their families possess ‒ such as in the Bridgerton family, where the long-awaited Eloise Bridgerton is rumoured to finally be stepping out from her Diamond sister’s shadow…

“Damn Bridgertons. They’re all she ever writes about, and the Featheringtons, and all those however else associated.”

“Would you rather Lady Whistledown write about you, Alex, and your escapades?”

“I did not say that. When did I say that?”

… But for others, the fervour of this day only sends the gossip mill into a feeding frenzy. For it seems that this season, moreso than any other, it is the gentlemen of the ton which invite scrutiny; particularly the likes of the noble Lords Albon, Russell, and Leclerc, who have once again failed to be seen courting any eligibles of the ton, and are well on their ways to becoming a trio of ‘Capital-R Rakes.’

“Bollocks.”

Lando bursts out laughing. He’s met with three identical, loathing stares from his best friends, all trussed up in their frilly cravats and long coats and beaver hats. In Lando’s humble opinion, they look rather silly ‒ though, he’d never say it. They all have such odd ideas about clothing, as they do with housing ‒ George’s bachelor apartment is lavishly decorated, velvet lining almost every available surface. He wipes a non-existent tear from his eye, just to piss them off. “’Capital-R Rakes?’ Blimey, better get a move on, then. No worse fate than a fucking Capital-R Rake.”

It makes George roll his eyes. “Not all of us are content with bachelorhood, Lando. Some of us wish to appease our fathers.”

“Or our mamas,” Charles mutters. “Though it seems impossible.”

Scoffing derisively, Lando pushes himself up to a seated position from where he was lying on the chaise lounge, whipping the Whistledown article from Alex’s hands. “How very noble of you all.” His teeth clench, and he averts his gaze from them all, where they stare at him with a sort of tired pity that makes his bones itch. He lifts the page up, half-obscuring his face as he pretends to read it, not perceiving any of the writing at all.

There’s an awkward silence, in which Charles gives Alex and George a significant look, and in response Alex elbows George, who sighs. He sits next to Lando, where his feet had just rested. Puts a hand up, as if to rest on Lando’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and settles it on the back of the lounge, running a finger along the ornate mahogany frame. “Do not brood.”

“I am not brooding.”

George pokes him. “You are. You know we didn't mean anything by it. Besides, I do believe Charles’ mama frets about our marital statuses well enough to have more than enough spare for you.”

Against his better judgement, Lando cracks a smile, lightly shoving George away. “Fine, fine. I’m alright. George, keep reading this.” He pushes the page into his hands, lying back and throwing his legs over George’s thighs and resting his arms over his head. George, who has had to endure Lando’s dramatics and quick changes in temperament since they were children, just rolls his eyes.

Despite the misadventure of our most well-known Lords, it must be said, dear reader, that the polite society of the ton shall be graced with the presence of one who will be certain to turn every shrewd mama’s head: His Highness Oscar Piastri, Crown Prince of England.

Charles moans. “Oh, we are ruined. How are we going to compete in the marriage market with a prince?” Charles’ mother, as George had said, is becoming increasingly worried about his marriage prospects, despite the fact that he’s only in his twenties and a Duke, for God’s sake, and — and this part, in Lando’s mind, is the significantly more important factor — gorgeous enough that any of the eligibles would be chomping at the bit to have him court them. Not that Lando would ever let Charles hear him say that ‒ his head’s already far too big. If he knew that he’s been considered one of the most eligible bachelors of every season since he went on the marriage market, it would grow too heavy for his neck and he’d never be able to stand up.

Despite this, Lando feels a little sorry for him. He puts far too much pressure on himself. Lando pats him on the shoulder, smirking. “He can only take one spouse, Charles. I’m sure the rest of the eligibles would be content to settle for the likes of yourself… eventually.”

In return for his awfully kind and generous words, Charles grabs the Whistledown article and whaps him over the back of the head with it, as if he were an irritating insect instead of someone who’s seen Charles fall out of a tree trying to impress Alex’s pretty nanny when they were children. “You are rude and I do not know why we continue to spend time with you.”

“Because I buy you beer and lose at cards.”

“Your two only favourable traits.”

The Crown Prince has been the subject of all the conversation in society since the confirmation of his return to England from the perilous frontier of New Holland ‒ or as radical explorers of the New Age refer to the mysterious continent, the vast new colony of Australia. What he has been doing amid the penal colonies and military operations during his long expedition is unclear; certainly, his escapades are a topic which many a debutante will be sure to delve into in the battle that shall come, as the Prince’s favour is fought for.

Lando thinks about that. It is quite insane, really, that the King allowed his Crown Prince — his only son — to sail away across the globe to a new, faraway, tiny little colony full of the Empire’s criminals, utterly defenceless and all alone, with only a few military bases to house him. He wonders if the King simply did not care for his son. Or if his son wished too desperately to be away from all the pomp and pride of England’s society. Lando’s heard it said that Australia is vast, vaster even than the British Isles, full of life and animals completely different to those seen promenading the streets of Mayfair. “Why’s he decided to come back, then?”

Alex shrugs. “Perhaps he was lonely.”

“Perhaps his father became tired of him wasting his time in a colony a million miles from England, and called him home for supper,” George shoots back, before returning to the article.

The Prince is due to make his first appearance within society within the coming week, at the delightful annual occasion hosted by Lady Danbury ‒ the first ball of the season. Mamas, ensure your children are well prepared in their speeches and talents, for this author hears that the Crown Prince, though most entirely the Incomparable bachelor of the season, has, in fact, very little desire to marry ‒ nor, by many an account, to court at all.

That makes Lando roll his eyes a bit. Of course the Crown Prince of England has no desire to court ‒ to have mamas and eligibles fawning over him and pawing at his lapels for a chance to be next in line for the consort’s throne. Lando can only imagine the type of person to skirt his responsibilities to the throne to adventure the frontiers of the Empire ‒ self-interested, dull, puffed-up and vain. He’s convinced himself, then, that His Highness, the Crown Prince Oscar must be terribly arrogant.

“Ha!” George crows, righetous anger colouring his voice. “Simply because he is a Prince, he is afforded every excuse known to man ‒ no, the Crown Prince of England could never be considered a Capital-R Rake!”

“Well, yes, George, that would be because he’s the Crown Prince of England.”

“You know what I mean, Alex.” George shoots him a glare. “It seems that Piastri is the only person Whistledown refuses to name a rake. Apart from Lando, of course.”

It’s quite amazing, Lando thinks, how long George can hold a grudge. “I don’t think I pass across Lady Whistledown’s mind enough for her to even consider calling me names in her writing,” he replies tersely. “Same as she never talks about your cooks. Or your servants. Or your nannies ‒”

Sidling down beside him on the lounge which is absolutely not made to seat three people at once, Charles throws an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, but Lando, you are terrible at cooking, and you have never once had the indignity to serve us, and on account of the fact that you seem to have been raised in a barn, rather than Lord Rosberg’s countryside manor ‒”

“Charles‒”

“‒ I would not ever call you a nanny.” Charles grins at him. “Perhaps you are just more noble than us all, after all.”

A challenge, then, to all eligibles of the season; for charming Prince Piastri seems to have become the most fruitful task of all… and the most Herculean.