#fly tying materials near me

[celticblob]

Website : https://www.celticblob.com

Address : Cardiff, South Wales

Celtic Blob Company, based in Cardiff, South Wales, is a family-run business specializing in innovative materials for fly tying and fishing. Born from a passionate hobby, the company has evolved to focus on creating vibrant synthetic and natural products for fly fishing, emphasizing customer satisfaction and a wide range of fly tying materials and colors.

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063739458333

Keywords: fish gears fly tying materials fly tying materials fly fishing accessories best place to buy fly tying materials online fly tying materials near me cheap fly tying materials essential fly tying materials fulling mill fly tying materials innovative finishing materials innovative fishing products synthetic fly tying materials best fly tying materials blob fly tying materials buy fly tying materials discount fly tying materials fly tying materials for beginners fly tying materials for sale fly tying materials fritz loop fly tying materials best fly fishing accessories essential fly fishing accessories fly fishing accessories uk fly fishing tools and accessories fly tying synthetic wing material nature's spirit fly tying materials alternative fly tying materials basic fly tying materials best fly tying materials kit rare fly tying materials unique fly tying materials fly fishing materials for sale fine natural dubbing material for fly tying fly tying natural materials tying flies with natural materials unique fly tying supplies online unique fly tying supplies near me fly fishing material solutions near me fly fishing material solutions online innovation fishing tackle fly tying color variety specialized fly materials specialized fly materials for sale fishing hobby supplies online best fishing hobby supplies best fishing material innovation fly fishing hobby products online best fly fishing hobby products

[imthebadguyyy]

You're All Mine

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Fandom - F1

Summary - Things get slightly out of hand at a party where you decide to act up, and Lewis shows you just exactly who you belong to. P.S - He makes you wear that damn jacket.

Warnings - smut, swearing, possessiveness (brought to you by the fashion king that is Sir Lewis Hamilton, because that jacket did things okay?

A/N- OC (Thomas) has nothing to do with any of Lewis's friends in real life.

Also shoutout to @grandestrategia and @lights-out-in-monaco for helping me 💙

✯⌃⌄☼♥︎

iThrowing a party to get together was always a fun idea to get the chance to socialize, meet new people, dance, get drunk and spend quality time with your friends and family. But throwing a party after three back to back race weeks was not really a great idea, mainly because it meant your boyfriend groaning and moaning about how he didn't want to spend time with anyone else but you. That was exactly what was happening at present, as you swiped a tube of crimson lipstick across your lips, while Lewis sat on the bed, in a black shirt and his purple customised jacket, with his arms crossed across his chest, reminding you of a toddler who was told to go to bed early.

"I don't get why you had to throw a party today, of all times" he grumbled for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Okay baby, I love you, I really do, but I swear, if you say that one more time I will strangle you" you replied, setting the lipstick back down, and reaching for a bottle of perfume on your dressing table. "I'm just saying, I feel like spending time with you now, and yes, I love that you decided to call my friends and family over, but I kinda just wanted to have some you and me time" he said, eyes following your movements as you sprayed the perfume behind your ears, on your wrists, and lightly over your body, "You'll have me to yourself from the moment they leave, till you have to fly for your race again. And I promise, we can do whatever you want" you said, reaching up to smooth your hair. Far too preoccupied with fixing the flyaway strands of hair, you didn't notice him standing up and standing right behind you. "Whatever I want hmm? I know exactly what I want baby. But I just can't get it right now. You know why? Because I want to bend you over and take you right here, right now. But because you decided to throw a party instead of spending time together, you'll have to wait a little longer than necessary to have my head in between your thighs, my fingers in you, and my cock in your cunt. And guess whose fault it is? Yours, my darling. It's your fault" he growled in your ear, smirking when a soft moan slipped past your lips.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to bend you over and take you here? When our guests could be here at any minute?" he continued, lips resting just near the outer shell of your ear. You couldn't even answer, feeling the arousal grow in between your thighs, as your heartbeat seemed to slow down for just a second, before it seemed to hammer against your chest almost as if it wanted to just burst out of your chest. "Tell me darling. Would you like that?" "Ye-" your reply was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing, signalling the arrival of one of your guests. "Saved by the bell, hmm? You didn't have to answer. But I promise baby, when they're gone, I'm gonna make you scream my name so loud, if our neighbours aren't on a first name basis with us tomorrow, I'll be very, very surprised. And leaving you a aroused, horny mess, he went down to open the door.

✯⌃⌄☼♥︎

About half an hour later, the party was in full swing. You had invited some of your friends and some family members, and turning to look over your shoulder, you saw Lewis chatting with his dad and Nicolas, a glass of wine in his hand as he laughed at something his brother told him. Smiling, you turned back, to see one of Lewis's friends making his way over to you, two glasses of champagne in his hand. You enjoyed mingling with his friends, and you had met Neymar Jr, Odell Beckham Junior, and other really awesome people. Smiling at Thomas, who was one of Lewis's newer friends, you accepted the glass, your third glass of champagne and your fifth drink all together, hovering between the lines of tipsy and drunk.

Thomas, (the friend, idk I just made him up) offered you a glass of champagne, and you gladly took a sip, enjoying the buzz as the alcohol ran through your veins, filling you with a calm happiness. Maybe it was the alcohol in your veins and the promise of a really good time that made you decide to push Lewis's buttons just a little bit, to ensure that you were really in for it. Giggling at a joke his friend made, you threw your head back laughing, letting your hand rest on Thomas's shoulder, before letting it move to your hair, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, teeth sinking softly down onto your lower lip.

From where he was standing, Lewis looked over to see where you were, his grip on his glass tightening when he saw you laugh and rest your hand on his friend's shoulder. His eyes darkening when he saw you twirl a strand of hair around your finger, and bite your lip softly, knowing all too well what you were doing. It was working. As you giggled again, tilting your head back laughing, and nodding a quick 'I'll be back soon', to his dad, he walked towards the both of you, his eyes fixed on the way you kept twirling your hair around your fingers.

"Hi baby. You having a fun time?" he asked you, standing next to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Yeah I am! Are you having fun?" you replied, letting your head droop onto his shoulder. "Yeah I am my love, thank you so much for planning it" he murmured in your ear, ignoring the fact that his friend was standing right in from of him, probably getting a free show. His hands splayed out on the leathery material of your black skirt, enjoying the coolness of the material and the feel of a section of your skin against his palms. The black outfit you had put on was a black leather top and skirt, that clung onto your body like a vice, as he moved his hand to the back of your skirt, moving so Thomas couldn't see what he was doing.

"And what about you Thomas, are you having a good time?" you asked the man, feeling Lewis tense up behind you. "Yup I am! Thanks so much for inviting us all, its a great party" he replied, flashing the both of you a smile. "We're glad you're having fun" Lewis replied, his hand moving to your ass, squeezing ever so discreetly. "Yup I know! Great to see you too, man! Your last races have been great, you deserve a break" Thomas kept talking, blissfully unaware of how you were squirming, your arousal pooling in between your thighs as he ran his fingers up your thighs, in between your underwear and the skirt. He moved his body so the lower half of your body was not visible to anyone else.

Pressing your lips together to keep a sound from escaping, you tried your hardest to hold yourself together, but it was damn hard when you could begin to feel the liquid threatening to run down your thighs and make a mess in front of everyone. "Moving your hand to the back to squeeze his thigh, silently begging him to just take you to the bedroom and fuck you senseless. Feeling your desperation, Lewis smirked softly, before turning to Thomas. "If you don't mind Thomas, I think I left my phone in the bedroom, I'll just go get it" "Yeah sure" Thomas replied, as you turned and made your way up the stairs to the master bedroom. But before you could go and sit on the bed, a pair of arms grabbed you around your waist, and pulled you into the master bathroom that was connected to your room.

Lewis turned your body around, the rough movement taking your breath away, before he crashed his lips down onto yours, his hands sliding down to your as again, squeezing hard, causing a moan to slip out your lips, your arms tightening around his neck. "I saw you trying to rile me up baby. All giggly and flirty, and that whole fiasco with you messing with your hair, hmm? Only I can pull your hair, and only I can tug on it. You like it when I do that, don't you? When I tug your hair, and your head falls back, and those sounds slip out of your lips and I can see how much you like it" The moan that slipped past your lips went straight to his cock, hardening under his pants.

"Words baby, words. Do you like it?" he asked, his fingers running along the waistband of your leather skirt, tugging the skirt down your legs. "I do, I really do! please, please do something, I need you so bad" you whined, your hands unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt, and tugging his purple jacket down his shoulders. "Patience my baby. Good things take time. So desperate for it, I can see your wetness dripping, but you aren't getting off that easily after that stunt you pulled. But I promised you that I'd give you a good time, and I always keep my promises" Another desperate whimper left your lips, and you dragged the jacket down his torso, letting it drop to the floor.

"No no no. I want you to put that on. Or even better..." he mumbled finishing his sentence halfway, picking up the jacket from the floor. He pushed you down on the bed, grabbing your wrists in his hands, before pushing you back up to the headboard. Then he took the jacket up to your hands, tying one side to the headboard of the King sized bed, and the other end around your hands. "There we go, all tied up and gorgeous for me. Do your wrists burn with my name baby? Do you like how my name is tied onto your skin?" he asked, eyeing how the 'HAMILTON' part of the jacket was tied around your wrist. "I bet you like it don't you? That stinging sensation? I cannot wait to taste you my love, all wet and dripping for me" he continued, moving down to press his lips to your neck. He pushed his tongue out onto your skin, sucking the spot before licking over the spot repeatedly, letting his teeth sink onto a pulse point, shifting in his pants when his cock twitched at the moan that fell from your lips.

He ventured lower and lower, till he reached your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth, licking the sensitive nub, letting his teeth graze your areola. Above him, you were struggling against your bonds, wrists straining against their restraints., desperate to touch him, to feel his skin and his glorious muscles under your hands, but you couldn't, because your hands were bound, literally, "Oh my god please Lew, please let me touch you, please I need to touch you baby" "Not yet princess. You were a bad girl, and bad girls get punished my love. I'm not going to let you even graze my hand, if you don't shut that pretty little mouth of yours, before I do it for you" he growled back, feeling his own arousal grow as you whimpered again. He let his fingers fondle your other nipple, tweaking and pulling before taking it into his mouth too, as you felt the wetness run down your leg, soaking into the bedsheet.

Moaning again, you pressed your thighs together, desperate for some friction to relieve you of the throbbing pain in your core, the amount of arousal you were feeling making you feel like you were drowning in some sort of strong sea current, as Lewis's lips travelled lower, and his breath fanned over your throbbing cunt. "I can't wait to taste you my love" and with that he dived in, giving you almost no time to adjust, as he fucked you with his tongue, and his fingers toyed with your clit, sending you towards your high, before biting the sensitive bud softly "You taste like fucking candy love" "Oh fuck fuck fuck Lewis, I'm gonna -" you managed to gasp out as the gasp turned into scream of frustration when he pulled away. "What the fuck? Why'd you do that?!" you gasped out, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Because like I told you, bad girls get punished" he replied, shoving his pants down his legs, before leaning over and grabbing a condom, pulling his calvin keins down his thighs, as his cock sprang free, smirking when you moaned at the sight, "Taking a good look baby?" he asked, crawling over to you. "You're just really gorgeous" you replied, straining against the jacket. "I know" he replied, pushing his rings off of his fingers. "No don't. Keep on em. I like em" you said, earning a smirk from the man again. "Want me to fuck you with my rings on? I'd love to" he said, watching as you squirmed again.

"Baby please let me touch you, I want to touch you so bad, please!" you practically begged, tears of frustration filling your eyes. "No baby. I'm going to fuck you with your hands tied and I'm going to mark you up" he replied, sliding the condom on and leaning over you, positioning his cock at your entrance. "Ready baby?" he asked,smiling a little as you nodded, the both of you moaning in sync when he pushed into you, your walls clenching onto his cock, as he settled into you, moaning when he sunk into you bit by bit. He gave you a few seconds to adjust, before he pulled out, making you let out half a moan and look at him questioningly, before he slammed back into you. You weren't expecting that, and a strangled scream left your lips when he filled you to the hilt, before bottoming out in you, hips snapping repeatedly into you, his cock moving inside you.

You moans and groans echoed off the walls, as your hands burned, the desperation in you threatening to drown you again. "oh my god, you feel so good, you fuck me so good, now baby please let me touch you!" you practically screamed, your voice catching when he angled his thrusts so the tip hit your g spot repeatedly. "Okay my love, you deserve it now. My baby desreves to touch me now, doesn't she?" "Yes please, especially when you fuck me this good, almost too good to be true" you stammered out clenching down on his cock again, feeling the slight stutter of his hips as you did. Lewis reached up to untie you, letting the jacket fall to the floor, and moaning when your hands dug into his back, scratching down his back, as he hissed at the feeling, loving the feeling of your nails raking down his back. "Fuck baby, do that again" he growled. "Only if you choke me" you moaned back, feeling him stutter again, and let out a moan.

His eyes widened, not completely used to you being so bold, but loving the wild side you let out. He reached up, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing a little, groaning when you let out a choked moan. "Harder" you moaned, feeling his cock twitch in you. "Oh fucking hell baby, I didn't know you liked it rough" he moaned, tightening his grip on your neck, cutting the air off ever so softly, snapping his hips into you faster, as your nails raked down your back even harder, leaving marks that would definitely hurt the next morning.

"That feels so good, oh my god, I love you so much" you gasped out wrapping your hand around his, causing him to squeeze a little harder. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum my love" Lewis moaned, groaning when you moved your hips thrusting up to meet his thrusts. 'Oh fuck" Lewis groaned, before releasing into you ,his finger reaching down to rub your clit repeatedly. Your moans echoed in the room, as he pinched your clit, as you squirted all over his cock.

Panting, Lewis sunk down next to you, chest rising and falling. "That was so good" you gasped out, resting your head on his chest. "Was that too much? Did I hurt you?" he asked, kissing your forehead. "No no I loved it. You should do that more often" you mumbled. Just as Lewis leaned in to kiss you, there was a knock at the door, making the both of you jump apart. "Are the both of you done yet?" a voice asked, making you blush. "Oh my god. We forgot about the guests!" you gasped, making Lewis laugh, as he kissed you softly. "I know which one I'd rather do again" he mumbled, laughing when you kissed him back. "Don't go for round two, atleast let us leave first!" the voice yelled again, as Lewis stood up from the bed to get dressed.

"Oh and by the way, you're wearing that jacket downstairs"

[aiiwa]

PRETTY IN PINK — IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

✗ REQUEST: may i request a lil text fic of yn having the most juiciest 🍑 and taking pics in her lingerie to send to her female friends so they can help pic out which one is the prettiest but she accidently sends them to her best friend and crush iwa and how that would go?????

— iwaizumi hajime.

⤷ genre: college au - fluff (?) / crack (?)

⤷ warnings: suggestive / mature themes, cursing, and a photo thirst trap photo (?), also iwa talking about masturbating over your photo

⤷ word count: 2.8k

— a/n: for my big booty anon i would sell my soul for 🍑💖

this is set in the same universe as freshman year, so feel free to give it a read if you’d like!!

life after meeting your boys had changed your daily routine in the best way. not a minute went by that wasn’t filled with the familiar craziness you had grown on.

free time was spent humouring mattsun by shifting the couches in their apartment around and engaging in a wrestling match, originally stemming from a fight the two of you had over the last slice of cake a month ago; the current score was an even tie of 14-14 though you had plans to take the lead. when it came to makki, he was more than happy to indulge on your self-care days; he’d even take part in your skincare routine, let you paint his nails, and liked it when you made smoothies to sip on while the two of you waited for your clay masks to dry. every other week was dedicated to retouching his roots with pink hair dye.

other days, you were set up on your bed; under the soft covers, stash of snacks next to you, while your laptop rested on your lap. and at exactly three a.m. you would receive an incoming call from, oikawa. since it would be three p.m. in argentina, he’d take to sitting out on his balcony, basking in the sun and interrogating you on the relationship, or lack thereof, you had with his dear iwa-chan.

speaking of sweet, gorgeous iwa - in your biased and majorly crushing opinion, hanging out with him was your favourite. though you’d never be heard saying that around anyone. just last week he’d all but solidified your love for him even more, when the two of you were up late, binge watching a new sci-fi show that caught iwa’s attention, and he got up to make you some coffee when you started to feel sleepy.

“here we go, coffee with two sugars for the pretty lady.” the warmth you felt run over your body settled before you grabbed at the steaming cup. taking a sip you realised you’d never told iwa how many sugars you preferred, and after asking him, you watched his faint blush bloom under the harsh light of the t.v. screen. “heh, i don’t know...just noticed it, i guess.”

but as much as you loved the guys, there were just some things you couldn’t do with them. things that required a strictly girls-only day out.

“what do you mean we’re not allowed to come? i wanna go to the mall too!” mattsun whines, tugging at the sleeve of your cropped, button-up sweater, while you were bent over tying your laces.

“it’s a girl’s day out, emphasis on girl.” smacking his hand away, you straighten up; sending him the look your mother gives you when you’re being difficult. “so unless your little pee-pee grew into a powerful vagina, you’ll be staying home.”

“but makki’s practically a girl too!” the couch cushion that flew into his face was true to its aim, the swift whack shutting mattsun up.

“fuck off, little dick.” makki grumbled, lanky figure draped over the couch; sans aforementioned couch cushion that was covering his face before. mattsun tried to throw the pillow back at the pink-haired boy, but it was caught with ease. “we agreed to never bring that up again.”

“yeah well, y/n’s talking about some girl-time shit, like we didn’t take her to a strip club, filled with male strippers.” mattsun sasses back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “like makki didn’t get a lap dance from that guy-”

from the corner of your eye, the bulky figure entering the room catches your attention instantly. you could never get tired of eyeing up the way his shirt stretched around his fit body, how his sleeves cut a bit into his arms and knowing he could rip them up with a flex of his biceps. watching him walk up to you, the tightening of his navy blue gym shorts around his shaped thighs, had you mesmerised; dragging your gaze across the outline of his bulge, you swore it twitched just before he stopped near you.

“ready to go, y/n?” he offered a small smile, twirling his keys around his finger. at the sound of his voice, the other two boys halted their bickering over the strip club incident.

“oi iwa, no fair, are you going with y/n?!” mattsun interrogates, thick brows arched in question.

“i’m dropping her off.”

“oh.” makki chimes in. “out of everyone i thought you would be the one with the most complaints, iwa. just the other day when the two of you were together, i wanted to ask y/n for help with my project but you-”

“yeah, yeah that was the other day.” iwa cuts him off, and you couldn’t help but furrow your brows, wanting to know what makki was going to say. oh well, you’ll just get it out of him after. “c’mon y/n, you’ll be late meeting the girls.”

iwa was on his way to the front door when makki asked you what was so different about this trip to the mall that you didn’t want any of the boys to come along.

“i’m going to buy new lingerie, and i need their opinions.” you shrugged, grabbing your hand bag so you could follow iwa out.

busy with shoving your phone into your purse, and checking you had all of your essentials, you failed to notice the scheming look shared between mattsun and makki. or how iwa stood frozen by the door, hand tightly gripping the handle, until you bumped into his warm back.

“lingerie...hm, i wonder for who?”

at makki’s words you felt heat rise up in your face, as you rubbed at your nose.

“y/n~! you could’ve just asked me to come along! i would love to give my opinion!”

you’d never seen keys flying so fast through the air, finding their mark on mattsun’s forehead.

after spending twenty minutes pressing an ice pack to the growing bump on mattsun’s forehead, and listening to him trying to explain to an irritated iwa that he was just playing around; you’d finally left the apartment, and was nearing the bustling shopping district. iwa had been quiet, though not awkward, with only the mellow songs of his playlist, named after you, playing during the short drive. he flicked his indicator on, spotting the two girls waving at you from the sidewalk, and pulled over to the side.

“thanks for the ride, iwa.” you mumbled distractedly, admiring the veins in his tanned arm as he shifted the gear into park.

“anything for my pretty lady.” iwa lifts the corner of his mouth up into a sweet grin, olive green eyes flitting over you next to him. he doesn’t even realise he’d called you his pretty lady, and you press a hand to your heated cheek; ignoring your friends cooing and pointing at the two of you. “do you need some money? are you gonna be warm?” he leans closer to you, putting his arm behind your seat as he searches through his gym back in the back. the intoxicating smell of his cinnamon cologne invades your senses. “i’ll give you my jacket, just let me find it.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, grabbing his bicep to stop him, giving it a firm, very self-indulgent squeeze. “iwa.” you called out to him. he turned to look at you, wide eyed and so fucking adorable. “you’re acting like my mom.” 

his handsome features relaxed as he released an airy laugh. “well i love your mom, so i’m fine with that.” he pulled his arm from behind you, jacket in his grip, though not in a way to make you let go of his arm.

“i still can’t believe she messages you to make sure i’m eating right.” you groaned, still squeezing his arm playfully. “and stop trying to give me money, it’s like you want to be my sugar daddy or something.”

iwa’s arm tenses under your touch as he processes your words. “alright, time for you to go.” you manage to catch the bright blush dusting his cheeks; your hand reaching out to pinch them yet all you feel is the material of his jacket as he shoves it into your arms. “get out, your friends are waiting for you.”

you pout at his dismissal; but with the way he was so flustered, scratching the back of his neck and hiding his pretty eyes, you decide to let him off easy 

“‘kay, fine~” you drawled in a sing-song voice.

making a show of collecting your things together, you dramatically tugged your seat belt loose; reaching for the door but halting in your actions when the weight of his large hand, dropped on top of your head. allowing him to angle your head to face him, he gifted you with a soft smile that had you ready to melt into the passenger seat. 

“be safe, alright?” your eyes blinked with each gentle pat on your head - once, twice, thrice - most likely ruffling your hair you’d spent a good amount of time on. “now go, text me and i’ll pick you up later.”

puffing your cheeks, you nodded as he squeezed your scalp affectionately. unlocking the door, you stepped outside into the cool air, wrapping iwa’s big jacket over your shoulders as goosebumps rose underneath the thin material of your sweater. bumping the door closed with your hip, you bent at the waist and stuck your head through the open window 

“bye, iwa.” your lips pressed together in a shy smile.

he mirrored your smile. “see you later, pretty lady.”

walking away, tugging the collar of his jacket closer, you could feel his eyes following after you. only half-listening as the girls teased you, hooking their arms through yours to walk through the entrance of the mall; you glanced back once more to see iwa stick a hand out and wave, before driving off once you disappeared from his view.

steam whirled up and around iwa, as a contented sigh escaped his parted lips. stood underneath the spray of warm water, he felt the tension begin to evaporate from his taut muscles 

iwa’s gym sessions, as of late, had been rather extreme. well, it had been this way for a couple of months now, ever since he had met you. he had to overwork his body, send it into overdrive and power through the fatigue - it was the only way to release some of his pent up frustration. the frustration that came with crushing on you, and not acting on it.

you were so fucking gorgeous to him, and you were so damn sweet. every part of his being was steadily entangling itself around your presence, and he had no idea how to stop it. not that he would even want to try. when you were nearby, his ears would begin to twitch at the sound of your voice, searching for you; and when you touched him, wrapping your delicate fingers around his arm to steady yourself, or poking your fingers at his back absentmindedly while teasing his roommates, he could feel his skin tingle all over. but it was when you would look up at him, sparkles in your beautiful eyes, that iwa knew he was a goner.

you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger, and he just wanted to make you his. have you in his arms…and bury himself so deep inside you-

“fuck.”

he shut off the shower with a bit more force than necessary. this was exactly the reason why he’d been visiting the gym more, working out for longer, because his mind was plagued with thoughts of you under him.

especially after seeing you in your cute outfit today. he feared that you’d catch his eyes lingering too long on the exposed skin of your tummy, or trying to memorise the curve of your lush thighs in those jeans. hell, he could barely say anything to you on the drive to the mall, tongue running dry with you so close to him.

with a huff, he carefully stepped out of the shower; wrapping his fully white towel around his hips, and moving into his room. kicking the door closed behind him, he made his way towards his side table just in time for his phone to go off.

grabbing the device and waiting a second for the facial recognition to process; he was surprised to see it was an instagram notification from you. expecting another food porn post, he was dead wrong; with absolutely nothing that could’ve prepared him for what greeted his eyes.

“holy,” he collapsed onto his bed, holding his phone to his face. “fuck.”

you...you-

“fuck!” he growled out.

you’d sent him a photo in your new lingerie, albeit it was most likely by accident, but there you were modelling your new all-pink set. the one he had 'chosen’.

with your arms raised above your head, brushing your hair over your shoulders, the stretched out pose accentuated the curve of your breasts, almost spilling out from the strapped confines of your bra. could he even call it that? it was all studded belt straps and buckles, that matched the thick choker-collar around your lithe neck, and it was not helping his current situation. grazing his eyes lower, a thin belt was clipped around your waist, before a sliver of skin lead downwards to the skinny, almost sheer, material of your panties. it was high waisted, dipping behind your wide hips and the teasing curve of your ass. and then your thighs, fuck how he wanted his face to be squeezed between them. thigh-high stockings dug into your plush thighs, squished out from the way you were sitting on your rug.

leaning back onto his bed, iwa was tempted to check if his heart was still beating, if he was even breathing at this point. but he did check, and he was alive; and the blood circulating his body was currently flowing straight to his groin.

the sight of you, so fucking pretty in pink, was burned into his mind forever.

under his palms the prickling sensation spread across his fingers, itching to relieve himself. one hand trailed across the panes of his abdomen, while the other grabbed at his phone; though it almost went flying out of his hand when it started vibrating and your contact photo flashed on his screen.

“shit.” he cursed, clearing his throat and trying to even out his breathing. he accepted the call after a moment. “hello?”

“iwa?!” at the sound of your voice he could feel his dick twitch, and he clenched his teeth together; annoyed at himself. he needed to get a grip. “oh my god, iwa, i am so sorry!”

‘no, i’m sorry that i want to fuck you so bad right now.’ is what he wants to say. “it’s...fine, y/n.” is what he manages to get out.

he hears you chuckle a bit awkwardly on the other end of the line. “shit, i’m so embarrassed right now.” you confess. “i meant to send that to the girls…”

“you don’t have to be embarrassed.” if anyone was to embarrassed it was him. he’d spent months pining after you, and now here he was lying on his bed aching to touch himself to you, towel fisted in his free hand. “you’re beautiful, y/n.” at least that managed to come out right.

“thank you, iwa...i only realised what happened when i was about to send another showing the back!” you laughing at your antics fell deaf on his ears, when the thought of your ass seized control of his mind.

how often had he admired the shape of you the past few months. daydreaming of the way you’d feel in his big hands, silky skin dug into by his long fingers, cheeks jutting out between them. he wanted to hold your ass in the palms of his hands, squeeze and tease you...his hips buck up, grinding against the cotton of the towel and a loud groan escapes his mouth.

“oh- iwa? are you okay?” you asked him, so innocently. he couldn’t take it anymore.

“i’m good...i just- something’s come up,” he hissed out, glancing down at the red tip of his cock peeping up at him. “i’ll call you later.”

“oh, of course! sorry again iwa, hehe, i’ll delete the photo. talk soon!”

his eyes shut at the sound of your giggle, free hand already rubbing himself. “bye.”

ending the call and moving the phone away from his face, he stared at the photo again, thumb hovering over the ‘save’ option, before pressing yes. he’d keep it locked away just for him, a treasured piece of you in his gallery. starting to stroke himself to your perfect body, he waited for the notification that you had deleted the photo from the conversation.

but it never came, though he did, and the photo remained buried under new food posts sent from you.

yet it wasn’t til a few weeks after that iwa began to think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as much of an accident as you made it out to be.

© 2020 AIIWA. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[siren-dragon]

After Eight -- The Cat Returns fanfic:

So... I had a Ghibli movie marathon recently and remembered my old childhood OTP of Haru and the Baron. Then I read a few fanfics by @catsafarithewriter and landed in another fandom abyss, lol. And that later spawned this au one-shot from a prompt I read. Anyway, this is my first time publishing anything for another fandom so hopefully it’s good. Enjoy! ^_^

AO3 story link

Human AU -- “I need to finish my term paper and you’re the only 24-hour internet cafe open. Help me.”

===========================================================

The front door of their small flat closed with a soft click as Haru shrugged her backpack higher onto her shoulder and soon hurried down the corridor and out onto the streets with a determined step. To be fair, Hiromi and Tsuge did try their best to accommodate her as she stared helplessly at her computer screen within her bedroom while they giggled and chatted on the sofa. And though Haru managed to continue through her term paper despite the late hour; her concentration quickly began to wane while the tell-tale sounds of snogging managed to reach her ears despite the closed bedroom doors. So, she rather quickly decided to pack up her supplies and laptop, stuff them into her school bag, and exit the flat in an attempt to find somewhere quiet.

Of course, she didn’t really consider the fact that a) it was 10 in the evening on a Friday and b) she would need wifi if she were going to try and continue her paper.

“There has to be somewhere open…” she groaned, having passed another bar filled with her fellow college students enjoying the beginning of their weekend. “Why are there so many bars everywhere?!”

After traversing the streets for a good 20 minutes, all the while debating if she could chance stealing the wifi from a late-night McDonalds, the brunette soon found herself pausing to stare at the building her feet seemed to have led her to. It was a rather quaint building, reminiscent of European cafes with it’s white and green paint and black sunshade. Written beside the glass and wooden doors was a simple plaque with the words The Cat Bureau scrawled across in dark lettering. However, it was the petite sticker smacked boldly on the corner of one of the windows with a drawing of a cat on a laptop reading “free wifi” that nearly made Haru weep tears of joy.

“Oh, thank God; an internet café!” she beamed with delight before hurrying inside.

If she thought the outside was charming, the interior was spectacular. Alongside the windows were various tables with off-set white tablecloths and a small flower vase as a centerpiece, while opposite sat a wrap-around wooden bar complete with stools. The entire room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the hanging antique light fixtures and Haru couldn’t help but be captured by the small café. “Wow, this place is beautiful…”

“You are too kind Miss,” an accented voice chimed, causing her to swivel to the source.

Standing behind the countertop was a man, perhaps a few years older than Haru herself, offering her a kind smile with a rag in hand. Though Haru was practically half-asleep due to exhaustion and the creeping energy withdrawals her last study-snack tried to prevent, even she couldn’t deny how attractive the man was. Slightly tousled tawny locks and vivid green eyes stared back at her with an intensity that caused her face to take a distinct pink tint. His attire was a bit formal, what with the crimson vest and collared shirt with a bowtie- though his black apron and rolled sleeves didn’t undercut the professional appearance.

“Erm, I’m sorry- were you closing soon? I can leave if you want. It’s just that I saw you had free wifi and I needed a space where I could finish my term paper…”

The man gave a gentle laugh, “no worries Miss, this is a 24-hour café; stay as long as you like. The Bureau doesn’t often receive customers on Friday evenings, what with many preferring venues that serve alcohol.”

Haru grinned, “you’re a life saver. And this place, I’ve never seen such an amazing café before.”

“Thank you, and please sit wherever you like. Make yourself at home. Is there anything you would perhaps like to order?”

Taking a spot at one of the tables near the window, Haru immediately glanced at the menu resting upon the table, looking over the pamphlet for something cheap that would keep her awake. She was rather impressed by the modest selection- ranging from teas and beverages to cakes, sandwiches, and even a few pastries. “I’ll just have a cup of the house blend tea, please.”

The man smiled, “as you wish.”

If the food wasn’t going to bring her back here, the charming waiter certainly was- though as quickly as the thought crossed her mind Haru prayed her internal feelings didn’t make themselves known with the reddening of her face.

Quickly pulling out her laptop and research materials, in an attempt to finish her work and not stare at the handsome waiter, Haru set to work on trying to finish her paper. The quiet atmosphere gave a rather calm and ideal setting, allowing the brunette student’s work to continue at a steady pace. On occasion Haru would steal a glance to the waiter as he set about making her order, humming a gentle tune under his breath before returning to her paper. It was only when the cup and teapot was set gently beside her did Haru startle from her concentration while another plate- this one bearing a slice of angel food cake with whip cream and strawberries found it’s place beside her tea cup.

“Oh! Um, but I didn’t order-“

“On the house,” the man smoothly replied. “Besides, nothing goes better with tea than some angel food cake.”

Haru giggled, saving her work before closing the laptop and setting it aside for the meanwhile. “Thank you very much.” Pour a dash of milk into the cup, she raised it for a tentative sip and blinked in surprise. “Woah, that’s got to be the best tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“You flatter me with your kind words, Miss.”

“Wait, did you make this from scratch?”

The waiter laughed, “indeed I did. That’s my own personal blend, though it tends to be a little different each time so I’m afraid I can’t guarantee the taste.”

“Well, it’s certainly better than the school’s local Starbucks.” Haru complimented, making the man grin. “Did you make the cake as well?”

“Unfortunately, no. While I am no stranger to the kitchen, that particular cake was made by our resident chef Muta. He has a penchant for sweets which has earned quite a following from the locals.”

“I don’t blame them, if the cakes are as good as the tea- I don’t think I’ll be able to go anywhere else.”

This time the man gave a teasing smirk, “and here I thought it was the free wifi drawing in customers.”

Haru laughed, “well, it certainly did help. I’d take a quiet café with wonderful tea over my small flat and a roommate making out with her boyfriend any day.”

“Well, that certainly would cause a bit of a distraction to a working student. If that’s the case, feel free to stay as long as you like Miss.”

“Haru,” she answered back. “My name, it’s Haru.”

He gave her a soft smile that made Haru’s stomach do nervous flips as bright green eyes met her own warm caramel irises. “Humbert von Gikkingen, at your service but please; call me Baron.”

Now it was Haru’s turn to give a small smirk. “So, Baron… this teapot looks like there is enough for another cup or two. Maybe, you would like to share it?”

This time it was Baron’s turn to flush the faintest pink before giving a rather delighted grin and retrieving another cup from behind the counter and taking the seat across from her. “I would be honored. After all, nothing makes a cup of tea better than sharing it with a rather fetching young woman.”

If Haru’s face wasn’t red before, it certainly was now- and judging from the slight mirth dancing in Baron’s eyes, the warmth of her face was easy to spot.

 =========================================================

“I didn’t even know we had a 24-hour internet café near the campus.” Hiromi commented in confusion, “must have been nice since you didn’t come back till after midnight.”

“Hey, I was giving you and Tsuge some space so I could work on my paper.”

Hiromi grinned, “uh huh, then why were you frantically typing this morning in an attempt to finish it? Maybe you got distracted on your little night excursion.”

“Yes, by tea and cake.” Haru answered dryly, trying to keep calm and prevent a tell-tale blush to creep up her face. “Trust me Hiromi, you’ll love the place.”

“Alright Haru, I- hey is this the place?”

The two girls stopped in front of the familiar white and green painted café, same black sunshade up though this time there were a few tables set up outside and a few more customers than the previous night. However, this time, a waitress with white-blonde hair and a pink ribbon around her neck was serving customers outside while inside a tall and thin black-haired man clad in the similar formal attire Baron wore yesterday tend to the waiting patrons. Yet she couldn’t hide the small frown at the lack of Baron’s presence, wondering if perhaps he only covered the evening shift.

It was then did she finally hear Hiromi’s laughter, when the chestnut-haired brunette pointed to a sign on the door. “Haru, you did read the sign before you went in this place last night, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

She merely silently pointed to the hours of operation, which clearly stated that the café was only open from 09:00 AM – 10:00 PM, with it opening later in the morning on Sundays. Haru felt her jaw drop slightly as her face turned cherry red while Hiromi merely laughed louder.

Of course, she did get a slight just desserts when the two friends were seated inside and Haru noticed Baron nearly fly out of the kitchen, hastily tying his black apron before catching her gaze. The black-haired waiter was whispering frantically to him while Baron looked to be offering some polite apology. Though when he caught Haru’s eye he couldn’t help the knowing smile on his face while Haru gave a rather sheepish look as he approached the table to take their order.

“Welcome back, Miss Haru. I hope your paper was a success.”

“Yeah, it really was…. Especially after the extra 2 ½ hours I worked on it last night.” She said with an embarrassed groan. “I am so sorry for butting into your café last night. If I knew you were closed I would have left and-“

“Think nothing of it, you needed somewhere to work and I was happy to help.” Baron replied with a kind, though slightly tired smile from the previous evenings unintentional long shift. “Perhaps… I could suggest another cup of our house blend in the name of bygones?”

Haru gave a shy smile, “yes please.”

“Make it two,” Hiromi added. “And whatever pastry you would recommend.”

“Certainly. I shall return momentarily, ladies.”

As Baron returned to the counter, Hiromi waited perhaps 2.1 seconds before whirling upon Haru with a large grin reminiscent of a satisfied shark. “Do you think he’ll write his number on the napkin for you to take home?”

While Haru didn’t make a point of causing scenes in public places, she couldn’t help flicking a sugar cubes at her friend’s laughing face. Though judging from the laughter dancing in Baron’s vibrant emerald eyes and the tint of pink dusting his cheeks, she wouldn’t be complaining if that was the case.

[strawberri-blonde]

Daisy - Draco Malfoy

Summary: You have a secret admirer who gifts you your favorite flower, after three times he reveals himself but it doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings: None

Laughter filled your body as you listened to Ron go on and on about how Hermione will never feel the same as he did. “What are you all talking about?” The beautiful Gryffindor nudged your shoulder making you giggle as the boys instantly shutting their mouths to scared to get caught. Rolling your eyes at Harry’s widen eyes and Ron’s shuttering you replied.

“We were talking about how Ron absolutely sucks at potions and he is too intimate to ask you for help.” Ron gave you a look but Hermione tilted her head. “You know how boys get. Their egos are fragile.”

“Hey.” The red head threw a crumb at you while Harry laughed along with Hermione.

“I’ll help you Ron.” Seeing the blush appeared on his pale face you picked up your cup to shield the smirk that was to evident if you didn’t try to hide it.

“Pssh, if you think Granger can help you, you’re crazy Weasley.” Hearing that familiar voice that caused chills to run down your spine. You quickly brushed off the feeling as Ron spoke.

“Ah, shut it Malfoy.” You set your cup down then reached for your fork and rested it in your hands.

“Please, Draco can we have one day without you terrorizing us?” The blonde looked at you and his  stature stiffened. Luckily, no one noticed it and he was able to concentrate on the real reason he was here.

“Honestly, Y/n.” He leaned down placing his arms on the either side you, making your heart race but you kept a straight face. “I don’t know why you hangout with these mugbloods.” And just like that you rolled your eyes and turned to him making it so your lips were only inches apart.

“Because they’re my friends Draco. You should try to get some other than your minions.” Sucking in a breath as his eyes trailed down your face towards your lips. “That’s not a friendship.”

“Hmm.” The two of you stayed in that position until the boys spoke up.

“Back off Malfoy.”

“Yeah just leave her be.”

Clearing your throat, Draco leaned back and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robe. “When you’re ready to be around your on kind you know where to find me.” You rolled your eyes again then turned back, not facing the boy then dropped your fork to pick up your cup to take a sip from it.

“Not in a million years, Draco.” The golden trio plus others that couldn’t help but listen in snickered at the platinum blonde. The pure blood only rolled his eyes and turned away but not before sparing you one more glance.

Harry and Ron carefully watched the Slytherin walked off to sit with the members of his house. “Good, he’s annoying.” The Weasley snipped before taking a bite of his food.

Letting out a sigh, you put down your cup and went to grab your fork but when you did something else was in its place. A white daisy. “What in the-”

“Y/n, did you do that?” Picking up the delicate flower you turned to Hermione and shook your head in confusion.

“No, I...” you paused to inspect the beauty, quite literally in shock. “I didn’t do it.”

Harry squinted his eyes at the flower. “Maybe you did it on accident.”

Ron nodded in agreement. “Or someone could’ve cursed your fork?” This caused all of you to turn to Ron in disbelief. “What?”

“I don’t think someone would curse my fork to turn into something like a flower.” Hermione grabbed onto your arm and let a smile cover her beautiful features.

“Maybe someone did it because they have a crush?”

Your eyebrows rose and eyes widen at this. “I don’t think so Hermione.” Feeling her hands slip off your arms you brought the flower closer towards your face and smile at it. “But I have to say I do enjoy the sweet surprise.”

-

The crowds roaring echoed in your ear lighting up the fire inside as you yelled with them. Hermione and you were jumping up and down from the Gryffindor team scoring a point tying with Slytherin. “Merlin, we need to win this.” Hermione nodded in agreement clenching her hat onto her curly long locks. “Go, boys!” Surprisingly enough, it seemed as though Draco somehow heard you through all the ruckus and y’all locked eyes for a brief moment. He was the first to look away and knock a Gryffindor off his broom. Smirking towards yourself you hated that you found it hot.

“What was that?” Hermione’s question startled you a bit causing you to grab at your chest in shock.

You pushed back some of your hair as you kept your eyes onto the match, not daring to look the girl in the eye. Because you knew that if she did, the girl would know your secret. “What are you talking about?” Gryffindor blocked a goal causing you to scream but Hermione crossed her arms over her chest giving you her signature look.

“Oh don’t give me that?” You sighed making a cloud surround your face because it was so cold. “You like him. You like Malfoy-” insanely you turned around and covered her mouth with your hand.

“Don’t.” Your voice came out very squinky making you wince. “Please Hermione, not right now.” The brunette squeezed your biceps in comfort and when you let go of her mouth a smile had taken over.

“Okay, but later-Y/N!” Hermione pulled you toward her as a golden snitch came flying your way. You lifted your arms up to cover your face and flinched expecting to feel pain but it never came. Instead you felt the slightest touch. Slowly you moved your hands away from your face and looked down to see a daisy. Hermione bent down and picked it up to hand it to you. “Someone just saved your live with a daisy.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you reached out to grasp the flower. Looking at the beauty, it looked the same as the one that appeared in the dinning hall. “I guess I’m lucky.”

After that, Slytherin had won the match, with Draco scoring the winning point for his team. Of course you were upset that your house had lost but seeing Draco’s smile made it a little better.

Walking down the main hall, you took off your hat and ran your fingers through your hair still holding onto the white daisy. “Y/n.” Surprised to hear the voice you turned around quickly to look over at the platinum blonde.

“Draco? What are you doing?” His hair was pressed to his forehead from the sweat and his cheeks were flushed from all the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Surprisingly, he smelt amazing despite having sweat all over.

“I-I was wondering if you were okay.” A sweet smile danced its way onto your face as Malfoy neared.

You took a step forward making it so you were only a few distances away. “Well,” you said as you twirled the daisy in between your thumb and pointer finger. “I didn’t get knocked out by a snitch sooo I think I’m doing okay.” Draco laughed at this and stepped a little closer.

“Well that’s a good thing.”

You grinned at him before replying. “Was the great Draco Malfoy worried about little old me?” The boy dragged his tongue across the inside of his cheek to the bottom of his lower jawed under his bottom lip. His eyes never left yours making you giggle. You reached forward with the hand that held the daisy, you grabbed the collar of his green rob and pulled him until his body was touching yours. “It’s a good look on you Malfoy.” And just like that all the confidence the Slytherin had was gone. You seeing how flushed the boy was, laughed in response and pulled away from him. “Have a nice night Malfoy.”

Cursing at himself for being so weak, Draco smiled at you one last time before you turned around to turn in for the night. “You too.”

-

Frustrations ran high as you stared at the piece of paper going over every ingredient, every little detail trying to get this potion right but for some reason it just wasn’t working. “Fuck me.” You groaned tugging on your roots.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Merlin.” You gasped turning around in shock. The moon shined through the window causing some light into the library but the fire did most of the work. You really didn’t expect for anyone to be in the library this late but here you were. “Draco? What are you doing here?” His slider body made his way over to where you were sitting and pressed his hands against the table.

“I was terrorizing 2nd year mugbloods and I lost them. Then I saw the light in the library and got curious.” You rolled your eyes then rested your chin into your hand.

“You know curiosity killed the cat right?” Now it was Dracos time to roll his eyes as he pulled out the wooden chair to sit across from you.

“Now it’s your turn.” You both had a mini stare off as you finally let out a sigh in defeat. You reluctantly turned the book around and showed it to the Slytherin.

”I cant figure out this spell and Snape has been giving me hell.” Draco’s eyes watched as you palmed your face in distress and his heart became heavy. “I’ve read everything at least seven times and I keep messing it up. And if I don’t get it right in class Snape will quite literally have my head.”

Chuckles filled the room as Draco grabbed onto the page. “We can’t have that can we?” Reading over the potion Dragon Dung Fertilizer. You watched carefully as his eyes gazed over the ingredients and looked at the materials. “Okay put it together like you have been because I think I know what you’ve been doing wrong.” You gave him a look but he just laughed. “I did the same thing too.”

“Whatever.” You laughed out then started to put all the ingredients together then at the last step toasted dragonfly thoraxes you grabbed your wand and lightly burned them. Before you could even put them in the bowl, Draco clicked his tongue against his teeth. “What?”

“I know it says toasted but you basically have to fry them.” You gave Draco a look but he rested his hand onto his chin. “Just trust me.” Giving the boy one last look you enknighted the spell that caused fire to spew from your wand and you burned the thoraxes to a crisp. Gently you set the ingredients all together and mixed them perfectly. Once everything seemed set you picked up the dead plant that came from Harry’s and Ron’s room and applied the fertilizer to the soil. At first nothing happened but then the golden potho came alive and grew a foot long in leaves.

“Draco!” You squealed out, dashing from your seat to grab him into a hug. Draco was stund but quickly adapted placing his arms over yours. “Thank you.” You mumbled a thanks into his chest giving the boy butterflies.

“Yeah no problem.” You pulled away first to look over at the plant and that’s when Dacro noticed the daisies in your book of spells. You were trying to see who was sending them. “I have to go it’s late.”

“You’re right.” You nodded while tidying up. “I’ll see you tomorrow Draco. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.” You listened to his footsteps until they disappeared then as you lifted up the pothos plant that’s when you saw it. A daisy.

-

“Oh it’s so Draco.” You let out a scoff as you pulled up your skirt then turned to your dorm mate. “I don’t know why you deny it so.”

“I’m denying it, Mione.” You looked back towards your mirror to brush your hair. “I’m denying it because I don’t want to get my hopes up.” Granger jumped up from her bed and walked behind you to comb your hair for you.

“So you like him.” Sharing eye contact through the reflection you nodded shamefully.

“Since second year. I know he’s mean to you and the others and I shouldn’t; but I see through all that. He’s going through pain and instead of standing up to his dad he takes it out of others.” Hermione gave you a soft smile, finishing up your hair.

“And that’s why we love you Y/n. It’s because you care for others who really don’t deserve it.” Shrugging your shoulders you turned to face the beauty. “But if you like him, Ron and Harry will get over it.” Her comment made you scoff. “It might take a while but they will.”

You stayed quiet but decided to shake the comment off. “I have to get to class.” Not giving Hermione a chance to start the conversation back up you threw on your robe and grabbed your wand, and books for class plus paper and a quill. “We’ll talk later. Promise.” You raced out the door not really looking at to where you were going. Once you turned a corner your body seemed to crash into something. “Bloody hell.”

“I’m sorry.” Looking up you were surprised to see the infamous Draco Malfoy.

“What-what are you doing on the girls dormitory floor?” You both bent down to pick up your stuff but once Draco handed you your book he grabbed your quill. He was the first to stand back up then lended a hand to help you up. Without hesitation you took it, and he helped you onto your feet. “Thanks, it’s seem quite the morning.” Draco let out a laugh and watched as your eyes landed onto your quill. Nervously, the platinum blonde grabbed his wand and pointed at the pen and whispered a spell.

Tears formed in your eyes as you saw the pink daisy. “Are you trying to joke with me Draco because it’s not funny.” Instantly the boy gapped and began to stutter making you push at his chest. “You saw the daisies or either heard about it from someone and thought that you could turn my pen into one pretending to be someone who might actually like me?” You pushed him again but Draco tried to grab your wrist but it didn’t work. “That’s low even for you Malfoy.” Quickly, you turned on your heel to flee from the boy but he grabbed your wrist.

“It was first year and you were talking with Hermione about how daisies were your favorite because that’s what your father gave your mother.” Hearing his words caused your heart to swell in your chest, and your eyes widen as you looked into his. “So I wanted you to know how I felt by giving you white daisies like your father.” He lifted the pink daisy and sighed. “I did it in secret because you make me nervous and I knew I would mess up.” You continued to stay quiet as you watched Draco put the flower behind his back and not even a second later he revealed a new set of a dozen white daisies. You smiled sweetly as you grasped them into your hands. “I like you Y/n Y/l/n.” A blush formed on both of your cheeks. “And I was wondering if you would company me on a date?”

You inched closer to the boy and stood on your tippy toes to press a kiss on his cheek. “I’m free tonight at 7.” Collecting yourself you moved past the boy to start walking down the hall. “And Malfoy don’t be late.”

[jiyuus]

Conniving Little Brat

Never noticed how my “theme” changed, but idc it’s simple~ Also- I’ve never TRULY expressed my love for Fire Force and Shinmon Benimura. But...

I FUCKING LOVE THEM!!

Anyway, enjoy this~

Also, you are 20 in this cause Beni is 22

[Shinmon Benimura]

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

You had join the 8th after Vulcan had joined and after they went into the Nether, having nothing else to do in your family’s business and being bored of everyday life- you decided to become a fire solider. Only you never expected to have found a family among the chaotic bunch, nor the wild and dangerous adventures they seem to face each week.

This week however, was a lot quieter. 

Arthur and Shinra had gone to Asakusa for more training with Company 7. Obi would have sent you, but seeing as you were transferred from Company 4 and had a bit more experience- he didn’t see it was necessary.

It was a simple Friday, and you didn’t have any chores to do that day. So instead you were with Vulcan in the garage area, either helping him with a new gadget or somewhat annoying him.

“Vulcan, do you think theres a way to have leave my fire power on the floor like a timer?” Vulcan stopped his banging and looked at you before taking his animal skull off.

“I don’t know-”

“I don’t see why not,” Viktor said while coming out of his makeshift office.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”

“It feels like I haven’t, Y/N.” Viktor said while showing you his empty coffee mug that you had given him when you first joined. Leaving Vulcan to his now racing thoughts about a new invention, you followed Viktor to the kitchen so he could refuel.

“What did you mean back there?” Viktor looked at you as he took a sip of coffee, letting it process before responding.

“It depends on how you want to accomplish that,” another sip. “You have second and third abilities, so if you wanted you could leave a wall of fire and try to control it from a few feet away.” Another sip,” but if you want it to be timed, that could be impossible if you aren’t nearby to control whatever flame sparks.” He took another sip fo his coffee, and you were just about ready to throw your own gift away. 

Running your hand through your hair, you sigh.

“I think I have an idea, but that would also require some training for me as well.” And with that you set off back to Vulcan with your idea in tow.

A few hours later, Obi called you into his office with Hinawa by your side.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I want you to go with Hinawa to go get Shinra and Arthur.” You sighed, and I was just getting used to the silence.

“Okay, sir.” And with that you were off with Hinawa to Asakusa.

In Asakusa as Shinra and Arthur were getting their asses beat by Benimura, Konro was sitting over on porch with the twins eating some watermelon they had gotten from a grateful merchant.

“I think it’s time for a little break,” Konro said, is hand folded over in this sleeves as he got up and went towards where Shinra was now laying. He nodded as she sat up, watching Arthur face plant in the sand after being thrown into a near by fence.

“You’re getting better, faster.” Benimura said while walking over to where Shinra was.

“Thanks!” Shinra instantly perked up before jumping out of the way once he felt a trail of fire coming towards him, only going out when it was a few inches away from where he was previously sitting. When Shinra followed the burnt path, he found his crewmate Y/N standing in a material arts pose. Her right arm pointing towards the path and her left pointed up, her thumb, index, and middle together while the other two were against her palm.

“Y/N!” Shinra ran over to you, even if you’ve lived together for the past few months- he still couldn’t help the excitement he got to see his friends... well not Arthur.

“Hi, Shinra.” You moved from you position into your normal standing position. Putting you hand on your hips you smiled up at the 17 year old before beckoning him down a bit so you could ruffle his hair.

“Oh, hi Konro!” You waved as soon as you notice the 6′2 man standing by his captain. “And you must be Shinmon Benimura.” You smiled after making your way over to him. Benimura continued to stare at the girl with a blank expression, but this didn’t fault her from starting a conversation with Konro. A million questions filled his head as he wondered, who the hell were you?

“Who are you?” He asked interrupting your conversation and getting in your face. You lean back a bit before you have to step back entirely.

“I’m Y/N,” You bring your feet together and salute, but you quickly stuck your tongue out. “I transferred to the 8th a few months ago from the 4th.” You said, your face falling into a smile as you relaxed bring your arm down and swinging it to your other hand to clasp your wrist.

“What generation are you?”

“Second and third,” you smiled as you rocked back and forth. Benimura raised a brow at you. There weren’t many like the both of you, sure they were becoming more common- these hybrids- but in your generation it wasn’t as common.

“Let’s spar.” You stopped, looking up at him.

“Why?”

“Do it, Y/N!” Shinra says, you could tell he was going to continue but you quickly slapped him, causing him to fall down again.

“I’m not gonna fight-”

“Why are you scared?” You stop, turning your head back around to face Benimura. You raise a brow, scoffing before taking off the top of your orange jumpsuit and tying it around your waist.

“Lieutenant Hinawa, take Shinra and Arthur over to the porch.” You say pushing your hair out of your face, and getting into a fighting stance.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/N fight.”

“You’ve seen her fight?” Konro asks, sitting down next to Shinra after placing Arthur down on the porch. Shinra nodded, rubbing his head.

“Back when Arthur and I were in the academy, she was one of our trainers. She would always fight us and help us when we would fight. She was well respected.”

“How is she with the Haijima?” Konro asked, watching the two start to circle each other.

“Besides her being a fire solider, she’s actually similar to you guys.” Konro raised a brow at the boy but before he could ask what he meant, he saw a whip of fire shoot across the yard. Benimura flying back to avoid it. After dodging, he quickly moved closer to her, but she moved away from him as he tried to snuff out your whips.

He stands still, his legs apart and his hand to his chest with his two finger together. You studied him, wondering what he was doing as you let your whips spread over to his side.

“Is that all you got?” He asked, still having attacked himself. You smirk, letting your whips fall.

“I haven’t even started,” his face remained the same, but his mind was wondering what you meant. But before he could ask, a wall of flames surrounded him, obscuring his vision of you. He quickly snuffed the fire, but didn’t see you in front of him- nor did he sense you anywhere on the ground. He quickly looked up to see you somehow floating in the air.

Smiling and waving, you start to fall back to earth with flames surrounding you. Without thinking Benimura starts running to where you were falling. Seeing him there you quickly snuff your flames and fall on top of him.

Once the dust settled, the others could see Benimura on the ground and you on top of him.

“Uh... Get off you damn brat.”

“How am I the brat?! You’re the one who challenged me to a fight?!” The two started to argue as they got up without dusting off. Konro only smiled and got up.

“What brings you here anyway, Y/N?” You stop arguing and turn to Konro with a smile.

“Lieutenant Hinawa and I were here to pick Shinra and Arthur up at the command of our Captain-” You stop as you realize how much dust is on you. “Great, now I’ll have to shower when I get back to the company.” You huff as you turn away from him.

“It’s just some dust you brat, it’s nothing serious.”

“That’s not the point you man child, I already showered today- I don’t want to take another.” They two start to argue again, but Konro and Hinawa quickly stopped them. Konro dragging Benimura away to get cleaned up before dinner, and Hinawa to stop his underlings from beating another captain.

Before Konro could fully walk into the guard house, he turned back to the four. “If you would like, you’re welcome to stay for dinner.” Hinawa accepted before letting the girl go and sitting down on the porch.

“Uh, I can’t believe you accepted his invitation.” You huffed as you sat down on the porch, and at the same time- on the other side. Benimura was complaining to Konro.

“I can’t believe you invited them to dinner- especially that brat.” Konro smiled, knowing more about Benimura’s own feelings better than he did, even if he didn’t know them yet. 

[thechangeling]

Out of our heads Out of our minds

So evil writer brain decided to cook up and incredibly toxic kitty fic because apparently I'm a terrible person lol. Blame @ilikebooks8 for letting this see the light of day.

The title is based on the song Out of this world by Bush.

Cw: slightly nsfw, violence, cheating, incredibly toxic behavior, beloved characters making bad choices, and implied sex.

Kit returns.

He returns to Ty with the same dazzling smile and charming witt, only now he seems to have grown even more impossibly beautiful as time has passed.

Now he's all hard lines and defined muscles and piercing sinful blue eyes that make Ty so angry he could scream.

Kit laughs and Ty wants to tear his insides out. Wants to rip Kit's heart right out if his chest just like he did to Ty. The painful gnawing rage of a betrayal that still stings after all this time. And yet still, Ty heard Kit was in danger and he came running like a man obsessed.

Ty knows deep down now matter how angry he is, he could never let anything happen to Kit. Nothing permanent anyways. Sometimes when the ache becomes to difficult to bare, Ty imagines punching that stupid smirk right off of his face. Or choking him hard enough to leave bruises. Of course Ty would never actually do such a thing. The sight of Kit in pain, any sort of pain is just too unbearable.

And that's the worst part. No matter how angry Ty gets he knows it can't last. And no matter how painful it is to be near Kit again, he still feels this unexplainable pull. This whispering in his ear to get closer and closer. To reach out and touch.

But it's stupid, and it's wrong anyways because Ty already has someone. Anush who was by his side the whole time at the scholomance and has never betrayed him. Anush who is sweet and thoughtful and gorgeous. Ty should be happy. After all, wasn't this what he always wanted? Someone to be there for him?

So he tried to distract himself from Kit by throwing himself into spending time with Anush and working the case. That's all Kit was now, just the latest problem to solve. A supernatural disaster. They would save him and stop the oncoming war and everything would be fine.

And then Kit would be gone. Blind panic teared at Ty's insides at the thought. There were these moments with Kit where they would make eye contact, or they would bump into each other in the kitchen and their fingers would brush and Ty would just desperately want to wrap Kit in his arms again.

He wanted to ask if Kit had really meant what he said that day on the beach. Sometimes when Kit stared at him with that soft sad smile on his face Ty wondered if they were going through similar things. Sometimes Ty wanted to tell him that he wished he had never met Kit either.

Kit Herondale was dangerous and unpredictable and loving him was like holding a live wire. But funnily enough the same could probably be said about Ty. Especially lately.

He felt like he was constantly in pain. Like his body ached with invisible wounds that made it impossible to breathe. The world was brutal and unforgiving, berating him with constant noise and blinding lights jabbing hot pokers into his brain. And the people with their sickly sweet smiles as they demanded he bare his soul.

But what if there was nothing left anymore? What if his soul had died with Livvy? Ty tried to cling onto the things that made him feel better. He hid away in his favorite spot, listening to his favorite music and pouring over Sherlock. Repeating the words to himself over and over again like they could pull him out of this tailspin. Ty distracted himself with Anush's sweet kisses and wandering hands as he tried to turn his brain off for once in his life.

But his soul was screaming out for another person to be the one touching him. He wanted Kit and that was infuriating. It made no logical sense. Not only was Kit responsible for breaking his heart but he also was notorious for playing fast and loose with his own life. Ty couldn't spend all his time constantly feeling like his heart was living outside of his body. Constantly in danger of being ripped open by some dark and evil thing.

Ty had everything he thought he wanted. But it still wasnt enough.

During another sleepless night, Ty found himself wandering the institutes halls. At this point he was simply just overtired. Too many nights spent worrying or studying or reading instead of sleeping. Now his body doesn't remember how to rest. Ty was far too exhausted to operate on logic or reason so he found himself standing outside of Kit's door, wondering absentmindedly how he got there.

Ty placed his hand against the door, fighting the urge to open it and walk through. He can remember the first time he waited outside of Kit's door, just like it was yesterday. He had no idea at the time why he was so drawn to the mysterious boy who had shown up at the institute after Ty had threatened him with a knife. The boy who turned out to be a lost Herondale. And honestly after all of this time Ty still couldn't explain it.

This is a bad idea, He thought to himself as he slowly turned the doorknob. This is a terrible idea. Ty, driven by pure need like fire under his skin, pushed the door open.

Kit was awake as Ty suspected he would be, sitting by the window and staring out into the night sky. Under the moonlight he was glowing. He turned around to stare at Ty, first with a look of shock, and then that same hallow desperation Ty had been seeing on Kit's face lately.

He also looked angry.

"What the hell are you doing in here Ty?" He sounded exhausted. Ty almost felt guilty in a sense. He stared at Kit for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I don't know," he whispered, staring at the ground. "I suppose I was compelled." Ty let his gaze slowly rise up Kit's body, drinking it in.

Kit scoffed harshly. "Compelled? By what exactly, Tiberius?"

Ty looked up at Kit's face in surprise. He rarely called Ty by his full name. Ty really didn't like how it felt. Cold and distant. Ty sighed, pushing his fingertips against his collarbone and tracing it slightly.

"I don't know. I guess I just needed to know. I need to know why you left me." Ty tried not to let himself sound desperate or weak, but he had become worn down by this point. He couldn't keep up his defenses much longer.

"Why didn't you want me?" He muttered. "Why wasn't I good enough?"

And there it was. The painful truth that Ty had been avoiding. The fact that Kit had tossed him aside just like so many had before. Like Paige. Like his father. He had always tried so hard to make people happy. To live up to their expectations. But in the end it didn't matter how hard he tried, sometimes there was just no pleasing certain people.

Sometimes it seemed like there was no point in being good and following the rules if nothing ever changed. If Ty always ended up in the same place. If people always saw him as a problem or an inconvenience or worse, then he could just live up to their expectations. Be selfish and cold and cruel because no amount of begging and smiling was going to earn him respect.

Kit glared at him in shock. "Who the hell do you think you are? Coming in here to play mind games with me?" Before Ty could register what was happening, Kit was storming towards him and shoving him up against the wall with a loud thunk.

The feeling of Kit touching him again after all this time was dizzying. Kit was shorter then him so he needed to crane his neck a little to look up at Ty, which meant that his throat was completely exposed for Ty to stare at.

"I told you how I felt and you did nothing! You ignored me!" Kit cried. "I wanted you more then I've ever wanted anything Ty! I still do!" Tears were streaming down his face. Ty stared at Kit, completely frozen. His wrists were pinned to the wall by Kit's hands and their faces were inches apart.

Ty struggled to collect himself. "I didn't know what was going on," he gasped out shakily. "I was a mess Kit. I just had to get her back. But-." He cut himself off. It was all for nothing. Ty had lost Livvy in the end and he had lost Kit as well.

Ty shook his head. "Does this mean that you love me?" His voice sounded so far away. Like the words were being pulled from some unexpected place within him. Kit let out a soft gasp and squeezed his eyes shut before fixing his expression into a blank slate. He leaned forward slightly so that their lips were just barely touching, then gently trailed his mouth across Ty's cheek to his ear.

Ty felt him smirk slightly before Kit whispered in his ear. "Go to sleep Ty. Go back to your boyfriend."

And before Ty had time to think, he was lashing out. He shoved Kit backwards as hard as he could with a snarl. Kit went flying across the room and slammed into the opposite wall. If Kit had been human it probably would have knocked him out. Ty stared in horror at what he had done as Kit clutched his ribs and groaned.

"You seriously have some anger management issues!" Kit snapped at him, glaring pointedly. Ty knew that. When he was younger he used to have fits of uncontrollable rage all the time. Words didnt come easily to him so he would hit, scratch, bite or throw whatever was closest to make people realize he was in pain. When he wanted to say "don't touch me" or "you hurt my feelings" but he just could make the words form properly, he would get angry. And then he would lash out.

Ty thought he had been getting better at managing his emotions and communicating. But there was something about Kit Herondale that just evaporated every last bit of logic and reason he had until all that was left was the urge to scream.

Ty gaped in shock, searching for the right thing to say. "By the angel Kit, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that I swear!" He pleaded. His fingers were beginning to shake and flutter at his sides. He tapped desperately against his thigh, scratching at the material of his sweatpants to try and calm himself down.

Kit just shook his head and laughed humourlessly. "Honestly Ty, we should just tell the Seelie Queen not to worry. And Janus, and all the other people who want the first heir dead. You'll destroy me just fine on your own." He gaze was piercing and ruthless.

Ty's breathing was frantic and erratic as he shook in agony. He could feel he was on the urge of a meltdown.

Kit pulled himself to his feet. He stared at Ty longingly and then smiled slightly. A genuine smile. "But honestly what a way to go. Does that answer your question sweetheart?"

Ty gasped soundlessly, his hands shaking at his sides. He fought to get a hold of himself. Kit studied Ty for a moment, then slowly began to approach him.

"Why are you here Ty? Why did you come here exactly?" Kit was speaking in a soft lulling voice as if he was trying to hypnotize Ty.

"I'm here because I miss you," Ty admitted. "It's confusing. Because I'm still mad at you. But I can't stop thinking about you." Ty felt as though he was close to crying, which was concerning because he rarely ever cried.

Only for Kit.

Kit scowled at him slightly. "You're with someone else, remember?"

Guilt instantly pierced through Ty's chest. "Yeah I know, I'm a terrible person," he said bitterly. He didn't want to admit to himself that he had been trying this whole time to distract himself from Kit. That he was using Anush. But that was technically true. Ty saw the opportunity to lose himself in a pretty boy with an honest smile who loved him wholeheartedly.

Ty thought he could forget but then here he was. All roads led to Kit Herondale.

Kit sighed and reached for Ty, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. "You arent terrible. You're spiraling. And you come to me like I can save you from yourself? Please," Kit chuckled. "I can barely save myself."

"I don't need you to save me."

Kit stared at him with an expression that was hard to place. Then he smiled, but it wasnt a kind smile. It was a satisfied, knowing smirk. Kit traced his thumb under Ty's chin then back up to his lips, forcing them to part slightly.

"You think I don't know why you're here love?" He cooed in a voice that was both soothing and alluring. You think I don't know what you're after?" Kit sighed, sounding a little worn down. "If I was a better person, a stronger person. I would tell you to leave." He dipped his hands down underneath Ty's shirt.

Ty shivered at the cold feeling against his skin. He dropped his forhead down to lean against Kit's, revealing in the contact. "Lucky for you," Kit whispered against his lips, "I'm not."

Ty felt the last string of his self control snap as he kissed Kit roughly, grabbing onto his torso and pulling him closer. Kit responded to the kiss eagerly, parting his lips for Ty and laughing deliriously as their lips met again and again.

Kit was tearing off Ty's shirt as he walked him backwards, closer to the bed. As soon as he had slid it off if Ty's body, Kit tossed the shirt aside and went back to kissing him. Ty felt his knees hit the bed frame and he fell backwards onto the soft welcoming mattress, pulling Kit down with him.

Kit kissed a line down Ty's neck to his pulse point and Ty groaned, burying his fingers in Kit's curls. He was lost in a sea of pure desperation.

"Tell me to stop," Kit whispered between kisses. Ty froze for a moment. Then he understood.

Kit was giving him an out.

Ty responded by pulling Kit even closer and letting his head fall back against the pillows.

He closed his eyes and let Kit Herondale ruin him.

The morning after was the hardest. Ty pulled himself from Kit's arms and forced himself not to look back.

And that was when he finally cried.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

WHAT THE HELL FAE! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS OMG 😭

[mattzerella-sticks]

Before the Night Ends

Dean/Castiel, 2.1k words, post-Wedding/pre-Honeymoon

ao3

It's been a wedding for the ages. Dean and Castiel finally tied the knot, with guests flying in from all across America, Heaven, Hell - even the Empty. But everything must come to an end, and after a wonderful Roadhouse reception Dean and Cas drove off in Baby and off towards their honeymoon.

Except, it's a long drive from Kansas plains to California beaches. They stop close to midnight at a motel along the highway, to sleep, celebrate their wedding night and that it's Valentine's Day, too.

           There’s a motel off Highway 70 called Angel’s Paradise, first established in the early 1900s, and last renovated in 1982. The owners back then, who remain so today, envisioned heaven as some tropical destination. That meant each room, alike in their simplicity and functionality, would be redone along these guidelines. Walls plastered with paper-print palm fronds and blooming, pink flowers. Bathrooms tiled a light blue – like waters from the clearest ocean – and little soaps shaped like shells to match the shell-patterned shower curtain. They’d have an entertainment unit housing a small television set would double as a dust collector, various ocean-themed knick-knacks cluttered atop it, ranging from homemade to store bought. A wicker table situated between two wicker chairs, a wicker dresser placed next to the entertainment unit and a wicker bed-or-beds layered by their own palm fronds, matching the walls. Finally, tying the décor together was a little (wicker) side table near the door with a plastic conch set to catch keys or loose change or cigarette ash. Given these changes, any customer might imagine they were in Florida rather then Colorado, or it was June instead of February. Especially in the crown jewel of Angel’s Paradise, the Honeymoon Suite.

           Except the Suite’s current boarders were very aware of where and when they are. Probably because they have yet to see their room for the night.

           Dean tucks his hands into his elbows, shivering outside the Suite while Cas fiddles with its doorknob. “Come on,” he whines, “what’s the hold-up?”

           Cas pauses, turning to Dean. “Sorry,” he says, “the lady at the counter – she said they were having issues since the last occupants. Something about them breaking the lock?”

           “Fuckin’ a…” Dean hisses, bouncing now. An icy wind cuts across the parking lot, Dean defenseless to it because he forwent a heavier jacket and how thin the material of his suit was. Castiel looks marginally warmer than Dean, wrapped in his trademark trench coat. Still, Dean notices how his hands tremble while holding the key. Cas’s hand flicks to the left, Dean’s gaze catching the silver band wrapped around his ring finger. One day, he may get used to it. Dean hopes he never does and can experience the same flutter of warmth rippling through his heart from seeing it. He leans into Cas, Dean dropping his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “Who do I have to pray to for this door to open?”

           “No one,” Cas declares, lock clicking in time with his words, “because it’s open!”

           Dean curses under breath, smiling. “Great,” he says, “let’s get in there, then – hey… hey!”

           Swept off his feet, Dean falls into the loving grip of his husband. Cas places one arm at his back, supporting most of the weight, while the other arm traps Dean’s knees, keeping his legs bent and Dean unable to wriggle himself free. Cas smiles down at him, laughing.

           “You think this is so funny,” Dean scowls, holding onto Cas’s tie like it were a lifeline. “You little shit –“

           “Mr. Shit, Dean,” Cas interrupts, kicking the door open and striding past the threshold, “I did take your last name, after all.”

           “My mistake…” He huffs, burying his head in Cas’s chest while he uses the fingers not squeezing Cas’s tie to comb the hairs at his husband’s neck. “Dean and Castiel Shit… I can see the monogramed towels already.” Dean closes his eyes, purring like a kitten while he absorbs the heat that radiates from Cas. It’s inhuman how much of a furnace he was, especially after giving up his grace to live as a human, to be human with Dean. Like always, Dean’s smile widens at the thought. He tries hiding his rapidly flushing face, but Cas tears Dean off of him. He ungraciously dumps Dean onto the bed, blue eyes betraying his cool demeanor as they glow with mirth from Dean’s startled squawking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

           “Going to get the bags,” he says, moving towards the door, “Why don’t you get comfortable, I’ll only be a moment.”

           Dean shakes his head, situating himself better on the bed. He sits at the foot of it, toeing off his snakeskin boots and then peeling off the dark grey dress socks he wore with them. While pulling at his tie, Cas returns with their bags. He doesn’t close the door after, and a blustery chill fills the space. Goosepimples erupt in scattered bunches up and down Dean’s arms. “Close the door!” he yells, dumping the tie onto the slowly growing pile of discarded clothing. His suit jacket joins his tie and socks and boots as Cas deposits their bags by the television. He then hits the door with his elbow, shutting out the wind. Cas gestures at the closed door with a flourish and wry grin. Dean scoffs, “Ugh, who’s bright idea was it to do this in winter?”

           “The same man who, on his birthday, said,” Cas drifts closer, helping Dean unbutton his shirt, “and I quote, ‘If you think you can propose to me and not expect us to get married as soon as possible, then you don’t know what you’re signing up for… buddy’.” Cas eases the shirt off Dean’s shoulders, kissing the exposed skin right above his t-shirt. “For the record,” Cas adds, whispering into his collarbone, “I expected it. It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t wait any longer.”

           Dean remembers. Their family, together, celebrating Dean’s birthday. His first birthday free from Chuck’s machinations, with a cake Jack spent all day baking and presents that lined the end of the table. He held Cas’s hand as he blew out the candles, mind blank because nothing he could wish for would match the happiness he felt in that moment. He tells Cas this after he asks what he wished for. And Cas, of course, proceeds to kiss him. Cas kisses him while Eileen cut the cake, while Jack helped plate them, and while Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders in warning to reign it in. Dean pulled back, gasping, unsure how he might respond to his then-boyfriend’s passion. Then Cas asked him that all-important, heart-stopping, mind-blowing question, opened a velvet box, and Dean knew exactly what to say.

           “I would’ve waited,” Dean reveals, helping Cas with his clothes as Cas guides Dean’s legs out of his slacks. “Everyone knows how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you… I would’ve waited, even if we died and we had to get married in heaven.” Dean pecks Cas’s lips, divesting him of both jackets and his button-down shirt. “I’m glad we didn’t have to, though.”

           “So am I.”

           They stand together in t-shirts and boxers, barely an inch of space between them. No one speaks, not that they have to, but the usually comfortable silence makes Dean nervous. His focus drifts from Cas and onto the plastic conch behind him. Then, he notices how the rest of the room is decorated. Dean giggles, “Wow… it’s, this place is…”

           Cas nods. Dean needn’t say anything else. “You should’ve seen the inside,” he snickers, “the staff were wearing Hawaiian shirts and shark-tooth necklaces.”

           “Hey,” Dean shoves him, “don’t diss Hawaiian shirts.” He collects his clothes and boots, bringing them over to their duffels. “I’ve got about three packed away in here, and I’m planning on buying at least a few more before our honeymoon ends.”

           “Should they even be called Hawaiian shirts if we’re not in Hawaii?” Cas asks. Dean hears the mattress squeak, and guesses his husband sat on the bed. He digs through the duffel, Cas monologuing in the background. “Are they called Coloradan shirts since we’re in Colorado? If we buy them in California, won’t they be Californian Shirts? Or is it because they’re made in Hawaii, and then shipped elsewhere? Can you imagine it – shirt factories, dotting the beaches? Oh, I’d hope the workers making all these Hawaiian shirts are at least being paid a fair wage, given how popular they seem to be…”

           “There’s no factories on any beaches,” Dean tells him, “and – hate to burst your bubble, angel – but I doubt Hawaiian shirt makers are paid what they deserve, regardless of where their factories are.” Cas hums in that same, sullen note he usually does when the beginning notes of Sarah McLachlan play and Dean can’t switch channels fast enough. He folds his clothes, setting them aside. Then, Dean sneaks his hand into his stack of clean boxers, finding the surprise he hid for his husband. “Hey,” Dean rises, “capitalism sucks, but we can’t let it ruin our trip.” Dean drops onto Cas’s lap, delighting in the tiny ‘oof’ that escapes from his husband. “Here,” he says, “I was saving this for later… but hell, we’re running out of time. I’d rather give it to you before the night ends than a day later.” Dean hands him an envelope, Cas’s name scrawled on the front. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

           “A card?” Cas asks, flipping the envelope back and forth, “Dean… you didn’t have to get me anything.”

           “’Course I did…” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s temple, ruffling his hair. “It’s Valentine’s Day… probably the first Valentine’s Day I actually wanted to celebrate in a long time, because I’ve got someone I love and want to celebrate. And sure, it’s not like we didn’t do just that… in front of all our friends and families… and a few exes… and uninvited guests –“

           “The point, Dean?”

           “Sorry,” Dean lays his head atop Cas’s, watching him peel away the envelope’s glue. “We’ll have tons more holidays and anniversaries to celebrate in the future… I just didn’t want our first Valentine’s Day to be overshadowed by our wedding. You mean so much to me that I’m not gonna just lump the two together like you’re some kid who was unlucky enough to be born on Christmas. You deserve it all.” Cas flips the envelope, shaking its contents free. A pair of red panties floats onto his outstretched hand. “Not just some stinkin’ card.”

           Cas squeezes the panties. “Are you –?”

           “About to show you how friggin’ fantastic married sex is?” Dean wrangles the panties from Cas’s fist, waving it about like a flag. “You bet. Let me slip these on and…“ He starts towards the bathroom, Cas slowly chasing him.

           “You don’t have to,” his husband growls, “you can change here –“

           “Cas, I won’t be long –“

           “I don’t know if I can wait!”

           “You’ll have to!” Dean closes the door on Cas’s face, laughing as he hears his husband bang against the door in protest. He yells for Dean, but Dean ignores him. Dean brings his hand to his face, covering his mouth with both it and the panties he carries. They smell like cherries. He forgot to tell Cas they’re edible. Cas will figure that out later.

           He’ll also give Cas his real card later, as well. The one he wrote using all the words Dean was too afraid to say at the altar. Little details about the way Cas hogs all the blankets when he sleeps, and how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and that Cas’s hugs chase away dark thoughts better than any drink might’ve. There were also bigger things he mentioned, in this card. About Cas and his unwavering faith in Dean, even at times where he didn’t deserve it. About the despair that bloomed whenever Cas left his side, a bouquet of horrid, wilted roses growing rampantly over his heart and piercing it with their thorns during those awful times it seemed their last goodbye truly was. About the love Cas inspired within Dean that changed his life, from the very beginning, from the touch of Cas’s hand on his shoulder. That simple act which broke him free from Chuck’s wheel again and again and again. Dean couldn’t say any of this in a crowded room. He doubts he can with only Cas. He already cried enough for one day. So, they’ll have sex instead. After they’ve burned through the remaining fumes that linger in their tanks, Dean will present the card, curl against Cas’s side with his head tucked underneath his husband’s chin, and listen while Cas reads how much he means to Cas.

           But that won’t be until later. Now, Dean shimmies out of his boxers. He pulls the panties on, flicking the bow twice once it’s settled. “Are you ready?” Dean croons, jiggling the knob, “because it’s time to ride ‘em, cowboy!”

           Cas pries the door loose, almost ripping it off its hinges as pull Dean forward into a searing kiss. Dean smiles into it, letting Cas take lead. Dean’s gift were the panties. Cas’s gift is putting in the work to get them off. Cas throws Dean onto the bed, his mouth attacking Dean’s neck. His hand trails down Dean’s side, tickling and teasing him.

           He couldn’t have written a better ending to his story. Or imagine a better beginning to his next.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland (Fan Fic) - Chapter 9 - The house in the hollow hill

This is Chapter 9 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story.

AO3 Link to the full story here.

****

“Livvy? Livvy, is that you? I should have guessed I would be the first one to join you.”

The girl - the one he had met in the weapons room, the one from the drawing - shivered in his arms. Ash tightened his embrace, shielding her as best as he could from the chill and the wind as they soared through the night sky. He flapped his wings harder and winced. It felt as though a thousand needles were piercing through them, but he couldn’t slow his pace. He needed to get her to safety and tend to her wounds. She didn’t have much time, the demon poison was spreading through the long gash in her leg. Already, she was hallucinating.

“Livvy.” She sighed and smiled. Her eyes were half-open, but they were blank as stones. “I have so much to tell you.”

Ash could now see a familiar landscape stretching ahead of them, up to the white sea cliffs and the hollow hill in which the golden cage he called home stood. It was risky to bring her there. Save for the usual cleaning and kitchen staff sworn to secrecy, there had never been anyone but him, J, and very occasionally his mother in this house since they had moved in three years ago. But he needed the potion to draw out the poison in her system.

“I am… I am not Livvy,” he whispered back.

She blinked but her blue-green eyes remained unfocused, their pupils fully dilated. Her gaze set upon his wings.

“Are you an angel?”

Ash swallowed the lump in his throat.

“If I were, it would be the fallen kind,” he replied grimly.

Her eyelids were heavy now. She was mumbling something but it no longer made sense. Just as he thought she would pass out again, she jolted back to consciousness. She was suddenly staring into his eyes, a look of recognition flashing across her face.

“Clary?” She said, startling him, before she blacked out, her body once again limp in his arms.

****

When Dru came to, she registered dimly that she was no longer flying but half lying, half sitting on a mattress - much softer than what she was used to at the Academy or even at the Institutes - and propped up against plush cushions. There was a funny taste in her mouth and she idly remembered having been forced to swallow a liquid. She no longer felt cold, and she realized that a silk blanket had been pulled over her.

Was that what the afterlife was about? An everlasting sleep in a comfortable bed? What a letdown.

When she blinked her eyes open, she was greeted by a beautiful sight. Her faerie prince was staring at her with his grass-green eyes, a lock of his tousled fair hair falling across his outrageously handsome face. He brushed it away with an impatient gesture, tucking it behind one of his pointy ears, and she noticed that his refined velvety clothes had been replaced by a plain long-sleeved black shirt.

“You,” she breathed. She narrowed her eyes. “I knew it! I knew you were too hot to be real!”

“Er- What?” His lips parted. He looked utterly dumbfounded.

Dru’s hands shot up and she started pinching his sharp cheekbones.

“What- what are you doing?” He tried to articulate, but she made it somewhat difficult, as she was squeezing his face and kneading his cheeks.

She could not help it. She giggled.

“Look at you. You are so… perfect. This is ridiculous.”

One of his blond eyebrows raised.

“So that’s the part where we kiss and there are fireworks and romantic music playing in the background?” Dru pursued.

She grabbed him by the collar, drawing him closer and his breath hitched. When their lips were so close they were almost touching… he turned his head away in a swift motion. She was left staring at his jawline - again, she marvelled at its sharpness - and noticed a wide X-shaped scar on his neck that had been hidden by his collar when she had first dreamt of him.

“What is it? I am not your type?” She said jokingly. Maybe her fantasies involved a bit of resistance to make things more fun.

He slowly turned to face her again. There was no trace of humour in his expression. His gaze was intense and serious.

“Not my type? On the contrary. You are exactly my type. You defined it, actually.” The sharpness and bitterness of his tone startled her. She swallowed.

“Then... why won’t you kiss me?”

“Because I don’t kiss girls who are under the influence of alcohol, drugs or - in this instance - demon poison.”

He started standing, but she grabbed him by the arm and almost cried out at the sudden throb in her right leg. She blinked and noticed for the first time that she had a long gash across her limb. The bleeding had stopped but it still looked awful. Several Iratzes had been drawn on her skin, near the wound. She remembered the searing pain she had felt as the demon’s claw had ripped across her flesh… It all came back to her then. The battle. Ty. Kit. Jaime.

“We need to go back! My brother and friends are still out there on the battlefield!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Raziel, how long have I been out?”

The faerie lifted his hands hesitantly to rest them awkwardly on her shoulders. He stroked lightly in a reassuring gesture, as his green eyes bore into her.

“The battle is over. King Kieran’s knights and the Wild Hunt swooped in, right after you were injured, and saved the day.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief as she fell back on the soft cushions. She felt dizzy.

“They are all alright.” A dark veil seemed to have covered her eyes. “I can’t-” I can’t see.

“Shhh. Stop talking. Spare your strength. Get some rest.”

It was suddenly all dark. An unbidden image came to her... black wings smeared with blood flapping furiously against the cold wind...

“You carried me… Your wings… you are hurt,” she said, before she fell back into unconsciousness.

****

Dru woke to a soft breeze tickling her skin. She immediately sat up, wincing at the pain in her right leg, and took in her surroundings.

She was in a vast high-ceilinged bedroom, illuminated by a soft light that spoke of dawn. The windows were equally huge, framed by velvet curtains.

Bookshelves were covering almost every inch of wall, and though they were entirely filled with books, there did not seem to be enough space for all of them.

More books were stacked in piles, others scattered haphazardly across the floor.

A latest generation laptop was resting on a large mahogany desk in the corner, as well as several tablets - what was the point of having so many? Dru wondered - video game consoles and controllers, a huge sound speaker in the shape of a silver skull and… more books.

The room harbored several collections of various items, weapons mainly, but also figures from comic books and fantasy novels. A real size shiny C-3PO seemed to serve as a valet stand, a black leather jacket comically wrapped around its shoulders.

The contrast was odd, as if an enthusiastic teenager had decided to set up his headquarters in the ballroom of a palace.

A pillow and a crumpled white blanket had been spread on the floor, next to the bed. They were tainted with smears of blood that could be traced on the thick carpet toward a half-open wooden door. Artificial light was pouring through the gap.

With strenuous efforts, Dru whirled her legs out of the bed. She blushed as she realized she was no longer wearing her dress - which had been torn and covered in ichor anyway - but in a plain black shirt. On her, it was long enough that it covered her thighs. She tried not to think too much about who must have dressed her and picked a long staff made of oak wood, probably a rokushakubō, that was resting against the wall. She used the weapon as a walking stick as she limped across the bedroom, looking out the windows as she passed them. All she could see in the dim light were large stretches of green grass. She was still in Faerie, she knew that much at least.

When she reached the half-open door, she peered around and... gasped.

It was a bathroom, much bigger than her own bedroom at the Academy, and to say it was luxurious would be an understatement. Everything was built in the most precious and refined material, even the taps looked like they were shaped from gold. The blond fey was seated at the edge of a huge circular bathtub with his back to her, only wearing boxer shorts. His pale skin was covered in Marks, some freshly inked, others faded, as well as battle scars. He was clutching large cotton pads and seemed to be struggling to clean the wounds on his black wings. Vials filled with different colours of liquid were scattered all over the marble floor as well as boxes of dried herbs. He whipped his head at the sound she made.

“I- I am sorry,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush at his nakedness.

“Sorry for what?” He replied, in his euphonious voice.

“I didn’t know you were…” She replied, waving her hand at him.

“Didn’t know I was what?” He looked puzzled.

“Naked!” She rolled her eyes.

He just stared at her for a few seconds before he let out a short back of laughter.

“I don’t mind,” he finally said and went back to tending his wounds.

Dru swallowed.

“Let me help you with that,” she said, as she slowly crossed the distance, and sat behind him. She picked a few bandages and started working on the cuts on his wings that were the least accessible to him.

They remained in companionable silence for a moment.

“You are a Shadowhunter,” she eventually said, breaking the stillness. “Why didn’t you tell me so when we met earlier?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

“That’s not it. Your skin was covered in clothes. You are hiding it.”

He tensed. “So were you. I assume you had your reasons. I have mine.”

Okay… He had obviously decided to close the subject. And she didn’t want to pry. She redirected the conversation.

“About earlier… What I said…” She swallowed and blushed at the memory of her throwing herself at him. Ugh. How pathetic she had been.

“Did you speak earlier? I didn’t hear a thing,” he replied, casting a knowing glance at her over his shoulder, his lips suppressing a smile.

She exhaled.

“Thanks,” she said. “You know what, I do think you are beautiful. But so are Michelangelo’s sculptures. And you won’t catch me snogging them.”

He was still sitting with his back to her and she couldn’t see the expression on his face but he seemed to be smiling as he replied. “Message received.”

“So… is this where you live?”

“It is.”

“Alone?”

“No. It’s just me and my uncle J, though.”

She fell silent for a moment and he heard her unspoken question.

“I hardly see my mother. And my sorry excuse for a dad is dead. Good riddance.”

She flinched at that. She had noticed there was a darkness about him and wondered if it was linked to all the scars on his body or his evident hatred for his late father. Or both.

“I guess I never thanked you. For saving my life earlier.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I am Drusilla, by the way. Drusilla Blackthorn. People call me Dru, though.”

He nodded, as if it confirmed something he already knew.

“I am Ash.”

“Ash…?”

“Just Ash.”

“Don’t you have a last name?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” She playfully quoted Shakespeare.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Your turn.” He suddenly stood and turned to face her, folding his wings. Dru realized that it brought her gaze right at the level of his… She swiftly turned her face away, blushing. When she glanced back at him, shyly, he was sitting seiza-style on the floor, in front of her. He gently lifted her right leg to rest it on his lap, a small smile playing across his face. She could not catch the look in his eyes, under his silvery eyelashes, as they were focused on inspecting her injury, but she was pretty sure he knew exactly what was going on in her head. He slowly brushed his long and deft fingers across her skin while his other hand cupped her calf, and she couldn't stop her leg from shaking. Holy crap. He had barely touched her and she was already a flushing mess, her breath now coming in short gasps. She was very much aware that her toes were nudging at the waistband of his boxer shorts and that if she brought her foot a few inches lower…

They both startled at the sound of a loud banging on the bedroom door.

“AAaaash,” uttered a man in a slurred speech through the wooden material. “You self-righteous b-bastard. Open the f-fucking door.”

The voice sounded familiar but Dru couldn’t pinpoint exactly where she had heard it before. It didn’t help that it belonged to a man who was obviously inebriated.

Ash cursed. He brought Dru’s leg down and put a finger over his lips.

“You. Are. Not. Here.” He mouthed to her, his green eyes suddenly deadly serious, all of the earlier playfulness gone from one moment to the next, and she almost cringed. He stood and swiftly exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She grabbed the staff and lifted herself up from the edge of the bathtub to get closer and hear the conversation.

“Asssh,” the voice repeated. “I know you are ho-home. You left a m-mess in the infirmary. Anything you wish to tell m-me? You got into a f-fight again?”

Dru heard the bedroom door open with a creaking noise.

“What about you, J? Went out for liquor again?” Ash’s voice replied sharply.

“Ash. I d-don’t tell you where to put your d-dick. You d-don’t get to tell me what goes into my m-mouth.”

“The fact that you just said that with a straight face is evidence that you had one too many, J.”

“F-Fuck you, Ash.”

“Hmm… I’ll take a rain check on that. Not that I don’t find you attractive, but you know I don’t screw drunk guys. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

When she heard the door close behind them, Dru came out of the bathroom, in search of her phone, on the off chance it had survived the battle. There it was, resting on the nightstand, plugged in for battery charge. That was… thoughtful.

She grabbed it, swiped the screen open and tried to call Ty, but there was no service. Crap.

She rummaged through Ash’s drawers to pick a pair of shorts that she pulled on clumsily, and gathered a few weapons. She headed for the door, opened it and… ran straight into a pale white torso. Ash clutched her arms to steady her, then brought his lips against her ear. “Going somewhere?”

Dru jutted her chin out. “I need to find my brother. He will be worried sick.”

He didn’t move his mouth from her ear as he softly whispered. “You only need to ask.”

She stepped back to stare into his green eyes. His expression was unreadable.

“Okay,” she replied hesitantly. “Can we… go now?”

“Whatever you wish. Can I show you something first?”

She smiled at him. “Hmmm sure. I have to tell you though, I have four brothers, including one who has absolutely no issues with nudity. Trust me, I already know what it looks like.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head, and went to confiscate C-3PO’s black leather jacket. He put it on her shoulders. The sleeves were so long she had to roll them three times so her hands could peek out of them.

As Ash shrugged on his black shirt and black jeans, Dru cast a quick glance at his body. He had broad shoulders and was definitely muscular, as all Shadowhunters were, but not in a bulky way. His long and pale limbs emphasized his tall, overall narrow figure. He was like a spear, shooting up and deadly.

He caught her watching him, and gave her a lopsided smile. In turn, he allowed himself to look her up and down, but it was quick, efficient and not in the lazy, lingering, creepy way guys usually eyed her.

“You look good in my clothes,” he said finally. He came to stand in front of her, and gently grazed her cheek with his knuckles.

“Your skin is so translucent that it feels like a splash of red ink leaked from a pen underneath when you blush.”

She was pretty sure the red on her cheeks must have spread even farther, the colour brighter, and she did something she had never done in front of a man before. She looked down.

“Grab my neck,” he said, and she complied.

In a swift motion, he swept her off her feet and carried her in his arms like a damsel in distress.

He moved to the open window and… jumped out.

It was different now that she was fully conscious and aware of her surroundings. She let the wind blow through her hair, allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the surreal feeling of being suspended in the air without the fear of crashing to the ground.

She whooped in excitement, crying out “I am the queen of the wooooorld!” and he laughed.

They landed on a narrow patch of grass on top of a cliff. A nightmare for anyone who had vertigo, but Dru didn’t mind great heights.

They both sat at the edge, enjoying the landscape. It was absolutely breathtaking, an unobstructed view of Faeries lands, patches of dark forest, small lakes and plains of green grass extending farther than the eye could see.

Dru understood why Ash loved this spot. It looked like you could see everything while not being seen. It was a spot no one could access, unless well, they had wings…

“Look,” he said, pointing towards a chain of rocky mountains. The sun came out lazyly, spreading its first rays to scout the sky before making its glorious appearance and altering all the colours of the picturesque landscape from one moment to another.

Her breath hitched and she grabbed his hand reflexively.

He whipped his head around to look at her and she pulled it back immediately. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be,” he said gently. He cocked his head, a questioning look on his face. “Do you have a boyfriend, Drusilla Blackthorn?”

She smiled at his use of her full name. “I don’t.”

“A girlfriend, perhaps?”

“Nope. No boyfriend, no girlfriend.” She exhaled. “There is a guy, though…”

She looked up at him and he was staring back, his expression unreadable.

“I have had this crush on him since… Well, since forever. He seems to like me too, but he won’t act on it. I think he’s afraid of my brothers.”

He lifted his eyebrow. “He’s a bloody coward, then.”

She punched his arm. “Don’t say that! You don’t know him.”

He shrugged. “The question is… does he know you?”

She looked at him then, and was struck by the intensity of his gaze. There was a hidden message there, as if what he had really been asking was “Does he know you like I do?” But that could not be it, right? They had just met. It would be quite presumptuous of him.

“That’s not all. There is another reason, I think, and that’s why I haven’t made a move myself. I think… he is still figuring things out about himself...”

“Clearly,” Ash muttered.

“...And of course, there’s the issue of... my age.”

She waited for a change in his expression, a question, but he remained silent, his gaze steady.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how old I am?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter? Age doesn’t really mean anything in Faerie. I’d love to know your birthday, though. So I’ll know when to throw you the most decadent party you’ve ever been to.”

She let out a free, careless laugh. It was as if a weight had been lifted, that she didn’t even know had been there.

“What about you? Do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?”

He crossed his arms against his chest. “I don’t date. I screw around, though. A lot.”

“Why don’t you date?”

He shrugged. “I guess I have major trust issues. Oddly, it’s the only way I know how to get close to people I will never see again anyway. And of course…” He smiled crookedly. “I like sex. Don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She cleared her throat, rubbing her thighs nervously. “So... I am ready to go when you are.”

“Sure, your carriage awaits. Where to?”

“If possible… the New York Institute?”

He tensed. “Is this where you live?”

“Oh no, I was just there to attend a birthday party. I study at the Academy, so that’s where you can usually find me these days. My real home is the Los Angeles Institute, where my family lives.”

Ash didn’t say anything. He was watching her with a thoughtful expression. She looked down, at the frightening drop into emptiness.

“Is this the moment in the movie when the guy turns out to be a psychopath and leaves the wounded girl on top of a cliff and she is left to choose between jumping and starving to death?”

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said, his expression still musing. He grasped her chin to lift it slightly toward his face. “I rather thought it would be the moment in the movie where they kiss and there are fireworks and romantic music playing in the background.”

“Heeey! I thought you hadn’t heard anything !” She swatted at him and he grabbed her wrist in a motion so swift it was almost a blur.

“Heard what?” He said, and she didn’t reply, she couldn’t reply because the next moment he was kissing her, his incredibly soft lips hesitant at first, leaving her plenty of occasions to withdraw. She didn’t.

The kiss grew deeper and it was as if the ground was a rug that had been swept from under her, she was in a free fall, tethered to reality only by his gentle fingers holding her chin while his other hand moved to cup the back of her neck. He smelled like the best Faerie had to offer, all at once, rocks warmed by the sun and fresh grass, luscious petals twirling in the wind, a storm turning a gentle stream into a torrent.

They both jerked away at the sound of an ear-splitting noise.

Before them, a giant eagle was flapping its wings steadily, observing them through narrowed eyes. Josephine, Dru vaguely remembered. And it was not alone. Behind it, an even larger creature, that made the first look one like a fly in comparison, was hovering.

“Drusilla Blackthorn?” The smaller bird screeched.

“In the flesh.”

“I am Josephine. And this is my father Rocky. These are the names Tiberius Blackthorn blessed us with. Our real names cannot be spoken by your mere human tongues. Your brother is looking for you and we are to bring you to him. You can ride on my father’s back.”

“Wait, are these… rocs?” Ash said in awe, his green eyes glittering. “These are thousands of years old legendary birds of prey thought to be extinct. The most dangerous predators among birds. And your brother actually named one Rocky? How cool is that guy?”

“Where is Ty now?” Dru asked.

“He is with my mother, looking for you,” the bird answered. “But we are to meet him at the polyamorous cottage.”

Ash turned to look at her, amusement mixed with curiosity plain on his face. “The polyamorous cottage?” He mouthed.

She elbowed him playfully.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

“Wait-” Ash shot an arm in front of her. “I am not sure how I feel about you riding on an unearthly predator.”

“What do you suggest?”

He pondered for a moment before giving her an answer, his expression clearly torn. He finally sighed, seeming to have come to a decision.

“Well… You can ride me,” he said, gesturing at himself and giving her a wicked grin. “And that’s not a one-time offer.”

She rolled her eyes but could not help to feel relief.

“Are you sure you are up for it ?”

“Are you kidding me? A private invitation to the polyamorous cottage? And of course, I can’t wait to meet your brother Tiberius. It will be fun.”

She threw her hands up. “Wow. Don’t get your hopes up. My brother is very difficult to befriend. I love him, but “fun” is definitely not the word I would use to describe him.”

Ash turned to look wistfully at the two giant creatures waiting in front of them. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, he sounds pretty fun to me.”

****

Tagging @gabtapia and @bookeater34 ;)

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 3: The Assessment

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 7K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Throughout the course of your life you had found that the more you dreaded something, the faster it arrived. As you sat in the waiting room, waiting for the call to go into the training center alone for your final assessment, you couldn’t help but think of just how fast the training process had gone by, and that in less than twenty-four hours you would be inside the dreaded arena.

During your knot tying session after your incident the on the first day, you had formed a slight friendship with Krystal, who had asked if everything was okay. You had lied, saying you were fine, too afraid of telling her the truth after Namjoon had just blown up on you, and she simply had nodded in acceptance. But you could tell she didn’t buy that answer from the way she seemed to treat you with a little extra kindness. You stuck to her like glue for the rest of the training period, refusing to separate within the career pack without Krystal by your side. It was an odd dependency given she was the smallest of the lot of you, but she had taken to it rather well. She never asked you about it, but immediately went along, making sure you were always by her side during any activity. You could tell Hoseok was furious – constantly shooting glares in Krystal’s direction – but there was nothing he could do without disrupting the whole alliance, and proving that he was indeed the psychopath he had revealed only to you in private.

You had spoken briefly to Finnick about things the night after the incident with Hoseok. As a mentor he wasn’t happy, but his hands were also tied as there was nothing he could do to interfere with another district. He had suggested he could speak to District 2’s mentor to try and get more information on Hoseok’s background but you had immediately shut that down, terrified that it would somehow get back to Hoseok and he would think you were reciprocating his own interest. The idea was also dangerous because it would expose just how threatened you were to their mentor, who could easily use that to their advantage when coming up with game tactics. Finnick had reluctantly agreed not to do anything, but turned the topic of conversation onto your remaining training time. He had suggested a focus on weapons, particularly knives given you already had some experience with them.

“Focus on what you already know,” he had said “Don’t waste time trying to learn new things that others are already experts with. You cannot hope to beat a master with only a few days of training. Hone the skills you already have.”

So that’s largely what you had spent the rest of your training time doing. By her own admission Krystal’s report card had suggested training with a weapon that could compliment her own agility, which worked out well with knives too, so you spent a lot of your time training together. You found out that despite being a District 1 tribute, she was also reaped, and not a volunteer, like yourself. But unlike you she had been trained at an academy, which was standard practice in 1. A far more interesting detail you had learned was she was Yoongi’s younger sister, and he had volunteered after her reaping. You filed that detail away in the back of your mind for future reference, grateful that some sort of partnership already existing in the alliance could potentially lessen the target on yourself later when it came to splitting.

You played off each other, regarding your knowledge of knives. Krystal was far more skilled in close range combat, and she gave you pointers when you trained in sparring using a prop version (made from a material of the same weight, which still caused some bruises, but wouldn’t actually cause stab wounds). She also helped you improve your skills in countering attacks and using a larger opponents’ body weight against them. Looking at Hoseok and Namjoon respectively you were terrified to know her lesson would very much be a life or death skill you needed to learn. In return you talked to her about your experiences with spear fishing and occasionally using a knife instead in shallow waters, passing on what you could about how to throw a knife. It was a skill you had picked up when you much younger, after being taught by your father when you were seven. Your mother had been furious when she found out and immediately banned you from knives until you were old enough to be working on the boat, but your father had still snuck in training sessions whenever the two of you were alone. It was never something you thought you would be using to potentially kill a human, rather than a salmon or tuna. You hadn’t even thought of it then, but it was likely his way of trying to prepare you for if your name was ever drawn from the reaping. Even though it was essentially impossible, a part of you desperately hoped you would survive in order to be able to thank your father in person.

You and Krystal worked well together, you had a natural chemistry, and both of you didn’t feel a need for wasting oxygen with meaningless small talk or chit chat. Your skills both complimented one another and you found yourself learning a lot. It wasn’t much of a bond from merely a couple of days, but you hoped whatever you had worked to build would translate into some sort of partnership in the arena.

The remaining of your training had passed as well as you could have hoped for right up until the final moments of the last day. You and Krystal had taken a bathroom break. Afterwards, when you were about to walk out of the washroom and back into the hallway outside, you could hear familiar voices beyond the door. Frowning, you opened the door just a crack to hear Namjoon talking to Yoongi, Hoseok and Athena.

“Seriously, she thinks you’re in love with her,” Namjoon laughed, clasping his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. You felt the blood immediately drain from your face and a stone cold chill run throughout your body. You had seen Namjoon and Hoseok getting on better within the last day, but you weren’t expecting Namjoon to be at a level of already throwing you under the bus.

“Really? When did she say that?” you could hear Hoseok ask, although you couldn’t see him from the crack in the doorway.

“First day, back when she was in tears over that pathetic report,” Namjoon replied with a scoff. “Asked her what happened and she went on some crazed rant that you were going to save her. Honestly lost her mind on day one, why the hell we’re supposed to drag her around the arena is beyond me.”

“She’s not that bad, have you seen her throwing the knives with Krystal? Could be useful,” the only female voice had to have been Athena, and you made a mental note to thank her later.

“Please, she’s a baby. Wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly,” Namjoon scoffed. You wanted to storm out and show him how willing you would be to hurt him, but remembering a warning from Finnick held you back, ‘play along and act dumb so they think you trust them and are too stupid to make plans for yourself'. You couldn’t wait for the chance to stab Namjoon in the back at this rate.

“So why are we keeping her around then?” A bored voice you had rarely heard asked. That had to have been Yoongi.

“Her brains may be non-existent, but the empty head that carries her around isn’t too bad to look at. I say we keep her for the sponsors, get us some supplies from her capital fans. Maybe if we can get her to flash those perfect tits she’s covering up we can get extra out of them. Plus, if the arena gets cold I’m sure she can also make herself useful as a bed warmer too.” Your jaw dropped open at the vulgar way your supposed teammate was talking about you. You hadn’t even spoken to Namjoon since the incident on the first day, ignoring him whenever you were in the same living quarters and spending your training time with Krystal. Like hell you would be going anywhere near his ‘bed’ in the arena. Krystal looked equally as disgusted.

“Gross,” Athena deadpanned.

“What? It’s not like what I’m saying isn’t true, and it’s better her than you, right? Beautiful face, hot body, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. Throwing knives from a distance isn’t much of a threat in close combat so we can easily take her out at the end. Hey, Hoseok seeing she acts like you’re going to be her precious Romeo you can be the one to take care of our dear Juliet when the time co-” before you could snap and storm out to attack Namjoon yourself, Hoseok beat you to it. Like a viper, his hand shot out in lightning speed to grasp Namjoon by the throat and slam him into the nearest wall.

“Or how about I take care of you?” he practically purred, springing a jackknife he had somehow slipped into his clothing out and holding it against Namjoon’s throat, until you heard a scuffle of someone trying to pull him off. Yanking the bathroom door open you rushed out into the hallway, Krystal following quickly behind, to see Namjoon leaning against the wall rubbing his throat, as Athena and Yoongi restrained a livid Hoseok.

“What the hell is going on?” Krystal asked, looking between everyone. Even if you had overheard everything, you just stood there next to her, wanting to play up the ignorance they dismissed you as having.

Nobody answered, looking between each other as if waiting for them to be the first to talk. Of all people, it was surprisingly Yoongi to be the one to break the silence.

“Put that thing away,” Yoongi snapped, nodding at Hoseok’s flat knife. “Do you want us to all get beaten to a pulp by the guards before we even get to the arena?” Hoseok complied without any words, smoothly placing the knife back into a hidden pocket in the front of his pants.

“What the hell do we do now?” you asked, staring at the others. “A day before the games and a fight breaks out? How are we meant to work together in there?”

“Nothing changes,” Hoseok spoke. You frowned back, like hell nothing had changed.

“You just pulled a knife on my district partner,” you replied. You weren’t complaining but he didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing changes,” Namjoon repeated to your surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. We’re men. Men fight. Shit happens but we get it out of our system. Logically we’re still each others best bet in the arena.” Namjoon continued. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling his eyes at the ‘men’ declaration.

“He’s right,” Hoseok agreed and all you could do was stare dumbly, wondering how the hell the two of them had gone from pulling a knife a second ago, to now suddenly agreeing.

“Like hell I’m leaving you, Athena isn’t leaving me, your district mate isn’t interested in leaving you either, and I assume Krystal has interests in working with you from all that training you’ve done together. Yoongi’s not going to leave his sister, so we’re all stuck together.”

“What if I don’t want to work with any of you?” you challenged.

Namjoon scoffed.

“If you really had the balls to walk away, you would’ve done it on day one. Especially given how I treated you when you were telling the truth.” You glared back at him for blatantly exposing you.

“If you split, you’re the easiest target for all the other tributes.” Hoseok stepped away from Yoongi and Athena to walk towards you. “That’s 18 other people trying to kill you, so you know I’m not going to let that happen. As I just told you, I’m not leaving you.”

You hadn’t heard much from Hoseok since that moment in the hallway on day one. A part of you had managed to convince yourself it was all a stunt, just like Namjoon had said, to psych you out and cause division in your alliance. Hearing him bluntly announce his intentions to the whole alliance, as he came to stand directly before you, caused the delusion to shatter.

“Leave her alone.” You were becoming so entranced by Hoseok’s presence that it took you a moment to process Krystal’s voice as she moved herself closer to you, standing so her shoulder was slightly in front of yours. Your heart momentarily warmed at the gesture before it was doused in the cold ice of your conscious as you remembered his sickening threats from the last time you and Hoseok were alone ‘I don’t care about the others… I’ll slaughter every one of them in cold blood… I’m going to kill them all for you baby and I’ll make you watch so you can see just how far I’ll go for you’

“No Krystal, don’t!” you cried in a panic as you reached out for Krystal and pulled her into a protective hug, putting your body in front of hers before Hoseok. “You don’t understand,” you whispered in a rush to try and explain. “He’s crazy, he said he was going to kill all of you. I tried to tell Namjoon and he didn’t believe me so I was too scared to tell anyone else, because I was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

You were trying not to cry, you couldn’t panic, you couldn’t be weak again like the state they had found you in last time, but it was so fucking hard. Why did you have to be reaped? Why did one of the tributes have to form an obsession with you? Why was your own district mate an asshole who had invalidated you when trying to protect the alliance? All you had wanted was to not be alone in the arena, and now you had a hope of someone you could trust and she was in danger because of you.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Krystal whispered back, patting your lower back reassuringly. But a sudden grasp on your waist from behind pulled you away, causing you to lose your hold on Krystal as you slammed backwards into a hard chest with a cry.

“Yoongi take care of your sister unless you want me taking care of her in the arena,” Hoseok’s voice hissed from behind your ears, making your blood run cold.

“No, don’t hurt her, please, please don’t hurt her,” you begged, twisting in Hoseok’s hold but his arms were locked around you tightly. Yoongi didn’t say a word, walking over to Krystal and putting his hand on her shoulder to lead her away. She initially moved to shake him off but you vigorously shook your head and mouthed ‘go’ to get her to leave.

“We’ll see you at the cornucopia tomorrow,” Yoongi turned back to say, before you exhaled in temporary relief as Krystal reluctantly left with her brother.

“Whatever you do with her, I don’t want any part of it. We’re aligned until six and then that’s it,” Athena sneered, drawing your attention over to her as she glared between Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Fine with me,” Hoseok shrugged. Namjoon who was now leaning casually against the wall merely nodded. You could swear you saw a torn look of sympathy from Athena in your direction, but it was gone in a second as she shook her head in disgust and walked off to re-join Krystal and Yoongi.

With Athena gone the tension that hung in the air was so thick it was suffocating. Namjoon continued to rest against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest watching as Hoseok still held you by the waist. With Krystal now safe with her brother away from him you realized there was no longer a need to stay compliant in his grip.

“Namjoon, help,” you hissed, trying to move your arms to shove Hoseok off but they were both pinned to your sides by his hold. Hoseok merely chuckled, instead flexing his muscles and causing his grip to tighten.

“No can do little dove,” Namjoon mocked with a pout, moving off from the wall to stand to his full height. “Your boyfriend here’s the one with the knife in his pocket, and I’m unarmed.”

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, his long legs taking lazy steps to walk around the two of you. Hoseok turned, forcing you to turn with him, to avoid his back being left open. Namjoon ignored him, keeping his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, because in that arena I’ll be armed, and I’ll take really good care of you then.”

“Like hell,” Hoseok scoffed causing Namjoon to laugh.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Namjoon was now further down the corridor that separated the bathrooms from the training center, where he could see the large clock on the wall.

“Only five minutes left until end of training before they start preparing for our grading. I’ll leave you two alone for now, but don’t expect this generosity again from me in the arena, 2. I trust you won’t harm our little dove until then…”

And with that lingering comment, Namjoon was gone, abandoning you when you needed him.

You felt Hoseok’s arms beginning to loosen, briefly you thought he was going to release you. But instead you found yourself being turned around to face him and backed against the wall. Any thoughts of pushing him off vanished upon feeling the hard metal of the folded pocket knife pushing against your hip as he caged you in.

“What are you doi-” your question was cut off by Hoseok raising his hand to the side of your face and pushing his thumb over your mouth in warning.

For a moment Hoseok was still. He relished the feeling of your plump lips falling silent beneath his thumb, so pliant, like a kiss against his finger. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, inhaling deep breaths in through your nose causing your lungs to expand and your full breasts to push against his chest. Every little detail about you was so soft, so warm and inviting, like you had been designed purely for him. He was absolutely enamored by you and could spend the rest of his life in this exact moment, feeling you against him, but time was not on his side.

“Look at how they all just left you,” he maliciously purred, his eyes narrowing into a focused glare, “you know they’re going to do the same thing in the arena, darling.”

“That’s not true,” you hissed back, “Krystal tried to stay.”

“And yet all it took for her to leave was a simple pocket knife and her brother. And really, when it comes down to it, who do you think she will choose, Her brother or you?”

You tried to swallow the growing lump in your throat and stayed quiet… he’s just trying to psych you out.

“Meet us in the cornucopia tomorrow, you’ll be much safer with us six than left to fend off eighteen others on your own. You’re smart, you have to know they will chase down any career left alone.”

You frowned but nodded, you had already agreed on this, so you didn’t know why he was bringing it up again.

“Good girl, then you know you have to stay with me once we’re all together. Yoongi sees you as a threat to his sister. Your friendship makes her judgment weak so he will take you out if you’re alone with him. And like I just said, do you really want to side with Krystal when she would choose her brother over you at the end anyway? Athena is threatened by you; thinks you’re distracting me from protecting her in the game as part of our district alliance. I don’t blame her for that though, she is right. I would choose you over her. You know I’d choose you over any of them. And then of course there’s your own district partner, who I’m sure you just heard before… would you trust a man who wants to use your body to sell you to fans from the capital for supplies? The one who didn’t believe you when you tried to warn him about me? The one who just walked away and left you to me now?”

An aching wave of hopelessness washed over your body as you slumped back against the wall. If it wasn’t for Hoseok’s arm holding you upright, you would have just let yourself fall to the ground.

“Please stop,” you whispered, the lump in your throat felt like a golf ball choking you inside.

“I can’t, darling,” Hoseok murmured, his fingers over your lips moving to smooth the faint hairs that had come loose from training back behind your ear.

“Not until you understand that you need me in that arena.” His hand came to rest on the side of your cheek, cradling your face in his palm.

“I’ve trained for this my whole life, I’m the only one you can trust to protect you.”

“But how can I trust you? Like you just said you spent your whole life training for these games, training to kill people like me. It’s all hopeless, no matter who I choose.”

“Don’t say that,” He scolded, shaking you by the hold on your waist.

“You saw me pull that knife on Namjoon before, and I didn’t even know you were there. It’s exactly like I told you on the first day of training, I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm you. No one in that arena matters to me, only you. You’re mine.”

“How can you keep saying that!? We don’t even know each other. I don’t understand how you could possibly feel this way about me. It all just sounds like a cruel way for you to take me to the e-”

Hoseok’s mouth silenced your protests, his lips pushing against yours and hands holding you in place. His kiss was searing and dominant, offering no chance for refusal, though as you felt the shivers running down your spine, you didn’t know if you would have been capable if a chance were provided. You had found him physically attractive the moment you had met, and somehow it was like the passion you had seen in his eyes was magnified a hundredfold through his kiss. He was strong and powerful, yet simultaneously gentle. His arm supporting your waist held your body impossibly close to his, whilst the fingertips from his hand on your face were tenderly stroking the skin on your cheek.

Your eyes had unconsciously closed when his face had moved in to meet yours, which only seemed to heighten your other senses. The places where his body made contact with yours were tingling as if flames from a nearby fire were licking against your skin. Everything about Jung Hoseok was warm; his sun kissed skin, copper hair and the heat radiating from his body into yours. You were stunned, and in your frozen state Hoseok moved his lips against your pliant ones to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue dancing along the line of your mouth before sliding inside to meet your own tongue and try to coax it to return with his.

What somehow felt like an eternity was in reality a mere few seconds before an announcement echoed through speakers throughout the training center, instructing tributes to cease everything and make your way to a designated area for the mandatory final assessments to shortly begin. Hoseok broke the kiss, leaving you breathless as he whispered upon your lips,

“If you can’t believe my words, then believe that.”

Pressing his lips back to yours quickly once more, he finally pulled back.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You mutely allowed Hoseok to lead you out of the corridor and back into the training center where a Capitol representative with a clipboard was lining everyone up to be taken to the waiting area. There was no talking from anyone as you were all put into your lines and made to follow the representative into a smaller room, whilst the training center was to be rearranged. The waiting room was small and cold with metallic coloring. Black chairs were organized by districts and you were told that one by one you would be brought before the judges to present your chosen skill, where you would then be graded on a score out of twelve. The scores would be announced later in the afternoon, before your final interviews with Caesar Flickerman in the evening.

You wordlessly sat beside Namjoon, not even looking in his direction even though you could occasionally feel him trying to catch your eye. No doubt he would want to dissect your conversation with Hoseok but you had no interest in telling him about anything that had happened. Especially not after how he had treated you the last time you had tried to warn him. Instead you kept your eyes solely on the ground, nervously bouncing your leg as you worried about your upcoming grading.

Everything was happening so fast. It felt like only moments ago when your name had been reaped, since then you had already travelled by train, appeared in the parade and completed your three days of training. You felt sick in your stomach at the thought that the short time that had passed between your reaping and this very moment could possibly be longer than the time you had between now and when you would meet your end in the arena. You immediately tried to stamp that thought out, trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of grief threatening to crash over you. You couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight and giving in to the misery would only reduce you to a walking corpse.

“District 1, female.”

The man with the clipboard had returned to the room to officially begin the assessments. You noted how he didn’t even call for Krystal by her name, just a district number and her assigned gender. How cold and clinical, much like the room they were keeping you in. You wondered if reducing tributes to numbers without names made it possible for the man to sleep at night, knowing he was part of a system that sent innocent children to the slaughter every year.

“District 1, male.”

As Yoongi left with the clipboard man you couldn’t help but notice Krystal didn’t come back into the room with him. So you would be allowed to return to the dorm and prepare for the interviews as soon as you were done. You were grateful this would at least mean a few hours’ break from Hoseok, you would just have to lock yourself in your room quickly before Namjoon would finish after you, and try to interrogate you in your living quarters.

“District 2, female.”

No one had spoken since the line up. All too focused on mentally preparing for the assessment. You felt for the younger tributes who had never picked up a weapon before a week ago, now having to present themselves as fighters before a panel with only 3 days of training. Once again you were grateful for your father for his insistence on training you with a knife, which at least gave you somewhat of a starting point to work with.

“District 2, male.”

You kept your head down and eyes on the floor, watching as two pairs of shoes walked directly past you on their way out of the room.

“No kiss good luck?” Namjoon snickered next to you, deliberately keeping his voice quiet enough that only you could hear him.

You ignored him.

“What’s the matter, trouble in paradise?” he mocked again.

You continued to ignore him, making sure your eyes were pointed on the exact same spot you had been staring at on the ground since you had sat down. Your knee continued to bounce at the exact same pace. You didn’t want to give him a single flinch, not even a minute sign of a reaction, given that was exactly what he was trying to get. You wondered what he was trying to achieve by riling you up. Did he want you to snap back at him and get in trouble? There had been no specific instruction not to talk, the weight of the occasion had instead resulted in the silence, so you doubted it. Most probably, he wanted to get in your head and psych you out before your assessment, likely trying to lower your score. Internally you scoffed, it’s not like you were a major threat to him anyway. You both knew you weren’t a trained career like he was. He was already going to outscore you anyway.

“District 3, female.”

Namjoon had gone from dictating your alliance, to spitting in the face of your concerns, to now mocking you. You wondered if he would’ve treated an actual trained career better if someone had volunteered for the females of 4. Perhaps it was to do with his ego that Hoseok had singled you out and wanted to work with you, even though he was clearly the more powerful tribute between you. He had taken it as a threat. A threat to his chances if you did side with Hoseok given Hoseok and Namjoon were on near equal footing, and the thought you had chosen Hoseok could have been seen as some act of betrayal. Never mind the fact you had done everything you could to try and avoid Hoseok, including telling Namjoon himself and asking for his help. Was he really that stupid enough to be mad you didn’t continue to beg him after his rejection?

“District 3, male.”

You supposed if he hypothetically succeeded and did psych you out into getting a terrible score it would be his own way of re-establishing himself as the desired tribute from 4. A reminder over your head that you weren’t a real career, and being brought into their alliance was an act of charity. A mercy killing to grace you with their presence before taking you out later in the game as an easy option. You longed to prove him wrong. Not just him but Hoseok also, the both of them for thinking you were pathetic and in need of their protection. His mockery and attempted sabotage was only acting as fuel to your fire.

“District 4, female.”

Your head snapped up to see the clipboard man standing in front of you. Wordlessly you nodded and got to your feet. You ignored the feeling of the eyes from the other tributes in the room staring at you as you had to walk past them to the exit. You were lead back down the same pathway you had taken from the training complex to the waiting room, only this time when you re-entered the training center you were the only person inside. Clipboard man hung back in the corridor and the only other people you could see were the game makers through the window in their viewing room. The center layout had been rearranged, with dummies and targets placed in optimum viewing range from the game makers’ vantage point.

“L/N, F/N, District 4, Female, 18 years of age” a voice crackled through the speakers overhead by means of introduction, as you walked over to the marked spot on the floor you had been instructed to stand.

It was a strange feeling looking up at the pompous judges dressed in their flamboyant outfits with pretentiously fluorescent dyed hair and beards. It was as if they were dressed up for an expensive night on the town and you, and the other twenty-three, were their performers for the evening. It was weirdly easy to put the judges in the back of your mind, despite being able to clearly see the room of around twenty people intently staring at you with interest. The all looked so fictional and outlandish that it was easy to dismiss them as some sort of strange figment of your imagination. They didn’t look like real people, which somehow made it possible for you compartmentalize them as imaginary, and instead focus on the task at hand.

Looking at the assortment of weapons on display, you mostly ignored the large range on offer and went straight for the knives. Running your fingertips along the handles you picked out a hunting knife with a blade that would have been around 8 inches long. There were smaller, thinner, knives specifically made for throwing on offer, however the ones you had practiced with back at home were the larger kind on your boat. Gingerly you bounced the handle in your palm, trying to get a quick feel for the weight. Looking up you examined the range of targets that were on display – some quite close and others much further.

You went for the closest target, that was five meters away, as a warm up.

Thwack

The blade sailed easily through the air landing in the yellow zone, on the first circle outside of the bulls-eye. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your neck with an exhale, not a bad start and a good way to get the nerves under control.

You retrieved a second knife from weapons trolley and took your aim for the next target that was ten meters away.

Thwack

Another yellow circle, except this time your knife landed in the second circle outside from the bulls-eye. Your pursed your lips with a shake of your head. It was still in a decent range but you were hoping to improve on your last throw rather than getting further from the bulls-eye.

You went back for another knife, choosing another one like the last two you had thrown, and lined up for the fifteen-meter target.

Thwack

Red zone, just outside the yellow. If you were aiming at a person, rather than a circle, that would have been lucky to connect. You let out a sharp exhale with a sigh, you weren’t doing bad – you’d made contact with all three targets so far – but you weren’t establishing yourself as a threat either. Not on the level that you knew the other careers were going to be scoring.

Returning to the weapons rack you found there to be one knife left that was in the same size range as the others you had used so far. You turned the knife over in your hand weighing up your final options. There was a final target twenty meters away, but with the rate you were throwing, you’d highly likely just continue to move further away from the bulls-eye. You could always try to throw on one of the other targets again and work to improve your existing result, but it would be difficult to improve much on the first impression of being ‘good, but not great’. Your last option would be the dummies. The dummies were situated on the opposite side of the targets and provided a more human edge to demonstrations. You had elected to use targets in the hope of showcasing solid aim through a bulls-eye, but that hadn’t exactly worked out. With one knife left you decided to try and showcase something a little more realistic.

The dummies were grey and faceless, just human shapes of rubber, which was a lot different from what you would be facing in real life within the arena. If you couldn’t land a shot on a stationary figure you were practically as good as dead. Not only did you need to prove a score to the judges, but you wanted this for your own confidence. With a frown, you turned and launched your blade ten meters across the room into the head of a dummy with a satisfying Thwack.

You didn’t bother to look up to the balcony and see their whispers and nods of approval, instead walking straight over to the dummy and pulling the knife out from the rubber. You weren’t finished yet; you were going to show them what a fishing district knew how to do best…

Grasping the handle, you plunged the blade into the sternum, deep enough to reach what would be the back bone of a human, and dragged the blade down to the pelvis. Pulling the knife out you made horizontal slashes along the chest and the hip where your line down the body had began and ended. Tossing the knife aside, you reached your hands inside of the dummy, pulling it open.

Granted the physical anatomies between a fish and a human were quite different, but the concept of gutting was quite easy to get across.

x

Once the assessment was over you were lead back to your living quarters. With the pressure subsiding and adrenaline wearing off, you found your hands beginning to tremble. You were thankful to have your water bottle as some sort of distraction, shakily taking sips to try and calm yourself down. By the time you finally arrived back to the dorm you were only able to answer Finnick’s “How did you go?” with a quick “fine” as you hurriedly rushed to your bedroom, not wanting to stick around and see Namjoon again until you absolutely had to.

The assessments were scheduled to run until 4:00pm, with the results being broadcast at 4:30pm, before tributes were due to report at the auditorium at 5:00pm to begin preparing for interviews. You were grateful to be from one of the earlier districts, which left you with more free time between the conclusion of your assessment and your next schedule. Your bedroom contained its own en suite bathroom so the first thing you did upon entering was strip off your clothes and head for the shower.

You spent a long time under the hot running water, sitting on the tiles and letting the shower cover up the sound of your crying. It had become somewhat of a routine for you to return from training and cry under the safety of your showerhead where no one else could see or judge you for it. The emotional toll it took to bury your feelings and avoid crying in the training center, in front of the career pack, in front of the judges, or out of fear every waking moment of your life now was strenuous. The shower was your haven, a place where you could wash away the sweat and grime from your day, and allow some form of pent up release. Today’s shower would be the longest one you had taken since entering the capital.

A knock and Finnicks’ muffled voice through the door told you it was after 4:00pm and the results would be broadcast soon, so you reluctantly turned off the taps and began to dry off. You were told that hair, make up and styling would take place in the auditorium later, so you dressed in the most comfortable clothing that you had been provided with; a cashmere sweater and matching sweatpants. You waited in your room as long as possible, before putting on a pair of slippers and walking out to the lounge room at 4:30pm.

Finnick, Periwinkle and Namjoon were all seated on the sofa facing the giant television, which was currently displaying Caesar Flickerman and a co-host you didn’t recognize behind a desk. Wordlessly you joined them, choosing a spot next to Periwinkle on the lounge, the opposite side of where Namjoon was sitting.

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the scores!”

You frowned at how enthusiastic Caesar seemed to be over his job. His mouth was spread into a wide grin, showing off his artificially white teeth, and his emerald green eyes (that had to be contact lenses) were practically glowing with excitement. You all sat in dead silence, if it weren’t for Caesar’s voice reading out District 1 you would have been able to hear a pin drop. The results weren’t surprising to you in the least. Krystal and Yoongi both scored 9s, Athena a 9 too and Hoseok 11. The girl from District 3 who had fallen in front of you on the monkey bars only managed a dismal score, the same as her district number. Her male partner only fared slightly better with a 5.

“District 4, F/N, L/N! Oh, she certainly captured many people’s attention at the parade, but is she as deadly as she is beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“You better not do that when he talks to you on stage,” Finnick warned.

You sarcastically put on an overly fake smile and fluttered your eye lashes back at him, until your expression was wiped blank by Caesar’s next words.

“Miss L/N, 10.”

Your jaw dropped as Periwinkle burst into enthusiastic applause, Finnick cocked an eyebrow with an impressed nod and Namjoon let out a low whistle.

“Someone’s been hiding something~,” Namjoon sing-songed as you closed your open mouth and took in a deep breath. You shook your head.

“Just the same knife throwing I’ve been practicing,” you replied.

Technically that was not a lie, just an omission of the gutting part. You wondered what it was about your little stunt that had pleased the judges so much. You were hoping to bump yourself to an 8 or 9 to at least try and blend in with the careers, instead you had somehow managed to establish yourself as a threat amongst them. With how much you had been pushed around so far you were glad to at least have one moment of impact. But now you had to be worried about the extra target being a threat could potentially put on your back.

Namjoon didn’t reply further as Caesar read his name and announced his score of 9.

You blanched. There was no way in hell you were more skilled than Namjoon was with a weapon. You looked over, expecting him to be furious, but he merely sat there with a content expression on his face nodding at the TV.

“Someone’s been hiding something,” you repeated Namjoon’s words back to him.

Namjoon’s only response was a smirk.

You didn’t like the way he looked like he knew far more than what he was sharing.

I'm a bit annoyed because I planned to combine the final training day and interviews into one chapter. But I found it was starting to get too long, as this part was already hitting 7000 words.

Next chapter will be the interviews and fallout from certain things the characters say in them

Chapter after will FINALLY be what everyone here wants (especially me) - the actual Hunger Games in the arena

Sorry to keep dragging it out, my brain hates me.

[hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong]

The Flame-Soaked City, Part 2

Mash, Jeanne (not the servant), Cris, and Kat's trek through Fuyuki continues! Mash has to come to terms with her new powers, while The master trio are learning how to fly blind. How will they react when their little journey gets a lot more crowded? Also, we get sidetracked and spend way too much time justifying the existence of CEs in-universe!

Part 1 here Part 3 here

(Note: anything <between triangle brackets> is being said mentally between the masters.)

Mash and Dr. Romani talked for a bit more about Mash's new condition as a pseudoservant. Before he was cut off by interference, he gave us coordinates for a leypoint, a source of magical energy that could give us a more stable connection. The heat was awful, but Mash's spirit origin was obvious enough that we could follow her footsteps to avoid the worst of the debris in our path.

Those things in the debris were nightmares, though. Mash could flatten them easily, but they were difficult to pick out in the haze, and we were already losing blood from our head wound.

As we neared the leyline’s focal point, I finally felt a source of magical energy that was different from all the skeletons that searched through the wreckage of the city.

Jeanne: Mash, is that... a human? Over there!

Mash: You're right, senpai! That's... the director!

Cris: <<Aw crap.>>

Kat: <Come on, don't be like that! The more people we find out here the better!>

Cris: <<Yeah, but she's had it out for us ever since Jeanne zoned out in the middle of her speech.>>

Jeanne: <<<I did not "zone out", you two were distracting me! How do you expect me to carry on two conversations at once?>>>

Cris: <<I don't know, but you can get plenty of practice right now.>>

Olga Marie: Well? What do you have to say for yourself?

Jeanne: Yes?

Olga Marie:...

Jeanne: ...No?

Jeanne: What are we talking about?

Olga Marie: How on EARTH did someone like you make it into Chaldea? The second it's possible, we're sending you back. We don't need fools on the front lines, especially not injured ones.

Cris: <<Smooth.>>

Jeanne: Oh, will you just-

Olga Marie: What was that?

Jeanne: ...Will you just... stay here, while I check on Mash's progress with the summoning circle?

Olga Marie: Well? Don't just stand there then, get on it!

Kat: <That was close.>

Jeanne: <<<As much as I know you would love to argue with her, Director Animusphere has a point, Cris. We're barely holding on as is.>>>

Cris: <<Oh come on! The only thing here is a bunch of skeletons, and Mash can flatten them in one punch! We're fine!>>

Jeanne: <<<Something is keeping these skeletons together, and I'd rather not deal with that while I am fucking blind, Cris.>>>

Kat: <Hey, we've all been through a lot. Let's just see how Mash is doing.>

Mash: Oh, Senpai! Perfect timing, the circle is almost complete!

Jeanne: Director, we almost have contact!

Energy flowed through Mash's shield and into the sigils surrounding it. Soon enough, Doctor Romani was with us again.

Romani: CQ, CQ. Hello, hello? Okay, the connection's back! Mash, Hannah, it's wonderful to see you again!

None of us actually went by our legal name, but it is less of a hassle than explaining the real situation, so we kept our mouth shut.

Romani: Sorry! I mean, er-

Olga Marie: Doctor Romani? Why are you running communications? Where's Lev? Put him on!

Romani: Director, you're alive? Wha-

Olga Marie: Of course I am! Now where's Lev? Why is a medic on the comms line?

Romani: I know I'm not cut out for the job, but there's nobody else.

Jeanne: What... what do you mean by that?

Romani: Currently, the surviving full time staff of Chaldea is less than twenty people. I'm the highest ranking survivor. Lev was supervising from the command room, where the blast was the strongest. There's no way he could have survived that.

Olga Marie: ...No...

Romani: All other the master candidates are in critical condition. We might be able to save a couple, but-

Olga Marie: Don't be ridiculous! Cryopreserve them immediately! We can worry about reviving them later.

Romani: Ah! Of course! I almost forgot they had that!

After putting the other masters in cryopreservation, Romani continued with his report. Chaldea's systems were crippled, and rayshifting out currently wasn't an option. Their comms were also cut off from the outside world.

Olga Marie: Very well. Romani! Continue with the repairs. In the meantime, Hannah, Mash, and I will investigate the town. If we came back empty handed the Clocktower would have my head.

Romani: Right away, Director!

The connection cut off, and the director focused on us.

Olga Marie: Unfortunately Hannah, you're the closest thing we have to a master at hand, so we'll just have to see what you can get.

Jeanne: What do you mean?

Olga Marie: Do I really have to spell it out for you? We're at a summoning circle! Summon another servant! Chaldeas was designed to power the contracts of dozens of masters, even in this state it can handle whatever dreck you can scrounge up.

Cris: Please. I'll have you know I was brought here because I have the compatibility of three masters!

Kat: <Definitely helps that we ARE three masters. Now hurry up! I wanna summon a berserker!>

Jeanne: <<<You do NOT.>>>

Olga Marie: Just try to get ONE other servant for now. Overconfidence won't help us any.

Mash and Olga prepared some materials for the ritual, and then I repeated a chant Olga fed to us. And then...

A deluge of information forced its way into our mind. Bones scattered in a desert. The tranquility of sunrise. The feeling of chains tying us down. The agony of warfare. ...A white squirrel? Each one forced its way in haphazardly, shoving the last one out of the way.

Cris: <<Hey, I think I got something solid!>>

Kat: <Me too!>

Jeanne: <<<I... kind of?>>>

The first thing I noticed once reality faded back in were the gems littering the ground around us. Even brushing against one of them brought back the flash of feeling from before, but not quite as overpowering.

Cris: <<Jeanne? Stop playing with rocks. We're surrounded.>>

The first thing Cris noticed was the dozens of spirit origins now surrounding us. Before panic could set in, one of them spoke up.

???: Now that you have command over the army of shadows, victory is at hand. You can rest easy now, Master. We are the Hundred Personas, Assassin class.

Olga Marie: What did you do, Hannah? I said one servant, not one hundred! How do you expect to control all of them?

Jeanne: I think they're a package deal, Director. Their spirit origins are almost identical.

Jeanne: We're glad to have all of you. Thank you for answering our summons.

Each one of the servants standing before us had only the most minute of differences in their spirit origin. I'm sure if you overlayed them all they'd form the original whole. So many bodies in a single graph... fascinating...

Kat: <Um, Jeanne? You can geek out about your servant later, there's a couple others in the crowd.>

Two new servants in the crowd stood out. The smaller one approached first. Her spirit origin seemed very similar to Mash's- this one was definitely a knight class! Judging by our connection, they must be Kat's servant.

???:It is nice to meet you, Master. Since I am still in training, please call me Saber Lily. I look forward to working with you in the years to come.

"Saber Lily" was an odd name, but we knew enough about people not to pry.

Jeanne: <<<Do you two know any lily-themed swordswomen?>>>

Cris: <<Of course, I totally paid attention in our History class. Who do you think it is, Kat?>>

Kat: <The biggest lily in history is that french one... Ahah! It's d'Eon, it's gotta be! I hear she's pretty! Gah, now I hope Cris got a caster, I want our eyes healed already!>

Jeanne: Thank you for coming. I hope this won't take that long, but I look forward to our time together as well.

That just left the servant Cris pulled, which was... oh no.

As the mountain of a servant stomped towards us, their spirit origin spoke volumes about them. Its fault lines and twists showed the unmistakeable marks of being forced into the berserker class.

It stopped inches from our face.

???: I am Berserker Spartacus. Sorry to ask this, but are you a tyrant?

[carewyncromwell]

At last, my friends, we’ve come to the end! This is the final part of my POTC AU. *cue the confetti and noisemakers*

I’ll be creating a masterpost for this AU in the next few days, so that it’s easier to start at the beginning, but before we jump right in, I want to thank those people who contributed to the POTC AU during its development by creating content for their own characters -- @hphm-brooke, @danceworshipper, @rosievixen, @smarti-at-smogwarts, @theguythatdraws, @dat-silvers-girl, @that-ravenpuff-witch, @hogwarts9, @drinkyoursoupbitch and @samshogwarts -- as well as my dear friend @cursebreakerfarrier, whose character Jules I roped into this thing at the very start before having any concept of how big this thing could get and I feel so blessed to have been able to write for. I also just want to thank you all for the overwhelming flood of support you guys have sent my way for this project -- I truly have loved every minute of it, and I hope to finish some of my other unfinished projects as well as create other fresh new material for you guys in the near future! I love you all! xoxo

One last time -- previous part is here, and full tag is here!

x~x~x~x

Even with McNully’s brilliant ploy giving her an extra smattering of glory to cement her position, Carewyn had still initially feared the crew who had been on the HMS Lion would take her to task for her insubordination of Cutler Beckett. It turned out she really needn’t have worried.

“Lord Beckett may have been chosen by the King to take charge of the Empire’s anti-piracy campaign,” said Carewyn’s old lieutenant when she questioned him about it, “but he selected you as the Admiral of the fleet. Therefore it’s only right that we, as your subordinates, follow your orders -- whether they contradict Lord Beckett’s or not.”

“Even though I’m the sort of person to threaten the King’s chosen representative with my pistol?” asked Carewyn, her eyebrows raised.

“Even if you did far worse than that,” said the lieutenant, his eyes blazing with resolve. “Your orders saved a lot of our men’s lives out there, when Beckett’s no doubt would’ve led to their deaths. It’s only right that we protect you -- that the Navy protects you -- just like you protected us.”

His boyish face broke out into a broad smile. “We won’t betray you, Admiral. None of us will.”

With the Navy’s defeat at the hands of the Pirate Lords, Carewyn charted a course straight for London. The fleet had just started the month-long journey when about three days in, the Flying Dutchman emerged out of a gigantic wave and pulled up right alongside the HMS Royal. The Navy’s sailors immediately prepared for a fight, as they knew that the Dutchman was no longer under their control, but Carewyn held the order to attack, instead allowing the ship to approach.

The sailors on board the Dutchman were unrecognizable to Carewyn’s eyes -- gone were the barnacle-encrusted, shark-or-fish-headed crew members she’d seen before: all she saw were a band of very human, though admittedly very dirty and ragged-looking pirates. Sticking out amongst them was a handsome, clean-shaved man with a stylishly-embroidered coat, a brown ponytail, and discerning brown eyes, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a shorter, stockier man with very long curly dark hair tied back in a ponytail that swished around behind him like an oddly sentient tail. It was these two men that came aboard, when Carewyn invoked the right to parley with the Dutchman’s Captain in her office.

Percy shut the door to Carewyn’s cabin’s door behind the two men, taking off his tricorn hat just as the pirates, Ben, and Carewyn already had now that he was indoors. It was only once Carewyn, Percy, Ben, Jacob, and Ashe were alone that the two Navy officers and ex-Navy veteran dropped their professional masks and the two pirates dropped their intimidating glares, and Jacob and Carewyn ran forward, throwing their arms around each other and squeezing tight.

“Jacob!” Carewyn breathed against his shoulder as she clung to her brother.

Jacob cradled his younger sister close, absently trailing his hand through her hair in repetitive strokes. “Oh Wyn -- my brave Wyn...”

Carewyn pulled away just enough to look at Jacob. Her eyes trailed over his face, down to the long scar on his chest exposed by his slightly open shirt, and over his curly ponytail, which was currently squiggling like a ribbon in mid-air behind him.

Jacob smiled a bit sheepishly.

“Seems all sailors on the Flying Dutchman become a bit more ‘sea-like’ upon tying themselves to the ship. Rakepick’s hair kind of went all ‘jellyfish’ when she was captain -- probably because of her talent for shocking betrayals,” he added with a rather nasty smile. “Ashe thinks that my hair’s been evoking an eel. Fortunately I reckon I won’t start sprouting gills or turning green unless I actively shed my humanity and ignore my role as ferryman like Jones did...”

The severe look on Carewyn’s face made the smile slowly slide off of Jacob’s face.

“Jacob...when Jones was captain of the Dutchman, he wasn’t allowed to visit dry land but once every ten years,” said Carewyn, her voice betraying the anxiety she felt despite her best effort.

Jacob’s eyes grew a little more solemn. “...I know.”

Seeing the pain in his sister’s eyes, he immediately swooped in and trailed a hand through the hair near the front of her face.

“Wyn, I already planned for this. The whole reason I left you on Isle de Muerta is that I wanted to get Jones’s heart and force him, any way I had to, to release you from the contract.” He swallowed. “...I knew I’d have to be prepared to follow through, if I was going to threaten Jones’s life -- that I’d have to be prepared to become captain of the Dutchman myself, if it came to it.”

Carewyn looked if possible even more upset. “...You mean you planned this? You were really going to kill Jones, to stop him from impressing me into service?”

“I was not going to condemn you, Wyn,” Jacob said in a very forceful, pained voice. “I couldn’t let you suffer because of my mistake -- ”

“Two wrongs do not make a right, Jacob,” Carewyn shot back very harshly. “Jones may have been heartless, but he was still a person!”

“If you disregard the tentacles and claw, anyway,” Ashe said rather coolly. When Carewyn whirled on him with a very reproachful look, he spoke again before she did, “Carewyn, your brother had his fair share of conflict about the whole thing. He hated the thought of killing Jones and joining the crew of the Dutchman. He hated the thought of not being free to go where he wanted, to lose so much time with you...with me.”

Ashe’s eyes were very stony, but they still flickered over to Jacob, narrowing slightly with something oddly resigned. Carewyn’s gaze softened significantly.

“...I hated it for him too,” the merman said lowly. “I still do. But I hate the thought of Jack having died there on that deck more. I hate the thought that Rakepick would’ve actually managed to kill him this time, and there would’ve been nothing I could’ve done to stop it. Your friend the Pirate King couldn’t save your brother’s life, but she did prevent him from dying...all because she, like me, couldn’t bear the thought of you two never seeing each other again.”

His lips actually turned up in something of a weak, wry smile upon Carewyn.

“I understand your frustration -- your brother can be amazingly thick -- ”

“Oi!” said Jacob, a bit offended, but Ashe ignored him.

“ -- but I’ve been very fortunate to know the same intense, selfless love from Jack that he feels for you. I’m not going to act like it’ll be easy -- I mean, even if I’d be able to stay on-board on the Dutchman with Jack while he’s here in the land of the living...whenever he goes to the next world as ferryman, I won’t be able to follow. But I can always meet up with him at sea, in my regular form -- I can always catch up, given the proper time...just like I did while Jack was serving under Howell Davis. Until then, I’ll just find someplace to wait.”

Carewyn considered Ashe for a long moment, her blue eyes rippling with a rather indiscernible expression. Then, looking a bit more determined, she strode right up to Ashe and took hold of his shoulders.

“You won’t have to find a place,” she said. “You’ll have one with me.”

Both Jacob and Ashe looked taken aback.

“You’re family, Duncan,” said Carewyn with a smile. “And everything I’ve ever done -- everything I’m doing now -- is for my family...my blood one and my found one.”

She glanced at Percy, who beamed, before turning her gaze back to Ashe.

“You’ll always have a home with me, when you don’t have one with my brother,” she said very firmly. “Always.”

Ashe looked faintly stunned. His eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, analyzing every inch as if he’d never seen anyone quite like her. His gaze flitted back over to Jacob, whose face had broken into a very warm, tear-choked smile.

Seeing the intense emotion in his partner’s face, Ashe couldn’t help but bow his head and clear his throat as he struggled to keep his composure.

“Ahem...well...that’s...nice.”

He glanced at Carewyn out the side of his eye almost hesitantly. The Admiral’s smile softened that bit more, becoming more sympathetic, and finally Ashe’s face slowly broke out into a very small, soft smile too. He brought up a hand and rested it on the crown of her head, lightly messing up her bangs.

“Guess I’ll just stick with you in the interim, then,” he said airily, “considering the Brethren Court’s instructions.”

Percy blinked in surprise. “The Brethren Court?”

Jacob nodded. “We took a vote and our Pirate King decided that a ‘representative’ should deliver the Court’s demands to the Admiral and the British Crown. Originally the plan was to have Ashe and me rendez-vous with you, and for Ashe to stay with you until ‘the terms were met.’”

“Jack would’ve done it himself if he could, but of course, he sort of needs to stick to the sea, unless he wants to waste his ‘one day every ten years,’” added Ashe.

“What terms did the Court decide on?” asked Ben, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “I assume they want pardons for themselves and their crews...but just pardoning a mob of pirates isn’t going to fix things on its own.”

Jacob nodded. “Aye. The Court requested a ‘path toward reintegration’ -- one that includes pardons, as well as a job that suits our sailing and, er... ‘financially-inclined’ talents and can be used to build a future for ourselves and any families we may want to support. Amari’s First Mate said there would only be a 58% chance that the King would accept those terms, but he hoped that you ‘being put under duress’ by a pirate while submitting those terms in writing might improve the odds slightly -- ”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Carewyn very primly.

This startled both Jacob and Ashe. Carewyn exchanged a wry smile with Ben.

“We’re already heading to London right now,” said Ben, his smirk noticeably broader than Carewyn’s. “The Admiral plans on requesting an audience with the King himself.”

“With Beckett gone, I’m in the best position I’ll ever be in, to make my move,” Carewyn said, her blue eyes flashing with determined fire. “I’m done with staying silent -- I intend to convince the King to give every pirate the chance to start their lives over.”

And so Carewyn sailed for London with Ashe, Ben, and Percy as her entourage. Meeting King George I would be a formidable proposition for anyone, but Carewyn fortunately was able to prepare a little ahead of time. The Weasley family had grown up near London, so Percy was able to give Carewyn some advice of how to approach the King --

“His Majesty was born and raised in the Holy Roman Empire, so English is not his first language. There are some rumors that he really doesn’t even speak English at all, but I think that’s highly exaggerated -- anti-German sentiment more than anything, you know. One thing that’s for sure, though, is that what he says goes. He’s even ostracized his own son and heir, so I’ve heard, since he was more popular with the British people. But he also can’t stand the Tories -- they never quite accepted his claim to the throne, over the Stuarts...honestly, there are a lot of people who’ve never really warmed up to the man...”

“And financially?” asked Carewyn.

Percy considered this. “...Well, the King’s very wealthy, certainly -- everyone knows that. But I suppose profit would always be advantageous, for the sake of the Empire...”

Carewyn smiled wryly and shook her head. “The Navy has been commanded by the East India Trading Company more than the King himself, as of late. Beckett once equated money with power, and I think there was a reason. If the King’s been leaning so heavily on the Company, that tells me that it had financial resources the Crown is in desperate need of, so the Crown’s own coffers currently depend on the Company’s success.”

Ben got an delighted, devious glint in his eye.

“Bet he’ll be absolutely thrilled to hear what happened to his fleet, then,” he said sarcastically.

Ashe and Carewyn exchanged a smirk too.

“I reckon you could play to that desperation,” said Ashe dryly. “A lack of or loss of wealth is a very common fear among men, I’ve found.”

Carewyn nodded in agreement. 

Within twenty days, the HMS Royal docked in London, a few days ahead of schedule thanks to the almost miraculously clear weather and friendly winds. Carewyn then traveled with Percy, Ashe, and Ben to Kensington Palace. It was only one of many castles owned by the King, but according to Percy, it was the one King George I had renovated the most, so Carewyn sussed out that it was likely his favorite of his residences and so, in her opinion, the best place to seek him out first. Her intuition turned out to be spot-on -- as it turned out, both King George I and his son the Prince were there, and although the King was occupied with his Ministers and couldn’t meet with them until that evening, Prince George Augustus was eager to meet the famous Admiral Weasley and requested an audience in one of the royal drawing rooms.

The Crown Prince of England was an amiable and warm, but not a very clever or intellectual man of about forty years. He expressed a lot of interest in Carewyn’s experience as a Navy hero, sounding rather like a child as he questioned her about facing off against the likes of Orion Amari and the crew of the dreaded ship Revenge. Carewyn did have to tailor her stories somewhat, but after a while, she was able to get Prince George comfortable enough that they ended up talking casually over a game of Cribbage, where Carewyn gleaned a few other helpful insights. For one, Carewyn learned that both the King and Prince knew several languages, the first being French, which was the preferred language at court as well as among royals abroad. She also found out that the royal family had never visited the colonies themselves, and that King George I’s leading advisor on matters of business -- the First Lord of the Treasury, Sir Robert Walpole -- had been personally putting more stock in the East India Trading Company than on investing any additional money into the colonies. From the sound of things, he believed as Cutler Beckett did in the power of money over noble ancestry, and yet the Prince conceded that his wife and father both thought well of him and that he was relatively amiable.

When Carewyn finally got her audience with King George I, she sure enough encountered Sir Robert Walpole. He was a broad middle-aged man with a powdered white wig curled into ringlets who stood beside the gray-wigged, tiny-eyed elderly King -- and the news of Cutler Beckett’s fate and the outcome of the confrontation at Shipwreck Cove visibly troubled him. As Carewyn had thought, the Crown had been counting on the East India Trading Company’s profits to flow back toward England to offset the national debt brought on by the War of Spanish Succession and Britain’s other conflicts...and so, when she made her proposal to the King, she felt rather confident.

“Votre Majesté...the scourge of piracy is indeed a threat, not just to the lives of our citizens, but to the Empire’s prosperity. But the East India Trading Company is a business -- they’re not trained in military matters, nor do they know how best to use the resources of the British Crown to combat this problem. They’re not equipped to deal with sensitive matters of state, which truthfully, I believe this to be. We don’t need to get England tied up in another military conflict...particularly when there’s a much more cost-effective alternative.”

King George I raised his graying eyebrows with some interest, but did not speak.

“And what alternative would you suggest, Admiral?” asked Walpole, looking rather curious himself.

“Investing in the colonies,” said Carewyn very firmly. “There’s still a lot of undeveloped land out there -- a lot of trading potential in beaver skins, lumber, and tobacco -- the possibility of wealth that’s been left untapped by the East India Trading Company, with their intense focus on Asia. These men who have become pirates, many of them, were privateers under us during our War against the Spanish. They know shipping and are in need of honest work. They’ve asked for it explicitly. I say that we offer pardons to those pirates who would be willing to work for a new trading company in New England -- one that can be for the colonies what the Company in India already is.”

Walpole frowned deeply in thought, considering the proposal. King George straightened up slightly in his throne so he could peer down at Carewyn with a beady eye.

“You believe, truly, that these criminals would want honest employment?” the old man asked.

His voice was very quiet and laced with a husky German accent. Apparently Percy was right to think the rumors that he couldn’t speak English weren’t true, but he seemed a bit uncomfortable with the language, all the same.

Carewyn smiled at the King. “Oui, mon roi. Beasts can survive on human flesh alone, but humans need a home and money in order to live well. Et les pirates...pardon, I hope that word is correct...sont juste les humains.”

King George’s tiny eyes softened noticeably.

“Your French is very poor, Admiral,” he said in rather smug amusement, “but your word choice is correct.”

He looked at Walpole. “What say you, Earl?”

Walpole considered his answer. “...It could be an interesting proposition -- were we able to locate someone who’d be willing to put his name, reputation, and estate on the line, to fund such a company...”

“I volunteer.”

Ben took a step forward and gave a low, but clipped bow to the King.

“Lord Earl, Your Majesty, this is Captain Gordon Cooper, of the HMS Royal,” Carewyn introduced him. “He was instrumental in helping me lead our men during the battle at Shipwreck Cove.”

“I already have a small sum of money saved up, your Majesty -- enough to purchase one or two ships of my own, to start with,” said Ben. “I truly believe that the profits I could make with those two ships just from offering safe passage to the colonies would be enough to fund the purchase of another. All I’d need would be some collateral to pay a crew for each ship in advance.”

"A standard ship would only need about ten well-bodied men to sail it and transport its cargo efficiently,” Carewyn said quickly, seeing the slight hesitation in the King’s expression. "I’m no expert in finance -- ” she inclined her head respectfully in Walpole’s direction, “ -- but in order to settle more land in the colonies, trees would have to be cut down...which means more lumber to transport back to England. If the people Captain Cooper’s ships are transporting are settlers who are incentivized to build homes there -- possibly with the promise of land ownership -- then their arrival alone would spark a boom of lumber sales. That could then pay back the investment several times over.”

Walpole’s lips spread into a smile, one wryer than the King’s. He was clearly a much more discerning man than either of the two Georges, but he seemed pleased by the proposition, nonetheless.

“...Indeed it could,” he granted. He glanced at the King. “I daresay old Townsend would be pleased to have some financial leverage for his talks with the Spanish and French...”

“Mm...”

King George I gave a short, pompous nod before turning back to face Carewyn and the others.

“Very well. I grant my favor.”

Walpole inclined his head to Ben. “Captain Cooper, the Crown grants you and your Company permission to sail. We shall provide you a loan of 10,000 pounds sterling for your first twenty sailors and any necessary ship repairs, to be paid back with interest within a year. If your sailors complete a successful -- namely, profitable -- round-trip expedition to London on board those ships, then they will receive a full pardon from the British Crown for their past crimes and be permitted to continue working as part of your Company.”

Carewyn’s companions’ eyes all lit up.

“Understood,” said Ben, his face consumed by a huge grin.

“Admiral Weasley will deliver the terms to the pirates -- quietly,” said the King with a stern eye. “I expect written reports and good results.”

Carewyn’s face burst into a brilliant smile too, which she tried to obscure when she brought an arm up to her chest and gave a low bow.

“Mais oui. Merci, votre Grace -- we’ll work hard pour England, et pour vous aussi.”

The King’s eyes sparkled with the trace of a wry smile. “Vous etes un garçon très divertissant, Amiral. J'espère que votre français se sera amélioré lors de notre prochaine rencontre.”

With the King’s blessing, Ben purchased the ships needed in London and, with Percy’s help, prepared them for their first expedition. Carewyn returned to the HMS Lion with Ashe, taking it out to sea just far enough that the Flying Dutchman could emerge from the water and pull up alongside the Navy ship. Carewyn relayed King George I’s decision to Jacob in her cabin, and the Captain of the Flying Dutchman was so overwhelmed with pride that he threw his arms around his little sister and squeezed her with all of his strength. Carewyn, however, found herself unable to celebrate.

“What’s wrong, Wyn?” said Jacob. He tilted his head to look at her, his eel-like ponytail twitching almost curiously behind him. “You did it -- you convinced the King. The Lords at Shipwreck Cove, all the people who live there, will be able to live normal lives again, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“I know,” said Carewyn lowly.

Despite herself, she just couldn’t meet her brother’s gaze. Her eyes lingered on his shoulder.

“...I just wish I could’ve given you that kind of normal life too,” she admitted.

Jacob’s blue eyes darkened. Bringing up both of his arms, he encircled Carewyn and held her tightly against his chest as he rested his head on top of hers. Carewyn bit her lip, trying to hold in her emotions as best she could.

“I wanted to bring you home,” she murmured. “The whole reason I wanted to fight for a world where pirates could be forgiven was because I wanted you to be able to come home...you and Bill and Charlie and Jules and Orion...”

Jacob squeezed Carewyn that bit tighter. Both Cromwells were crying now, even though they both stubbornly fought to keep themselves from breaking down into full sobs.

Ashe shared a grim look  with Jacob over Carewyn’s head. Then he came up beside both of them, resting a hand on the crown of Carewyn’s head and leaning his forehead against his lover’s, and hummed something low under his breath. The resonant bass tone seemed to slowly calm Carewyn’s heart and breathing and help the tears ebb.

After a moment, she took a deep breath and looked up at Ashe with muted gratitude, before she turned back to her brother.

“...Now that I’ve done my duty and made sure the Crown’s terms were delivered, I intend to send in my resignation to the Navy. I can’t support Ben’s new Company while I’m still Admiral without worrying about a conflict of interest, after all.”

She offered a weak wry smile, which then slowly morphed into a much more gentle one.

“Besides...I think I’m ready to finally stop fighting.”

Jacob’s teary eyes softened fondly. “Then live, my sweet Wyn. Live in peace and happiness...”

With a heavy breath, he picked up the Dead Man’s Chest he’d brought with him back off Carewyn’s desk and faced Ashe.

“I’ll need to head to the next world soon,” said Jacob. “Would you...?”

Ashe inclined his head in a solemn nod. “Give it to me, Jack.”

Very carefully, Jacob placed the Chest into Ashe’s open hands, trailing his own much dirtier, faintly trembling hands over his lover’s once he’d taken it. His eyes darted from Ashe to Carewyn, looking heartbroken and almost starved -- like he longed so much to never look away from them again.

“Be safe,” Jacob mumbled, “and...please, keep a weather eye on the horizon for me?”

“How dare you ask me that.”

Ashe trailed his lips along the side of Jacob’s face in lingering, messy kisses, only pausing briefly to look him in the eye, blazing brown on blue.

“I will always wait, Jack. I will always find you again.”

Carewyn’s eyes were just as soft as she reached up into the inside pocket of her jacket and slowly withdrew a familiar star-like, sapphire-and-diamond pendant for Jacob to see.

It was the one he himself had given her on Isle de Muerta.

Jacob’s eyes flooded with more tears as Carewyn wrapped both of her arms around her brother’s neck, hugging him tightly just as she had then.

“We’ll be there, Jacob,” she murmured. Two streaks of tears slid from her closed eyes. “I promise.”

Jacob delivered the British Crown’s terms to the Brethren Court at Shipwreck Cove within two days, after he’d returned from ferrying the proper souls to the next life. Within a month, a ship full of twenty sailors had arrived in London, ready to man the red-and-blue-painted ships Ben Copper had purchased. The two ships set sail for the colonies, the first up to New England and the second down to the Caribbean, which allowed Percy to return home to Port Royal and go about his duties as Commodore and Ben to finally be reunited with his love Wendy Gordon and propose marriage as a free and prosperous man.

Once the two ships returned to London another month later, the first wave of pardons was signed. From there, Ben’s enterprise -- the Gordon-Cooper Trading Company -- grew, taking on more ships that then proceeded to employ the once-most-wanted criminals in the world and give them a chance at a new life. And Carewyn -- retiring with full honors from the Navy and settling in New York City with Ashe under her real name for the first time since she was a child -- visited the dock every morning to see every ship that came in.

The first ship to New York brought Ellie Hopper. The once-Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea ended up colliding with the soft-spoken third son of the well-respected horse breeder Johan Schaefer in upstate New York, and the two were married within a few years.

The second ship brought Merula Snyde and the stylish Frenchman Andre Egwu. The captain of the so-called “most powerful ship on the seven seas” continued as a merchant, breaking off from the Gordon-Cooper Trading Company to buy her own ship and engage in the tobacco and sugar trade between New England and the southern colonies. Andre opened up his own clothing shop in Philadelphia and soon became one of the most sought-after tailors in Pennsylvania.

The third ship brought Bill and Jules.

When Bill caught sight of Carewyn at the dock, he practically barreled his way down the ship’s gangplank and shoved a good ten people aside to reach his best friend. The two gingers and Jules then clung to each other for what felt like hours, tears of joy streaming down their faces as Bill trailed a hand through Carewyn’s now-loose-flowing hair and Jules fawned over Carewyn’s pretty new dress.

Bill and Jules also brought a letter from Charlie with them --

My twin, Carey,

I’m sorry I won’t be able to give you this news in person -- but I won’t be accepting my pardon for a while yet.

At Shipwreck Cove, I met a woman named Sarahi (I don’t believe you know her, but she knows you, and Orion spoke very well of her), who grew up in the area of the Pacific Ocean. According to what she’s said, it’s been left largely in chaos since the death of Bartholomew Sharp -- sea serpents, carnivorous sirens, giant squids, the whole lot...and as Pirate Lord of the Pacific, it’s my responsibility to manage things there. But hey, you know I’ve never been afraid of a little adventure! Particularly when I’ve got a good crew on my side. My First Mate Barnaby’s injuries have completely healed, so we, Sarahi, and Samantha O’Connell will be heading out within the next three days on the new and improved Revolution. Sam and Sarahi helped me paint some red dragon wings on the sides, just as a flourish!

I miss you so much, and I miss Bill already, just writing this -- but I know that we won’t ever be truly apart, even when I can only see you in my mind’s eye. I know you’ll probably be worried about me, Carey, but please don’t be. I’d trust my crew with my life -- I already have, honestly, and they sure haven’t let me down yet! I can’t wait for you to meet them. I reckon you’d probably “mother” the hell out of Barnaby, and Sarahi was really happy when I told her how good of a singer you are, so she’s very excited about the prospect of singing with you. And Sam...I reckon you and she will get on famously.

Remember, Carey...we’re family, now and forever! You’ll be in my mind and heart always, until I sail up into New York Harbor and see you again! If Bill hasn’t given you the biggest hug ever for my sake, then give him a good kick to the shin and remind him. Take good care of him, Jules, and Percy for me. Love you so much.

Your brother,

Charlie

Bill and Jules Weasley ended up settling down and starting a family of their own in New York City, just twelve blocks away from where Carewyn and Ashe lived. It was not uncommon over the years for both Carewyn and Ashe to pick up babysitting duties, though Ashe most frequently would just use his particular talent for singing to put any fussy children right to sleep and then drop them off in either Carewyn’s or Jules’s lap.

Over the next six months, more and more red-and-blue ships passed through New York Harbor, dropping off more pardoned ex-pirates so they could start new lives in the colonies. Then one day, toward the end of spring, Carewyn left the brick house she shared with Ashe as if to head for the dock as usual, only to stop mid-step at the sound of someone shouting her name.

“Carewyn!”

She turned around, her ginger hair flourishing behind her as if in slow motion.

A man had just leapt off the back of a carriage he’d been hanging off of without the driver’s knowledge and was now running toward her. Carewyn squinted, taking in his unfamiliar dark ponytail and sailor’s clothes -- then, within seconds, she recognized the handsomely smiling, bearded face and his shining, galaxy-like eyes.

“Orion?” she breathed.

Her heart seemed to seize up, as if it were being squeezed in someone’s hand and yet being given wings at the exact same time. Then she threw herself into a run, and it slammed against her rib cage, as she ran to him, flat-out ignoring how her knees kept getting caught in her hoops and her heeled shoes pinched her feet.

“Orion -- ORION!”

She just about tripped into his arms. Orion caught her and swooped down on her, burying his face in her hair.

“Carewyn...” he murmured against her neck.

“Orion,” said Carewyn.

Her voice was strained with the effort of trying to contain her joy. It felt like she was being stretched at the seams and probably could’ve exploded from all the intense emotions beating at the edges of her heart. She secured her arms around his neck and clung to him -- she brought her lips up to the side of his temple and kissed it, resting her forehead against his briefly before finally pulling away enough to look him in the face.

Orion was beaming from ear to ear as he brought up a hand to trail his thumb gently along her cheek.

“...Carewyn Cromwell...I don’t think you’ve ever looked more fair.”

Carewyn smiled. “Does that mean you like my new look?”

“Yes,” said Orion, his eyes grazing her black-and-white-striped dress and the diamond-and-sapphire pendant tied with a black ribbon around her neck briefly, “but that’s not why you look so fair. You’ve been my moon goddess, previously...but now you are Libertas, personified.”

Carewyn laughed, her face contorted with confusion. “What?”

“Libertas, Carewyn,” repeated Orion, his huge smile never faltering. “The goddess of freedom! Freedom is the most beautiful thing, Carewyn. I’ve longed for it all my life, but never could truly have it, whether because I lacked the means of survival or because I was a pirate who could only live on the run. And when we first met again, on the Artemis...the thing that hurt me the most, seeing you again...was knowing that you were trapped by your position -- enslaved to the duty that made you hide who you were and march lock-step with the likes of Cutler Beckett. But now you...in this moment, here...you are free. It shines in your eyes, on your face -- it radiates off of you like a star, Carewyn. Better still -- because of you, I am free. For the first time in my life...I’m completely free to chase my heart’s desire...”

Orion’s smile seemed to shrink slightly, not out of lack of happiness but out of something almost like nerves, as he reached into his lone remaining belt and slipped out a familiar black-lidded compass.

"McNully, Skye and I have been offered salaried positions with the Gordon-Cooper Trading Company,” he said a bit more seriously, “so I may have to return to sea in the future, but...”

When he opened the compass, its scarlet arrow was pointed right at Carewyn.

“...My heart’s desire has not changed. I would always return, if you...”

He trailed off, his tone oddly shy for how calm his face appeared. The once-Admiral’s red-painted lips spread into a bigger, fuller smile too as she rested her hands on top of his.

“I wouldn’t have married you in the middle of a storm if I didn’t want to build a life with you, Orion Amari,” she said gently. “Or is it Cromwell now? We may want to make a decision about that...”

She smoothed some dark hair out of his eyes.

“I already told you that I want you to have a home. If you need to fly like a bird...then I’ll be your nest.”

Carewyn placed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. His black eyes softening, Orion brought up a hand to hold the back of her head, holding it in place. He kissed her chastely in return once, twice, and then deepened the kiss on the third go. After he released her, he lingered, his lips brushing up against hers as he smiled down at her.

“...My dear Bedlam maid...I will always follow your song home.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes sparkled affectionately. “Then I’ll never stop singing.”

“See that you don’t,” said Orion, his black eyes glittering with some wry amusement. “I do believe I said I’d envisioned a life for you where you married a man that you could sing for.”

Carewyn laughed quietly, but after a moment, she brought her forehead beside her husband’s, her arms secure around his neck as she held him close and sang for him.

“So now these two are married, and happy may they be, Like turtle doves together, in love and unity.

All pretty maids, with patience wait, that have got loves at sea – I love my love because I know...my love…loves…me.”

[flying-elliska]

Hey Flying Elliska, I've been following your work on AO3, the skam-related pieces specifically, they're my absolute favorites and I've been meaning to ask for a long time now: Are you writing for a living? Where do you have your skill from? Did you study writing or does it come naturally to you? I'm asking because I'm writing as well, but in German, but I have nowhere near your vividness (?) if that's a thing :) How do you make the characters so real? Anyway big kudos to you, greetings :)

Hi 😁💙 thank you for telling me this, it warms my very cold heart (it's cold because I've been biking outside for hours, not because of any particular disposition 😂)

I am not writing for a living yet but it's definitely in the works. I didn't study writing, I've just been obsessed with stories for a very long time and have known I needed to write for as long as I can remember. If I had to give any advice on how to make characters "real" :

- reading about psychology in general is a good thing, it's one of my interests and I think it helped me w characters ; I did study social sciences and that helps too to create characters that feel anchored in their world and make sense in their context ; people are not the way they are for no reason

- it's good to have a writer's mind ; to observe and pay attention to the world around you through the filter of how you could use this in a story ; when it comes to people, patterns of dialogue, atmospheres, the ways they express their personality in mannerisms and style, signs of emotion, body language, etc. But more than that it's about paying attention to what impact the world has on you, or what impact it could have on a character, and how you could use this - tying things in the environment to emotions, sensations. Having wet feet because you stepped in a puddle is a great way to underline your character feel clumsy miserable. Golden light hitting through a window can make everything look special and enchanted. Ugly carpet on tram seats can irritate a character visually and make them think about annoying things in their lives. I think the most vivid characters are deeply embodied creatures ; writing them requires knowing how they would react to the world in a sensory way and in thoughts - are they sensitive and easily overwhelmed ? Are they numb and seeking thrills ? Are they a poet who find beauty in the little things ? Are they more of a utilitarian ? When writing falls flat it can often be because of "white room syndrome" where characters could very well be bubbles floating in a white room because the focus is only on what they think and say.

- in relation to that if you don't already I would suggest keeping a diary ; you are your own first subject and keeping track of your thoughts, figuring out how your emotions work and feel, and so on, can give you material later. Plus it can be practice in observing the world and writing down interesting ideas. I have been keeping a diary mostly continuously since I was 13 and it's really helped me find my voice

- I have been doing these writing exercises for a while now where I pick an emotion/sensation and I write down all the associated vocabulary I can think of ; basic descriptions, but also metaphors, both internal and external cues - how would it look from the outside ? How would it feel from the inside ? And also thinking about the subtypes of a particular emotion. So anger can be a slow, simmering rage turned inwards that can feel corrosive like acid, and is barely visible from the outside apart from a clenched jaw and a cold look ; or it can be like a swarm of hornets that makes the person red and incohesive, or a clap of lightning that is loud and expressive but quickly gone, etc. Or happiness can be sunny and slow like wildflower honey, or it can be sudden and giggly and make you lightheaded like helium gas, or it can be the satisfying glow of a crackling fire in a big hearth and velvet slippers after a long day at work, or it can be like the uncertain rush of new relationships that feel like looking down from the plane and wondering if your parachute is well attached, etc. You can also consider how different emotions can play into each other, if maybe there are emotions you know that are rarely named, etc. It's a good way of stretching yr legs and broadening your range, bc descriptions of emotions can easily become stale.

- It's also a good thing to do for specific characters who would have peculiar way of expressing certain emotions, and have certain emotional states that are frequent for them. For instance, in my Diamants fic, one of Lucas's baseline emotions is a cold, calculating, ruthless determination associated with metaphors of sharpness, combustion/(molten)metal, and speed, that is motivated by anger and devotion and has something a little bit inhuman to it ; Eliott's is a very observant thoughtfulness tinted with melancholy, something kind and loving that is difficult to express and always on the edge of vanishing, associated with plant life, distant half remembered melodies and abandoned places. For every important character it's good to have an idea of a "dominant emotional palette" ; being consistent with metaphors also make the characters feel more cohesive.

- this is pretty basic but in general it's good to always remember what your characters want and what drives them, both in a specific scene and in general.

- also it's good to be on the lookout for filler ; sometimes there are things you know about the character that are not important for the reader to know ; like what they ate earlier or through which means of transportation they came home, etc. A story is not "follow your character from A to B all day", it's "let me tell you about the character doing A and then C because it had a direct impact on the general point of the story". Even slice of life realistic stories should be purposeful and selective. This is one of the biggest issues that make me lose interest in a story (especially in fic) is a writer who doesn't have a handle on that.

- also basic but just put your love and enthusiasm in there ! Your love for the concept and the story but also for other stories you loved and the things you loved and the people in your life you love ! It's all fuel !

That's what I can think about for now ! I hope it helped a little bit 😁💜 have a lovely day anon !

[angelsfwrites]

FIRECRACKERS AND TANTRUMS | KYLO REN

This prompt was requested by @thefandomnetworkingchannel-32 :

I hope you enjoy, luv xx !!!!!

                 FIRECRACKERS AND TANTRUMS

          ☆

                           KYLO REN X READER

                ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

                ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

WARNINGS: Toxic relationships, violent behavior, abusive situations, light choking, explicit kissing, manipulation, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Please, proceed with caution ! 

PRANKS had been a staple in your relationship with Kylo Ren, even if they were seriously one-sided. Kylo never reciprocated the pranks; you seriously doubted that he ever would. Nonetheless, he endured them for you and Hux always had fun gathering the materials. Any chance to see Kylo unraveled, Hux definitely took. 

The pranks thus far had been simple, small ones- only requiring small materials like water, whoopie cushions, or shock buzzers. Normally, you never felt like pushing to see how far Kylo would let you go but Hux had convinced you this would be a good idea. Regardless, you were always the one to deal with the fallout of every prank and, as far as you know, Kylo hadn’t said a word to your more dangerous counterpart.

Firecrackers were what you were supplied with this time and, honestly, you felt a bit wary about using them. They were loud and very obvious, he was sure to notice them as soon as he walked up to the door.

You had just finished tying a bunch of them to the top of the door- each rigged in a way so that they would go off as soon as the door opened. You inspected your work with a close eye, trying to see if there were any flaws in the way you had set it up.  

You looked wearily towards Hux, “Are you sure he isn’t going to notice that?” You asked, pointing up at the door frame.

Hux eyed the spot you pointed at and shrugged his shoulders, “Who cares?”

You just rolled your eyes at him, “Obviously I do, stupid!”

“I’m your superior officer, you cannot talk to me like that!” He whisper yelled at you.

 “Sure, buddy,” You laughed, “Keep telling yourself that.”

He just huffed, “I could get you in trouble, you know.”

You blankly stared at him before you burst out in belly-clenching laughter, “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day!” It was hard to get the words out in between laughs, but you eventually succeeded. 

“Do not push my buttons,” Though Hux always wore a blank and stoic face, you could tell he was holding in laughter of his own by the way his eyes shone with amusement. 

Hux had been your first friend in the First Order; you’d met him way before Kylo. You really hated him at first, he was way too uptight about everything and no fun to be around. That’s when your pranking had really begun; you’d done it to try and break Hux out of his awful shell. It had taken him a while to figure out who was doing it and he was furious when he confronted you. But, the day he confronted you, Hux had a green face from the dye you put into his shaving cream. There was nothing you could do except laugh at his stupidly bright green face and, eventually, he joined in on it.

From that day forward, both of you had been close as ever. He was like the brother you never had and you felt comfortable confiding in him. He’d been the first to know about your crush on the Supreme Leader and the first to when about your relationship. Hux had warned you about Kylo at first- talked about how cold and dangerous the man was, which you definitely understood. Kylo had been extremely off-putting the first time you met him, but some intoxicating urge to peel back his layers had you coming back for more. 

Hux had seen a different side of Ren the day you accidentally pranked him and began to understand why you stayed around. It was late at night when you were planning to jump Hux and scare him before he went to bed, but you found Kylo instead. Apparently, he was on his way to give Hux some very important paperwork- which flew out of his hands the moment you jumped from behind the corner and yelled ‘boo!’ Hux came flying out of his room, only to see you hiding giggles under your hands and a very bewildered Kylo. 

From that day on, Hux and you had vowed to prank him at every chance you got. The outcome you got each time was much too satisfying to stop chasing. Kylo had learned to just accept and ignore each prank you threw his way; none of it was really his style. 

Suddenly, Hux grabbed your arm tightly and whispered in your ear, “Hide!”

You grinned with adrenaline and ran to hide behind a nearby corner. You peaked around the corner to see Kylo approaching the quarters both of you shared. He wore his normal menacing look as he strode closer to the door. His footsteps mimicked the pounding of your heart- ready to burst from your chest with excitement. The concern you felt earlier had disappeared and was replaced by the high strung adrenaline that came with each prank.

Kylo had reached the door by now and was getting ready to open it. You sucked a stale breath in between your teeth when he finally opened the door. Almost twenty loud, resonating pops filled the air around him and he jumped back into the wall. It was too hard to contain, so your laughter came tumbling out of your mouth and you fell to the floor holding your hands to your stomach. The look on his face was absolutely priceless; you could only hope Hux saw that.

You were too wrapped in your laughter that you didn’t hear the loud, reverberating footsteps coming your way. They stopped right in front of you as you opened your eyes to wipe the tears from them. Black, leather boots filled your vision and your laughter slowly turned dry. ‘Now’s clean up time,’ you thought, ‘Was fun while it lasted.’

Your eyes traveled from the boots, up to his torso, and his neck to end at his face. The look he wore was not his usual one of indifference after each prank. This one was much darker and filled to the brim with anger. Any lingering amusement quickly drained from your body and you gulped. This couldn’t have a good outcome for you; not with that look he’s wearing.

Kylo swiftly bent down to harshly grab your shoulders and push you to your feet. When you were finally standing, he roughly pushed you against the wall behind you. You winced when the back of your head and shoulders slammed into it. One of Kylo’s hands moved to the center of your chest, while the other one rested at the base of your neck. Under his left hand, you were sure he could feel your racing heartbeat. Under his right, you were sure he could feel the harsh movements of your throat. 

His fingers on his right hand were beginning to squeeze slightly around your throat; just enough so you knew the pressure of his grip was there. He leaned close enough to you that you could rub your nose against his, but, given the situation, you stayed paralyzed with fear. Your boyfriend was a dangerous man and it seemed like you had pushed exactly the right button that unlocked that side of him. 

His breath was cool on your mouth when he spoke, “Little girl, I’m in no mood for your games today.” His voice was low but powerful enough to send your psyche into shock. Your brain was screaming for you to run, but your limbs were much too numb to accomplish anything- certainly not pushing Kylo off of you.

He seemed to notice your need to run and harshly jutted a knee in between your legs to keep you up against the wall. If you weren’t dangerously stuck before, you definitely were now. You could only hope that the wall behind you would open up and swallow you whole away from Kylo.

You eventually just nodded your head in response to him, but that didn’t satisfy his anger. Kylo only gripped and pushed harder on you with your head nod. He leaned impossibly closer to you when he spoke again, “You speak when you’re spoken to. Am I being clear enough for you?” The menace in his voice was enough to tear you in half; the man standing in front of you was not the one you fell in love with.

You squeaked out a nervous, “Yes,” at his question. This seemed to sate his anger a little as he loosened his grip around your throat and removed his knee. 

“Good,” You thought that was the end of this conversation, but then Kylo tucked his head close to your shoulder and his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Try anything again and see what happens.” Your body shook with the power of those words- the promise of danger in disguise was hidden underneath the normally exciting words. 

Kylo leaned away from your ear and met your eyes with his. You could only swallow harshly and stare back into them; usually bright and inviting hazel was almost black with unfiltered anger. It was shocking to see, especially since you were the one who caused it. You didn’t know what hurt worse at the moment; Kylo turning you into nothing more than one of his subordinates or the fact you had pissed him off enough to do that. 

After a few more seconds of staring through you, Kylo finally let his grip fall but he didn’t back away just yet. His harsh words found you once again, “Get out of my sight before I do something I’ll later regret.” 

He backed away from you completely after he spoke and, as soon as his body left yours, you shot in the opposite direction of Kylo. You needed your safe place right now, you needed away from Kylo immediately. You huffed out sharp breaths as you ran and were sure the staff was staring at you like you were crazy. Eventually, you reached the dark and tucked away corner you loved to use when you needed a break. 

Kylo’s actions hadn’t registered when they were happening, but now all you could do was sit and think about them. He had never once acted that way towards you, it was mostly saved for lower-ranking officers that pissed him off. You thought if you never saw that side of him, you would never have to even acknowledge it. Being the First Order’s Supreme Leader was sure to bring an air of fear around everyone he was near, but it barely touched you. Now, it was impossible to ignore the anger that festered and grew in the soul of the man you loved.

Kylo had done awful things, he never once tried to hide them from you and, make no mistake, you weren’t the fragile kind. It was silly to think that he would hide the Hyde of his usual Jekyll nature from you. Every bad thing that floated around about him was so easy to cast away when you only saw the good. 

You felt so stupid for thinking that this could’ve been avoided altogether; you couldn’t live with him and not be exposed to the raw rage he exuded away from you. You’d been extremely lucky to have not seen it before now, honestly. 

As you sat longer, the numbness of the situation faded from your body and pure hurt replaced it. Tears quickly escaped your eyes and you frantically tried to keep the sobs at bay. Even though this was a completely secluded corner, people would still hear you if they were to walk by. The last thing you wanted was to be coddled by Hux or turned into a laughing stock by the rest of the ship. Being Ren’s girl came with a certain air of responsibility and, right now, the last thing you wanted to do was indirectly embarrass him. 

          ☆

HOURS had passed since you tucked yourself here. The tears had dried and left your face feeling sticky and taunt. The sobs you held in earlier caused your lungs to ache in the aftermath of your breakdown. The taste of salt lingered in your mouth like a bad aftertaste and left your tongue heavy with dryness. Your head was pounding with migraine and your eyes were too sensitive to open. Your psyche was left to crumble to pieces from the emotional exhaustion of overthinking everything that had happened earlier. You felt heavy and light at the same time; your body was drifting, but your mind kept you grounded with the weight of lingering hurt. 

Kylo hadn’t tried to find you and you couldn’t tell if relief or pain filled you with that thought. Your heart yearned for his aura to wrap around yours, but your mind still shook with fear at the very thought of having him close to you. Would Kylo wrap you into his body and whisper reassuring words into your ears or would he back you further into this corner and add a few more layers of fear? 

While you tried to decide what side to trust, footsteps approached you. Your thought riddled brain kept you oblivious to the sound, but something told you to turn your head to the entrance to the corner you were in. When you did exactly that, black clothes filled your vision; Kylo had found you. The heart you tried hard to ignore jumped and rejoiced with love, but your occupied mind doused your body with cold fear. You couldn’t gauge the mood he was in because he was wearing a completely blank mask. This caused your mind to kick into hyperdrive and anxiety flowed down your spine to the tips of your toes.     

He strode towards you until you were eye level to his knees. Kylo bent at the knees and squatted in front of you; indecipherable hazel met the raw fear that flooded your irises. You couldn’t stop the shaking of your body once it started; this situation made you nervous. 

He pulled the glove on his right hand off slowly with his left and his eyes never left yours. He switched hands and did the same to the left as he did to his right. You had no idea what his intention was when his right hand moved towards your face; love kept you still, but fear urged you to flinch. The cool, callused skin of his palm met the sticky tear tracks that were left on your left cheek. You saw Kylo’s mouth pull into a small frown- so small that if you would’ve blinked, you would’ve missed it- at the feeling of dried tears on the soft skin. 

He pulled his eyes away from the tracks and they met yours once again. His thumb ran under your eye to smear the beginning of the trail away and it was comforting, to say the least. But, even with that touch, you didn’t know if Kylo would flip his switch again and make it hurt. 

His voice was soft when he finally spoke, “Please, don’t be afraid of me, love.” 

An ache bloomed in the pit of your stomach and began to reach the tips of your fingers and soles of your feet. For some reason his face said nothing, yet his voice said everything. The yearning was almost completely suffocating as it wrapped to coat your lungs. His words sank into your bones and left them heavy with the fear and sadness they brought. His actions and his words spoke volumes; he was scared you were going to run away. 

You reached deeper into his soul through his eyes and sifted through the events of today; you couldn’t find any striking anger or poisonous danger. Kylo wasn’t going to hurt you, so you slowly let yourself fall into his touch. His whole body seemed to sink with release as he found his way to his knees. His unoccupied hand found your other cheek and swiped away the remnants of your fear. 

“You’re alright now, pretty girl,” His voice was heavy with comfort as it wrapped around your body, “I’ve got you now.” 

Kylo couldn’t stomach the word sorry and you never expected to hear it come out of his mouth. You didn’t even expect, nor want, him to say sorry; right now each soft touch and comforting word meant more than sorry ever could. He was a difficult man to understand- many scars hardened his reserve- yet, he was your favorite book to read. 

You tilted your head into his left hand and welcomed the touch that it brought. Your voice finally found the courage to speak, “I love you.” You felt your words linger in the air between your mouths before they finally seeped into Kylo’s skin. 

He didn’t say anything back, he couldn’t stomach those words either. It was a gamble to even say them in the first place, but you let them tumble out anyways. You knew you won when Kylo’s mouth met yours in a bruising kiss. His left hand traveled to the nape of your neck and tangled in the hair there. He manipulated your head and pulled back to open your mouth more to his. His tongue slid in between your lips and his familiar taste filled your every sense. Kylo used his right hand to grip the hair at the side of your head to keep you still in front of him; control was something he drew in like air and it was something you never found yourself denying him. 

Despite the harsh dominance, Kylo kissed you with, you found hints of sweetness and even love wrapped up into it. You would be content with him never saying ‘I love you’ if he kissed you like this each time you said it. Words were fickle things, having the meaning of them stripped away by false prophets, but actions meant so much more. Each kiss left on you during this moment engraved love into your skin. 

You finally found the strength to break away for air, but you let your face hover close to his. Each breath you exhaled was pulled into his lungs and exhaled into yours again; the intimacy was smothering you. You let your hand softly run over his cheek to find his hair; the soft, inky tendrils ran through your fingers. Kylo looked completely blissed out, a stark difference to how he was earlier. 

“I’m sorry for doing that to you,” Your words were heavily laced with an apologetic tone.

He stared for a moment before he spoke, “I should’ve handled it better.”

Those words shocked you for a moment before you quickly recovered, “You put up with so much from me. I’m still learning your buttons and boundaries.” 

“I promised myself I would never touch you like that,” He swallowed harshly with those words, “Yet when I snapped, I did exactly that.”

You let the words sink in before softly saying, “I pushed when I shouldn’t have.”

Kylo slowly shook his head, “I took the stress of a bad day out on you when you were having some fun and I shouldn’t have.”

His admission was definitely as close to an apology as you were going to get, “It hurt, but I think I needed to see that side of you,” You whispered into the air between the both of you, “You’re too careful around me, Kylo. I know what you do when you’re not next to me. I know you hurt people, I know you’ve blown an entire planet out of existence,” You took a deep breath before continuing, “Yet, it's so easy for me to forget how dangerous you can be because I’ve never seen it. I know now that, even though you love me, you can still snap and break into Hyde at any time.”

Kylo didn’t say anything, he didn’t really need to. Your words spoke for the both of you; Kylo wouldn’t apologize for the ruthless side of his psyche and you needed to learn to love every part of him. You couldn’t pick the sweet Kylo over the one that struck fear into the heart of the galaxy. Love was a close counterpart to pain; each never came without the other. You loved him and it hurt you at times- he was sure to snap more and possibly hurt you worse than he did today. Yet, you would still forgive him no matter how bad it got. 

Eventually, Kylo was able to pull you away from your corner and back to the room you shared. Everything would be okay; time would heal the wounds this man wore like armor and you could only hope it would allow him to accept the scars that came. But for now, you could only wait.

              ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

First, I’m so sorry for taking so long to fill this request !!!!! I’ve needed a little break for a sec after I finished those other two prompts, writing gets draining at times. 

This got a little dark towards the end, but I like have no idea how to write a Kylo that is soft and caring because he really isn’t to me. I did try to slip some comfort in there, though it is pretty subtle. 

I hope you like how I wrote your request, fandom ! Thank you for requesting it, I loved writing it. I thought the prompt was really unique and interesting to dive into. Also, good luck with your writing and keep being the awesome author you are !

Other readers, you can check their stuff out on their page; it’s pretty amazing ! They also take requests too and might write for a character that’s not on my list, so check it out ! 

My requests are also still open, but it might take awhile to get to yours because I have a few more to write and another chapter of TEETH to spit out. I’m happy to see them though, it’s extremely motivating. 

Have a great day today and make sure to wear a mask if you go out ! Stay safe and healthy out there; I wish you all happy reading !!!!!

- K xx :) !!!!!!

[iwriteaboutkpopsometimes]

Hyunjin "Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)" (원곡 : Sam Tinnesz) | [Stray Kids : SKZ-PLAYER]     ~A Love Letter~

I talk about why I love this video so much and deliver an excruciatingly detailed play by play of it, but why read a two thousand word, five page essay on a three minute video when you can just go watch the aforementioned three minute video? Forget me spending hours writing this, why are you here, seriously, it would take you significantly less time to watch the actual video. Regardless, enjoy my attempt to refrain from saying the same three things, “he's so cool”, “I love him”, and “this is so good”, in exchange for a  more, hopefully, academically professional sound.

Watching him perform never fails to put me in a trance, it’s incredibly captivating how precise and sharp while simultaneously lively and energy-filled his movements are. This video feels reminiscent of enjoying a movie I’ve seen countless times, memorized every line of dialogue from, and genuinely think of every part as the best it has to offer. I greatly missed seeing him dance and having this as his grand welcome back into the spotlight is nothing less of a gift. Every second leaves my heart pounding and as excited as the last, as he continuously tops himself the longer I watch. I feel that revisiting the video is the least I can do, for giving it only one view doesn’t feel morally acceptable if I intend to truly appreciate it for that art that it is. Dramatic of me? Perhaps, but I can’t help but perceive it as more than just this one video that was uploaded onto their YouTube channel. It isn’t just about all of the work he and others put into the making of this particular video, his choreography for the song was a result of years upon years of practice and learning different techniques. A performance this good doesn’t only involve technical skill though, but also skill in regards to one’s inner mind. To have confidence in one’s self, to hit every move powerfully, to know what you’re doing and be unapologetic about it, that is skill. Sure, the performer is at the focus of any performance, but don’t forget that it’s also about the audience, it is after all for the enjoyment of the viewer. If the audience senses your doubt and insecurity and uncertainty, it will make your stage that much less enjoyable. Whatever you feel, they can feel too. When I watch him, I don’t feel any of that. In fact, I feel the exact opposite, I feel inspired, motivated, confident, excited to advance in my own endeavors. The emotion that this video evokes from me goes beyond anything Stray Kids or K-Pop or even dance itself, it makes me want to be a better person, be kinder to myself and work harder. That might sound like a lot for one video to do for someone, but it’s the truth. All of the details, even down to the individual frames, it all works together to create the most gratifying viewing experience. At the time of writing this, the video has just hit five million views and has over one million likes, only a mere three days after its initial upload.

The first shot of his footsteps alone,  as he goes to stand in front of the mirror, I already feel this sense of importance coming from him, delicate, yet powerful. The setting, cold and empty, yet inviting, it makes room for him and gives him just enough light to be seen, for he doesn’t need all that much help to surely shine. The credits that pop up use a dark shade of pink-red for it’s background color and white text that acknowledges the same deep red imagery and text associated with the material of the original work. His outfit is neat and pristine with some sparkle, resembling one a prince would seem fit. He stares at his reflection, holding a sheer white ribbon in his mouth, gathers a section of hair behind his head and proceeds to tie it with said ribbon. The music starts as he finishes tying and lets his arms fall down at his sides. The over the shoulder shot looking into the mirror, shows that his expression is neutral, almost calm. This can most certainly be described as “the calm before the storm”, except the storm itself is antonymous to a tragedy, because when the singing starts, it’s as if his performance persona was turned on by a switch, a charismatic possession that took place in a matter of seconds that sends chills down your spine in the best way. His previously neutral, calm-like expression and gently resting arms are quickly replaced by the sudden placement of his right hand around his neck and a look that resembles more of  a vengeful, hesitant, and somehow playful one. Similar to what I’d imagine a villain would look like right before being bested during an epic fight sequence at the climax of a film. It’s satisfying to see him popping to the beat’s rhythm, his arms, wrists, and head smoothly illustrating the flow of the words, his focus and the secure angles he’s able to form before even fully utilizing his lower body. On the line “Got secrets I can’t tell”, he delicately places his pointer finger in between his teeth, as he turns back to meet the camera with his eyes, the shot now semi-closely focusing on both Hyunjin and his reflection as opposed to just one or the other. He extends his right arm, his hand forming a fist, and the camera movement making it as if I’ve been punched and sent flying. He stumbles to the middle of the room, does an opening gesture with his arms, like a proud baker showing off their completed wedding cake, along with a dramatic spin incorporating his thin, white, flowy cape. Reaching the pre-chorus, we get to see the room more clearly, like the stone pillars and the contrast of the small, warm lights on the walls to the grand grayness radiating from the large window that makes him appear as a near silhouette. There’s a certain holiness about him spending a count with his head down and arms out, much like the Crucifixion of Christ, before showcasing more of a demonic energy when he faces the window with his body, but bends backward and looks to the camera upside down. He rips off the cape, tosses it behind him, to his right. This could symbolize a transformation, an abandonment of a particularly purer image of oneself, a liberation. The music picks up, and the manner in which he dances is like a visual representation of one’s inner turmoil combined with an agenda to seduce those watching, wanting to dance for himself while taking us along for the ride. Now that the first minute of the video is out of the way, let’s continue.

The music fades into the background and the video takes on a sudden widescreen and grayscale appearance as he falls back on his right hand, flings his left hand over to his right shoulder, as though he’s been shot, and is being supported by his knees. He leans forward, places his right hand on the ground in front of him, uses his left hand to push his right knee over to achieve ideal balance, setting up his body roll. He extends his right leg back, getting close to the ground, and there’s something quite feral, yet intimate about the way he traces the length of his arm with his face and left hand. It looks like he’s taking out his frustrations through his moves while never sacrificing the detailed quality of the performance as a whole. It reminds me of how it’s more than common for artists to use their pain in their art, whether it be a point of well-intentioned expression with a specific purpose or simply an outlet for them to channel into. Hyunjin is the definition of aggressive elegance. The fullscreen, colorful display and music entirely return when he spins and lands on the ground in a Spider- Man esc pose, the room a lot warmer than even before the stylistic grayscale section. There’s hints of red, acting as a match that’s set to illuminate and ignite the puddle of gasoline that is him and his performance, that replaces the once colder, icy blue that previously enveloped his silhouette. He bounces to the beat showing off his proud, devilish smile that, instead of striking fear, makes me feel proud, as I’m essentially rooting for the villain in the movie. If the transition to the grayscale widescreen was him getting shot, then the transition back to fullscreen color is him emerging from his grave, an awakening. His shirt is no longer neatly tucked into his pants, but rather, hanging very loosely and mostly unbuttoned. He covers his face with his left hand, pulling it down for just a second before revealing his expression that has swiftly reverted to a roughly indifferent one. The inner conflict has greatly subsided, and focuses on the hesitant-free embracing of his newly discovered self, one of immense confidence and sex-appeal. Although, something about the flow of how he averts his gaze, looking to the left and not the lense, while pointing and doing body rolls at the camera, covers his eyes with crossed arms, and then allows for his hair to cover his eyes as well, makes me feel like he doesn’t want the viewer to know he is still at least a little bit shy. He quickly makes you forget though, because the next and final minute exaggerates everything he’s shown us up until this point, taking it to a whole new, spectacular level.

The bridge of the song creates a slower, softer atmosphere, which is beautifully interpreted with how Hyunjin carries himself during this part. Bigger gestures that blend into each other seamlessly, centering on really taking up the space he’s in. He gently and precisely lowers his body to the floor, collecting a white rose between his teeth. As soon as he returns to his upright stature, the setting changes dramatically. His hair now completely down, he’s under a spotlight in an otherwise pitch black and foggy room. There’s blue and red light reflecting off of his white top and his skin as he dances. This part feels more humane compared to the rest, with more of an obvious balance between sharp, impactful moves and tender, compassionate ones. He draws attention to his shoulders, brings his hands and feet close to his body, and showcases his red lit back. I particularly enjoy when he flicks his wrists and twists his ankles to the right in unison on the second syllable of “unstoppable”. For the “legendary animal” part of that line, his arms create a cage-like structure by doing a climbing motion and carrying it over all the way to the left. A cage in which he destroys the walls and breaks out of, shown by him punching downward on beat. From holding the rose in his mouth to holding it in his hand, he brings it over his head to his left shoulder, and raises his heels. He carries the rose down and around his left arm, his left arm momentarily resting at his waist, his right arm extended downward, he raises his heels again. His whole body lowers as a rigid wave starts at his up flicked wrists and subsequently elbows and shoulders. This collection of gestures results in petals falling off of the rose. He then inevitably throws it into the void, out of the reach of the lovely spotlight. I see this spotlight dance as a danse macabre, or dance of death. The white ribbon, white shirt, and white rose all coming together to illustrate this innocent and pure quality to him, that through this dance, he finalizes the renouncement of. He is more than ready to embrace a new and different side of him, but especially to get rid of the older and repetitive side that felt restrictive more than anything. The spotlight dance ends with Hyunjin looking directly into the camera, tracing his right hand down his chest and to his side, and the camera backing away. The last chorus of the song brings us back to the oh so familiar main room, Hyunjin’s hair back to being tied up, the lighting is the same, but there’s something that stands out. His shirt is on the verge of being completely unbuttoned and that allows for something alluringly shiny to be fully in view compared to before. The video comes full circle with Hyunjin’s hand around his neck, he stands in the hallway, and walks away a new man as the screen fades to black. 

As I wrap up this essay on Hyunjin’s “Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)”, original song by Sam Tinnesz, Stray Kids: SKZ-PLAYER, the video has reached six million views, a million more than when I first started writing this, and I feel proud to have spent a day simply pouring my heart and mind out on this wordy display of my appreciation. Don’t be fooled though, for my necessary research, I guess you could call it, for this project may no longer be so necessary, I shall continue to watch and applaud the masterpiece and experience that is this video for my own personal enjoyment, much like how this whole piece was written for my own personal enjoyment. It was an interesting challenge to properly voice not only the contents of the video but also my thoughts and feelings on it. Hyunjin is a highly valued dancer, member of Stray Kids, and person and five pages isn’t ever going to be enough to fully explain the respect and admiration I feel for him and his various projects. I think he’s really cool, I experience all sorts of fiery euphoria watching him dance, his rap and singing alike are addictive as hell, and he’s pretty, haha. I missed him a lot while he was inactive, and I’m so happy to have him back and doing great things as per usual. I’m excited to see what he and the rest of the group have left to show us this year. I advise you to watch the video if you haven’t, but somehow ended up reading an essay on it first, and if you’ve already seen it, watch it again, yeah. I’ll leave you with lovely thoughts and lovely vibes and I hope you too can appreciate the work he’s put into the video, as well as my work on this essay. Thank you for taking the time to read my love letter, essentially, and bye for now ^ ^