#giving away yet another piece of my existence to the siblings that i hate with all my heart?

[highasthesea]

Hazel has the earth and gems, Nico has the dark and dead, so what does Bianca get from her fathers cold blood and hands?

[dienamights]

A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere​ ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

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The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you. 

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work. 

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,” 

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement. 

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible. 

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-” 

“How is your hero boyfriend?” 

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention. 

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change. 

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?” 

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior. 

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention. 

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful. 

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it. 

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him 

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time. 

He told me so. 

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.” 

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt. 

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.” 

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek. 

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it. 

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

[havenoffandoms]

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

[jishyucks]

The L Word ‣ hjs

‣ genre: angst with a fluffy ending, arranged marriage, sort of modern royalty (rich kid!au), female reader

‣ wc: 2.1k

‣ summary: “Tell me, Han. Has she ever explicitly told you that she loved you?”; in which Jisung's afraid that Y/N's going to leave him in rising of rumors but learns he shouldn't judge a situation from the words of others

‣ warnings?: The Hwang 'sibs' are mean in this (just a bit), lowkey rushed, jisung runs off because of overthinking

Looking at the ballroom’s appearance, Jisung feels as though he shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Like some puzzle piece placed in the wrong box. The people attending the party lived lavish lifestyles, knowing the difference between the different forks placed at the tables. Etiquette was more important to them than the basics a middle-class person would even care about.

Though Jisung had good ideas of such subjects, it wasn't forced onto him like those around him. The only reason why he was able to attend the party was because of a marriage arrangement your father and his father had made as some kind of sick ‘contract’ regarding business. Though he wasn’t complaining, feelings for you developed through the years of knowing you since childhood, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about a handful of things.

For one, you guys were engaged through the arrangement. It’s been three years since the announcement, and even if Jisung believed you were fine with it, even if you ensured to Jisung that you were happy with the engagement, intrusive thoughts started keeping him up at night.

He knew you. You hated speaking out your feelings, whether it led to consequences or not. What if you actually weren’t fine with it? What if you were somehow threatened by your father and the contract to actually speak out about the engagement? He didn’t want you to feel forced to marry him.

Then there was his family’s reputation. His family was deemed drastically poorer than yours by the other associated families and businesses. He was afraid of tainting your family’s reputation or seeming like one of those leeches found at the bottom of murky ponds. Though it was an arranged marriage, Jisung had genuine feelings for you. It was his father that was in it for the money and Jisung was nothing like his father.

“Hey, scrounger!” Jisung turned to find Hyunjin and his sister Yeji approaching him from the opposite corner of the room. They both were dressed in clothes that were probably a lot more expensive than his own, his clothes being hand-me-downs from his father.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Yeji smirked, “You don’t even have business here.” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, eyeing down the boy.

Jisung didn’t cower under their gaze, instead of straightening his back, “I’m here because I was invited. My father was invited as well.” Don’t show fear, he told himself, That’s what they want.

“Ahh~,” Hyunjin chuckled, “Good way to disguise 'because of Y/N.' Tell me, Han. Has Y/N ever explicitly told you that she loved you?”

Yeji butted in, laughing, “I think love is too strong of a word… how ‘bout like? Has she ever told you that she liked you? Cause rumor has it she’s planning on breaking your engagement.”

Jisung gulped, “S-she has… and gossip is bullshit.” He lied. When the arrangement was created, there was some kind of unspoken assumption that you both liked each other. As a result of this, no confessions were made from you both. Sure it was stupid, but in Jisung’s eyes, actions spoke louder than words, and just by how he treated you and you treated him, you both cared very much for each other. Of course, other people never paid attention to actions and relied on direct statements.

“We don’t gossip, Han,” Hyunjin scoffs, “Who would pass up the opportunity to marry Bang Chan when he’s the son of the top businessman in all of Korea?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung’s heart skipped a beat, eyed widening slightly at the mention of Bang Chan’s name.

“His father apparently wanted to create a deal with her father that was a lot better than his deal with yours,” Hyunjin explained, “Isn’t your engagement part of that poorer deal?”

Jisung chose not to reply, biting his tongue. Instead, he shoots Hyunjin a narrowed glare, not up for defending himself or arguing. With the lack of response from their target, the siblings simply rolled their eyes and walked away, taking a seat at their designated table.

When the attention was diverted away from him, Jisung couldn’t help but let his shoulders fall. He feels his heart beating quicker than at rest, thoughts running through his mind like crazy. You wouldn’t leave him just like that right? You wouldn’t.

Then his mind wanders back to Hyunjin and Yeji’s question. Yes, he did think that actions were undoubtedly stronger than words, but now that a spotlight was shone on the hidden yet obvious fact that you both hadn’t said anything about each others’ feelings, he couldn’t help but believe that you could possibly be leaving him. But then again, he has never said anything to you and his feelings existed.

He felt the sudden urge to look for you, who had been busy accompanying your father with the guests. Maybe he will actually confess how he truly felt, just in case you were actually thinking about breaking the engagement. Maybe he could save it somehow, just in case your father was willing to make the deal with Mr. Bang.

Chewing the bottom of his lip, he scanned the room, looking for the lavender dress you were wearing. But with the clumps of people, his line of sight was constantly stopped abruptly.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled politely, making his way through the crowd, “Excuse me.” He ignored the looks some people gave him, still slithering his way between the socializing people. Though his hair was parted in a way that exposed part of his forehead, he felt the need to hide under his bangs, keeping his head low as he did.

The familiar sound of your father’s laugh drove Jisung to stop and look around his area. If he was close, you’d be close. Scanning his surroundings completely, he finally spots your father, with you standing close beside him. He feels a smile rise on his lips as he begins to make his way towards you both, heartbeat racing just as his thoughts were.

Opening his mouth to call out for you, he quickly stops himself when he realizes that you and your father were holding a conversation with Bang Chan and his own father. His feet abruptly stop, allowing him to overhear the exchange of banter.

“Well, it was a pleasure having this conversation with you,” Mr. Bang chuckled, “I will see you on Monday for the papers?” He held a hand out for a handshake, a smile filled with pride appearing on his lips.

Your father nodded, “Likewise. I’m looking forward to it.” He completes the handshake, which then queues for Chan to lean in for a hug.

Shit, Jisung gulps, feeling his heart drop to his stomach, What the hell just happened?

You take a step forward and hug Chan back for a brief second before pulling back, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here, Chan.”

Chan’s dimples appeared as he smiled genuinely, “Thank you, Y/N.”

Jisung was frozen on the spot, unsure whether or not he should say anything. The notes that he had mentally jotted down in his head were suddenly ripped into pieces and he was practically speechless.

Obliviously, you turn to follow your father, who was already ready to move on to another conversation. Mid-turn, the boy dressed in a striped, navy suit had caught your attention, giving him a double-take, “Oh! Jisung!” The corners of your mouth rise higher, eyes lighting up at the sight of the familiar boy. A wave of comfort washed over you. It was refreshing to see him after interacting with so many strangers and acquaintances.

When you go to approach him, Jisung panics and begins to back into the people behind him. It was then you noticed the look of distraught on his face, causing you to speed up. At this, he turns and runs, causing commotion around him as dodges those who got in his way.

“Jisung!” You called out, turning the heads of those people around you. The music had drowned your voice out from those further away from you, “Jisung!?” You begin making your way through the crowd of people, going as fast as you could in heels so that you wouldn’t lose Jisung. A million assumptions were running through your head, worry lining each and every one of them.

Swinging the door open, Jisung finds himself stumbling out into the empty corridor of the hotel. With the choice of left and right, Jisung stops and impulsively runs in one direction, not minding where he would end up if kept running.

So you were going to break the engagement… without warning? How were you going to break the news to him? How was he supposed to react once you told him about it all? Happy? Sad? Excited?

You finally reached the door of the ballroom, slipping out rather roughly into the corridor. Your head whips left and right, seeing Jisung’s trailing feet to the right of the hallway, turning the corner. You let out a heavy breath before kicking off your heels, booking it in that direction.

Your mind wanders to why Jisung was running. What did he hear? Was he okay? Could it be what other people were saying again? But Jisung was never usually one to let words get to him.

Jisung lets himself rest once he gets to a secluded room. Judging by its content, he realized that he managed to slip into the coatroom, but he didn’t care. He needed time alone to think. He just needed to process this entire situation.

“Jisung?” He hears you call out. Jisung sinks down at the corner of the room, resting his head against the wall. He stays quiet, resting his forehead against his knees.

The door to the coat room opens, revealing your disheveled figure, “Jisung…” You pause and try to catch your breath, “There… there you are.”

Jisung doesn’t lift his head, afraid that if he did face you, he would burst into tears. He could sense you approaching him, though, settling down beside him. He could feel your dress up against him. Soon he feels your hand take his, holding it tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

When Jisung doesn’t answer, you don’t say anything to push out an explanation. You let the question simmer, resting your head against his shoulder.

At this point, Jisung’s mind was projecting none of his thoughts but static. He didn’t know where to start and what to bring up. How was he supposed to confront you about the engagement?

“I’m happy for you two,” Jisung blurted out quietly, avoiding eye contact, “I really am.” Your ears perked up, confused at what Jisung was going on about.

“I think people will like you both together more than us,” Jisung continued, “Just know that I lo–“

You interrupt him, turning to completely face him, “Jisung, what are you talking about?” You turned your body towards him, completely facing the cowered boy. Though your body language was practically begging for eye contact, Jisung still avoided it, playing with his rings to keep him from losing control over his emotions.

Building up his confidence, Jisung let himself look at you before whispering, “Y/N?” He sniffled quietly.

“Yeah, Sung?”

Jisung gulped and asked, “Do you like me?”

You’re taken aback by the question, not expecting it out of all the questions Jisung could have asked. Is this why he was crying?

“Of course I do, Jisung, what makes you thin–“

“I mean genuinely like me. Do you have feelings for me?” Words were spewing out of his mouth before he could even process what he was saying. He could feel his emotions taking control of himself, which often is never a good thing.

“Jisung, I love you, okay? Why do you think otherwise?” The beat of your heart sped up with worry. Your eyebrows knitted together in concern as Jisung’s lips quivered slightly.

“The Hwang's told me you were planning on breaking our engagement because Bang Chan’s father offered a better deal than my father,” he explained quietly. He felt as though that if he spoke any louder, he would break out into tears, “I told them I didn’t believe them… t-then they asked me if you’ve ever told me if you did have feelings for me. I just didn’t know what to think when… when I saw your father accept Mr. Bang’s deal. I was afraid you were actually going to leave me.”

You gently slapped his shoulder in shock, “Han Jisung, are you serious?” Jisung responded wordlessly, though a puzzled look replaced his previous emotion.

“My father approached me beforehand about it. He wanted to break our engagement because of the deal, telling me that it was no longer necessary,” you say, “But I told him I wanted to marry you because I love you, Sung. And if he did threaten to forcibly break our engagement, I would’ve fought for us.”

Jisung wanted to laugh at himself at how much he had overreacted. Overthinking was a bitch and this situation was real-life proof, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sung?”

“I would fight for us too.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Perception is Key

Part Two to Hell on Earth

avengers x reader

series masterlist

masterlist

Summary; dread is all you feel as you take up temporary residence in New Asgard. Something big is coming, and you are not the only one that can feel it, but despite that, Thor tries to make you feel safe in his rebuilt kingdom, though all you see is it falling before your knees

Warnings; mentions of death, angst, secrecy

divider by @firefly-graphics

Death, it was a certain doom for all living mechanisms, even Asgard had been demolished by its inevitable demise. Yet here you were, nursing an off handed bottle of ale that came from the gods, whilst you breathed in the salt scent that regarded from the ocean that crashed by. New Asgard, the home of Thor and his brothers in arms, whilst his real sibling was killed by Thanos. It was a shame to see the brave deity in mourning, however, there was nothing that you could do about it. Nothing.

The concept of the end came to all, it was a daunting curse that teased its victims, and pried them into sculpting their own fears of it. But for all the people in the galaxy knew, death could be peaceful; you liked to think that you were the same. A wound cog that did not work for their purpose, a villain that could do some good. And whilst you had never threatened the end of the world, your hereditary abilities sure as hell did. It was another danger to humans and more, thus making you one in regard.

Killing was a route that you didn’t want to take, it was dark, and there was no way back for redemption. Murderers and the bad guys, if they wanted penance, would spend their whole lives trying to make amends for what they did, in exchange for a forgiveness that they would never be granted. And if you did such a thing, as regretting causing exhibitions of death, your father would send for you from the underworld, and have you dragged back down to his bleak halls.

Those heroes would rise, as the ones that you came to know and befriend were brought to bottomless pits of service for Hades, suffering for all eternity as they knelt before the god whom ruled hell. Mother could only prey that he would give up his display of the deceased, he used them like puppets, and it was not a friendly scenic for the next batch of Demi gods that they were planning. You were brilliantly strong, but they would be stronger, as not only would they have the army of warriors behind them, they would be invincible.

Their carriageway into ironic new life, was affecting to you, you could feel it as their existence seared through your veins. There was a war coming, and it was going to be a blood bath, there would be bodies littered on all the planets as they respected their appetites, and they would come for you. It wasn’t silly for you to fear them, they had been around before, it was a rebirth for the ages, a damning revolution that would drain all the breathing from the lungs of species, flushing their external beings into whisperings of blistered remains.

Zagreus and Macaria were coming, pursuing the punishment that was deemed worthy for your scoundrel self, you were nothing more than another revamped version of yourself, raised from the ashes, and taking your overdue time to age. You were supposed to be the cause for the world’s destruction, but they, they would tear every atom down piece by piece, because you were unable to complete your mission of birthright.

Humans, nor other vessels of aspiring and mundane inventions, had the impact of defence to protect themselves from more dominant species. They were simply specks with heart beats in the universe, thumping in their chests as they strived to usher their own planet under the hypocrisy of a dying climate.

“Heimdall once said that Hades had a vision, and he, a seer of all people, couldn’t see how far his faction of thought went. There was no end with his quarrel with the nattering of life, instead, it was competently endless, going on for light years upon light years, straggling the gods into the grand demise. To put it into other words, you are his vision.”

“Well I’m not sure that our Vision back at the compound would be too pleased if I coined his name.” But all joking aside, the air shifted every time that you brought lightness to your words. Continuing, you spoke to Thor, whom had brought you to his evolved demeanour of his homeland, and stole you from the consequences of the violent struggle that you had instinctively conquests upon James Buchanan Barnes. “However, on a more serious note, you are aware of my origin, and the truths that Hades is my father. You know of why he crafted me, but there will be a greater shadow than my foresworn self, and the others need to know of this oncoming riot.”

“We shall tell them, but first; eat.” The god of thunder intended for you to follow through with his kind hearted order, though a heated rumble shook the core of the earth, the energy trembling up your legs. They had been born, sooner than anticipated, and much closer to your break from the ruckus than you had wanted.

“I am not sure we have the time, you felt that cause of apocalyptic foreshadowing, I can tell by the fearful promise on your face. My father will not rest until he has me, a weapon in his hold returned, and to do so, he will tear apart this family, in literal terms, so that I can return to my biological home.”

“Eat.” Thor spoke once more, gulping down the terror that graced his long spanned veins. “If there is to be a fight on earth for the ages, destruction raining down on midguard, then you will need your strength. There is no need to deprive yourself of basic necessities, young warrior.”

Accepting the small loaf from his hand, you watched as the crumbs fled a trail through your palm. Even you appetite was frolicking trauma upon bacteria that swayed in the depths of the bread; the gathered yeast feared you, much like you feared yourself. “I’m going to have to return to the compound, as much as I hate to do so after what I had done, they have to know. And throughout our excursion of informative speech, then they shall have to know of my dreaded secret.”

But what if they already knew?

“A weapon like that...” Steve shook his head as he threw the classified papers onto the desk space he had reserved for his affiliated research. “We have to protect the earth, and if we have to do so from her, then we will have to stretch to any means necessary.” The captain gulped, not pleased as he divulged deeper into this situation with his friend.

Bucky remained shocked from the fleeting threats that had deranged from your form; it was like a curse adorned you, but it turned out, it was just you. Nothing had made you this way, instead, you were born a vigil monster, a daughter of a fraternising god.

“The daughter of Hades... I miss the old days where we believed in one god, and went to church every Sunday morning.” He wasn’t have supposed to have heard Barnes talking, but the figure did as he pressed himself against the wall, his hearing inclined to listen to more.

Peter’s eyes bulged as he was silently affirmed with the truth. He had a web stringing each digression together as he thought of your independence that you had been determined to keep. They were going to tell everyone, swaying their opinions from what they knew, rather than what they did not.

But that made you a legend, a mortal infliction of ancient religion; there must have been more to know. He had to be silent to ensure he didn’t trigger an alert to the super soldier’s enhanced hearing, as the boy that was pursed with a spider bite slipped away, portraying his fawning portrayal of being a vigilante.

His assumed destination that his quiet feet were carrying him too was the library. There’d surely be something useful in the walls of filled shelves, and if there wasn’t, then the internet was a useful friend. As he entered the subjective room for required reading, he saw the Falcon himself, Sam Wilson, seated at a small and solitary table.

Perhaps... no, it’d be wrong to turn him against his close friends... but possibly what was necessary. Peter allowed his doe eyes to scan the various sections. Mythology. Though, all avengers knew that there was some truth to every realistic evolution of belief, though it was usually only a little. But maybe, in your case, there would be more.

Tony had told him there had been an incident, and Peter had believed that Mr Stark was concealing a devise of perception from the rest of the aligned team. It was certainly wrong for him to delve against the ruin of the circumstances, but he was eager to do anyways. Whatever happened must’ve been lined coursing seriousness, and he was afflicted with firm interest to find out what.

Ah, he found something. Adjoined with the abilities he knew that you were capable of, he knew it must have been in regards to you, it just made sense. The spine spoke with integrity, daring anyone to read the biblical novel of fumed remark that raised hell on Earth.

The goddess of invoked, bringer of nightmares and madness, Melinoë.

[local-space-case]

Bakugou Katsuki is Not A Loser

Word Count: IDK

Rated: T (mention of abuse, self-loathing, cursing)

AO3 Account: FerociousFerret (out here only posting first drafts on a whim why?)

When Bakugou sees the looming  silhouette of Endeavor at the hospital outside of Todoroki’s room, he thinks he feels a million emotions at once.

Some he’s familiar with like fury, annoyance, and the protective fire he venomously denies exist are the ones off the top his head. But there’s also fear. An emotion he’s embarrassedly familiar with. A deep anxiety clawing it’s way out of his chest while still somehow keeping a tight grip on his lungs. It commands he stay rooted in the middle of the bleach white hallways that even so quiet he thinks they must be louder than he is. He wants to say something. He wants to yell, scream, curse, kick the fucker out the goddamn window, but he can’t.

Until the number piece of human shit takes a step closer to the door.

“OI! You can’t fuckin’ go in there!”

It comes out like the nasty snarl he was hoping for. The pro hero glances at him with a look disdain before reluctantly taking a step away from the door. Bakugou assumes he must not want to cause a scene. Doesn’t stop the stubborn shit from arguing with him though.

“He’s my son, I have a right to visit”. His tone was clipped, formal, placating, like he was delusional enough to think Bakugou was going to lose this fight.

Bakugou Katsuki was not a loser.

“Last time I checked, trash belongs outside not stinking up disinfected air.” He lets his gaze linger on a door across the hall. “Besides, I don’t listen to losers.”

Endeavor seems to puff up like a pissed off cat. God, so that’s where Strawberry Shortcake gets it from.

He looks like he wants to beat Bakugou into the ground and Bakugou lives by the philosophy of ‘If it can crawl, it can brawl.’, so he’s up for anything this fucker has to offer. But he doesn’t, instead he closes his eyes and inhales like he’s having an fucking asthma attack.

“You shouldn’t insult your elders.” Endeavor says after a beat. Bakugou huffs a laugh.

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” It’s an attack and based on the way the hero recoils, he knows it. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows it because it was broadcasted on live television. It was like a car crash, so gruesome but you just can’t tear your eyes away until you see that everyone is okay.

However, like a car crash, it’s abundantly clear that no one in the Todoroki family is okay. But, Bakugou didn’t find out when the crash happened. No, he knew the truth deep down when he saw the unsteady swerves of one of the drivers who had the audacity to essentially give him first place at the Sports Festival.

Bakugou thinks about that moment a lot. Usually at night when he can’t sleep because he feels like someone’s watching him, he wonders what Todoroki saw that snuffed out the fighting spirit he’d paraded around before their round.

He’s young, but he’s not naive. Not anymore. He knows, undoubtably, that during their fight Half ‘n Half didn’t see Bakugou’s drive to win, he saw his father’s flaming fists.

He feels his usual scowl paint itself onto his face, “How does it feel knowing your entire family is afraid of you?” The older man doesn’t say anything, deciding that floor is much more interesting than the conversation Bakugou wants to have. The conversation he needs to have.

“Number One Hero, hah?,” he mocks, “You know, that’s really fuckin’ funny. That’s a hoot ‘n holler. You could be a stand up comic.” he gives a pause waiting for a reaction. He doesn’t get on.

“Too bad they don’t like sacks shit lyin’ around.” A pause. “You didn’t answer my question by the way, so tell me, how does it feel knowing your whole family is afraid of you? That you have no friends because you decided you didn’t need them, you only needed to be on top. Well,” a sharp bitter laugh echos through the hall, “congratulations.”

He stalks up to Endeavor and gets up in his personal bubble. He can see a blue eye trained on his own red ones. With a pointed grin, the blond knows he has the man’s attention now, so he keeps going.

“How does it feel knowing that you lost? And before you open that fuckin’ cavity ridden mouth of yours, you’re gonna listen and you’re gonna listen good.” Endeavor had tried to open his mouth to object because apparently the idea of losing something was getting to him. Bakugou could deal with this.

“How can you call yourself a hero after everything you’ve done? How do you do that? How do you sleep at night knowing that the so-called number one hero can save a civilian but fuckin’ torment his family?”

Endeavor is trying to ignore him. He can tell because his eyes are once again back to the floor. He won’t let him though.

“How does it feel knowing that, after all these years, even though you won, you lost.”

Bakugou is, and has always been competitive. He wants to be the best, he needs to be the best, because only the best people can be heros. He’d always adored All Might growing up, but not the same way Deku did.

When Deku saw All Might, he saw a beacon of hope, a peace bringer, an unstoppable force of nature. He saw a role model. A mountain of a man who was as strong as a tiger, yet gentle like a rabbit. Someone who uses their power for good instead of evil.

When Bakugou saw All Might, he saw a winner. A strong man who beat villains into the ground and obtained more money and praise than anyone else could ever hope for in a lifetime. He didn’t see a man, he saw a king who had kept a tight hold on his crown. He wanted to take it. So, yes he liked All Might for his position of power, but he respected Endeavor.

Endeavor may have been the number two hero, but Bakugou saw himself in him. He saw the fights on tv with the walls of fire, the punches, the yelling, he saw it all. Endeavor was not like All Might, he never backed away from a fight, never bothered to try and find a peaceful resolution, but he always won. He won with fiery fists and scowls and he didn’t smile for the press, he wasn’t fake.

Bakugou thought he felt hate for Deku, but now he knows better. This is hate. This feeling in his heart that’s screaming, hurting, burning.

This is hate.

This is hate because he can see his reflection in this monster draped in human skin.

He sees himself pushing Deku away because he thinks he’s superior, kicking, hitting, burning, screaming, he can see it all. He can see Deku become smaller and smaller and he remembers how happy it made him because Deku knew his place and that meant he won.

He sees Endeavor hitting his wife, screaming til he’s blue in the face at Todoroki, his siblings tear-streaked faces when they realize Touya is never coming home. He sees Todoroki’s determined expression flicker with fear before dropping to the ground like a rag doll. He sees Endeavor’s please smirk turn into a sour scowl because his son didn’t get first, he didn’t win. He sees Todoroki sitting in the main area while all their classmates pack up to go home for the holidays with raised hackles and paranoid glances at the slightest noise. He sees what once was Todoroki Touya on live tv telling the whole world his father’s sins and he wants to make him pay.

He sees the ambition, the anger, the low tolerance for anything that isn’t the best, the need to be the best at everything all the time but, Endeavor didn’t win, did he?

Endeavor became the number one hero because his rival fell, but he did not win. He was a martyr to the public, but a monster to his family. He was the monster under bed, the demons in their heads, the footsteps they should fear, and the man they should not love, but worship.

He took and took and took until his family had nothing left to give. He sleeps at night uncaring that his family don’t have a home they have a graveyard full of phantom memories of the lives they never got to live and the dreams they never got to chase. They get the ghosts in the mirror, a walking corpse for a body, and the perpetual state of mourning the love they’d never receive.

Then again, maybe Endeavor didn’t win or lose, because you can’t win a game you aren’t even playing. The moment he insulted, or raised a hand to his wife or children, he was disqualified.

Bakugou knows he’s no saint, but he’s not a loser. He’s worked hard to get his head outta his ass because he already loss. He lost his best friend and any dream filled nights that may have come to him. He learned.

Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he glances back at the man he’d looked up to and respected for many years. A man he hopes karma kills as slowly and subtly as he had with his family. He huffs.

“Yeah, I don’t like losers. Now, go the fuck home before I call security.”

He backs away but doesn’t leave the doorway as the sack of shit made the right choice and shuffled away. Bakugou makes a noise of satisfaction.

The explosive blond glances inside Todoroki’s room where the staff drugged him up on sedatives and silently wills him to get better. He’ll never say it out loud, but they were friends, and he did care.

(He also fears, that maybe, the news is right about how insanity runs in the family and that maybe he didn’t chase Endeavor off fast enough before Todoroki lost it completely like his mother and brother. Bakugou hopes that maybe he finally did something good.)

The vibrating of his phone jolts him from his thoughts and he reads the notification.

Shitty Hair: hey bakubro we wanted to know if ur still coming to movie night

Shitty Hair: no stress tho!!! a lots happened so we get it if u wanna skip

Another huff of laughter, this time less bitter, escapes from his lips.

He allows himself to smile and tells Kirishima he’s on his way and that they better not start without him. Yeah.

Bakugou Katsuki is a lot of things, but he’s not a loser.

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 39

Word Count: 3,155

POV: Tyler

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW

Notes: Well it’s been a long time for this one. Let me remind me where we were. In the last part, there had been an attempted abduction on (Y/N) which scared both our reader and Tyler to death. Let’s find out what happened afterward. As always I appreciate your feedback. Happy Reading!

Nervous Regrets Masterlist

You weren’t quite sure what time it was when you heard Jace whimper. It wasn’t really even a full-on cry to wake you, but then you’d never really gone to sleep. Instead, you’d laid there staring at your wife and child trying to come up with ways to protect them. Tonight had literally been the worst night of your life. You thought it was the time that you’d gotten the call about (Y/N) being in a car accident, but tonight was worse. Seeing those cop cars pull up to the drive, your heart had literally stopped beating for fear that (Y/N) had been in another accident; only to learn that it was actually worse. Someone was trying to tear apart your family.

Slithering out of bed as stealthily as you could, so you wouldn’t wake (Y/N), you grabbed Jace out of the bassinet. He barely made a peep as you went and grabbed his bottle for his late-night feeding. You sat over by the window in your bedroom, just staring at Jace. There was no way you’d let anything happen to him or your wife. You’d do whatever it took to protect them.

By the time the sun came up, you had a plan. You felt (Y/N) stir in the bed beside you, as she first became awake. “Morning, baby,” you told her kissing her temple. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?”

“Better than you did.” She replied, her hand caressing your cheek. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little,” there was no use lying, as you were sure there were bags under your eyes and she’d be able to see right through you. “I was too busy thinking.”

“About?”

“Things that I can do to keep you and Jace safe.” (Y/N) sat up and rested against the headboard, giving you her full attention. “Hear me out, because I know you’re going to hate this. I think we need to hire a bodyguard, just for when I’m not here.” You knew she wouldn’t be crazy about the idea as (Y/N) enjoyed her privacy, but when she didn’t say anything at all for the first couple of minutes, you were afraid she was going to explode.

You sat there trying to read her expression, yet she gave nothing away, until finally after what seemed like an eternity she said, “Ok.”

“Wow, that was a lot easier than I expected.”

“I’m not thrilled about it, but after last night...” She shuddered and you pulled her close into your side. “It wouldn’t be a permanent thing, right?”

“No, just until after the season is over or longer depending on how things go.” If the team ended up winning the cup, you could see keeping someone on a little longer. “I’m also going to up the security system here; new locks, more cameras, those kinds of things.” She nodded her agreement.

“That seems smart.”

“I’m glad you agree.” There was just one last piece of information and you knew she was going to put up a fight with this one, but you were prepared. “So, I don’t think I’m going to St. Louis tomorrow.”

“WHAT?” Jace whined and you found yourself shushing your wife as to not wake your sleeping child. “Absolutely not,” she then whispered harshly at you, while at the same time crawled out of her side of the bed. Grabbing her robe, she threw it on and headed out to the living room. You had no choice but to follow. “You’re going to St. Louis if I have to throw you on a plane myself.” This time there was no quieting her.

“Who’s not going to St. Louis?” your mom asked sipping on her coffee as she was curled up on the couch.

“Your son. Can you please talk some sense into him?”

“Babe, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone. Besides I’m sure the team will understand once I explain what happened.” You told her while trying to take her in your arms, only she wasn’t having any of it.

“You just told me you’re hiring a bodyguard, so I won’t be alone.”

“Yes, I’m going to do that, but leaving tomorrow won’t give me enough time to find someone I can trust. I’m sure by game five, we’ll have everything in place and I’ll go then.”

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous at the moment. There is no need for you to stay here. Jace and I won’t even leave the house if that will make you feel better, but you are getting on that plane.” (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest, a move that you usually found endearing, except when her anger was directed at you. “Your team needs you.”

“And what about my family? Aren’t you two more important?” She didn’t say anything to that. Really what could she say, she and Jace were your world, not hockey.

“Let’s just calm down for a second.” Your mom stated, this time sitting up straighter, giving you ‘the look’ she always did when you were a child. “There’s no need for anyone to get upset over this. Tyler, you’ll go to St. Louis with the team, just like you planned before this happened.”

“But…”

“No, let me finish.” Your mom interrupted. “I’ll stay here with (Y/N) and Jace, so you don’t have to worry.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you Jackie, but you should go see your son play as you planned. Jace and I…” This time it was (Y/N) who was cut off.

“There’s no arguing this one dear. Tyler’s right. You shouldn’t be left alone. I’ve seen him play more than my fair share of games. It won’t hurt to miss a couple.”

“No offense mom, but you wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m not leaving the three of you here alone. I’m not going and I won’t hear anything more about it.” You were tired of everyone else making decisions for you. “This is my family and I’m going to protect them no matter what.”

“What is all the yelling about?” your dad asked coming down the stairs followed closely by both your sisters. (Y/N) continued to just stand there glaring at you, the two of you in a silent standoff now.

“Tyler’s worried about going to St. Louis and leaving (Y/N) and Jace here alone.” It was your mom who finally answered and just as she did, you heard Jace start to cry.

“I’ll get him,” Candace said already heading to your bedroom to grab the baby.

“I’m not worried about going to St. Louis,” you finally replied. “Because I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are.” (Y/N) snapped, her anger radiating off of her now, but she could be mad at you all she wanted as long as she was safe.

She went to the kitchen then and started making Jace a bottle. “This isn’t up for discussion. It’s my choice and my decision is final.” You knew you sounded egotistical and domineering but for god's sake couldn’t they see that this was bigger than a hockey game.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Cassidy said putting her two cents into the conversation, which wasn’t needed at the moment. “There is another solution.” Everyone turned towards her, multiple sets of eyes just staring at her. “What? It’s really rather simple.”

“Well, don’t just leave us hanging here.” You told your youngest sibling.

“(Y/N) and Jace just go with us to St. Louis.” She made it sound so easy, but then it really kind of was. Jace was allowed to fly, (Y/N) had talked to the doctor about it at their last appointment. The two of you had just decided it would be more practical for them to stay in Dallas, but now them going was the perfect solution.

“It’s not a bad idea,” you finally admitted. “What do you say (Y/N)?” Candace came out then and took the bottle from her to give to Jace. (Y/N) stroked his little cheek, and you could tell that she was thinking things over.

“Ok,” she finally whispered and you had a feeling it was seeing Jace that actually made her agree.

“See perfect!” Cass exclaimed loving that she came up with this plan. “Now can we please go back to sleep? It’s like six in the morning.”

“Yes, go back to bed. The last thing I need is you being cranky.” They were your mom’s words but you had to agree. Cassidy headed back upstairs, while everyone else stayed. “I’ll help you get things ready for the trip (Y/N). Tyler, see if you can book another room for (Y/N) and the baby. Paul, why don’t you see if you can book them on the same flight with all of us.”

“There’s no need for that. They’re going to stay with me and they can just fly on the team plane. I’ll make a phone call and work it out.”

“Ty, we’re not going to inconvenience the team like that.”

“Babe, it’s not going to be a big deal, trust me. Besides, if you’re not with me, I’ll just be worried and then they’ll have a bigger problem than you and Jace being there.”

“But what if Jace gets a crying attack in the middle of the night and wakes the whole floor up? Or what if he’s really fussy on the plane? Or…”

“We’ll deal with it but honestly Jace is going to be fine.” You came up behind her and kissed her on the cheek then rubbed some of the tension that was built up in her shoulders. “I’m more worried about his momma stressing out about things that don’t exist.”

(Y/N) rolled her head back onto your chest and you slid your hands to wrap around her waist. God, you never wanted to let her go, all you needed was your baby boy in her arms and you’d be happy, though you were content knowing that he was only a few steps away with your sister. Your hands tightened around her midsection and she winced, reminding you of the cut that was there and bringing all those fears of last night back once again, not that they’d been far away.

The morning went faster than you expected and then you headed off to the rink. As you expected, Monty and the team were fully behind (Y/N) and Jace coming with you to St. Louis. The rest of the day, (Y/N) and your mom packed what seemed like half the house for the short trip as the whole family got ready to leave in less than twenty-four hours.

(Y/N) had no need to worry about Jace on the plane. Once you were all settled, (Y/N) gave him a bottle right as the plane took off and he was sleeping before he even finished it. It was a short flight so he was still asleep when you landed and checked in to the hotel. You’d had a crib placed in your room for him to sleep in, though (Y/N) had insisted on bringing his own crib sheet and blanket sleeper, along with his stuffed Cash, Marshall, and Gerry. While the room was small it was cozy and safe, and that was the most important thing.

“The guys are probably going to go out to dinner. Did you want to go along or just eat in here?”

She mulled it over a bit before answering. “Let’s go out with everyone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jace and I will be perfectly fine with about twenty burly hockey players around us, I’m sure. Thank goodness he’s still too young to pick up any bad language.” You both sort of chuckled and you could see some of the tension from the last few days ease away from her. You however were a different story. The short walk to the restaurant had you completely on edge. As you walked down the street, you couldn’t help but scan for anything suspicious. Even Jamie picked up on it, and you saw him move to be on the other side of (Y/N), who was carrying Jace, which helped ease some of your anxiety.

The only time you really felt fully comfortable was when you were finally back at the hotel ensconced in your room, just the three of you. You fed Jace, then put him down in the crib for the night, before crawling into bed with (Y/N). It was early, but you didn’t care. The only thing you wanted to do was hold your wife. “Thank you for coming with me on this trip. You don’t know how much better I feel that I can be by your side.”

“We’re eventually going to have to go back to real life, Ty. You know where you fly out for games and I stay home with Jace.” She was right, but it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. If you made it past this round, there would be two more and you planned on taking her and Jace to every one.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Thankfully we’re at the end of the season.”

“Right, but you’re still making a cup run this year. So Jace and I being here better not mess up your playing, or we’ll be on the first plane out.” You knew she was teasing but you’d have a heart attack if she tried to pull that stunt.

“Babe, you know when I go out there, I give it my all. You and Jace being here aren’t going to change that.”

“Well, then we better get some sleep.”

“What? I don’t go to bed this early when you’re not here.” It was true, some nights the two of you would stay on the phone until you both fell asleep which was well after the time it was now.

“Well, what did you want to do?”

“I know what I want to do,” you said wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at her. “But little man over there is kind of killing the mood.”

“You do realize that’s how he got into the world.”

“Ha, Ha, miss smartypants. Yes, I realize that. It just feels…weird.” It was kind of like when any of the dogs were in the room. What if Jace woke up and was just listening to the two of you go at it? Though would he have any idea what you were doing?

“I guess your right,” (Y/N) agreed, though her hand started to travel down your chest, her nails lightly raking against your abs. The action going straight to your groin and setting your cock on fire.

“Isn’t it always the mom who has a problem with having sex while the baby is in the room?”

“Maybe, but this mom needs her baby daddy right now.” She was making it extremely hard to say no, when her hands traveled to the waistband of your pants, before popping the button free and sliding the zipper down. Her lips went to nibble on your ear. “I want you, Ty,” she whispered seductively, and your cock went rock hard. Before you could think about anything, you flipped her on her back, your lips finding hers immediately. Your hands were everywhere on her, sliding her top off and over her head, unhooking her bra, and shimming her legging off her in no time.

She moaned out as you captured her nipple in your mouth. “Shhh, we’ve got to be quiet babe,” you told her before sealing your lips with hers. Your hand slid between your bodies to find her wet, yet you still let your fingers dance over her clit. (Y/N) took the opportunity to wrap her fingers around your cock, and you groaned into her mouth at the feel of such exquisite pleasure. “Fuck, babe that feels so good.”

“What happened to being quiet?” She said with a little smirk, as she pumped you up and down, though two could play at this game. Your fingers delved between her folds, and you wasted no time in finding that spot that drove her insane. She cried out at the first sensation, then clamped her lips shut, as your fingers worked their magic. Her breathing was ragged and you knew she was close to climaxing, though she stilled your hand with her own. “I need you inside me.” She harshly whispered.

Cock in hand, you guided yourself into her, savoring the warm and welcoming feel of her body. (Y/N) wrapped her ankles around your back, as you started to thrust in and out of her. When she bit down on her lip to suppress a moan, you almost lost it just at the sight of her. Wildly, you thrust in and out of her, with only the slapping noises of you joining together and the slight squeak in the mattress, filling the air around you. You felt (Y/N) start to quiver as the first trembles of the orgasm started to take her. Her hands fisted into the sheets as her back arched in ecstasy. Memories of hearing her cry out in pleasure, filled your head and you followed her high with a few erratic thrusts until you were cuming inside her.

You collapsed to the side of her, bring her body close to yours, as you tried to catch your breath while listening to see if Jace was awake at the same time. “Hmm, I guess you were right. He didn’t hear a thing.”

“If he can sleep during a hockey game, I had no doubt he would be sleeping through us having sex.”

“Wait, he sleeps through my games?”

“Ty, he’s a baby. He sleeps through most anything.” This was true but not the point. “Trust me he fights falling asleep sometime for sure.”

“Well, that makes me feel a little better.” You laid back against the pillows taking (Y/N) with you. She melted into your chest as your fingers ghosted over her skin. You felt your eyelids growing heavy. The past couple of days wearing on you, as exhaustion finally set in.

“I love you, Ty.” Her lips pressed to your sternum, right where your heart lay beating underneath.

“I love you, babe.” Words that you spoke so many times to her falling easily from your lips, only now they meant even more. When you spoke them to her the first time, you thought your heart was going to bust it was filled with so much love. That same feeling held true the day of your small court wedding and the day Jace was born. Your love for her had only grown stronger with each day. Only now you knew what it was like to possibly never get to say them to her again. That wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to have again. So, this time when you spoke them, the words held even more meaning and as you fell asleep, you knew you’d go to the ends of the earth to protect that love.

.

.

[inosukeslefttoe]

SO i just finished wonder egg priority and i think that with confidence i can say it has been one of my favorite animes like... ever ?? and not even from hyperfixation or obsession over it just... its so fucking real yet so simple in a way that i havent rlly seen shown in any other shows you feel ??

but first i wanna talk about how sexy the art and animation is real quick... HOMIE ITS SO GOOD LIKE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT JUST... serotonin... the characters are all so unique and iconic and fun but not over the top in their designs yknow ??? they seem like regular every day girls but they stand out and theyre all sO CUTE !!!! also i love how the style is like this soft bubbly slice of life lookin stuff with bright happy colors and the most beautiful scenes you could find but they also have the SICKEST fight scenes complete with whimsical animal helpers and terrifying villains and crazy weapons unique to each character. and the animation. god DAMN shawty i am obsessed with everything in this show. i might make a post solely about the art later lol bc i wanna get into the other stuff.

so the themes in the show right ?? it starts just as this cute lil magical girl kinda deal but within the first episode we see that like.. oh damn... thats kinda heavy... tbh i was a little shocked and thought about stopping bc yknow bad mental health BUT i was so intrigued that i had to keep going and i am SO GLAD that i did. because this show just so beautifully discusses all these heavy topics in such an eloquent and artistically expressive way. and also like, , the juxtaposition of the charming childlike vibe with bright colors and 14 yr old girl protagonists against the dark themes of suicide and so much else,, i think is just perfect. bc a lot of heavy animes are more of the seinen genre and have some middle aged dude as a protag or make the entire color palette dim or offer little relief to the pain of these heavy themes right ?? but NO not wonder egg bitches B) because these problems arent just things that ppl face later in life or just problems that need to be talked about among adults or the edgy seinen watching squad,, these are REAL problems that face people of every age, gender etc and i think its awesome that wonder egg addresses that. some may cringe at the thought of their high schooler watching animes that discuss sexual harassment, suicide, abuse, self harm, eating disorders etc,, but in reality it is the most comforting thing i have ever come across and is basically jsut free anime therapy. because not only does wonder egg present these themes to the viewers as something real that happens to all kinds of people (making said people feel heard in a way that maybe they hadnt before), but it also makes sure to vanquish all of these forms of trauma. and the way the trauma is vanquished isnt always beautiful and it isnt always just magically gone with a poof. the struggles of overcoming or living with that sort of thing are shown in such a real and relatable way that addresses every hardship trauma survivors have to go through. and i just. god i cry bro. 

oh m y GOD and the lgbtq+ rep in this show ?? like shawty... as soon as i saw episode one i was picking up on some gay/lesbian themes but then again im sapphic and project that a lot so i tend to see that sort of stuff like... everywhere... but NE WAYS... episode ten made me FUKCING CRY BRO LIke i cant believe there was a whole trans character with a whole trans pride hoodie like LKGHKDGH my heart is just so.. so fucking full thinking about him. bc like yeah i know there are trans characters in anime but i feel like theyre always very ambiguous about actually being trans or not or erased or portrayed as a harmful stereotype or theyre constantly misgendered and still refered to as their assigned gender at birth and i hate it. HOWEVEr... Kaoru.. *chefs kiss* it was so amazing to see a character straight up say “yeah im trans” in such a casual yet powerful way bc i personally have never seen that before. and i love love loved how he went into his backstory and talked to momoe about gender bc i think thats what she rlly needed and that it helped her find herself and it makes me so happy oh my god,, and the way they talked about it never seemed forced or like it was the focal point of his existence yknow ?? like yeah he existed to help momoe overcome some of her trauma but he also just existed to be HIM yknow ?? also... personally, i headcanon momoe as a trans girl even though i dont remember it being explicitly stated plus the school scenes of her and stuff would seem like they suggest otherwise ??but,,, SHAWTY THE AMOUNT OF SUBTEXT and her complicated relationship w gender is... something i feel like a cis girl would not go through so harshly yknow ?? with all of the questioning and feeling detached from femininity or feeling like ppl dont see her as an actual girl and only like her as a guy or for her masculine traits,,, but dont take my word on this bc i myself am a cis girl but that was just my take on it as someone in the lgbtq+ community trying to educate myself on the transgender community :) either way,, wonder eggs portrayal of momoe and kaoru and the way that momoe becomes so passionate about expressing herself the way she wants to as a girl is just... good lord im gonna cry its so perfect,,,.so ... i just love this show way too much. i also am honestly super lost about the relationship btwn acca and ura-acca ?? bc i was gonna mention ura-acca as a canonically gay guy bc when i was watching i interpreted ep 11 as him being in love with acca and being jealous of Azusa (bc i mean,, they lived together (i swear to god there was only one bed in that apartment) and had a daughter together and def loved each other and also when Frill said they were husbands and then when ura-acca said he wasnt attracted to azusa but he was def jealous of their relationship ??) but then i saw somewhere that theyre brothers ?? which would make sense ig since they look kinda similar and accas daughter called ura-acca “uncle”.. but at the same time its ANIME SO THEY ALL LOOK SIMILAR and referring to gay couples as siblings is an EXTREMELY common euphemism soooo... IM JUST LOST HERE... but yeah i tried doing research and found different things so i cant say anything for sure >:( however,,, if they are canonically a lil fruity for each other... when frill refered to acca as ura-accas husband i imploded dude you never hear that sort of wording in anime.. but if theyre related i am so sorry. 

god this is so much longer than i planned it to be oops but i also love the theme about like.. relying on friends to help carry your weight but at the same time not becoming completely dependent on those friends and using their support to learn how to love yourself and rely on yourself yknow ?? bc that is exactly what healthy friendships look like. bc i think ai sort of had a codependency thing goin on with koito maybe ?? but now she has a whole squad of funky friends that are so so different but all struggle with different kinds of trauma and although they fight over it, they always get through it with each other together. and they push each other no matter what to be the best versions of themselves and they teach other that getting hurt is okay because theyre always gonna be there to pick up the pieces no matter what happens. they can give each other space when they need and adapt to meet each others needs but theyre always able to balance it out with their own needs and thats such a beautiful thing in friendships especially at their age like damn i wish i had that maturity when i was 14 but no all i had was depression. another thing is that through these friendships you get to see all the different sides of each girl; you get to see them being strong or a shining light to their friends when theyre hurting but you also get to see them being hurt and weak and allowing themselves to be on the receiving end of the comfort. their friendships allows them to have weaknesses but it also allows them to highlight their strengths and thrive off of each others. I LOVE FRIENDSHIP DUDE

next i wanna briefly mention some of the themes connected to suicide that ive noticed. a big one is the survivors guilt that ai feels once koito is dead. several times she screams that she wishes she couldve gone with koito and she dreams of a “perfect world” where they committed a double suicide. one of the main reasons for her troubles is that she blames herself for koitos death and feels like it should be her thats dead... but at the same time she feels like too much of a coward to do anything now that koito is gone. she just has all these complex and contradicting feelings that wear away at her in ways that ppl that havent gone through the suicide of a loved one could never imagine. a lot of the times when things like this are portrayed in media i feel like its more in a way thats meant to guilt trip those that have taken their own lives and paint suicide as this selfish sin thats unforgivable but... not only does wonder egg reject that idea and instead portray it as a heartbreaking tragedy with,,, so so many terrible reasons, but it focuses on the feelings of ai separate from koito without blaming her in any way. not once did i feel like the show antagonized koito or that ai blamed koito for doing any of this, but they simply mourned her loss and touched on ais reaction towards the event but separate from koito herself if that makes sense. and i think that discussing survivors guilt without painting koito as the bad guy is something so beautifully done in wonder egg that can really resonate with those that have lost a loved one to suicide and have struggled with these same things.

okay i think this is the last thing ill mention,,, but HOMIE THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE BIT AT THE END. I AM. OBSESSED. i am such a whore for anything about the multiverse okay n e ways...,, not only did this make a super epic trippy ending of season one and add a little bit more magical girl whimsy to the show,, but it had such a powerful message. from the perspective of og ai,, finding out that you killed yourself in another world is... i mean its definitely not a surprise but at the same time it rlly makes you think how close og ai herself couldve been to that point and what decisions led her out of that dark place in her life. if i were in her shoes i would be terrified and id cry bc the thought of going back to such a dark place and actually going through with something like that is my worst fear and probably something that ai fears too. but at the same time,,, think from the perspective of ai two !!! like yeah its true that theres this awful terrible version of ai that dies but theres also a whole version of ai that is a superhero magical girl fighting off monsters to save countless ppls lives !! and she has a badass lizard and a gang of awesome friends !!! at first i was worried that ai two would be jealous of og ai and compare herself to her and feel inferior but like.. THEYRE LITERALLY THE SAME PERSON AND CAPABLE OF THE SAME THINGS !!! and ai two realized that !! just within the span of one episode, she went from the version of ai who took her life,, to the version of ai jumping in front of a friend to take a bullet for them and save their life. and that just inspired THE SHIT OUT OF ME. i think that ai was sent another version of herself to sort of beat her own worst enemy yknow ?? those doubts and fears that shes no good or that shes that same bystander from episode one and that she hasnt changed at all. but getting to interact with her parallel self and see her grow was just what she needed to realize that while yeah sometimes the worst thing can happen and things can be terrible but on the other hand sometimes the most wonderful thing imaginable can happen because she has the power to do either. 

so im gonna go ahead and stop rambling bc i got all my thoughts out that i wanted to for this post :D but yeah lol i might make another if i feel like it sometime. long story short: this show is perfect and it is going on my favorite of all times.

[wondernimbus]

ottery st. catchpole — cedric diggory

pairing: cedric diggory x female!reader

request #1: Hi! Do you mind writing a Cedric x reader fic where y/n loves and is the best baker? She hands him a treat and he finds himself slowly falling for for her (idk smth really cute please!) Thanks :))

request #2:  Can you write Cedric and the reader sharing their first kiss together? 🥺

a/n: decided to combine two requests since i thought they’d work well together! 

The muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole was a fascinating place.

The first time Cedric had gone there at age eight, he'd thrown on an odd assortment of muggle clothes: a pink strawberry-patterned shirt, overly large bell-bottoms from his father's closet, and a pair of flip-flops. He learned quickly that that was not the kind of attire that would get him unnoticed by the Muggles—rather the opposite, actually, as he earned odd stares everywhere he went. But there were no "ordinary" Muggle clothes in his closet and nor did his father, so the next time he went to the village and came across a clothesline hanging unguarded outside of a Muggle house, he snatched himself two shirts and a pair of jeans and made sure to leave a thank you note under their door.

Free to wander the village without skeptical stares of Muggles following him everywhere, curious, eight-year-old Cedric made sure to explore every inch of it from the park to the chapel to the tavern.

But his most favorite, perhaps, was the bakery.

It was a quaint little place, tucked away in the corner away from the bustling main road. Its battered sign read "Old Corner Bakery", and underneath it there was a window display of the most delicious, succulent-looking pastries Cedric had ever seen in his life. It looked—though he would never let her hear him say it—even better than the ones his mother would make at home.

And so one day, Cedric, oblivious to the workings of the Muggle world and the fact that their currency was very much different from theirs, walked through the door, marched right up to the counter where his tiny head only barely peeked out from, and held up a single golden galleon. "One of those, please," he told the old lady behind the cashier, pointing at a mouth-watering custard tart on display.

The old lady reached out for the galleon, baffled. "What is this?"

"For a custard tart," replied Cedric, handing it to her.

"I've never seen anything like this," she said in wonder, holding the galleon up to the light. "Good grief, is this real gold?"

Cedric frowned, puzzled. "It''s a galleon."

The lady's face fell. Scowling, she handed it back to him. "So it's a toy," she sniffed. "I would tell you to scram, but I've seen you pass by here ogling at my pastries once or twice before. I'll give you one for free. What was it you wanted again?"

Cedric, although a little confused by how she wouldn't take his galleon, beamed in delight. If it was for free, he wasn't going to complain.

And so Cedric walked out of the bakery a few moments later with half a custard tart in his hands and the other half already snug in his stomach. He wondered to himself if all Muggles were like this; if he went to that shop near the town square, would he get more stuff for free?

He tried, and needless to say, failed.

The next day, Cedric came back to the bakery bearing two sickles. As happy as getting free food made him, something about exploiting an old woman's kindness didn't sit right with him. If she didn't want the galleon, maybe she would take a sickle instead.

But when he walked through the bakery doors, he found that the old woman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, in her place behind the cashier, there was a little girl about his age.

"Welcome to Old Corner Bakery!" she beamed, childish face shining brightly. "How may I help you?"

Cedric drew towards her, a pout on his face. "Where's the old lady?"

"The old lady?" she asked. "Oh, you mean grandma!"

He nodded.

"She's in the kitchen—baking, you know. I handle customers like you when she's too busy and I'm not doing homework," the little girl explained, grinning.

"Oh," said Cedric. "In that case, I want a cauldron cake!"

She tilted her head to the side, brows furrowed. "What's that?"

"A cauldron cake," he repeated. "Have you not got those here?"

Bottom lip jutting out in thought, the little girl scratched her head and hopped off of the stool she was apparently standing on to look over the cashier; as soon as she did, she disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen. "Grandma!"

The familiar voice of the old lady replied, "Yes, dear?"

"Do we have cauldron cakes?"

"What?"

Cedric waited patiently by the counter, hands fiddling with the two sickles he held in his hands. "Cauldron cakes, grandma!" the little girl yelled louder.

"Never heard of 'em!" the old lady replied from the kitchen.

A moment later, the little girl was clambering back onto her stool behind the cashier. "I don't think we have those here," she told Cedric, and then, in a curious tone, "They sound delicious, though! What are they?"

A wide smile stretched across Cedric's round face—he looked as though he'd been waiting to be asked that for centuries. At a rapid pace, he began to gush, "They're chocolate cakes shaped like cauldrons and they've got melted chocolate in them and sometimes my mum uses this spell so that the chocolate doesn't run out and you can keep eating forever. She takes off the spell sometimes, though, because she says if I keep eating I'll get as fat as dad."

The little girl giggled, but then, with her eyes wide, asked, "Did you say spells? Like magic? The kind wizards and witches use?"

Cedric's eyes grew as wide as, if not even wider, than hers. He took a quick step back and cleared his throat, eyes darting around the bakery in panic. He'd forgotten, for a moment, that she was a Muggle—he'd almost revealed the secret of the wizarding world to her and defied his parents' warnings!

"Um," Cedric stammered, stuffing his two sickles back into his pocket. "Nevermind. Sorry!"

And just like that, he dashed out of the bakery, leaving the little girl staring after him, thoroughly intrigued.

—

Cedric did not go back to the village the next day under the irrational fear of accidentally revealing the wizarding world's biggest secret; that magic existed. Obviously, an eight-year-old wizard letting such a thing slip to yet another eight-year-old Muggle would little affect the wizarding world, but Cedric, childish and oblivious as he was, did not want to take any risks.

And so it took him a week before he mustered up the courage to go back into the village. He hadn't been planning to go into the bakery—he only hoped to catch a glimpse of the pastries by the window—but he found that the little girl was sitting outside on the front steps, munching on a piece of bread.

Mere seconds from legging it, the girl looked up and their eyes met. "Hey!" she called out, perking up. "I know you!"

Cedric froze from where he stood several feet away. He thought it'd be rude to bolt when she'd already noticed him, and so he walked forward tentatively, half-expecting her to start badgering him with questions about wizards and witches and magic. But she only patted the empty space next to her and beckoned him to sit down, that same cheery smile on her face that Cedric had seen a week ago.

He sat next to her on the stone steps, crossed arms propped on his knees as he turned his head to look at her. She was tearing the bread she held in her hands into two halves, the other half of which she handed to him.

"Thank you," said Cedric, taking it.

"You're welcome!" the little girl replied, face positively glowing with the warmth of a thousand suns. Taking a bite out of her now considerably smaller chunk of bread, she tilted her head and said, "I don't think I've ever seen you at school before."

He took a bite out of his own, eyes skittering away to look at the pavement. "My parents teach me school stuff at home," he told her. It wasn't a complete lie, although he guessed that the things that she learned in her Muggle school were a stark contrast to the magic he learned from his mum and dad.

"Oh, that sounds fun!" the little girl said, beaming. "Don't you get sad, though? Not having any kids your age to play with? Assuming you don't have siblings."

"I don't," replied Cedric through a mouthful of bread. It was some sort of strawberry crumpet. "I'm an only child. I suppose it does get lonely, sometimes, but that's why I go out here—to the Mugg—I mean, the village."

She nodded, mouth moving to form an o shape. "Neat. So you don't have homework?"

He shook his head. The girl's shoulders slumped and a frown quickly found its way onto her face. "I wish I didn't get homework," she said sullenly. "They give us a whole stack of it over the summer. I hate it."

Cedric bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't quite like the frown on her face; something about it made him feel unsettled, like something had gone wrong in the world. He nudged her shoulder with his. "It can't be that bad," he said, offering her a tiny smile. "There's.. there's worse things than homework. Like—I don't know—losing ekleksiti or whatever you call it.. or unintentionally fumbling with the Quaffle and messing up your team's goal.."

"You mean the football?"

"Yeah.." Whatever that was.

She giggled, turning to smile at him. "You're funny."

There was something about her tone of voice—along with the overall aura that she carried—that awfully reminded Cedric of summer days playing Quidditch outside with his family and warm wind in his face and lying in the grass seeing the clouds drifting above him.

It was that feeling that made it easy for Cedric to forget almost immediately about his illogical fear of exposing the magical world. It was what had him smiling back at her, round face just as bright and filled with the kind of mirthful innocence only children would have.

—

Cedric came back to the bakery the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Both the little girl—who he learned was named [Y/N]—and her kind, albeit slightly cranky old grandmother, grew fond of him. The latter would make sure to bake him his favorite custard tarts, and [Y/N] would sit with him by the front steps of the bakery, talking about every tiny thing their brains came up with.

"Have you got a favorite movie?" [Y/N] asked him one day.

"A favorite what?"

"A movie. Don't tell me you've never seen one!"

Cedric scratched the back of his neck, abashed. "I don't think so. Is that a Mu—I mean, what is it?"

Looking utterly astounded, [Y/N] began to ramble on about moving pictures and fairytales and stories.

"I've seen moving pictures—but you're telling me they don't talk to you?" quizzed Cedric dubiously.

Frowning, she nodded. "The pictures talk to each other. Sort of. Although it would be cool if they talked to us, don't you think?"

Still trying to wrap his head around the concept of images that don't talk to you but talk to other images whilst following a story of sorts, Cedric rubbed his forehead. "This is giving me a headache."

[Y/N] giggled, shoving the last of her custard tart into her mouth. "Let's go see one one day! A movie, I mean. It'll be fun!"

Prying his palm away from his face, Cedric nodded and couldn't help but grin right back at her. The excited gleam in her eyes shone with the promise of more than just one day seeing a movie; it glowed with the promise of a friendship that would last for a long, long time. That gleam of promise was reflected in Cedric's own gaze, and rest assured it would stay there in the rest of the years to come.

—

Three years seemed to pass by in a blur of endless chatter, ridiculous inside-jokes, and shared pastries out by the bakery's front steps. The pair grew and their friendship did so along with them. Cedric learned to grow cautious about what he had come to call his "magical secret", although he suspected that [Y/N] had started to grow skeptical along the way despite her never bringing it up.

When his letter from Hogwarts arrived, Cedric knew that he had to tell [Y/N]—that, or make up some excuse. Or perhaps invent something akin to the truth, but not quite.

And so it went like this: "My parents are sending me to school."

[Y/N]'s eyes widened. They were sitting in their usual spot out by the bakery's stone steps, identical biscuits in their hands. Out of nowhere, she smacked Cedric's shoulder; he turned to face her, clutching the spot where she'd hit him. "What was that for?" asked Cedric, eyes as wide as hers.

She smacked him again, bouncing with the excitement of a five-year-old child waking up on Christmas day. "That's great!" she squealed, stuffing her biscuit in her mouth and chewing frantically. "I can introduce you to all my friends and we'll get to see each other everyday and not just on the weekends!"

Cedric's heart sank. "Um.."

"And we can do homework together and I won't have to walk back home alone and—"

"[Y/N], I'm not going to your school."

She paused. Her face fell and drooped into a frown so disappointed that Cedric had to tear his gaze away. "What—where are you going, then?"

He scratched the back of his neck, lips pressed together in a weak grimace. "Somewhere far."

[Y/N]'s brows were furrowed. "Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in Scotland, I think. I'll be back home for the summer, though."

Her shoulders had slumped, and so had Cedric's. The disappointment was evident in the sulky lines of her face and it was making Cedric feel all sorts of things he normally wouldn't feel around her; incredibly downcast being one of them. He'd known this day was coming one day or another, and so would the day he'd have to leave and not see her for several months—the day that loomed only a week from then.

"When are you leaving?" asked [Y/N], gaze fixed on the pavement, a pout on her tiny face.

"Next week," replied Cedric.

He couldn't bear it. He poked her side, which immediately led to her jumping up and frowning at him. (He'd discovered over time that it was a big tickle spot of hers.) Once he'd gathered her attention, he said in a quiet voice, "I've got a secret. Do you want to hear it?"

Still looking somewhat sullen, she nodded. [Y/N] would never pass up a chance to discover some big, mysterious secret, no matter her mood.

And just because he wanted to cheer her up, along with the fact that he knew he couldn't keep this from her—his best friend of three years who knew everything about him from his favorite pair of socks to his biggest fears—he leaned in, eyes wide, and whispered in a hushed tone, "I'm going to a school for wizards."

She drew back, brows pulled in together in the middle in pure incredulity as said, "You're joking."

"No," said Cedric, grinning. And then, in that same hushed voice, "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone, okay?"

Still looking utterly bewildered, [Y/N] nodded slowly, gaze locked with his.

"I can show you magic, if you like."

At this, her eyes grew wide and a moment later she was nodding excitedly. "Where? When? How?"

"Right now!" replied Cedric, relieved at the smile that split her face and replaced the disappointed frown from before. "Wait here, okay? I'll be back!" And then he sprang to his feet and dashed off.

Cedric was true to his word; he came back half an hour later bearing a mysterious purple package in his hands. [Y/N] was still sitting patiently where he'd left, and she looked up at him calling her name.

"What is that?" she asked, hands reaching out for the box, which Cedric handed to her. Turning it over in her hands, she saw the words "Chocolate Frog" written across the paper lid in shiny golden letters.

"Open it!" Cedric urged, sitting down next to her.

And so she did. Carefully opening the lid of the octagon-shaped box, she let out a loud shriek as a chocolate-colored pair of squirming frog legs poked out from behind it. Out of surprise, the package fell from her hands and onto the pavement, but Cedric's instincts were quick; he hurriedly hopped off the steps to grab the package, hands firmly clamped around it as he brought it back to her with a wide smile on his snickering face.

"Guess you don't scare easy, huh?" he grinned, teasing. "It can get away if you don't hold onto it as soon as you open the package. See, watch."

Heart still beating rapidly, she leaned over with wide eyes and a curious gaze, watching as Cedric carefully opened the lid. He caught something that, sure enough, looked like chocolate—but it was moving in his clasped fist.

"A chocolate frog," said [Y/N], eyes the size of golf-balls.

"Yep," said Cedric, bringing the still struggling treat to his lips and taking a huge chunk out of it. "Don't worry—it's not an actual frog. Just shaped to look like it."

Gobsmacked, [Y/N] stared as he handed her the bottom half of the chocolate frog, the legs of which was still squirming. "That's—woah," excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach at having witnessed actual magic (albeit in the form of the so-called chocolate frog), she brought it to her mouth, where it instantly stopped moving and dissolved into a creamy mess of delicious chocolate.

Eyes glinting with the same elation that was in hers, Cedric sat down next to her and pulled a card out of the box. He handed it to her.

[Y/N] stared down at the small card in the palm of her hands. "Woah," she said again, voice a stunned whisper. Imprinted on the card was a photo of an old man whose beard stretched all the way down to his waist. He was wearing sparkling magenta robes and looking straight at her, a gentle twinkle in his wizened, old eyes. An odd name was emblazoned under his picture—"Albus Dumbledore"—but then he reached up to adjust the spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and [Y/N] let out another surprised gasp. "He moved!"

Cedric was grinning. "Magic, I told you!"

Exhilarated, [Y/N] looked back down at the card in her hands. The old man—Dumbledore—winked at her through his half-moon spectacles. "Is he—" she swallowed, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, "Is he a wizard?"

Cedric nodded, beaming. "And so am I."

For a few seconds, [Y/N] could do no more than open and close her mouth in pure shock. All of this was a lot to take in—but perhaps her being of the mere age eleven helped, because while the ordinary Muggle adult would have downright refused to believe it, an imaginative young girl like her who had yet to discover the world took the news kindly.

"I'd show you more magic," Cedric said bashfully, "But I don't really know how to yet. That's why I'm going to Hogwarts—the school I was talking about, you know—so I can learn how to use magic. Spells and potions and all of that stuff."

At this, [Y/N]'s lips once more drooped with the threat of yet another painful frown, but she picked it back up with a small smile. "Here," she swiveled around to face him on the steps, knees knocking with his. Holding her pinky finger up between them, she said, "You promise me you'll write, okay? And you have to tell me about all the stuff that you learn there and all the other wizards and witches you meet—there are witches, right?"

Cedric nodded, lips pressed together in a tiny smile as he laced his pinky finger through hers. "I promise. Expect there'll be owls knocking on your window every week or so."

Her eyes widened once more. "Owls?"

He grinned. "We use owls to send letters and stuff around."

"Oh. Neat."

They broke out into a fit of giggles. "Okay," said Cedric, pulling his pinky finger away. "But you have to promise me you'll keep it a secret."

[Y/N] nodded earnestly, a look of the utmost seriousness crossing over his face as she pressed her palm to her chest like she was swearing an oath. "I'll take it to the grave with me, Ced," she said, eyes sparkling. "Trust me."

—

And trust her he has done, for the past few years of his life. Cedric would leave on the first of September every year, but not before bidding her farewell and promising to write at least once a week. To make up for the time they've lost, he would spend almost every day of the summer and winter break with her. His parents understand; he has long since told them about the Muggle girl at the bakery who his heart has grown close to. And perhaps it is his parents who first notice when the friendship that he has with her begins to blossom into something else. Something more.

"Out to meet with your friend already?" asks his father upon catching Cedric already on his way out of the front door. It's his first day back home from his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he has barely even finished unpacking his bags.

Cedric grins. He is a young man of age sixteen now, no longer the tiny eight-year-old boy he once was when he first met [Y/N] all those years ago. And yet despite all that has changed—despite his broader stature and the fact that he now towers over his father—he is still the same compassionate boy he has always been; the one who has always had a love for pastries and a certain girl at the bakery, although he doesn't quite know it yet.

"She's waiting for me," says Cedric, oddly exhilarated. His heart beating with the anticipation of seeing her for the first time in several months, he waves a brief goodbye to his father and dashes down the hill leading to the Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

He goes down the same path he always has; past the small patch of trees at the foot of the hill, through the town square, and finally, in front of the bakery. The door is propped open as though it has been waiting for him to enter, and voices waft out onto the street from the inside.

A smile already having found its way onto his face, Cedric takes the front stone steps two at a time before stepping inside.

"Be careful, grandma—oh, no—no, let me do it."

"It's fine, I can—Cedric, dear boy, you're back!"

A tray of freshly-baked cookies are set aside on the counter before a familiar elderly Muggle woman rushes at him and envelops him in a hug, mitten-covered hands wrapping themselves around his middle—the farthest she can reach him at his tall height and her own short legs. Cedric meets [Y/N]'s gaze over her grandmother's shoulder; she is leaning on the counter, lips pressed together in a barely-suppressed smile as her eyes shine with the kind of light that reminds Cedric of everything good in the world.

It takes a while for [Y/N]'s grandmother to stop fussing over him. When she does, she disappears behind the kitchen with the promise of coming out with a fresh batch of his favorite custard tarts.

And then he and [Y/N] are left alone in the bakery, where Cedric wastes no time and hugs her as close to him as he can. He wants to tell her that he'd missed her—terribly so—but he knows that she knows, and so he just holds her to him and hopes that the words come across alright.

A moment later the two of them are outside of the bakery, sitting on the same stone steps they've perched themselves on so many times before.

"So let me get this straight: you intentionally didn't write about the fact that there was a mass murderer inside your school because you didn't want me to worry?"

"Well, the matter was taken care of—"

"And there were soul-sucking demendoids or whatever you call them roaming the castle and you didn't mention it to me in your letters because you—"

"I didn't want you to worry, yes."

[Y/N] stares at him, deadpan. "And I suppose if you suffer a horrible death you won't care to write to me either because you don't want me worrying."

"Well, if I were dead, I'd hardly be able to write to y—"

"Oh, you get my point!" says [Y/N], rolling her eyes, but she's laughing as she shoves him lightly on the shoulder. Sighing dramatically, she shakes her head. "You learn a few magic tricks and suddenly you cut me out of your life."

Cedric scoffs, but his annoyance is only about as convincing as [Y/N]'s, as he has a smile of his own on his face. "I leave a few details out of my letter and suddenly you want to end our friendship."

"I don't want to end it," protests [Y/N]. "I just don't want you keeping out the bad stuff from your letters just because you don't want me to worry. If anything, I want to hear more about the negatives than the positives so I'll know that I'm not the only one having a hard time."

Cedric raises his brows, the smile on his face drooping as he angles his head to look at her face from where she's leaning on his shoulder. "Why? Tough time at school?"

She shrugs, shifting a little. "Kind of. It's ridiculous, actually. My best friend—well, second-best, since you're first—thinks that her boyfriend," she makes a face, "likes me. She didn't talk to me at all during the last few months of school and I highly expect she'll still be an arse about it when we come back after summer. Rubbish, really." Cedric has fallen silent. When she looks up at him, she finds that there is a frown on his face, so immediately she reassures him by saying, "You don't have to worry, Ced. I've got other friends. Better friends—wizard friends. Or friend. Just the one."

Cedric raises his eyebrows at her. His mood has dampened a little; it shows in the disappearance of the crinkled smile lines around his eyes and the way his lips have tugged down.

"Oh, come on," says [Y/N], sitting up straight. "Don't look so bummed. I've told you it's not a big deal."

He looks away, and then, quietly, "I just don't like the idea of you having a hard time."

A grin slowly stretches across her face. A moment later, she starts laughing. "Always so caring, aren't you?" she teases, reaching out to poke his cheek.

Cedric rolls his eyes, clutching her hand and prying it away from his face. "Whatever," he mutters, making a face at her. She giggles and does one right back, and just like that, they're laughing again.

It's incredibly easy for the innocent, youthful part of Cedric to come to the surface during times like these, when he sits down in front of the bakery with his best friend at his side as they return to their naive, childish shelves and bond over everything and nothing with all sorts of pastries clutched in their chubby hands. Cedric finds that, no matter how much time has passed, [Y/N] still feels the same: warm and comforting and reminiscent of home.

—

Time passes as it has always done, and sooner than both Cedric and [Y/N] would have liked, the day of September comes looming above them a mere week away.

They are on one of the many hills surrounding the village of Ottery St. Catchpole—their favorite one, actually; the one that has a perfect view of the village if they sit at the very top, which is what they are doing. The night sky looms above them as they do as they have always done: talk. And whenever they lapse into silence, they bask in the comfort they have always found in one another.

At present, they are laying on their backs on the grass. Usually, they'd be pointing out random shapes they each notice in the clouds, but it is nighttime and only wisps of smoke from the village chimneys drift across the dark blue canvas. There are only a few stars visible through the pollution hanging in the air; "I could count them all on one hand," says [Y/N], arm stretched upwards as though reaching for the sky. "Bit sad, really. I remember when we were kids there were still a lot of them. Sort of."

Cedric, with his gaze similarly glued to the stretch of sky above them, lets out an exhale. "We can see the stars at Hogwarts," he tells her quietly like they're sharing a secret, which, in a way, they are. "We don't even have to go to the Astronomy Tower to see them—when we look up, they're right there. Right above us. It's.."

He trails off.

"Ethereal?" [Y/N] suggests, tone hushed.

Cedric nods. "I wish I could take you to see them, but. You know."

"I'm a—what was it you guys called us lame, non-magical folks again?" she rolls onto her side to face him, arm tucked underneath her head as her eyes narrowed playfully.

"A Muggle," Cedric says, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "And that doesn't make you lame. It just makes you.."

"Non-magical," she snorts.

"Doesn't matter," mumbles Cedric, shifting to turn on his side as well. "You've got a different kind of magic." And his tone is teasing, but there's a hint of underlying emotion hidden beneath that he wonders if [Y/N] picks up on.

"And what's that?" [Y/N] asks, feigning a haughty look. "Is it my—let's see—supernatural charms? Or my mystical beauty?"

Cedric laughs. "Something like that."

Facing her, mere centimeters away, Cedric sees that moonshine is dancing across the skin of her face; he sees the very stars they were speaking of gleaming in her eyes, and all of a sudden the atmosphere changes and he can't quite breathe properly.

The look on his face doesn't go amiss. The playful smile on [Y/N]'s face falls and reveals underneath it something more—something that has Cedric's heart beating wildly in his throat and his lungs seizing up in his chest.

Ethereal, Cedric thinks to himself as his gaze locks with hers and he finds himself drowning in the sea of constellations inside her irises. The stars at Hogwarts hold no competition to those which he sees in that moment in [Y/N]'s eyes. He wonders if they have always been there, waiting to be noticed, or if they have only just surfaced now.

And then Cedric finds himself leaning in and somewhere in the middle, she meets his lips with her own.

They pause for a moment, as though giving each other time to pull away if they want to, but neither of them do. And he really can't quite tell who moves first—him or [Y/N]—but they let each other's lips begin to whisper over one another's in gentle, slow carresses. They string up, unhurried and soft, one kiss flowing into the next with endless patience and want, and [Y/N]'s lips are inviting and alive and Cedric almost doesn't want to pull away, but he has to, eventually, and so he draws back, eyes blinking open.

He wonders, for a moment, despite the fact that she'd kissed back, if he had gone too far. If he had crossed the line that had always rested between them that made the difference between friendship and.. whatever this was.

But then familiar crinkles appear around [Y/N]'s eyes as she smiles at him. "I believe I've discovered my magic."

Cedric takes a brief moment to respond. Letting out a quiet exhale, he keeps his gaze fixed on hers as he furrows his eyebrows a little and asks with a tiny smile of his own, "What's that?"

She grins and jokes in a hushed, almost theatrical tone, "Seduction."

Cedric's face relaxes into a proper smile and he leans forward, pressing his mouth against [Y/N]'s for the second time. He feels the happy curve of her lips and feels his own curving up in response until they aren't really kissing anymore; just smiling against each other's mouths.

Ethereal, Cedric thinks to himself again, not for the first time that day. Absolutely bloody magical.

—

The muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole was a fascinating place, but perhaps the reason why Cedric thought so was not because of the buildings and the bustling streets themselves, but because of the little bakery owned by a Muggle grandma and a girl whose heart Cedric knew even better than his own.

When the first of September comes around and brings with it the inevitable need to say goodbye, a pair of friends bound together by the passing of time sit on the front steps of the Old Corner Bakery, joking and talking and making promises to write. [Y/N]'s grandmother has insisted on Cedric bringing along snacks in case he gets hungry during the train ride, hence the paper bag full of custard tarts he clutches in his hands.

"I think she loves you more than I do," says [Y/N], watching her grandmother disappear back into the bakery, weeping.

Cedric laughs. "Tell me something I don't know."

And then suddenly it is time to say their farewells, and Cedric is hugging her goodbye but it doesn't feel like enough, so he pulls away, places his hand on the back of her head, and presses a kiss to her forehead. He would press their lips together but he knows that will make it harder to say goodbye, so for now, he settles for this.

"You promise me you won't leave the bad stuff out of your letters, okay?"

"You can count on me."

So Cedric waves goodbye to her with the same gleam of promise from all those years ago sparkling in his eyes like stars that have yet to die out. He can't promise to stay, but he can promise that he will come back—and he will. He always will.

a/n: whether or not cedric comes back to ottery st. catchpole next year is entirely up to you (cough triwizard tournament cough)

[dungeonaspects]

Bremund of Karinthos:

Human Cleric of Peace

Peace is always an option, yet one seldom taken. Growing up in a war torn land puts strain on any beings morals, especially those on the precipice of demise, but it did not dissuade little Bremund.

He had little to share with his siblings growing up, mother's hands had long since seized up no longer able to weave as she had. So he worked the fields, at 7 his back ached, his hands covered in welts and often infected he returned home with what little coin he could.

Handing over every copper without hesitating, he would wait to sate his own hunger after his brothers and sisters. Singlehandedly he fed all 6 of them, often electing to skip meagre meals to feed the rest. Then the war passed through.

Devastation. Truly a paltry word to sum up the suffering that stained the little village. Bremund was left dying atop his slain family, the things he saw the soldiers of his own realm do had left him wishing to die, but that was not his fate.

The clergy of Eldath often followed armies, giving aid to any and all under the lady of peace's banner. They would wade through the battlefield, healing who they could, giving relief to those that needed it.

Bremund did not wish to be given relief, weakly pushing away the healing hands of those around him. Until the silver eyes of an old priestess met his, a gentle but intense gaze  searching for something.

In him the priestess saw something few survivors ever had, not a single drop of hatred tainted his gaze, even after the horrors he saw he could not bring himself to hate another person. She healed him roughly, using greater divine magics to straighten his bones and mend the ruptured organs.

"Bury your family with honours, after, you come with me." She said, turning and leading the other followers of Eldath away to the next in need.

The next fifteen years was mostly torment to Bremund, he was a servant for the lady of Eldath, given little sleep and clerical training so intense he was often assaulted by spells. He was forced to fight the guards of the travelling clergy, often cut to ribbons or even coming so close to death a single breath separated him from the void.

The boy had grown to monstrous size, towering a head and a half over most, perhaps seven foot two barefoot. He was formidable in strength yet unflinching with pain, had he chosen a warriors path he could easily compete with the barbarians of the northlands.

Then, after a battle Bremund had been carrying the wounded to the clerics and healing those he could when the clouds above cleared. The blood on and around him melted away, he saw the field as it had been, filled with commoners tending the wheat, children playing in the dirt content with their small but infinitely significant lives. He saw the young man in his arms as he was, barely more than a child, a secret partner back home, a mother worried sick, a father crippled and unable to protect his son. In this Bremund saw Eldath's vision, a world at peace, where no such blood is spilt.

He finished his duties and stood before the lady, they needn't speak, she nodded and waved for him to follow. In her private tent she gestured at a huge plain box taller than her, lengthways it would reach Bremund's ear and spanned five hands.

Within was a war axe made of dark metal, chipped on its edge and with a ridged handle that was uncomfortable to hold.

"Its name is Peacebringer," the lady said impassively, the look in her eye a mix of disgust and reverence "a relic of our orders founders, an item which few recognise as an item of our lady Eldath, and she bequeaths it to you"

The weapon hummed in Bremunds hand before quieting, the purpose of the blade apparent from the faintest touch. To prevent greater violence sacrifices must be made, he must do what must be done to save those like himself.

So he left, thanking the lady and the rest of the clergy, the mysterious order wandering amongst the war torn lands to bring relief to its victims. Bremund walks the path of peace, wishing a world where blood is not shed and people may live without fear.

Violence should never be chosen, but it is always an option.

Some Ideas

A bit of an intense character, I can see him being quite a stern guy, and with the body and weapon he would be intimidating to be around. But maybe a few trusted comrades could bring out the innocent boy he used to be, a few drinks to loosen him up and a lot of trust.

He'll never be the life of the party, but calm, patient, understanding, he could be the moral centre of a party. Tolerant to a fault, he would try his best to understand the violent or even evil members of a party, but will always try for a peaceful option, yet knows that sometimes a single dead lich will save hundreds of lives.

As for the axe and armour speak to your dm, the axe can begin as a regular axe but increase in power as your faith increases and your goals are achieved. Sentience could be achieved, a sliver of Eldath's divinity? Maybe a blood crazed monster that is at odds with its own existence desiring death yet being made for peace. Plenty for a dm to play with, maybe a few homebrew abilities.

Art by: River Flow Shore

Oh my god the intensity, the raw power contained is staggering. This piece felt like a barbarian amidst rage, but I love a switcheroo. Still such an amazing piece.

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/nx6Ee

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  jhs x named f!reader makes a lil (big) appearance. 

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  angst.  general.

tags / warnings.  this starts surprisingly soft!  and then it gets...  sad.  no real tags, though.  just...  mentions of butts?  also kicking butts?  jungkook is a bit of a manipulative dingus.  the usual.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ and @periminkle​!  i would be nothing without them.  💛 

wc.  2.7k

chapter two.

“Are you okay?”  

It’s a question that doesn’t beg an answer.  He already knows you aren’t - that there’s no way you possibly could be - but he asks anyway.  He offers the words like a hand in the dark, a light on the horizon.  A reminder that you’re not alone and he’s here.  

He, with sunbeams in his smile and a dependable heartbeat.  He, who is melted and never frozen, a calm sea to your raging storm.  Jung Hoseok.

He holds you delicately, with utmost care, as if he’s worried you might shatter into the same pieces he’d found you in three years ago.  Or worse.  He cradles you to his chest, tracing stories into your skin;  his fingers press against the brassy ladders of your rib cage, fitting care between the spaces and double checking your heart still beats there.  Every beat reminds him that you’re stronger than he gives you credit for.  He offers his support anyway. 

“I’m…”  The words don’t come.  They’re barely realised, hardly tangible - sailors who’ve died with no names or wives.  

You falter, just a little, where gold thread fails.  There’s only so much someone can take.

It isn’t asked of him - it never is - but he does it anyway:  catching the splinters in his hands.  He pretends like they don’t hurt him just as much and the truth is, they don’t.  He’s faced enough hurt that yours is nothing - simply a stroll through a rose garden, barely a blip on his radar.  So he does this for you, because he can and he really doesn’t mind.

Where he’s able, he fills the cracks with the glory of his smile, with passes of his hands and lips and breath.  He does his best to keep you from catching your hands on those sharp edges - turning them round with a trail of tenderness against your temple.  Then another.  Then one more.  Touches passed in tandem with the tears that spill from your eyes, far too full to stop.  “It’s okay.  Take your time.”

He’s not going anywhere.

You apologise and hope the saltwater doesn’t rust your insides that he’s worked so carefully to scrub clean.  The downpour continues, relentless and miserable.  He waits and for that, you’re grateful.

“I didn’t think it would be that hard.”  Not quite true.  You’d expected it to be worse - an entire blackhole devouring your universe.  It still hurts more than it should.

Hoseok laughs.  It isn’t cruel.  It exists only in sound and even then, hardly at all.

“Did you think it would be easy?”  

“Not easy.”  Different, maybe.  A pain less sharp.  Pressure on a healing bruise rather than a festering wound that’s been poorly, wrongly stitched together.  You didn’t get it - you’d had time to heal.  Why was there still this cut-out in the centre of your heart, shaped exactly like Jungkook and torn around the edges?

“Did you think he’d changed?”

It feels silly to say yes.  It feels sillier to lie.  “Maybe.”

He tries again.  “Did you believe he would’ve changed?”

Had you hoped for it?  Wasted wishes on pennies and stars?  “Yes.”

“Vi.”  So soft you almost miss it, coloured in melancholy and sympathy.  You’ve heard it enough times to recognise what follows.  From Hoseok and your brother and your best friend.  “You need to let him go.”  You know he’s right.  More than that, you know he cares.  He doesn’t want to see the same shell of a girl from years ago - a house without any lights on inside.  

“I’m trying.”  You are, truly.  You’d left, hadn’t you?  Not once but twice!  Two whole times.  

You’d never thought you would.

“I know.”  Hoseok is kind - kinder than you could ever hope to be.  Stronger, too.  You feel it in the way he holds you, keeps you afloat when you’re so close to being pulled under.  “Just know I’m here.”

You can’t count how many times you’ve said it.  You repeat it again, earnest and heartfelt.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”  It means more than the words, more than it’s fine .  It’s everything in between, unspoken but understood.  It’s his way of reminding you that you - exactly as you are, a little broken and bruised - are everything you need.  That you are exactly as you should be, with the people that love you most.

“What would I do without you?”  You can’t quite picture it.  You don’t want to.

The arms holding you tighten, warm grip holding you tight against his chest.  His lips are dry upon your cheek, his breath ticklish over the shell of your ear.  “You’d be fine,”  he insists, so assured you can’t help but believe him.  “Colder, probably, but you’d be just fine.”

You laugh for the first time since you’ve been in his bed, the sound still a little wet but far better than it was.  More you, with sunshine peeking out from behind the rain clouds.  

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”  

You peer at him from your periphery, reminded once again of how lucky you are.  You might’ve had your heart broken but it was whole again, if not a little worse for wear.  

His was gone - buried six feet under. 

You can’t help yourself.  “Really, Hobi.  Thank you.”

“What’d I say?”  It’s a little huffy - all for dramatic effect, you know.  

“I know but—”

“No buts.”

“But—”

“No buts!”  You catch the look of mischief before you catch something else - a playful palm that lands with a quiet smack.  “Unless it’s yours.”

“You’re ridiculous.”  

“And you’re laughing, so who’s really the winner here?”  

He might think it’s him, but you know it’s you.  Because he’s everything you’ve ever imagined.  Calm, cool, collected.  Shoulders carved from boulders and a heart made of pure gold.  He’s the solid foundation you’d never thought you’d needed but that steadies you now - a reliable foundation for the home you’ve been rebuilding.  A friend who gives everything and asks for nothing.

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to repay him. 

Don’t bother, you know he’d say.  It’s nothing, he’d insist.  You’ll still try.

“Let’s eat.”  You beat him to it, tossing whatever words he’d levied out the window as you extract yourself from the tangle of his limbs and linen sheets.  His expression shifts - swings from pouting at the loss of your body to delighted at the prospect of food in the span of three seconds - and he’s kicking his way to freedom alongside you. 

“Should I make pancakes?  Or are you in a waffle mood?”  

Truthfully, you’re in a drown-your-sorrows-in-wine mood but you figure at ten in the morning, carbs might be the better option.  Especially if they come in the form of his chocolate banana pancakes, third on your list of favourite comfort foods.  “Pancakes.”

“Pancakes it is, then.”  

The shirt he pulls on falls mostly into place before he offers a hand to you, one of his various hoodies - baby blue with Supreme emblazoned across the front - held in the other.  “Put this on and let’s get cookin’, good lookin’.”

Your brother joins the two of you for breakfast, the temptation of free food too strong - even for him.  He shuffles out of his bedroom, a sleepwalking zombie that only perks up at the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon.  He steals a piece before it’s even fully done, jumping out of the way of your wayward chopsticks when he nearly leaves a trail of pork fat over the counter. 

Knives and forks clatter across kitchenware and steam curls out of ceramic.  Caught in this little piece of Sunday morning paradise, it’s easy to imagine this is just another day.

“How’re you doing?”  It comes around a careful mouthful of batter and chocolate chips, Yoongi’s expression soft and expectant across the table.  There’s no hesitation in his question, even as Hoseok shifts in his seat beside you, free hand dropping to rest - inconspicuously - over your knee. 

Yoongi notes the motion with an imperceptible tick of his stare but says nothing.  It’s an unspoken agreement between the three of you. 

If you don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist. 

“I’m…”  The words fall short, yet again, but none of you are in a rush.  The quiet sound of chewing fills the void until you’re able to, in your soft and measured way.  “I’m okay.  I’ll be okay.”  That’s what matters. 

He hums an acknowledgement before digging further into his plate, slicing through a perfectly cooked yolk with the edge of his knife.  “You’re not going to see him again, right?”  You can tell he’s trying to be conversational - ask without demanding, understand without judging.  You know it’s hard for him.  It’d be hard for you too, if the roles were reversed. 

“No.”  

It’s punctuated by a squeeze of your thigh and the tiniest nod from the corner of your eye.  Hoseok knows it isn’t his place to butt in but he offers his support where he can, in the little ways you can’t miss.  Like the sun in the sky, you can’t always see him, but you know he’s there. 

“Good.”  The relief is palpable, fully formed and bright as it pops off Yoongi’s tongue in a pronounced exhale. 

You can’t help but smile, though you’re not entirely sure it meets your eyes.  It’s hard to remain chipper when faced with your nightmares.  If only you could leave them in bed, far away.  “Don’t worry.” 

“You’re my little sister - I have to.”

You catch the grin that forms across Hoseok’s mouth, heart-shaped and hidden behind the rim of his coffee cup.  “She’ll be fine, hyung.”  It takes a lot for him to say it but you appreciate that he does.  Sometimes, it feels like you and Yoongi are fighting over the wrong things;  he recentres you both when that happens.

Feline eyes train on you, indecipherable in their depth.  The bond you share with your brother is unparalleled, despite the oft forgotten fact that you aren’t actual siblings but a chosen family.  You sometimes wonder if you’d be able to read him better if you shared the same coding - if his thoughts might slip into yours one day.  Not that it’s necessary.  He’s always been honest with you.  “I know she will.  She’s strong.”

“Thanks, Yoongs.”

He nods - a short, curt thing that’s diffused by the way his mouth moves, lips curling into the peculiar gummy smile he’s had since he was a kid.  “Just know if he comes within ten feet of you again, I’ll kick his ass.”  With the laughter that sprouts around his words, it could easily be mistaken for a joke.  A bit of nonsense between friends.

You know better, though.  Yoongi would throttle Jungkook with his bare hands if he ever hurt you again.  He’d told you enough times, drilled it into your mind that first year when he’d had to pick up all the pieces.  You can’t blame him;  they’d hurt him, too, just in different ways.

You’d lost the love of your life.  He’d almost lost his little sister.  It was hard to come back from that.

“I know you will.”  Because while decidedly slimmer - a good, maybe, thirty pounds less than your former love - Yoongi would, with no doubt in your mind, obliterate the boy who’d done the same to your heart.  It was a family thing.

“Does he know that, too?”

You’re sure Jungkook does.  He’d be stupid not to, right?  “Yeah.”

“Good.”

It’s a whole three days later when you realise how wrong you are and how stupid Jeon Jungkook is.

The familiar number flashes a total of four times, glaring up at you like a neon sign that demands your attention.  Even when you blink, they’re seared against the back of your eyelids - a highlight reel of your worst moments encapsulated in a simple ten digits.  

Letting the calls ring through, untouched, is almost impossible.  You can do it, though.  You know you can.

You repeat that over and over again until the vibrating stops and the screen is black.  

That wasn’t so hard, you think.

Then the missed call reminders are replaced by a voicemail notification and all of your pride sinks like a weight to the bottom of your stomach.  Unease bubbles up in its place, fizzles and snaps - a movie theatre fountain pop.  You hate pop.  

Deleting the message without listening to it is what you should do.  Pretending like it never happened is what Yoongi would want you to do.  Neither of those things happen.

You know you’re going to regret it the moment you press play and his voice fills your ears, reaching all the way into your chest as if that’s where it belongs.  You only repeat it for a second time because you’re not sure you’ve heard right.  You can’t believe the words he’s left.

But Jungkook is Jungkook and you really shouldn’t be surprised. 

After all, he certainly isn’t when you swing open the front door.  In fact, he’s almost smug, cheeks pressed into that heartbreaking smile of his.  Even the cuts on his nose and his bruised eye do little to detract from the charm of it.  He could wear a brown paper bag and he’d still, somehow, have your heart racing a mile a minute.

“Hi, Pumpkin.”  

You barely react when he closes the distance and pops a sweet, chaste peck to your forehead.  You don’t know how to react.

It’s like having a bomb dropped on you - a cataclysmic shift that tips your entire world on its side and leaves you scrambling for purchase on a tilted axis.  All at once, everything returns to revolving directly around the boy standing in front of you.  

Just as he had three years ago - how he almost had, only three days ago - Jungkook becomes the centre.

The realisation is sobering, startling you into action. 

“What are you doing here?”  

He blinks once, twice, doe-eyed and adorable.  It’s impossible not to see what he’s doing - see right through the facade he crafts so well, with such practiced hands.  It’s even harder not to fall for it.  

You’d thought you wanted nothing to do with him - not since he’d bumbled his way through his last lie, too guilty to even properly correct the mistake he’d made.  You’d been certain that would be the final straw.  Hoped it would be, with every last tired breath.

“I wanted to see you.”  

He looks so pretty on the outside.  A picture perfect dream come true, plucked straight from your afternoon fantasies.  The boy you’ve wished for forever, wrapped up in hyperactive laughter and black silk.  

But you know he’ll break you from the inside out, turn your heart to ash.  He’ll articulate his love in the form of unnecessary bouquets and drunken voicemails that come too late.  He’ll disappear for weeks at a time then come crawling back, begging for your help as if he hasn’t tripped over his own two feet.  You’ll be too weak to say no, wrapping him in the bandages you should be keeping for yourself. 

You know all of this - and yet you wait, hope, pray , that this time might be different.  

You wonder if he can tell.  If he can still read you in the ways he used to, between the lines and in the dark.  You think he must by how he stares at you, relentless and restless, searching your expression for any sign of forgiveness.

“Pumpkin?”  If words held weight, you’d be crushed beneath it.

“You can’t just… come here.”  Where I have nowhere to run.   

Jungkook shifts his weight, dances from foot to foot.  He’s peering down at his shoes - Italian leather, polished within an inch of their life - mouth rounding in that pout you recognise so well.  “You want me to leave?”  

Don’t answer that.

“I’ll leave.  Just tell me to go.” 

Tell him.  It’s one word.  Hardly a feat.

“Vira, tell me to leave and I’ll go.”

You can’t.  You can’t.  There’s no anger now - nothing to spring you to your feet in a fit of rage.  It’s only sadness, all-encompassing and blue, enough to swallow you whole and spit you out.  It’s so heavy it aches in your bones and all the way through to your toes.  

“Tell me to leave — or let me in.  One or the other.”

author note.  another short chapter but one that lays some important groundwork.  further pain will be forthcoming!  xoxo

tag list.  @jalexa83​ @aa-ronpa​ @kookiesbreaky​ @celestialflamefairy​ @xjoonchildx​ 

[kickingitwithkirk]

Deuxième Omega

Summary: Jensen is not dealing well with his unexpected divorce and before the ink is even dry, he is pushed into another union with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 3363

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, angry Jensen, cursing, alcohol abuse, parental manipulation, arranged marriage, Alpha dominance over Omega, unintended injuries.

A/N: So, get this; a lot of my original writing ideas from my weird as hell dreams about Sam Winchester but for some reason Jensen is starring in this one. I’m gonna blame the bad PMS I’m having for all the angst in this.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles family. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse.

*Supernatural doesn’t end in season 15 and some dates/events have been altered to fit the story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine *photos found online

Jensen was sitting slouched on the leather couch staring at the paperwork that had been dropped off by courier this morning, official notification of the dissolution of his marriage to Danneel when Jared entered his trailer. “It’s not gonna say anything different no matter how many times you look at it.”

“I know,” Jensen sighed heavily, “never thought I’d be in this position.”  He tossed the papers on the table and picked up his beer draining it in one go.

“You better not drink anymore, we’ve still got two more scenes to get through before we can leave tonight.”

Jensen rolled his head towards Jared leaning across the kitchenettes bar counter with a very concerned expression.

Jensen had always been a social drinker, he did love his beer, the slight softness over his toned stomach was the biggest indicator. But there had been constant uptick in his drinking during the mandatory two year waiting period for an Alpha/Beta divorce. So far, it hadn’t seriously interfered with work but there had been several instances of his obvious imbidding that Jared,  Alex, even Misha ended up pumping him full of coffee to get him through.

“Then let’s get them done so I can get really fucked up before that shit show happens tomorrow.”

“Jack, give this new marriage a chance. Your dad said she’s a good match right? You never know, maybe it’ll work out like Gen and me.” Jared’s marriage had been a private match and he was happy with the Omega that his family had chosen.

Jensen snorted, getting up and walking out of his trailer, “Yeah, you lucked out with her, not always the case. Look at me, I’m getting a second hand Omega.”

*** To say the atmosphere in the private arrivals area was strained was an understatement. The Ackles were seating several feet apart awaiting their son.

“Mommy…daddy, how’s it..go..going?” They both turned in unison to see their very drunk middle child staggering towards them followed closely by Jared and Clif.

“Jensen Ross Ackles, how could you show up in this condition!” Donna Ackles snapped as he gave her a cheeky smile before passing out. “Fuck!” Jared blurted out, catching him before he face planted onto the tiled floor.

“Jared Tristan Padalecki you’re to blame for this!”

“I’m the one who’s been there for him, not the one forcing him to do something he’s not ready for! This is on you, I’ve tried to get him to stop but he’s hurting like hell and you don’t care!”

“You can’t speak to me that way young man! I always knew you came from trash and this proves it.”

Jared let his inner Alpha surface, eyes glowing red in anger, “If you ever speak disparagingly about my family again…” Clif quickly stepped in between them giving Jared a look.

“I’ve had it with you inserting yourself in our family business! I’ll make sure you never have contact with Jensen outside of work ever again!”

“You go ahead and try, Jensen’s forty two years old and more than capable of making his own choices. The only reason he’s agreed to this is because you’ve duped him into believing this is the only way to uphold your family’s social standing in the Dallas Pack because all you care about is how you look to those fucking country club bitches!”

“Alan, could you please bring the car around so we can get away from this embarrassing situation.” The older Alpha gripped his mates arm giving her a firm look of disapproval and steered her towards the exit. They could still hear her grousing, “how dare he deliver Jensen in this state,” as they went out the door.

Jared hefted his friend over his broad shoulder and carried Jensen back out the private entrance as the SUV pulled up. Clif opened the back door and helped Jared place him in the vehicle, carefully laying him across the seat.

“How bad has it been for him?” Alan inquired after Clif shut the door so his mate couldn’t hear.

Jared pulled off his beanie, running both hands through his hair, not hiding his frustration before answering, “He’s been in a downward spiral, drinking continuously, got him to stick to beer. I found him looking at the divorce papers and as you see… ”

Alan sighed heavily. Jensen’s divorce came out of nowhere, everything on the surface appeared good between him and Danneel but in hindsight he realized there were telltale signs all along, the biggest was her reluctance to have children.

Anytime anyone inquired she waved it off, saying she wanted to wait till Supernatural had ended, it wouldn’t be fair to leave all the responsibility for rearing their pups predominantly on her, she wanted Jensen there, to be a hands-on father.

Alphas were involved to an extent in care and raising of pups, but it was unusual for one to be as hands on as the Betas or Omegas were.

Jensen was one of those exceptions. Whenever with his siblings, he was right in there helping, never turning down a chance to play with them, even princess tea parties with his only niece. When on vacation or at conventions with Jared and his mate, he always was willing to help with their pups.

“I want to formally apologize for what Donna said, she overstepped the lines of etiquette. This is no excuse but she doesn’t know how to handle this situation. Jensen’s always been her favorite and she personally picked Danneel as his mate, it’s been a slap to her ego.”

Jared smiled, “I accept your apology Alan. Jensen’s always said his mother has been a…handful.”

Alan laughed, “That’s the diplomatic way of putting it,” he signed again, “Donna’s family always spoiled her being the only Omega, somewhere along the way she’s forgetting that being part of Dallas society doesn’t give you the right to treat others badly.”

*** Late next morning

Jensen was sitting on the edge of his hotel bed contemplating how he got here.

He thought Danneel was the one. When they were introduced by his mother a few months before his twenty seventh birthday they instantly clicked and started dating that night.

Jensen proposed six months later, couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found a love match. Danneel stated she wasn’t ready to give up her career yet, so they compromised and decided on a long engagement.

Supernatural started filming its fourth season when Kripke announced that the series would end with season five. Danneel also found out her current role was being written out of the series she was in about the same time so they set the date for May 2010.

Jared’s surprise wedding in February that year reaffirmed Jensen’s desire to settle down and start his family in a few months. They bought a home outside Austin like Jared and his new mate Genevieve. Things were going as planned, then the unexpected happened.

A couple months before they finished filming the CW announced Supernatural was being picked up for season six under new leadership.

Jensen returned to Vancouver not long after they were married. Danneel continued working, doing guest starring roles on other series and was cast in the occasional recurring role of Jo.

Every year when the show went on hiatus Jensen would bring up about starting their own family, he was feeling the biological pull more and more. Once again, she stated it wouldn’t be fair for them to have a family and him be a drop-in father, and moving to Vancouver full time, nope, he worked too many hours.

Danneel started dabbling in other interests outside of acting and in 2018 they opened The Family Business Brewery with her family. A few months later Jensen was served with the divorce announcement.

*** “Jensen, it’s time.” He looked up and Alan was saddened by the lost look in his son’s eyes. There was a resignation in those green eyes that never existed before. Saying nothing Jensen got up, slipped on his suit jacket and walked out of the room.

Alan mentally shook himself but that nagging feeling was back once again, something wasn’t right about this whole situation.

*** The Uber stopped at the back door of the small country church. The woman in the backseat thanked the driver and got out, pulling the garment bag with her. She walked to the door and rang the bell. It opened revealing the minister’s wife.

“You’re very late, the wedding is starting in fifteen minutes.” She said, hurrying up a staircase to the second floor and entered an empty room. “Where is your family? They should have arrived already to help you get ready.”

“There is no one coming,” the woman replied as she hung the garment bag over a closet door next to the mirror attached to it. The minister’s wife’s jaw dropped in surprise, “and it won’t take me long to get ready. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”  

She unzipped the bag removing a veil and shoes having arrived already in her dress, chosen by the groom’s mother, and attached the veil to the headpiece holding back part of her simply styled hair. She looked at herself for a moment before pulling the front part of the veil over her face then joined the minister’s wife who was to escort her to the chapel. She placed the shoes she wouldn’t wear until after the ceremony on the small table outside the double doors and took her place in front of them.

Jensen was sitting in the first pew of the small country church wondering why this place was chosen for the wedding as Donna and Alan made their way to sit next to him. His siblings, Joshua and Mackenzie, were already seated in the one behind him with their mates as the rest of the Ackles clan that had been invited filled up the rest of the pews.

He looked over at the bride’s side. There was not a single person seated in any of those pews. He frowned, finding it strange, wondering where her family was when the intro music started.

The minister took his place and gestured for him to rise. Jensen couldn’t move, his body feeling like it was tied down with lead weights. “Jensen!” His mother hissed at him in a low tone.

Suddenly, he felt himself get up, urgently needing to get away from her as his inner Alpha became agitated, as if it sensed something was amiss.

Each secondary gender pairing had their own ceremonial traditions so he was required to remain facing forward when the music changed and the doors behind him opened.

As the guests stood Jensen focused his senses on her as she proceeded down the aisle. He couldn’t scent her, too many different scents mingling together to isolate hers. He listened to the whispering material of the dress as she slowly walked, finally stopping next to him. In his peripheral vision he could see her head bowed under the thick veil obscuring her face and hair, her hands were clasped together in front of her, devoid of a bouquet.

The minister started speaking, talking about the obligations each Alpha and Omega were required to follow as dictated by the book. Jensen inhaled sharply, realizing what was occurring.

This wasn’t the common ceremony but the ancient, traditional version that only the extreme believers still used today. There was absolutely no out for either party from once the proceedings started.

If he objected to the ceremony he would be shunned by his pack, his family would be forced to never acknowledge him again or suffer the same censure; if the marriage didn’t work and they separated, he was responsible for her care as she would be set aside from society and forced to live in isolation.

He looked over at his parents, Alan was pinching the bridge of his nose trying to quell his anger knowing that his mate had put Jensen in an impossible situation as Donna sat there with a fake, placid look.

His own mother had irrevocably bound him to this Omega for the rest of his life.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur, neither party was required to say anything, there was no exchange of rings or a kiss at the end. The minister finished the ceremony and turned to the altar signing the marriage certificate with a quill pen dipped in ink. Jensen signed next, his hand was shaking so violently in anger making his signature barely legible.

The Omega didn’t sign, only her name was required for legality and the minister filled it in. He poured a powder on it to set the ink, blew off the access, rolled it up and tied it with a piece of twine before handing it to Jensen offering his blessings for a fruitful marriage. It took every ounce of his acting ability to politely smile, shake his hand, thanking the minister for the proceedings.

He turned, marching out without acknowledging his bride and she obediently followed behind him, pausing to grab her shoes along the way and scurrying to the waiting limousine climbing in after him.

Jensen sat in the back on the farthest side pouring himself a drink from the bar as his new wife sat quietly near the still open door. A few minutes later Jensen was on his third glass of whiskey when his parents climbed in and the chauffeur shut the door. He started the limo and as they pulled out Alan pressed the button to close the privacy window between them.

The tension in the back was so palatable an icebreaker couldn’t have cut through it. “Donna how could you…” Alan was unable to say anymore, his disgust for what had happened thick in those few words. “I did nothing wrong,” she snapped back, “I only had Jensen’s best interests…”

“Like when you threatened to sabotage my friendship with Jared again? By the way, Clif’s the one who dropped the dime on what happened after I passed out last night, not Jared, so you don’t get to blame him for that too.” Jensen threw back the rest of his drink before continuing.

“Oh, don’t think I’ve ever been ignorant of your disdain for him ‘cause the clan he comes from isn’t good enough for those highfalutin bitches in your social circle. Or how you’ve persuaded me to do this only to find out you took it to the extreme, forcing me into an impossible situation, accept this marriage or lose everything. Congratulations mom, you are still the queen bitch, sorry, bee, your precious reputation is secure.”

They traveled the rest of the way in silence. The limousine pulled onto the grounds of the country club in front of its grand entrance. Jensen got out before the chauffeur finished putting the car in park leaving his new wife to scramble out behind him as Alan and Donna got out the other side.

Jensen finally took a good look at his bride. She was in a simple, modestly cut, long sleeved dress, the only adornments a row of buttons down the bodice, no jewelry and apparently a pair of shoes that didn’t fit as she was struggling to get them on.

She was still fussing with her left shoe when he spoke in a stern voice, “Since our wedding was in the traditional, we’ll continue with its edicts. You are not to remove that veil, acknowledge or speak to anyone. You will not leave my side for any reason. Where I go, you go, three steps behind me. Nod once if you understand.” She nodded once.

“Son, I think…”

“Dad, as the traditional also states, I’m well within my rights to make demands of my Omega without interference, am I not?”

Alan acquiesced, “Yes, you are.”

“So” Jensen rubbed his hands together, “let’s go celebrate this disaster, shall we.” Putting on a fake smile, he went into the venue to greet his family with his Omega obediently three steps behind him.

*** Several hours later

“This shit has got to stop cause I swear it’s the only time I’m doing this dad.” Josh grunts, annoyance thickening his voice as he helped guide his inebriated brother to his hotel room. “Come on.. have ‘nother drunk, ‘posed to be celebrating my disaster marriage to that…’mega..don’t even want her.”

“Jensen, shut the fuck up! I’m not gonna stand here and let you insult your mate.” Josh snapped at him.

Jensen ripped his arm loose, “ ‘en go, not stopping you…and she’s not my mate,” his free arm waves unsteadily as he points towards his new wife standing by the main door, “my real mate took my money, my home, my fucking heart!!!”

Josh turned his back on his brother, “Jensen, I can’t stand seeing you like this, you need to get it together.” He headed for the main door,  pausing to speak to his brother’s new wife, “I’m sorry he’s taken his anger out on you now. My brother is a good man, an honorable Alpha,” he stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “there is far more to this than what you’ve been told, please be patient with him.” He left slamming the door behind him.

“Fuck him,” Jensen muttered staggering into the bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed slumped over.

“Jensen, your brother is right, you have got to pull yourself together. Therefore, as the Alpha of our clan, you are banned from our family. When you are back to being yourself, the Alpha you once were, you may appeal for re-admittance.”

Alan then did something he hadn’t done since Jensen was a small child, he bent over and placed a kiss on his son’s head, “I love you and I want my son back.” Nodding to his new daughter in law he left.

It hurt him tremendously knowing he wouldn’t see his son for a long time but it was for his own good. Now his Omega was the only one who could help him mend. Hopefully Jensen would see this marriage wasn’t the biggest mistake he’s imagined it to be.

Jensen didn’t move until he heard someone shuffling their feet. He looked up squinting at his new wife still standing by the bedroom door. Sitting up straight he grunted at her and passed out, falling backwards on the mattress. She slowly walked over and hesitated a moment before reaching out touching his shoulder, shaking him.

Getting no response she sat down near him lifting her right foot, gingerly removing the ill fitting shoe with a gasp and then repeated with her left. The blisters on both her heels that had busted open earlier were raw and had bleed. She detached her veil and wadded it up, stuffing it in a shoe and bent over untying Jensen’s and removed them too.

Standing up she gripped both his jacket lapels and hefted him upright to lean against her as she worked it off letting him flop back down and unbuttons his shirt leaving him sleep the case of everything he drank off. She left a pain reliever and bottled water on the nightstand.

Quietly shutting the bath door she found the dress had too many small buttons down the back. She laughed mirthlessly at the irony she was stuck in the dress like this marriage. Pulling the skirt up over her knees she sat on the counter to soak and clean her sore feet in the basin.

Once the worst of the ache was gone she pulled the drain and climbed off to finish washing up the best she could. The mirror reflects back the emotional toll of the last few months in her eyes.

She went over to the bed only to find her husband had moved, sprawled out over its entire surface. Searching for extra bedding and not finding any she gave up going back into the main room and curled up on the couch hoping to find a comfortable position to get some sleep for a few hours so she could briefly forget what her life had become.

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx​​​

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

[dragonherder2030]

So I watched Raya and the Last Dragon-

I honestly was very disappointed with the movie as a whole. I LOVE dragons and main movies and media just doesn’t have much of them that I have seen. So when I saw that Disney was making a movie about and staring a dragon character, I got very excited. I had loved the design for Sisu when she was just a concept art

She was much more colorful and had a very different face, a more regional face. She is definitely more water dragony compared to the actual final draft design. And she is just overall prettier in my opinion.

Spoilers under this point

Another thing is the continuity and main logic of the movie. In the beginning of the movie it is practically about 15 minutes of exposition. It tells that apparently all the dragons are water dragons, every single one since they all look the same, but that there were multiple dragons in the past. These evil creatures made of human greed or whatever started attacking humans, and well I guess other things but the humans primarily. When attacked, they pass through the human and either take or freeze their spirit or something I don’t remember exactly, but the person becomes stone. So the dragons being the most powerful creatures in the world, they tried to fight the things. The dragons were also turned to stone, all but one, The Mighty Sisu. In the exposition it says that she compiled all her magic into the orb, and used it to destroy the things and turn everyone back from stone. Except the dragons. Do they ever explain why it didn’t turn the dragons back to alive? No it does not, it absolutely does not, but ho boy there is SO much more. Later in the exposition, the dragon gem gets broken into 5 pieces, one for each of the tribes. And they each possess a piece of the gem now. So, when the gem gets broken, all the evil creatures from the very beginning just, come back! This is never explained- nothing is ever explained in this movie it was just made for the funnies I GUESS. This movie feels like a really bad book adaption HONESTLY. And at the end of the movie when everyone comes back because it’s a kids movie, it’s just AHHGH everyone is happy now all the dragons come back and everything is dandy. But why didn’t the dragons come back in the beginning? The whole moral of the movie is “Trust good”. Seriously that’s it. And when they put the dragon gem back together at the end everyone is like “oh wow we need to trust each other and that’s how the magic will WoRk”. But explained earlier when we hear Sisu’s whole backstory is that when SHE did the magic fix she trusted her siblings the most that she had in that moment, SO TELL ME WHY DIDN’T IT WORK!!?? It makes no sense to me at least maybe I’m just missing something. But it annoys me so much, nothing makes sense in this movie. Another theory I have is that there were 3 writers. Each assigned to a seperate story arc, one to the beginning exposition thing, one to the middle main part, and one to the climax and final bits of the movie. The thing is, the writers only vaguely know what the past ones did XD.

The next problem I have is with the actual magic and formulation of dragons, as well as what the heck is up with the dragon gem. But don’t worry, I have at least 2 more problems with this movie. So as Sisu gets more and more of the dragon gem shards, she gains new powers. But do you know why? Because APPARENTLY when the gem broke into the 5 pieces, the magic of her individual siblings who gave their magic to the gem was separated perfectly. Ok that may not make much sense. But when we see Sisu’s backstory it shows that her oldest brother made the gem, then each sibling except Sisu put their special magic into the gem. So then, when it broke, the individual gem pieces only had the 1 type of magic in them? Excuse me what? That doesn’t make sense, if I make a cake, then I won’t cut it up and get only egg from one slice, then a bunch of sugar from another slice. It’s just- really bad and they could have fixed it by just- not having the siblings at all. They so easily could have been written out of the story, instead Sisu could have no magic when she is brought back, which she practically has none, her “magic” is that she is a strong swimmer. But then as she gets the pieces she gains back parts of her original magic, that would have been more indering then the siblings. Now the second part of this is the actual powers. Ok, which sounds like more of a power, being able to glow, or being able to fly around by walking on raindrops. The second one right? Well, ThEY aRe BoTh COsIdeReD MaGIc iN tHiS UniVErSe. All the powers that Raya aquires from the dragon gem pieces is being able to do the glow, being able to shape shift into a human, and being able to walk on the rain. Now, that isn’t even the part I’m the most mad about. At the end of the movie when all the dragons come back, THEY ALL CAN WALK ON THE RAIN. LIKE WHAT!? I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE OLDER BROTHER’S MAGIC TYPE! Do you get what I mean by this movie having no continuity? At the end of the movie, Sisu was killed by evil cat lady, and all the dragons come back walking on the rain and just- resurrect her. Ok, I guess that could be explained away as all the magic beings being magical, but I still don’t like how easily they did it. Yet another thing is that Sisu can make a bunch of magical smoke, well not magical but it’s really shimmery and thick, that’s not explained, she just can do it.

Let’s talk about the relationships in this movie. I hate them. No ones characters are developed on or improved except for maybe cat lady- I need to find her name somewhere, but except for Namarii is her name, her and Raya. Namarii’s big stitch is, I don’t even know just not being the most evil person? Either that or the same trust thing, which would mean that her and Raya have the same character arc. Raya in the beginning of the movie is explained to be the daughter of the chef of clan Heart, one of the most prosperous out of the 5 clans. They at the start of the movie had the dragon gem, and the father guy, he invited every other clan over to have a big feast or whatever. So when they get there, young Namarii, all this is happening when Raya is like, 9 I think, but Namarii and Raya become friends over fangirling for Sisu. Namarii has a necklace of Sisu that she gives to Raya. And side note, they act as though Sisu isn’t the SAVIOR OF THIER LANDS, but she’s some really good singer. Well I guess they have to connect to all those youngsters out there with an obsession and that rElATaBlE moment when you fInD AnOTheR oF tHiEr kInD. That just triggered me. But since Namarii is such a big fan of Sisu, Raya, after being shown to be VERY offensive about the idea of the other tribes coming, just decides to show Namarii the dragon gem! But uh oh, twist, Namarii is actually bad oh noooo and everyone comes up and starts to fight over the dragon gem. Then it shatters and the evil things come back. So Raya and her dad are trying to escape, her dad had been injured from fighting an arrow to the leg, but the things are repelled by water. So what does the dad do? He yeets the child into a river(they are on a bridge at this point) after having a minute long conversation with her. Like, could he not just tip himself off to? But hey we have to give them characters angsty backstorys amiright? It’s just so stupid the character motives. So like, Idk 12 years pass by or something since Raya is an adult now. She actually has a pretty emotional prayer type thing to Sisu when she is trying to resurrect her to save the world. This movie has a few ups that I will put at the end. So let’s talk about Sisu now, ho boy, she is the “oh everything will be fixed with hugs and kisses”. You know what this is, this is the same exact dynamic that Poppy and Branch went through during Trolls movie! The exact same dynamic! HECK Disney couldn’t even get original personalities. Sisu blindly trusting everything gets them into wacky situations and causes some conflict between Raya and Sisu but BARELY ANY. And Sisu just seems like- really innocent, she’s oblivious all the time. She’s this ancient beast and she just has the most generic personality and I loath it. Namanii is actually someone I liked. She seemed like the most real character until the very end, just, the blindly “oh everything is alright now and I’m fine with everyone now trauma doesn’t exist”. Also on that point, apparently trauma doesn’t exist in this world, because Sisu lost every single one of her siblings, and just, doesn’t show any sign of grieving or remorse she just doesn’t give a thought to them. Except for the backstory bit but she just doesn’t seem to care. Also just a side note, none of those side characters are developed at all and just there for practically comic relief. The whole resolution of the movie is them putting the gem together and then all “hugging” each other and wow look at that it worked. *inhales* and then when Sisu comes back, she has the most emotionally dead response to Raya, none of the character reuniting is good. You know, if you have seen storks, that near end montage where all the babies are brought to the people? Yeah, that was 100% better then the resolutions of Raya and the Last Dragon. One scene that ticked me off so much was when that ninja baby was reunited with her parents, the mom, oh my gosh, she looked as if she had just found an old purse she misplaced. She did not look- ah I can’t even put it into words just look up the clip to get it.

That’s all that I have to say about the movie, I probably have more somewhere but honestly I couldn’t put it into words. Now, you know, I have to give this movie a few good opinions. The movie looked amazing, great character design(except for the dragons I dispose them) and everything looks gorgeous. As well as the animal design, I wish I could have seen more animals honestly they all looked really interesting and unique.

Sorry this post was so long I just wanted to put my opinions out there.

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 3: Verse 3

Chapter warnings: math, fantastic racism, death (not graphic)

Chapter summary: the orders

Previous chapter, AO3, next chapter

If I'm a pagan of the good times / my lover's the sunlight

Loki storms the library once again, this time searching everything about the Tesseract and this Entropy they call him all the time.

Entropy still remains a mystery, but there are even more writings about the space stone than the ones they've seen before.

"It says here that they worshipped you," Loki says, but only internally. He's in public, speaking to the walls would make him appear mad.

"People express loyalty in different ways," they answer, always softer since the deal.

"Is that what you want? Loyalty?"

"Among other things, yes. But mostly trust that I will not hurt you, cause I won't," they promise. Loki already knows this.

Can't break something that's already in pieces.

"Brother!" Thor yells as he walks in. Loki's shoulders tense, this idiot never warns them.

"Tho-thor," he answers, eyes on Thor as they drab a chair and side beside him. "How come you be i-i-in here? You ha-ha-hate books," they raise an eyebrow at their brother.

"I'm here to see how you're doing. You've been acting oddly lately," he answers, those blue eyes scanning Loki.

"People grie-grie-grie-grieve in different ways, Th-thor. I a-a-a-assure you, I'm fi-fine," he hums, turning back to the book.

"Loki. After all this, just remember that I'm here for you, eh? You needn't face anything alone," Thor insists, placing a big and steady hand on Loki's shoulder.

Loki's body nods, and smiles, watching as Thor smiles back before leaving. Loki's mind wonders if this is all a mistake. Thor was, is grieving too. Maybe this is all too much…

But Thor wasn't there when Gæirasson offended Loki, neither time. In fact, Thor has been a ghost since Frigga's death.

"You have my trust and loyalty, until the end," Loki decides, feeling in their core how relieved the Tesseract is by the answer.

"Allow me to show you another secret then. Look at your hands but don't touch anything and don't let it spread," they answer.

Loki lets the book and brings his torn from the picking hands under the table, always watching them. Black ropes start appearing and tangling themselves on their fingers, creating a calming sensation and demanding more ground, but Loki doesn't allow it. Out of all kinds of magic, this is by far the most powerful one he has ever seen.

And the most chaotic.

To keep the Goddess on my side / she demands a sacrifice

Like every day, the official Tesseract session is late at night, while Loki should be sleeping. Signs of their decreasing amount of sleep are becoming more and more visible, but they don't care.

"The o-orders?" he asks.

"You need to know some things first. In order to keep you from dying, King Laufey made a deal with one of us. Your life for acts of service. You need to do some things before being free," they do speak like they did on the first days, but somehow still softer.

"Acts of s-s-service?" he questions. So, the stone just needs hands and will borrow theirs?

"Yes. There are things that will keep the stones safe from those who seek them to do harm. Asgard has two, and you need to make sure that some things are set to their protection. It's just one thing, really. But you need to use your new powers to do so,"

Loki nods, the movement small and cut, like a soldier's.

"Ready to-to comply,"

Drain the whole sea / get something shiny

"First order. Free yourself from everything, good and bad," the Tesseract says. Loki blinks in confusion.

"H-how?"

"What bad do you carry into you? The possessiveness, the jealousy, this ego you named pride, all this fury… you don't need them from now on. Let them go," they insist.

"L-let them go?"

"Act as if they don't exist, don't give them your attention. The same thing goes for your bright side. You faith in your moral compass, your deep feeling for everything you care about. Both of those sides will keep you from moving on. You mustn't listen to them anymore," they explain, as if it's something easy.

"So… y-y-you want me to be-to be your li-little m-m-minion?" he raises an eyebrow. Is that what they agreed on? Being a tiny pawn but just on a different chess board?

“No. Not exactly. You are not to abandon them for my own good, but for yours. The acts might hurt these sides of you, you need them in one piece,” their voice softens.

Loki takes a breath, in and out as slow as possible, and nods again. “What-what sh-sh-should I-I do?” even though the stutter stays, he refuses to let his voice break.

They swear they can feel the stone smiling.

“Listen to me, and don’t act upon them. Also, learn how to control possibility magic,”

Possibility magic? Is that what the black ropes are?

“Learn how Midgardians think of possibilities. It’s close to how your new abilities work,” they advise him. So, this is what being under the orders of a stone is like? Homework and pretending? it’s nothing they don’t know how to do for hundreds of years…

“And after the-the week?”

“the fun starts.”

Loki smiles wide, wider than he has ever smiled even before Frigga’s death.

something meaty for the main course / that’s a fine looking high horse

The week passes peacefully. Loki doesn’t have to worry about how to do what, the Tesseract is there to help them with it and lets them just decide how to do what and, oddly enough, the Midgardian science was calming.

At least, more calming than war theory. And less graphic.

He was chilling on the training grounds and working on the newfound magic, until the Tesseract came.

“It’s time,” they say moments before a blinding blue light covers Loki.

With the blink of an eye, they’re at a castle’s yard, hiding behind a bush.

“Prevent the war, you know how,” the Tesseract says again.

On the contrary, Loki has no idea where he is and what he has to do.

At least not until a guard passes by, near the bush, their armour bearing Gæirasson's symbol.

They smirk, moving from shadow to shadow and into the castle, where they cast an invisibility spell to navigate without worrying about getting caught.

What you've got in the stable? / We've a lot of starving faithful

In the grand hall, Loki finds the old lord. They're discussing an attack, in which he is the main character, of course. They're to strike tomorrow evening.

Loki has to hold himself not to laugh. Instead, they sit and wait. Wait until Gæirasson ends the council and heads to their bedroom. And Loki follows. Until the corridors make a room, with six doors to navigate through.

It would be such a shame if they suddenly closed shut, locking the two foes inside.

The old fool chuckles. "I know you're here, Frost Giant. I can smell your people's blood," he looks around.

Loki chuckles back and drops the spell, standing right in front of the man.

"Is it this? Or do your aged joins hurt with the cold?" he titles his head, showing his signature mischievous smile.

"Why are you here? To negotiate? We've been past this part," they growl. Loki doesn't break the smirk, but lets a glow pass their eyes. Green, but with icy blue undertones, and a pitch black shadow.

"No. We are here to talk about monsters. For, as you can smell, the blood of my siblings who you slained are screeching for it"

That looks tasty / that looks plenty / this is hungry work

"Do you know anything of my people's belief regarding the Norns?" Loki asks, circling around the man like a predator waiting to strike.

"Why should I care about the opinions of monsters?" he spits, trying to mimic the glare.

"Oh, because it's interesting. We believe in the norns, like you do. But they don't create the strings, they knit them. Twisting and turning and combining and separating people, and letting us choose where to go on each knot. Fascinating. Oddly enough, the mortals have a similar way of thinking, at least the ones who are closer to science. They name it possibilities, and write it with numbers,

"Let me give you an example. There's a fifty percent possibility that I will continue this conversation with my normal face," Loki speaks, letting the Æsir glamour fade and rising to his Jötunn height. "But I won't choose this path because your ceilings are low and I would have to bend my neck," they continue, after walking a few steps and letting their horns scratch the ceiling. The glamour appears again, bringing him to his Æsir skin.

"And there's always the possibility that you die, because of your old age and the stress of the war you created. And the only reason people remember you is as an example of why not to piss me off," he grins, the black ropes tangling around his wrists.

"And the possibility, in Midgardian terms, is one hundred percent," they leap closer and grab the old man by his collar, staring right into the fear in his eyes.

"I have a message for my people in Hel, deliver it when you see them. Tell them to rip this old cunt apart, yet keep one piece for me for when I arrive," he spits, watching as the ropes tangle around their throat and mummify them in front of his eyes, making the fear and anger burn out.

They throw the corpse on the floor and open the doors as the Tesseract casts another light, revealing Loki's chambers as it fades away.

"You shouldn't have scratched the ceiling with your horns," they say, worried.

"And? I laughed at the face of one old fool already, what's a second one? And if I am to join my family, let at least my exit from the hypocrites be dramatic," he laughs, ready for the guards to storm in and take him to the dungeons.

[ales-creates]

So I wrote a lil somethin’ for an AU I adore. For the past week I have been nit picking and tweaking this trying to make it as good as it can be. I hope you enjoy my little contribution to the @kingcreativityau by @rondoel , it is a fantastic AU and I highly recomend you check it out! This fic will also be cross posted onto Ao3! The link for that is, [HERE] and the master post for the King AU is [HERE]

This Fic follows these Comics:

Comic 1

Comic 2 [1] [2] [3]

Do enjoy! ❤️

———

Word Count: 3390

Summary:

Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong, there’s no way something isn’t wrong. He could feel something was wrong. Roman and Remus could always tell when the other was in trouble, it was just normal for them. But when Roman starts to doubt he is enough and the creative twins find each other and fuse back together to form The King what will happen? After all, the King hold nothing but a vendetta for everyone else.

——

Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong, there’s no way something isn’t wrong. He could feel something was wrong.

Ever since Roman and Remus split apart they had a kind of connection. They could tell when the other was in trouble, when they were happy, or sad. It came in handy every once in a while. When they were younger, freshly themselves, it was their own little secret. Two brothers forever connected, then Roman had to become a light side. And of course, Remus was left behind, forgotten. Though Princey would never admit to it, after he became a light side he did go and visit Remus occasionally. They would spend some time in the imagination, or have lunch. They were moments Remus treasured.

Then those moments stopped when Virgil turned good. Roman stopped turning up at his door. It stung. And Remus began to resent his brother. The divide between them grew and the wound festered, became infected, beyond fixing. That is what he thought.

But right now, he could feel his brother's turmoil grow by the second. Fear choked him. And all of the hatred towards one another was thrown to the wind as Remus found himself sprinting to find Roman, mace in hand. They were right, brothers forever connected. Brothers connected if not by this weird power then by love, an unconditional kind of love only siblings can share.

Roman was in some kind of trouble and he had to save him, if Roman died… well he didn’t want to think about that. He just kept taking long strides in whatever direction the emotion was strongest. Then he found himself in the in between of the light and dark sides.

The mindscape was quite the vast area, and the in between was the area between the light and dark sides and was just blank, no one dared to create there. It was however the quickest route to the light sides home. Remus ran straight across the blank plain that was a gradient from black to white. He could see in the near distance was a door, the door to their world, the place where Roman creates. The door was put there by the Prince ages ago, it was his own sort of guide to remind him not to touch what area was behind it.

The door was simple, red with white shapes painted neatly on it, the handle was gold and had an intricate design carved etched into itself. Hurriedly Remus swung open the door slamming it against the wall and kept running, not even bothering to close it. Sweat trickled down his forehead as his brows furrowed. He passed by trees, and flowers, small buildings, creatures only told in tales, until he found himself in a blank. It was odd to say the least, Roman never left an area blank in the mindscape, at least not his side of the mindscape. The Duke stopped to take a breath, bowing his head and resting his arms on his slightly squatted legs. They were threatening to give out on him but he fought stubbornly. He needed to keep going, but his body gave in on him. He tried his best to steady his breath and remain standing.

“Roman wait!” He heard in the distance, it was Patton. He could recognize that voice anywhere. It was far too sweet to be Deceit or Virgil, and not monotone enough to be Logan, and couldn’t be Roman (Who calls out to themselves?). It had to be Patton. Remus darted in the direction of the voice, not caring how much his body ached. His lungs yearned for him to stop, his legs attempting to trip him. His mind however, his heart, couldn’t stop. He needed to find Roman. He could feel a lump forming in his throat, but he fought it back. He couldn’t cry now.

Then suddenly in his view was the Prince, Roman. He was holding his sword, why though? And Patton wasn’t too far behind him. Roman’s eyes were glazed over, his hair stuck out in all sorts of directions. His usual bright smile was far from being seen. Sweat ran down his face.

“Roman kiddo wait up! Please wait! We want to help you!” Patton cried.

Roman had stopped and was just staring at his twin with those glossy eyes, calling to him with waves of fear and dismay. “Unless… Remus.” The Prince’s voice shook and he had called Remus’ name like his life depended on it. He only called out to him like that when they were children, when he had a nightmare. This right now however, Remus dreamed was one. He didn’t like seeing Roman like this, he dreaded it. He seemed broken and tortured. How long has he been like this?

The Duke flinched, he wasn’t sure what was happening to Roman, but he could feel how hard it was for him. Both brothers dropped their weapons with a loud clang. The world around them seemed to go dead, Patton’s cries were muted. The wind seemed to stop. It was just them and their connected thoughts, memories, feelings.

Slowly they moved inch by inch closer, until they were in arms reach of each other. Roman bowed his head and took a deep breath before meeting his other halves eyes. The glaze was gone, it was now teary and emotion filled. He leaned closer and whispered, “The king.”

Remus’ eyes widened, he wasn’t expecting that. They both knew the King existed. Though they didn’t know much about him, or remember him at all. They knew he was there, when they were young they would ask the others about him but the other sides refused to talk about him. The twins idolized him, they thought he was their forces combined. And when they were young they were close, naive. They thought that together they would be stronger. It would be a lie to say they hadn’t attempted to fuse, each one ended in pain and failure. Eventually they gave up on becoming who they once were, knowing full and well it would only cause more pain for themselves,

It was at this moment Remus then pieced together what Roman was feeling. He was feeling pressure, pain, resentment, for himself. He wasn’t good enough. That's what he was thinking. Remus didn’t understand it, Roman was perfect in every way. His opposite. Remus was the screw up, why did Roman feel this way?

“Why?” Was all Remus could croak out.

“I’m incomplete. We are supposed to be one, I am not enough. We are enough.” Roman looked at his twin with water filled eyes, his bottom lip quivering.

Remus didn’t understand, how could he? He wasn’t under the pressure Roman was. He didn’t have any responsibility. The others didn’t want him to even come close to the video making process, the creative process. He was casted out to the dark sides. And in all honesty, they didn’t seem to want him around much either. But Roman was someone who had accepted him in the past, flaws and all. He owed Roman so much for being there for him and he so desperately wanted to help Roman now. He loved him, and hated to see him so broken, and he knew that there was a possibility that he could help him. Roman reached out his hand for Remus, “Are you sure?” Remus asked.

“For Thomas.”

In a flash the two intertwined fingers and a burst of light and creativity came crashing. Patton was flown to the ground and rose only to his knees. When he saw the man in front of him he froze. He had jet black hair, a crown adorned with five red jewels and one green. His eyes were a mismatched color of red and green and they seemed to glow. He wore a dark princely ensemble with a red sash to top it off and gold shoulder pads. His cape seemed like fluid; it changed shape constantly, shifting and reforming itself endlessly.

With a deep raspy voice he spoke whilst holding the tip of Roman’s katana under Patton’s chin, “There you go. Bow before the King.”

——

Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil had all gathered together for a picnic outside the house in the backyard. The four chatted and cracked jokes for a while till the subject of videos to make came up. Roman had been spouting off different ideas only for Logan and Virgil to veto every single one. Roman was feeling fear build in his chest, he wasn’t creating anything good. Anything, worthy. It wasn’t enough, until finally he snapped. The world around them went blank and it was just white. Roman dashed away to find something, anything, to make himself complete. Everywhere he stepped went white, blank. Patton went after him whilst the other two stayed behind.

It had been a short while and Virgil was becoming more and more anxious. Logan tried his best to calm him when Janus had arrived. He explained that he was looking for Remus and couldn’t find him anywhere.

“What do you mean Remus is gone too?” Virgil was shaking now.

“Gone too? Who else is missing?” The snake raised a brow in confusion.

“Roman ran off and Patton went after him, they haven’t gotten back yet. But they will return.” Logan placed a reassuring hand on Virgil’s shoulder, to this Virgil smiled and stopped shaking as much. Logan was always right, he was the smart one. He had to be right.

Janus was pacing trying to think of where they all could have gone off to when a weak, “Kiddos…” came from behind. It had caught him off guard and he jumped slightly.

“Patton! Did you find-“ the usual intellectual side was cut off by his own shock. Before him stood a man he had hoped to never see again, the King. He involuntarily took a step back, trying to cope with what was before him. What brought him back to reality was a hand grasping lightly at his arm. Janus had rejoined the group and was now holding onto both of the other two’s arms. He was most likely looking for some kind of comfort. He too was probably in shock.

Patton coughed, “Kind of…” he bowed his head in shame, embarrassed he couldn’t stop what had happened to the twins. He should have been able to save them right? He was the dad, the guide for those on the wrong path, the morality, how could he fail? He had one job and he screwed it up.

The once proud fatherly figure was held up by his hoodie firm in the King’s grasp with a low gaze. Logan felt his heart beat furiously in his chest. His palms became sweaty and his breath was shaky. His brows furrowed and he stared furiously at the man holding his friend. The figure tossed Patton and Logan jumped to catch him in his arms. They sat on their knees as Patton nuzzled into the touch, reaching for some sort of comfort. The fatherly side wrapped his arms around his friend gripping tightly at the usual neat polo shirt. Logan pet his hair shushing his whimpering friend kindly before looking back up glaring at the smirking man.

“King…” his voice was cold and stern. He was nervous, devastated even, there was no doubt about that. But he would never give the King the pleasure of seeing that from him.

The individual in front of the four chuckled lowly, “Logic, though you go by Logan now I suppose.” His smirk was unsettling, it made the now forming pit in Logan's stomach churn.

“Correct.” Logan’s gaze if pointed at someone or something else would make that something cower in fear, but it was aimed at someone who did not fear him in the slightest. He seemed too cocky for someone facing the one person able to take him down with a few words.

“What even are you now King?” Deceit’s voice was cracking, he was afraid. And Logan can confirm now that they were all terrified.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m potential.” He seemed so proud of himself, so sure. So sure of something so obviously not true.

“Falsehood.” All the other men in the area whipped their heads to face the now standing Logic. “You are a mixture of imagination, and anger, and the demons that made you in the past.”

“And what was I made from, oh-smart-one?” The King seemed amused until Logan spoke his next words. Those words appeared to enrage him as his smile faded and was replaced with a scowl.

“Uncertainty, self-hatred, broken trust.” Next to Logan Janus visibly flinched at those last few words. The King said nothing in response, only glared.

Silence. It was quiet for what felt like far too long. Logan remained still, his eyes never breaking their stance. Seconds stretched to minutes, neither man wanting to give in and crack. Both had differing views, yet at the same time were so similar. The difference was one was working to better Thomas, the other was working to better themself. Logan knew this, he knew that the King returning would hurt Thomas, it did before, but now the King is even more powerful. How much more this will hurt their host, he couldn’t seem to calculate. Out of nowhere he spoke, “What is your business here? Why return?”

The King’s grin returned to him. “Merely to bring a new order. I am here for good after all.”

“There won’t be any new order. You don’t belong here!” Damnit, he cracked.

The King released a boisterous laugh, it rumbled the world around them. “Oh, did you hear him?” He wiped away a tear from his laughter, “Hilarious indeed! It should come to be even more funny that your last words would be a falsehood. Who knew?”

Logan looked puzzled, “Wha-“ his voice cut out. Logan struggled to release anything. His hands flew to his throat, he couldn’t speak. His voice was entirely gone, muted.

“Logan?” Virgil was quiet, almost a whisper. Why would he- Logan’s thoughts were cut short when he realized what the King had just done. The King was smarter now, that much was clear. He was working with a strategy. The King knew Logan was his weakness, his biggest enemy. A few simply weaved statements and he was done for, so he shut him up. Stopped him from even beginning. Logan began to shake visibly, he couldn’t stop him and if he couldn”’t no one could. Patton placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder as the logical side curled in on himself.

The King laughed again getting everyone's attention, “We don’t want you to spoil any fun, do we?” His stare moved to the side squeezing Logan’s shoulder reassuringly. “Now, Morality.”

Patton jumped and looked up worriedly, he hoped, prayed, that the King didn’t have any vendetta towards him. He was kind to him in the past, but alas, he never did see the pain he had caused the King. He really did leave him in turmoil. He enforced the rules that limited him, he told the King he was bad. He hurt his friend. Turned everyone against his uniqueness.

The look in the King’s eyes was one of deep hatred, but that only made the smile on his face all the more sickly looking. “You were so cute as a baby, why don’t we let it stay that way.” And the figure snapped his fingers. Patton felt strange for a moment as his vision went blank. When it came back to him his eye level was much lower than before. He seemed to be on the floor. He looked up and saw Logan, Deceit, and Virgil looking extremely concerned (and extremely tall to him). Beside him were his glasses, now broken. He then realized the missing sensation of his glasses and how large they were sitting next to him. From what he could conceive, he was now a baby, literally.

“Oh my god! Patton!” Virgil had fear covering his face. His voice was cracking all over the place and much more high pitched than normal. Virgil, while afraid, made no effort to lift the side from the floor, presumably too scared to even move. Soon enough though, Patton was lifted off the ground and was securely held in strong arms. Janus had scooped him up and looked down in concern at the baby. Feeling scared himself Patton hugged the side, clinging on like he was a lifeline. He felt a lump form in his throat as warm tears welled up and fell down his soft cheeks. Deceit noticed how scared Patton was and began to try and comfort the baby. Petting his head and whispering kind coos in his ears. It made Patton feel a bit better. The tears stopped leaving distinct trails. He looked up and placed one of his small hands on the snake's face and smiled. Janus smiled in return kissing the baby’s forehead.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Virgil broke the silence yelling at the larger man. Logan put up his hands to try and convey that it wasn’t the best decision, but Virgil’s fear had transformed into rage. It was too far gone for his attempts to stop his friend. The normally anxious side stomped closer to the King.“Cut the bullshit you two! What is this? Revenge for something?” The King sharply turned his head so fast it should have hurt him. His eyes glowed red. It didn’t seem as though the red was from rage, it was… from something else. Something no one could place.

“You. So invisible I almost forgot you exist.” Virgil’s bravery and anger made a full one-eighty and became, once again, anxiety. The King’s cape had grown large, enveloping him in pure darkness. “But I remember how you struck down every brilliant idea.” He towered over Virgil, making him feel small. “Thinking you know what’s best. Restraining the full potential of creativity.” The anxious side put up his arms, preparing for some kind of impact. “I have to say, you impressed me.”

Virgil looked up confused. “What?”

“After all, your ideas are far better anyways.” He placed a hand to his chin “Therefore, I appoint you my creative minister.” The King snapped with the hand that was previously on his chin and Roman’s original outfit replaced his usual jacket and jeans. “From now on, every bad little thought that comes to your troubled mind will come to life.” Virgil visibly curled in, holding his head in his hands as he fell to the ground. “Have fun now. Do what you’re best at doing.”

The only thing Virgil could think was, no. The thought repeated over and over and over again as darkness, real darkness surrounded him. The King wasn’t lying, he imagined darkness around him and it was.

Logan was trying to call out to Virgil, but he was still mute. Everything was going wrong. Patton began to feel more and more pressure, he felt like it was his fault. Like he was a failure for not saving Roman. Sure, Roman was a hero, but he needed someone to protect him, that someone was Patton. And he failed. Patton began to sob and Deceit hugged the baby tighter, burying his face in the small sides hair.

“The last one.” The King’s eyes had changed to being unreadable. Though he was unreadable, Deceit knew that he had to be mad at him, he was a traitor in his eyes. Hesitantly he raised his head to face the man. With a cold gaze the King began leaning down to be face to face with the snake. “You. Denial right?”

Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach as he responded, voice calm, though his face was a scowl. “It’s Deceit.”

He hummed, closing his eyes and rising back to his proud stance. “Actually… I think I will spare you. Deny it as much as you want, but without them, you’re as good as silent.” The King’s smile spread wide and maniacal. His eyes were crazed, almost like a face Remus would make, almost. “Enjoy the delectable helplessness!” He laughed as his cape enveloped him in darkness, “Consider it a gift, from your king!” His laugh faded as he disappeared leaving nothing behind but fear.

[i-like-plan-m]

Something I've been thinking about is what if Madame Yu was just a bit more obvious in how much she hates wwx, and wwx ran away from Lotus Pier? It's clear his siblings matter more to him than anything else and he hates causing them strife. If he believes that he's the cause, he'd take steps to make them happy, right? I want to write story about that but I dont think I have the ability. If you ever wanted to write something like that I would be overjoyed to read it! - an0n

[Ao3] [Chapter 1/3]

I love this, thank you!! _____________________

“What are you doing?” 

It was the fear in Jiang Cheng’s voice that stopped him. 

Madam Yu’s last words to him still ringing in his ears, Wei Wuxian pasted on a cheery smile and spun on his heel to face his... to face Jiang Cheng. 

“Ah,” he said on a little laugh. “Jiang Cheng…”

“She didn’t mean it,” Jiang Cheng said desperately, stumbling towards him with a panicked edge to his words. “You know that. She wasn’t serious, it’s just the same stuff as always.” 

“I know,” Wei Wuxian said gently. That was exactly the problem. Madam Yu’s hurled abuse at her children hurt them, and Wei Wuxian was too convenient of an excuse for her to ever pass up. She would never stop, not while he was there to set her off again. 

“You can’t leave,” Jiang Cheng said, curling a fist in the front of his robes and holding tight like he could keep Wei Wuxian in Lotus Pier if he just held on tight enough. 

“Madam Yu is right,” Wei Wuxian said with a sad smile, reaching up to cover Jiang Cheng’s hand with his own. “I’ve spent too long causing trouble for her and the sect to stay any longer. I shouldn’t be a burden for you all anymore.” 

“You’re not a-- did you even tell jiejie? Does she know you’re leaving?” He seized on Jiang Yanli, knowing that she was his weak point. “She doesn't know, does she? Were you just going to disappear?” 

Wei Wuxian ached at the thought of Jiang Yanli, of never seeing her again or having her hate him for leaving. But Madam Yu had been clear-- she no longer wanted him at Lotus Pier. He’d heard such things from her before, basically ever since he’d been brought back by Jiang Fengmian, but Madam Yu’s use of Wei Wuxian as a way to torment and ridicule Jiang Cheng had only escalated since their return from the lecture at Cloud Recesses. 

Without him, she would have fewer things to be angry about, and less anger to take out on her children and husband. 

“I left shijie a letter,” Wei Wuxian said, swallowing roughly. He reached down to pick up his bag, Jiang Cheng still clinging to him, and took one last look around his room. He hoped whoever got it next appreciated the art carvings, the hidden stash of snacks and alcohol under the floorboard, the small, colorful trinkets he’d collected over the years. 

Or maybe they would get rid of it all, erasing the signs that he’d ever existed here. 

“Then go give it to her yourself,” Jiang Cheng snapped. 

“I can’t,” Wei Wuxian said truthfully. He tried to smile, felt it waver in the face of Jiang Cheng’s betrayed expression. “It’s time for me to go, shidi. Ah, and think of it this way! Now you can have dogs again.” 

“I don’t want the fucking dogs,” Jiang Cheng choked out. “I want you to stay here. You promised we would be brothers, in this life and the next. You promised.”

Yes, he had. But Madam Yu had told him she’d had enough of him taking advantage of their family, of him thinking himself a part of it when in fact he was nothing but a burden. When he did nothing but make Jiang Cheng and by extension their sect look bad. 

So. Better to leave now under his own power before the rest of them started to feel the same, or Madam Yu made Jiang Cheng hate himself and resent Wei Wuxian even more than he already did. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. A thousand words between them and not a single one spoken, their relationship permanently fractured by the competition neither of them had signed up for, that neither of them had ever wanted. 

Wei Wuxian’s presence at Lotus Pier made Jiang Cheng’s life harder. There was no way around the truth of it. 

Jiang Cheng’s grip went slack, as though he realized that this was really happening, that his brother was leaving him behind. Wei Wuxian saw stark pain in his eyes before they shuttered, anger becoming his armor against such hurt. 

“Fine,” he spat, but the hitch in his breath betrayed him. “If you want to leave so bad, then just go.” 

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, torn to pieces at the anguish in his brother’s voice. “I don’t want to leave you or shijie. But…” 

Jiang Cheng looked away. They both knew the real reason he was leaving. Coming to terms with it would be hard for both of them. 

“I’ll write,” Wei Wuxian offered quietly. “If… if you want.” 

“You’d fucking better write,” Jiang Cheng said, swiping impatiently at his damp cheeks. There was a brief pause, the tension softening into a quiet, shared grief. “Where will you go?” 

“Who knows!” Wei Wuxian said, trying for cheerful and sounding uncertain instead. “There’s a whole world out there, you know. Plenty of trouble to find.” 

Jiang Cheng made a familiar exasperated sound that made him want to laugh. “Weekly letters,” he threatened. “Or I’m coming to find you.” 

Wei Wuxian’s smile was a little more genuine this time. “I can do that.” He hesitated, then added, “Can you…” 

“I’ll tell jiejie,” Jiang Cheng said quietly. 

“Thank you.” Wei Wuxian enveloped him in a hug, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened when Jiang Cheng gripped him back hard enough to bruise. 

“I will see you again,” he promised, and felt the eyes of his brother watch him leave. 

~*~ 

His new mantle of rogue cultivator hurt a little less when he thought of his parents. They hadn’t belonged to a sect after they married, and he wondered if they’d been happy to freely wander the world. 

His one clear memory of them made him think so. There’d been laughter, and warmth, and a sense of safety and security that Wei Wuxian found himself wishing for during those first few weeks after leaving Lotus Pier. 

Too much freedom, he’d discovered, was a hard adjustment to make. He had no responsibilities other than finding food and water, no duties or chores around a sect, and no sect leader to answer to. 

He’d considered, briefly, going to Gusu. The lecture would be over by now, the guest disciples returned home. He wondered if Lan Zhan was happier now that the Cloud Recesses was quiet again. He wondered if Lan Zhan would even want to see him. 

But after losing his home so abruptly, Wei Wuxian found that he did not want to go where he was not wanted. Usually he wouldn’t pay any attention to it, would not care what others thought of him or his presence, but now… 

Well. He’d been kicked out of Cloud Recesses. Out of Lotus Pier. Neither would welcome him now. Maybe he could go to Qinghe and accomplish the trifecta of banishment. 

The thought would be funnier if he weren’t so cold and hungry. 

There was a trick to surviving as a rogue cultivator, and that was bartering. Larger towns were typically protected by sect cultivators who could banish spirits or ghosts. Smaller villages usually could not afford such services, so they would trade shelter and a hot meal for a cultivator’s help. 

Wei Wuxian hadn’t yet made it far enough away from Yunmeng territory to find these villages. Mostly he hunted or fished to feed himself, and slept out in the open since he couldn’t afford to stay at an inn. It was a far stretch from his days in Yunmeng, never wondering where he would sleep or when his next meal would come. 

He was lost in a way he hadn’t been since a recently orphaned child living on the streets and eating trash to survive. Funny, how these things came back full circle. 

Wei Wuxian poked at his miserable little fire, hunched over it in the fading light within the forest to soak in the weak warmth it emitted. The wood was too wet to truly burn, still damp from the downpour earlier. 

So was he, as a matter of fact. His wet robes clung to him uncomfortably, and he would take them off to let them dry if the descending night weren’t so cold. 

Quiet voices had him lurching to his feet, Suibian in hand as he warily scanned the heavy shadows thrown by the trees. They were coming closer, light footsteps that echoed through the forest and hid the direction of their approach. 

And then white robes bled out of the darkness, his heart skipped a beat in breathless, astonished hope… and then fell at the sight of a stranger’s face. The man’s companion wore dark robes like his own, a curious pair that moved in sync and spoke without words. 

“Our apologies, Young Master. We did not realize there were others so deep into the forest,” the white-robed man said with a polite bow. 

Wei Wuxian returned it, noting with a spark of interest that they carried swords that marked them as cultivators. “No apology necessary. I am Wei Wuxian,” he said, rising from the bow. “I was hunting for dinner and didn’t realize how far I’d walked before the sun set.” More like he’d had nothing to turn back for.

“My name is Xiao Xingchen, and my companion is Song Lan.” Xiao Xingchen looked around his campsite with a mild look of curiosity. “Are you traveling alone?”

“I am,” he said, his smile dimming despite his best efforts. 

Song Lan studied him for a moment, then shared another brief, wordless conversation with Xiao Xingchen. “Do you have a destination in mind, Master Wei?” 

“Ah… no? I’m just wandering,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You are welcome to travel with us, if you wish,” Song Lan offered. “Rogue cultivating can be dangerous and challenging on your own.”

Wei Wuxian looked uncertainly between them, remembering his recent vow to stop going where he wasn’t wanted. These two were obviously close, and he wondered if he would be intruding. 

“As Song Lan said,” Xiao Xingchen added at Wei Wuxian’s hesitation. “You are welcome to join us.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian decided, spirits lifting. “I would appreciate your company.” 

“We are headed for a nearby town,” Song Lan said. “Do you need to rest, or can you make it through the rest of the forest tonight?” 

Wei Wuxian stomped the dying fire out and eagerly grabbed his bag. “No need to wait!” He followed them through the forest, grateful to have their company. The world seemed less lonely all of a sudden, and the companionship was a buoy for his spirits. 

“Have you two been traveling together long?” He asked. 

“We met a few years ago. I was raised in Baixue Temple,” Song Lan said, drifting gracefully over the uneven ground. “And Xiao Xingchen was a disciple of Baoshan Sanren.” 

Wei Wuxian made a startled sound and nearly tripped over his own feet. Song Lan steadied him and traded a look with Xiao Xingchen over his head. 

“Baoshan Sanren?” Wei Wuxian asked, stunned by the reminder that he had family left in the world. 

“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen said, eyeing him with some concern. “Are you familiar with her?” 

“She is my grandmother,” Wei Wuxian said distantly. 

Xiao Xingchen’s eyes widened. “You are the son of Cangse Sanren? Adopted into the Jiang Sect as a child?” Wei Wuxian nodded, and Xiao Xingchen’s surprise morphed into a smile. “Your grandmother wishes to meet you, Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised she even knew he existed. “She does?” 

“Yes, she does,” Xiao Xingchen said, smile lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes. “I can tell you where to find her, if you wish.” 

What else did he have? No place to call home, no family left other than the immortal cultivator secluded on her celestial mountain-- and the part of his heart that urged him to find her, the only ones left in their line. 

“There is no hurry,” Xiao Xingchen said gently when the silence stretched too long. “You are still welcome to travel with us as long as you wish. Your grandmother is a patient woman; you can take as long as you need.” 

Wei Wuxian swallowed hard and paused to bow to him. “Thank you, Master Xiao. I… I think one day soon I would like to know how to find her.” 

Xiao Xingchen nodded. “You need only ask.” 

Wei Wuxian let the pair lead him out of the dark, unknown forest, with something like hope burning in his chest.