#he also runs so fast and like. never ever falls. even with his huge little kid winter boots on

[saetiate]

FORSAKEN BY ALL THE GODS.

info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments. 

synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?

word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient) 

a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart

Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.

Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.

The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.

On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.

The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will be killed by the one you love most.

Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.

Forsaken by all the Gods —

The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.

The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.

“The prophecy?”

The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”

“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”

“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”

“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.

It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.

The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”

Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.

To seize and capture that  which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?

Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”

“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”

It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar. 

At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.

The room clears.

“Kaiser, I —” 

Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.

“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.

“Master?”

“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”

“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”

Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”

“What was yours?”

Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”

Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”

Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”

He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”

Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.

Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.

You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.

~

The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.

The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.  

He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.

~

You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.

“You dare-”

“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.

The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.

“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”

“Yes.”

“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”

“They do.”

He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”

You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.

“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.

“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.

“You are as well-informed as they say.”

“I am as logical as they come.”

“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.” 

Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue. 

“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”

“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”

In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.

“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”

“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”

“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.

Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.

“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.

He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.

“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”

“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”

“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”

“For what reason would they do such a thing?”

Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”

You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.

“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”

That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.

You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”

Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”

“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”

“Oh, please.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.

“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.

Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”

You almost frown. “Fine.”

Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”

“Human lives move quickly.”

Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?

He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”

“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.

“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.

“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”

He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”

Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.

You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.

“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”

You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”

In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.

“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.

“Right, and your suggestion?”

“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”

Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.

It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.

“Kaiser.”

He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”

Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.

“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”

Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.

“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”

A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.

“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”

“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”

You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.

“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”

“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”       

“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”

Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.

“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”

“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.

“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”

Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”

Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”

Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”

Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”

The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.

Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.

“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.

~

It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.

“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.

“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.

You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”

“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”

“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.

The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”

“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.

“The water, it speaks to you?”

“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”

You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.

“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”

You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”

The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”

You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.

~

“She’s a what?”

Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.

“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.

“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.

“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.

“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”

“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.

Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”

“She can’t dance, for one.”

“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”

That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”

Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”

“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”

“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”

“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.

“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”

“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.

When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.

The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.

He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”

“Uh…”

Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”

Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”

Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.

Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”

It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.

“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.

“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.

“I don’t have the sword anymore.”

“What?”

It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that. 

Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”

Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”

Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”

Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.

“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.

“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”

“Yeah, man. He’s gone”  

“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”

“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.

Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”

“You’re just a hater.”

“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”

“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”

~

Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.

You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.

“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”

Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.  

At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.

Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.  

Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.

You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.

He looks like a hero.

The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing. 

He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.

You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.

~

He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.

“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.

“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”

“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.

“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”  

Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”

“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?" 

"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."

“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”

He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.

“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”

He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”

You nod. “So be it, your highness.”

That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”

You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”

One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.” 

You scoff. “I have no need for that.” 

“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.” 

He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.

“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”

You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”

“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”

You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.

He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.

Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”

For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.

It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.

“I thought you said this was not a duel.”

“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”

“You have no fluidity to you.”

Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Hm?”

“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”

He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.

“This session is over.”

“Kaiser-,”

“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”

“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”

“And yet?”

“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”

“And yet you took it from me.” 

The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.” 

Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.

You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear. 

“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.” 

“You think I’d agree to a compromise?” 

You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.” 

Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural. 

“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”

Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”

“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”

“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”

“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”

“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”

Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost… 

“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.” 

“I’ve never seen you train.” 

“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.” 

“Oh? You won’t show me?” 

“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him. 

“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in. 

~

He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.

He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.

“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases. 

You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?” 

His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.” 

You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height. 

Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you. 

But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat. 

“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale. 

“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?” 

By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours. 

Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir. 

“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”

He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely? 

“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean. 

~

It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have. 

“I have wondered about something.” 

“Hm?”

“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.” 

“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.” 

“Nagi, who is always with Reo?” 

Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.” 

The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.

“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”

But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices? 

It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.

~

On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.

“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”

Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.

“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”

“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.

“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”

That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”

You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”

“Is that so…”

~

It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.

Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.

Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.

Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.

“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.

You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”

Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.

“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”

Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.

“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance. 

You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”

“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”

Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”

He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”

“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from. 

“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”

To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.

As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”

With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.

“What did he say to you?”

You hum. You get the sense that maybe…

“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.

“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”

“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”

That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”

“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”

He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.

“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”

“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”

“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”

This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-

You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.

“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.

In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.

“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.

And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.

“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”

You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”

And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.

~

Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”

“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.” 

“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.” 

Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks. 

“What happened?” 

“They’re gone.” 

“Ha?” 

“We had one drink. One.” 

Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.” 

In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones. 

“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.” 

Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall. 

~

You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you. 

“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall. 

You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.” 

He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet. 

“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?” 

Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.

“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”

You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”

It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”

“The water.”

“She speaks to you?” 

“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”

“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky. 

“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”

He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”

You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”

Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.

~

“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room. 

It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.  

“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.

You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?” 

“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?” 

He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing? 

The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.” 

The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing. 

“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both. 

“Hm?” 

“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.” 

He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue. 

“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.” 

The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him. 

“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.” 

Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. 

The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his. 

During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.

He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.

He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.

He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-

He cups your face, and drinks you in.

He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you. 

Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.” 

And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows. 

“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” 

That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze… 

He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his. 

“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone. 

“What?” 

“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.” 

“You- Kai-” 

He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them. 

He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue. 

“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.” 

“Mihya.” 

“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?” 

Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him. 

“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of? 

“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again. 

“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit. 

“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers. 

He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you. 

“One more, okay?”

Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants. 

“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there. 

“You’re-, wait, we just- I just” 

“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you. 

“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure. 

“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise. 

“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.” 

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine. 

He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. 

“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock. 

He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.” 

“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“I could cut you down here.” 

He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?” 

You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. 

“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” 

The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won. 

“Please, Mihya,” you sigh. 

“Mhmm. Please what?” 

“Please- please fuck me.” 

He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again. 

“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.  

He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him. 

“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again. 

“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him. 

“Good girl. Tell me again.” 

“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-

“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand. 

“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.” 

“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink. 

His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.” 

You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his. 

You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips. 

For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.

“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask. 

This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this. 

~

Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is. 

“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”

Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop. 

Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”

You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back. 

“Answer me, demigod.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”

“You are of divine nature.” 

“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”

Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”

“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”

Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow? 

“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”

“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”

~

In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes. 

“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room. 

“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”

“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.” 

“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?” 

“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.”” 

“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’” 

“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”

Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”

Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?” 

“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.” 

“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.” 

“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.

“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.” 

“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?” 

“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts. 

“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that. 

~

“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.” 

As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them. 

“You’re both on the front lines then?” 

“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.

“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice. 

“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.” 

All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends. 

“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –” 

“This is a distraction.” 

Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.” 

You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs. 

“Go on, then.” 

You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.” 

“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers. 

Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.” 

“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.” 

Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom. 

Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?” 

“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?” 

~

Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.  

“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly. 

“It is the safest room.” 

“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.” 

“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!” 

He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs. 

The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true. 

“That throne doesn’t belong to you.” 

“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.” 

Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.” 

What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides. 

“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”

When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back. 

“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.” 

“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.” 

“So be it, then.” 

Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself- 

From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you. 

“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.” 

You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible? 

The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.

~

When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted. 

“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?” 

“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.” 

“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger. 

Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”

He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.” 

And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.” 

When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy. 

He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture. 

You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. 

For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head. 

None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart. 

He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand. 

“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.” 

His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to. 

“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care. 

A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out. 

You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath. 

You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes. 

~

“I see the prophecy has been completed.” 

When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. 

Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him. 

“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself. 

“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.” 

“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”

“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”

“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will die by the hands of the one you love most. Forsaken by all the Gods but one, Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.

In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms. 

“What will become of her?” He asks quietly. 

“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.” 

“She will die, then? Like a human does?”

“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.” 

“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” 

“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?” 

The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you. 

“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.” 

“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” 

In a blink, her form disappears. 

“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both. 

“The goddess-” 

“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless. 

Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..” 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.” 

~

It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.

Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.

You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you. 

In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. 

“Relearning the water.”

“What does it say?”

“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”

He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”

You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”

“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?” 

“That, it does.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close. 

“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it. 

A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved. 

There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it. 

But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. 

author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed

extended author's note -- know that this is an incredibly realistic note about the perception of love that will take you out of the fantasy lovey-dovey space. it's a disclaimer for the parts of the fic i romanticize and how u should not romanticize them in real life, as well as some notes about kaiser's characterization if you're interested

[blackmoldmp3]

just saw a video of my 2 year old nephew that startled me sooo bad bc this kid is throwing and catching stuff Perfectly. like. it’s weird. really cool but noticeably weird

[revelboo]

You are literally feeding my starscream needs. Someone I know talked me into seeing transformers one and I can never tell him about the robot fetish that developed because of it 😭 it altered my brain chemistry so fast

Welcome to the dark side, we have thirst

Everything is Alright pt 35

Starscream x Reader- jealousy

• It almost feels like trespassing, moving through your space. Even mass displaced, the door had been too narrow and locked besides, but it hadn’t taken much effort to rip it free of the frame. His wings and helm scrape the ceiling as he moves through the house, the damage unimportant. You’re never returning to this place, but it was yours. His wings gouge into the walls in the hallway, knocking down things no matter how he holds them. On a table beside a plush chair is a picture of you and another human, an arm about you as you both smile. Happy. He knocks the picture off the table in passing. The sound of breaking glass so satisfying, because that person, that moment is from before he found you. A life he knows nothing about and for some reason, that bothers him.

• It’s easy to find your sleeping space, your scent lingering everywhere. Realizing getting your things out through the bedroom door is going to be problematic, he steps back and blasts a hole in the wall. Begins to ferry things out in a pile he’ll be able to pick up when he returns to his full size. You’ll be pleased with him, thank him. Smile up at him like you did in that picture and warmth spreads through his spark. Picking up a red and blue checkered covering, his servos crush the material, because the scent on it isn’t yours. The human in the photo? Even though the they seem to be gone, haven’t come for you, anger sparks through him. This human shared your space? A mate? Running his glossa over his denta, he lets the covering drop, unsettled by how furious the thought makes him. How off balance when it shouldn’t matter, you’re his now.

• That human’s scent and yours both on the bed has him ripping the sheets off, wings trembling with the need to hunt that stranger down for touching what’s his. Ripping drawers free to dump your coverings on top of the bed. His servos won’t stop shaking, that anger a living thing because now he’s thinking of that human touching his caged little bird. Holding you while you sleep against them. No longer trying to not disturb your space, he rips open cabinets, taking anything you might like or need, most of it just weird and alien. When he’s satisfied, he steps outside and mass shifts, scooping up your things. And then slowly and methodically destroys the house. Destroys the reminder that you had a life before him, but also every trace of that stranger.

• Head laying on Ravage’s side, you wheeze as Lazerbeak lands on you hard enough to knock the breath out of you, not seeming to realize or care how heavy he is. Soundwave is busily typing away at his desk, and the huge mecha panther was warm, sprawled out, and hadn’t immediately snapped at you for trying to heat leech. Apparently, Lazerbeak had the same idea, though and while heavy, he’s also warm. You’re not sure where Rumble and Frenzy are, but also fairly sure you wouldn’t be so relaxed if they were here. Ravage and Lazerbeak much mellower and a lot more tolerant of being clung to.

• Head tipping to covertly check on the human and cassettes curled together on a corner of his desk, his spark twists a bit, because it feels right. Like you belong there with them. He might not particularly care for Starscream, but he did bring you to him and he’s grateful for it. Not that he’ll ever bring it up to the Seeker. As territorial as he is, it might drive him to make more of an effort to keep his pet isolated. It’s only Starscream’s worry that he might use you to hurt him that keeps the Seeker in line. Like he’d tell Megatron about you knowing the likely outcome. On the corner of his desk, your breathing evens out as you fall asleep. Feeling safe with him, home where you belong.

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[shveris]

my jjk headcanons, part 3

tumblr pls give me more colors

part 1

part 2

part 4

satoru’s favorite color can only be seen with the six eyes. he’s tried explaining it to his peers multiple times but it just left him frustrated and everyone else very confused like “wdym you can see different colour spectrums????”

modern!au sukuna calls the number on missing animal posters, imitates the noise of the animal that’s missing and then hangs up (he does the same with missing children ones, too, if he’s feeling particularly unhinged)

modern!au yuuji has a letterboxd account and his reviews are the funniest shit you’ll ever read

he does the same with steam game reviews, too, and at some point dragged megumi and nobara into his shenanigans as well

first year suguru said “eat the rich” and satoru asked “why do you wanna eat me????” (shoko cried tears of laughter). this is how suguru found out satoru’s a nepo baby

adult satoru brings nanami cds and vinyls from emo/alt/rock bands as souvenirs whenever he has missions abroad. nanami keeps telling him to stop but the first thing he does when he arrives home is listen to them

nanami is also who megumi got his taste of music from since nanami babysat the fushiguro siblings some times when they were younger

cult leader suguru calls shoko whenever he gets a serious injury and asks her to come over and heal it (she gets there as fast as she can)

quitting smoking was very rough on shoko but babysitting the fushiguro siblings and studying for her medical license was a great distraction

modern!au choso doesn’t have the tattoo/mark over the bridge of his nose, instead it’s just a huge scar he got as a kid during some accident

megumi likes listening to rain sounds while falling asleep

satoru’s a little (read: huge) nerd. his bookshelves are filled with lectures and studies about physics and math theories, documentations of all kinds of natural sciences, he keeps up to date with everything in the field and even peeked into biographies of big science people

despite satoru and suguru being very cat-coded, shoko is actually more of a dog person (how does she put up with them? we’ll never know)

nobara regularly uses megumi and yuuji to test out her new nail polishes. she’d wipe it off for them after but at some point neither of them cared anymore so the boys just run around with colourful nails some times

when we see sukuna eat popcorn and drink soda during his fight with mahoraga, it’s because he saw yuuji eat/drink all those things while he was in satoru’s basement. he got curious and wanted to try himself but we saw how that ended

an addition to the hc above, sukuna also has forgotten the flavours and textures of all kinds of foods. modern era foods would really mess with his taste buds because heian period food wasn’t particularly known to be as flavourful as it is today + they didn’t really use oil back then. sukuna would certainly be insanely overwhelmed if given a modern meal

this is not really a headcanon but also not canon because gege never specified it: only cursed spirits can see sukuna’s tattoos. there’s several indications in both manga and anime that humans & shamans alike cannot see the tattoos (correct me if i’m wrong) but in season 2 jogo’s inner monologue proves that he can see them. i’d like to think it must be because he’s a cursed spirit, which means all cursed spirits (or high ranked ones) are able to see the marks

when satoru held yuuji in that basement for two months, yuuji taught him how to cook because “sensei, you’re an adult. how do you not know how to make tamagoyaki??? we can’t order takeout twice a day!” (yes yuuji, he can, he’s gojo fucking satoru, he has a black card and swims in money)

yuuji is good at every sports, even the ones he’s never played before

[shdo-xplosion]

Hi Dove❤️ welcome to tumblr!! For your event, I’d love to read aizawa and prompt 7🖤

eeeeeeek thank you! this is one of my favorite prompts with one of my favorite characters! and i got VERY carried away with it. oopsie!

7. 🖤 MONSTERFUCKING • s. aizawa

alien!aizawa, size difference, humanoid features but still monsterfucking, womb-fucking, belly bulge, oviposition, drugs (his alien spit has a sedative in it or something)

When you’d agreed to be part of the research group, this is not what you had in mind. Blood tests? Sure. New drugs to be a guinea pig for? Why not. Spreading your legs for an alien specimen, though? How the hell did this even happen?

You’d been promised a lot of money, is how it happened. A lot of money and a photo of a not entirely horrible looking creature from a world or two away. Aizawa.

He doesn’t speak, which is fine, just towers over you with blacked out eyes, inhuman tongue slithering out of his mouth every once in a while to dab at your pulse point, only emphasizing how fast your heart is beating with him on top of you.

You’re safe. You think. You’re being supervised through a window, not entirely alone. It would bother some people, but your standards for sex went out the window way before this. You’d prefer this metal lab table to the gravel behind the bar from your college town.

Smooth, thick digits are buried inside your cunt, feel more like your silicone toys than any human finger or dick you’ve ever taken, but it’s not bad. His hands are huge, fingers impossibly long, and the way he’s touching you makes you feel like he’s the one doing the research here. Impossible to tell what he’s thinking, though.

His body is mostly human-like in terms of shape. A head, a torso, two arms, two legs, et cetera, but there’s no denying he’s anything but. For one, he’s enormous, at least twice the size of an actual human. His flesh is… cold and dense, rigid, muscle packed into different groups to ensure he can move in ways you’ve never seen before. The black mop on top of his head is impossible to describe. Hair? Sensors? A million antennae? You don’t know for sure, but you’ve mostly stopped worrying about that in favor of focusing on what’s hanging between his legs.

That is 100% an alien cock. In size and shape and… function. There’s no use comparing to what you’ve seen before because the only thing that’s similar about it is that it’s vaguely shaped with the purpose of sliding into some kind of hole. In this case, your pussy. Even with his fingers doing a strange, meticulous job of stretching you out, you don’t know how he’ll fit.

Then it sort of clicks into place when he leans up and slips his long tongue into your mouth, secreting something sweet from it that makes you feel boneless.

Oh. So this might be a problem.

He moves his fingers a little more aggressively inside of your body, adding another and another. You can feel your body stretching, feel the sting that comes with, but you don’t mind for some reason, like even if you were scared or angry, all you’re capable of feeling in the moment is contentment.

The initial press of his cockhead to your entrance almost jolts you from whatever high state you’re in, but Aizawa rests a hand on the side of your face and softly pushes a finger into your mouth, and you find yourself sucking at it, tasting the same sweet sedative he had given you before.

You can’t make a sound as he pushes into you, leaning his hips forward as his huge cock bullies your walls open. You suck in a deep breath, tears falling from the corners of your eyes, but it doesn’t hurt. You know it’s supposed to. You know it will. But it doesn’t. It’s almost like the tears and air are being pushed from your body in a feeble attempt to make more room for him. All you’ve taken is his tip and you already feel like you’re going to burst.

You also feel like you’re going to run out of fluid with how wet you are, pouring slick all over his length where you lay spread for him. You can’t read any facial expressions or even the look in his eyes, but something about the way his head lifts and those endless eyes reflect your sweaty face… you think he might be satisfied with the effect he’s having on your body.

Aizawa starts thrusting shallowly, slowly working you open, stretching your cunt so that he can fit more and more of his cock inside of you. Human bodies were obviously not mean to accommodate a creature of this size, so why exactly are people researching it?

His cockhead finds your cervix, landing uncomfortable but soft kisses to it for a few moments before Aizawa starts pushing in more. Your chest tightens, blood going cold because no no this isn’t how bodies work, he can’t just—but he kisses you with his addictive, euphoric alien tongue, and your body just parts for him, and suddenly there is something deep inside of you—deeper than anything has ever been.

You can feel how wide your eyes are, how far your jaw has dropped, and how wet your pussy is. You don’t understand it, but it’s all happening. He’s touching every millimeter of your insides, massaging your g-spot just by being there. A smooth finger pinches and toys with your engorged clit, and you cry out when it makes you cum. Your muscles try to clench with each pulse of your orgasm, but it’s impossible to tighten around the huge cock inside of you. All you can do is stay stretched around it as juices leak from you.

Something of a grunt catches in Aizawa’s throat, his head down as if he’s looking at yoir cunt, where the two of you connect. He touches your sensitive bud again, another noise leaving him when you jerk beneath him, and then he begins rubbing it in time with his now faster thrusts. He must have liked seeing you cum.

You don’t know what you like anymore. You don’t know anything.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, face wet with drool and tears, but you’re not in pain exactly, just overwhelmed, can’t really breathe, can’t focus on anything other than how full your poor body is. When you look down, you whimper at the sight of your stomach bulging and moving with every push and pull of Aizawa’s cock. He’s so deep, sliding against your insides, pounding into your guts—your womb—and you don’t know how long he’s there or how many times you cum. All you know is you’re trembling and breathing quickly and sobbing when he throws his head back and climaxes.

The feeling is indescribable. It’s not like with a human when you can feel warm cum dripping from your pussy. You don’t feel anything dripping from you. You just feel something filling you, something being added to your body, a tightness forming in your belly that shouldn’t be there.

Aizawa pulls out, leaving you so cold and so, so empty, but he places a hand on your swollen tummy. Swollen even without him inside of it.

There’s still a pressure deep inside you, a pressure, and then a pinch, and then—

You scream, back arching, legs spreading even further than before as you bear down on the table. Another orgasm crashes into you from out of nowhere, and the force of it pushes whatever is inside of you out of you.

Eggs. You don’t know how many. You just know they fall from your gaping hole like a grotesque slime, oddly pleasurable as they breech your entrance and only prolonging your orgasm. Both your brain and body are confused at everything that’s happened since being locked in this lab, and once you’re finished expelling all of the eggs, all you can do is curl up on the table and shake.

Aizawa is very still for a while. You think he might be confused. He reaches down and scoops up some of his wasted contribution, considering it and then you, then drops it back to the ground.

“S-sorry. My body’s not… the right fit for you,” you tell him breathlessly, surprisingly sheepish.

Silence. A few more glances. Then he’s reaching for you and pulling you from your fetal position, tugging you until your ass is on the edge of the table and your legs dangle on either side of him.

Leaning in close to your face, he speaks for the very first time. It should be comforting that he knows your language, but it only sends a chill down your spine.

“You’re the perfect fit for me.”

event masterlist ✿

[deansapplepie]

Marchweres Day 1-2

Prompt: Full Moon, Shapeshifting, Predator-Prey

Pairing: Werewolf! Daryl Dixon x f!Reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, predator-prey dynamic, at first it looks like they don’t know each other (it soon is proved to be the opposite), a little role-play maybe(?), mentions of fingering, mentions of cunnilingus, teasing, dirty talking, dumbfication if you squint, praising. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+

A/N: I wrote the werewolf thing in a vibe more Twilight, but at the same time I’m creating my own things about it.

Also, It may or may not be in twd universe. You can consider anything. There’s no mentions of walkers or the apocalypse.

It was full moon. She was big, round and high on the sky. Despite not having a single light with you, it illuminated well almost everything and it also created shadows.

You walked by yourself in the woods, a dumb choice most people would say. The full moon was when monsters crawled from their holes and came to earth so they could feed from humans. Or at least, that was what your grandmother said. You never believed on this shit, until you listened to a howl, and by how the sound was high it came from somewhere close to you.

How could you forget there were wolves in those woods? Why did you come to the woods in the first place?

The leaves rustled nearby, you looked to your sides and saw nothing. You felt a warm breath on your nape and turned very slowly, your heart beaten fast, and the nervousness was all around you. When you turned back you were presented to a big dark brown wolf, it was the biggest wolf you had ever seen, his nose was in the same height as your face. It was so furry and had some white hair here and there, specially around the snout. The wolf’s eyes were a bright blue that could be recognized anywhere, because you never saw something as shiny as it. It let out a small huff and showed a little of teeth and you interpreted that as “Run.”

Your instincts heightened and you turned your back to it and started running. You knew it was stupid. You knew you had no chance. Your 2 little legs against the ginormous wolf 4 legs? No chance! You ran as if your life depended on this. You took some glances at your back and you saw it chasing you. It could be faster, but it wasn’t the intention. The Wolf was playing with you, playing with the food.

You ran as much as your body allowed you, until you were faced with a Stone Mountain, and you had nowhere to go, you turned back to the monster and saw it approaching you, cornering you… planning the exact moment it would jump on you. His blue eyes illuminated the night like two lanterns. You looked both sides, no way to run and you looked back again, it was like he had a grin on his animal face before attacking you and tackling you to the ground.

You closed your eyes for an instant anticipating the fall, the fluffy leaves made floor of the place welcomed your body and when you opened your eyes, there he was… a huge man caging you to the ground, his hands holding yours up your head, his medium length hair falling like a curtain in his face, his wavy hair framing his face, that same blue eyes now adorning his face and when your eyes roomed lower you were presented with his marvelous chest full of scars from old battles and tattoos. Going a little lower you could see his happy trail and your eyes tentatively roomed down, until you heard him. “Ma eyes are up here sunshine…” the gruff voice sending chills throughout your body.

Your eyes moved back to his face and he couldn’t hide the amusement on his face. You smirked at him, and he continued to talk. “You probably sucked at playing hide and seek.” He took a long sniff on your neck and continued to talk in your ear. “Ya were all around the woods. Can’t even hide yourself for living. And yer smell? Could smell your arousal miles away before finding ya.”

“It’s because of the expectation of you catching me.” You admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, of what you’re going to do to me.”

It was true your grandmother told you everything about werewolves, but she never told you how it was to be one or live with one. And if there was one thing you learned it was that every full moon they got so much energy accumulated, having to control themselves and spend this energy hunting… but that wasn’t the best way of spending this energy, it was till they matured and learned that sex was the best option to go through this phase. Just after meeting him you got to learn all of this.

Knowing this, that night, you decided to do a game. More like a tag game than hide and seek, to spend some energy, for the adrenaline to run in your veins, especially his, to build the expectation. But while you did that, you couldn’t help but feel excited all the way through to your ending agreed point.

“So what will the big bad wolf do to me?” You asked looking at him with the best clueless look you could manage to give him.

He held a laugh at your act. “What do ya suggest?”

“I don’t know, this was your idea…”

For fuck’s sake, you had already lost count of how many times he had made you cum. It was like his battery was never low. He started fingering and eating you out, then he made his sick game of teasing your folds, clit and entrance with his dick but not doing what you needed the most… next thing he hammered into you for so long that you lost count of time.

Now after your, god knows how many, orgasm he pounded into you, producing the filthiest sounds of your juices and bodies colliding against each other. You had your arms folded in front of you so you could support your face and prevent from laying it against the leaves, your ass up high while he grabbed your hips and fucked you senseless, otherwise you’d not be able to hold yourself in the position.

“D-D-D-Daryl…” you cried while he hit that spot again and again.

“D-D-D-D…” he mocked you. “So fucked up that can’t even say one simple word.”

Damn… he loved you in every way he could have you, but gods he loved to watch your ass while he disappeared inside of you. He grunted with his thoughts and what he saw in front of him and felt. How could him have so many dirty thoughts about you when he was already doing the dirty?

One of his hands came to your body and helped your body up to be flush against his while he continued trusting his hips on you. One of his hands wandered up your body stopping for a little on your breasts and then continuing its way to your neck stopping there, no pressure just giving you the sensation of being held there. His other hand traveled from your hips down to your clit rubbing torturing circles on it. You whined and whimpered against him, feeling that one more time you were getting close to your release.

“Fuck. Ya always do so good for me, taking everything I give you.” He breathed on your ear. “Do ya have any idea off how good you make me feel?”

Your body trembled, a bunch of moans and incoherent words coming from your lips, you had reached your orgasm one more time. He felt that he was finally getting there, he continued riding your orgasm till he felt like he couldn’t hold it anymore. He pulled out, his cock rubbing up and down between your folds while you where still coming out from your orgasm. He bursted in pleasure spending his seed on your stomach and on the floor. Even though he was deeply tempted on finishing inside of you, he couldn’t. You still didn’t feel prepared to have his puppies so he was waiting for your time.

He laid on the floor holding you in his arms waiting for both of you to recover your breaths. You turned around and your mouth found his giving him a passionate kiss. “I love you, but I don’t know if I can walk.” You pouted.

“Don’t need ta. I’ll carry you home.” He said nuzzling your hair. “I love you, and thank you for spending this time with me.”

“Next full moon again?” You asked, and he laughed he couldn’t believe you had enjoyed this crazy idea.

“If ya want to, yeah.”

You dressed your clothes, Daryl helping you and then you realized he didn’t dress the clothes you brought him on your backpack. “I’m not walking home with your naked ass. Nothing against it, but what if people see it?

“I ain’t walking.” He shifted again into his wolf form and signed with his snout for you to get on his back.

“Really? This isn’t what I imagine when you ask me to ride you.” You joked, he left a huff from his nose, and you knew that was a snort.

He lowered himself so you could get on his back, you laid there on his dark brown fur, one leg on each side and your arms around his neck. As soon as you were on his back and holding yourself, he ran through the woods, this time not behind you, but with you.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

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[ragzonacamrencruise]

Azutara #48

azutara highschool reunion au lets goooo!!!!!

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

REMEMBER WHEN WE . . . ?

One can only hope.

One can only hope that they have carefree fun with their childhood best friends, seeing them after, like what, 15 years? Yeah . . . give or take. Playing, ‘recognise that one?’ And catching up non-stop the whole time for one single beautiful night.

But, one can only hope.

Katara hoped too. Of the same carefree night, when she entered the huge hall, looking all around in awe at the population inside, chattering away merrily. She approaches the reception with a warm smile on her face, and the young girl sitting behind the desk returns her smile with twice the radiance.

"Your name, please?" The girl asks, prying open a giant list.

"Katara Imeq" Katara grins.

The girl instantly rushes through the list and finds Katara's name a few seconds later. She then finds a label sticker, writes Katara's name down and offers it to her, instructing her to stick it on her dress and make it visible. Katara does as told, thanks the girl, and walks into the hall bustling with energy and laughter.

Hope, as it turns out, is not her strong forte. Katara spends literally 5 minutes of catching up with a friend group when she notices.

It's her.

Katara's worst nightmare.

She's here.

She'd hoped against all hopes that she wouldn't be here. That she's too much of a diva to ever come to a party as lame as this. That she wouldn't even look twice at the reunion invitation sent out to every class '09.

But here she is, standing at the other side of the great hall, gaining a whirlpool of attention around her.

Azula Sei'naka.

She's wearing the finest looking silk robe Katara's ever seen. It's flamboyantly blood red. Any other person wearing it to this casual, friendly party would've been standing out painfully against all the suits and the formal dresses. But THE Azula Sei'naka wears it with such ease and confidence that she's the one that's complimenting the robe and not the other way around.

It's a feast for the eyes even from this distance, but Katara would never admit it.

She'd also never in a million years admit that the very sight of the woman gets her heart to race annoyingly faster. It'll be like she's just another dumb nobody, swarming around the diva, calling out her name, thinking her every move to be sent straight from the spirits or something. Forget saying, even thinking her name was too much for Katara. She doesn't know how these imbeciles are even nearing the diva without spontaneously dying.

Katara busies herself making small talk with her group of friends. She's seeing Suki and Tami after a long time and she's not gonna let some jerk spoil her mood. The last time she saw them, they were graduating. And she surely does not want to think about the last time she and the diva had been in the same room together, unintentionally plaguing her mind. She's better off staying at this side of the room, thank you very much.

It's relatively easy. All Katara has to do is hide behind her friends and talk as much as she likes and the whirlpool surrounding the diva does the job for her, making her stay well out of sight.

But paradise, can only last for that long. The blue-eyed woman excuses herself out of habit to go get a drink in order to make the catching up and embarrassing stories a little easier to handle. She stands at the makeshift bar, smiling politely as the bartender fixes her a drink. She runs her eyes over the bartender’s face. His hair falls over to cover his eyes partially but that does not hide the fact that the left side of his face, around the eye, is scarred. Katara can’t help but feel that he’s familiar.

She gets her drink and returns back to her friends.

She lasts two minutes before it happens.

A clearing opens up in the whirlpool of heads surrounding the diva and Katara’s glance is timed perfectly in sync when golden-brown eyes suddenly fall on her like a dart hitting the bulls-eye. It happens so fast that Katara almost physically flinches with the sheer force of that intense pair of eyes she’s gone 15 years without peering into.

All these years, she’d gone without thinking too much about her high-school days. But this night, is especially made to think about it. And Katara feels the force of memories come crashing down on her with just a single glance. Their gazes stay connected for a long moment, before Katara wills herself to look away, feeling an odd shiver up her spine.

Her peripheral vision tells her that the diva’s making a move, striding slowly around the hall to meet with everybody, finally breaking away from her audience. Exactly a minute later, Katara hears that drawly, nagging voice beside her.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is. The woman in STEM.”

Katara doesn’t immediately turn. She doesn’t have to. She knows exactly who it is. One might think that even after all these years, she would forget that voice. But she didn’t. She can’t.

“What do you want, Sei’naka?” Suki, the ever protective companion that she is, lifts her chin up, facing the diva. “Your little pity group is over there. Why don’t you go and entertain them, as you should.”

Katara places her hand on Suki’s arm gently. When Suki turns to look at her, she indicates with her eyes, not to engage anymore. It’s a terrible waste of time, Katara knows it. And they’re adults now, for spirit’s sake! This is turning out to be petty.

The diva clicks her tongue in mock pity. “And here I thought I was welcome here to catch up with everybody. It’s a damn shame.” She shakes her head.

It’s only then, Katara’s eyes find her. “We have nothing to talk about.”

The diva doesn’t answer. She narrows her eyes just a sliver, a smug smile on her face. Her gaze is intense and sharp, piercing Katara’s soul, making her want to fidget and bury herself into a hole. A long moment of silence passes between them. Katara looks all around, trying to keep herself from losing her sanity and that’s when she notices Ty Lee and Mai standing at either side of the diva.

But then, Azula’s ember like eyes are in her line of vision again, and Katara can breathe no more.

“Nothing at all?”

The diva’s voice is a low drawl, meant only for Katara to hear. Katara’s eyes snap, catching on pretty quickly that the diva is insinuating something far different than what the others around them can perceive. It makes her skin crawl. Especially because she catches on to the exact thing she’s trying to make her pay attention to.

She doesn’t want to think about it. She really does not. But, it’s all her mind can go to. The dusty supply closet. Her splayed open lab coat. Azula’s dark hair under her fingers. Her aching sighs. She can almost smell the air and feel Azula-

Katara breaks herself away from her own little hell-hole. “Nothing except surprise, seeing these two still in touch with you even after all the things you did to them in high school.” She motions at Mai and Ty Lee behind the diva with a single, lazy finger.

Azula pulls her head back, just as Mai ad Ty Lee steal a quick glance at one another.

“They were kind enough to support me when I went through a rough time. You wouldn’t know, would you?” The diva says, with a slight shake of her head.

Katara frowns. THE Azula Sei’naka is capable of uttering words that aren’t inherently mean?! When?! How?!

“Whatever.” Katara sighs, before walking away from the place.

Suki and Ty Lee have been friends over Azula’s back and that led to a series of events that ensued a power struggle through the entire junior year. Katara, as always, had sided with Suki that led to a tense rivalry between her and the diva. Now that Katara thinks back to it, it’s kinda lame, and petty. It was a stupid fight and didn’t really matter anymore.

But that doesn’t mean that she’s over her hatred towards Azula Sei’naka. That girl single-handedly made not just Katara’s but everybody’s life living hell in high-school and she’ll never not hate her for it. But that all came crashing down, that one fateful day in the supply closet. The day Katara can never forget, even if she lives a million years. Even if she dies.

***

Katara finds herself sat at the bar with a freshly made drink in her hand again. It’s loud. Too loud. People are flocking in, along with their plus ones and it’s getting crowded and chaotic, almost like it’s a club party.

Suki, Mai and Ty Lee are chatting in the distance. Well, at least Suki and Ty Lee are. Mai’s just, there. She watches them for a little while, before turning around on the stool to face the makeshift bar counter.

“No plus one?” She hears a voice beside her.

And again, she doesn’t really have to turn her head to know who it is. It’s the same raspy drawl she can recognise anywhere.

“Spirits! You’re everywhere.” Katara sighs, sipping her drink for liquid courage.

Azula slides herself onto the stool right beside Katara, leaning on the counter. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Of what business is it to you?”

When Azula doesn’t answer, Katara looks to her side with a slight frown. She’s taken aback when she finds Azula’s eyes scrutinising her curiously with no mockery in them whatsoever.

“What?”

Azula shrugs. “Nothing.”

It’s strange. So strange. Katara’s never seen Azula behaving this way. Never.

Azula’s gaze falls on the glass in front of Katara and she reaches out to grab the drink, downing it in one gulp. Katara squints her eyes in offence. For a proper, high-end actress, Azula’s lack of manners is still astonishing.

“Are you for real?” Katara asks, disgusted with her behaviour.

“I could’ve fixed you your own drink, Zula.” Katara startles as the bartender speaks up from behind the counter. “You didn’t have to trouble her like that.”

"But where's the fun in that, Zuzu?" Azula replies, a smug smile on her face.

Katara watches on, confused. Then suddenly, it clicks. Her eyes widen ever-so-slightly as she looks at the bartender again.

Zuko Sei'naka.

Azula's brother. He was their senior, before he graduated the class of '07. But how his sister went on to become a rising, talented actress and he's standing here bartending, Katara will never know.

"Stop being mean." He says, wiping the counter clean. Then he moves away to the back, leaving Katara and Azula alone on the other side.

The raging party around them, drowns Katara in her thoughts. She almost forgets that Azula’s right beside her, until she hears her talk.

“What?” Katara leans towards her, not hearing her over the din.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Azula leans a bit closer too, raising her voice a little.

Katara gives her a curious look, not really sure if she’s being serious. They’re not the kind of girls who have a girl’s night out just for the sake of it. Hell, they were rivals during their high-school years, picking up petty bickering whenever they can. It’s no surprise that they don’t even have each other’s number. All the interactions they’ve had before this evening were purely superficial (well, except for that one time, of course, but Katara doesn’t like to count that as an interaction). So, she can’t really be blamed for her astonishment when such a proposition is kept in front of her by THE Azula Sei’naka.

The Azula Sei’naka who broke their friend group. The Azula Sei’naka who jabbed her with insults and trolls whenever she spotted Katara in the school hallways. The Azula Sei’naka who lit Katara’s project on fire and made it up as an ‘accident’.

But it’s the same Azula Sei’naka who kept Katara’s sexuality a secret when she didn’t expect her to. It’s the same Azula Sei’naka who made her feel things she didn’t know she could feel – both mentally and physically. It’s the same Azula Sei’naka who made her shiver and shudder and-

Katara gulps. “W- Where?” She asks, voice unsure and unstable.

The glint in the diva’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “Somewhere that isn’t a room full of noise pollution.” She says before getting up. “You coming?”

Katara isn’t sure. This is turning out to be not what she had expected at all. All she wanted was a peaceful night, catching up with her friends. But, this ain’t it. She eyes the diva incredulously, not really certain if she’s genuine or wants to secretly murder her in an alleyway or something. But, she already feels like dying, so murder doesn’t seem that deadly or far-fetched either. She looks at Azula’s expectant eyes and immediately comes to a decision. She doesn’t know why.

She huffs out a short breath before pushing herself up and away from the bar stool. “Alright.”

***

It’s still early for the night, but the winter hangs over them, darkness engulfing the world quicker and Katara wishes she was wearing something thicker instead of her thin strapped, azure-blue, crystal, flowing dress. She looks over at Azula.

The diva had gotten rid of her long robe, and everything underneath revealed a whole different Azula. A short sleeved, red, tank-top that went splendidly with a greenish-blue, high-waist jean. She has a jacket and an overcoat on, wearing the expensive garments like it was second nature to her.

Cold breeze flaps against her dress as she steps out of Azula’s car. The setting sun illuminates the beauty before her eyes. An enormous lake, surrounded by lush, green trees and a winding pathway around it, filled with warm glow from some old-fashioned lamps studded all along, makes Katara reel.

Azula walks around the car and smiles. Katara’s pretty sure people will go to war with her if she ever tells them that Azula’s 32 years old. She looks not a day older than 22. She’s matured, sure, but she still has this young glow over her. The orange sun hits the diva’s eyes and it glimmers with rare elegance. And that’s when Katara knows that the diva’s career choice fits her perfectly.

A faint murmur of people already present at the lake reaches Katara’s ears. It’s a welcome distraction from the crowded party hall and the ever increasing vision of Azula’s lips in front of her. She clears her throat and hugs her arms, averting her gaze to the glassy mass of water.

Katara becomes suddenly aware of a slight problem though.

“Is it safe for you to be out in public like this?” She questions, worry creasing her forehead.

Azula shrugs, locking her car and starting to walk. “As long as they don’t recognise me, we’re good.”

Katara follows right behind. “Are you sure? You don’t even have your bodyguards around-”

“I’m not that big of an actress, STEM. We’re good. But it’s cute to see you worry about me.”

“I’m not-” Katara’s taken aback, not by the bluntness of Azula’s statement, but by how right she is. And even after all these years, she still calls her STEM. Katara doesn’t know what to make of it.

Azula laughs softly. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walk a short distance to step into the path running along the circumference of the lake. It’s silent between them, unsaid words and tensions taut on Katara’s shoulders, waiting to fall off any moment.

It’s Azula who speaks first. “You got into medical school?”

The question startles Katara. She glances to her side briefly before nodding. “It was tough. But, yes.”

“Tough how?”

The genuine curiosity hanging heavily in Azula’s tone makes Katara frown in confusion.

“You really wanna hear about all the tests and preparations I went through to get into medical school?”

“If it gets you talking, then yes.”

The frown gets deeper on Katara’s face. She abruptly stops walking, not really sure whether to keep going, or run like crazy cuz, Azula’s being somewhat cordial towards her and it’s genuinely making her question her whole existence, getting scared for her life as this is turning out to be every horror movie’s beginning.

“Sei’naka, what’s going on?” She questions.

Azula looks back from where she’d walked forward without noticing that Katara’s left behind. She stops too, fully turning around to stand before Katara. “What?”

“This-” Katara begins, not really sure how to articulate what she’s feeling.

Azula steps closer to her. “What?”

Katara looks up at her for a moment, before gesturing wildly with her hands. “I don’t know! This whole thing! Why are we here?! Why are you being nice to me?! Why are you asking about my life as if you’re my fucking friend?! What’s going on?!” Her voice becomes a little softer. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

A sudden chilly breeze picks up from the lake and drifts to their lithe bodies. Katara hugs her arms instinctively, shuddering.

Katara notices the way Azula’s eyes run over her body, before immediately removing her overcoat and wrapping it around Katara’s shoulders in one smooth motion. The blue-eyed woman is instantly hit with warmth and Azula’s intoxicating scent, without warning. It makes her head go dizzy, her body tingling and buzzing. Azula grabs the collars of the coat and pulls it close in front of Katara’s chest, wrapping her up like a giant burrito. Katara’s stunned into silence, and she’s not really sure why. Maybe it’s the sudden proximity.

“I’m not the same person I was years ago, Katara.” The diva’s saying and Katara can’t hear it over the loud cacophony of feelings rushing over her. “That little idea you have of me in your head? Throw it out.”

Azula motions with her eyes to continue walking, and Katara can’t help but obey.

She pulls the collars closer together around her body, basking in the warmth that it provides. She involuntarily begins to breathe deeper, not really realising that she’s doing it for the sweet scent.

They walk for a little while in silence.

Katara can’t help but notice the pretty glow of the lamps as they pass each one. It fills her with an uncharacteristic feeling. One that makes her want to cherish this moment forever in the fear of it disappearing suddenly.

Azula leads them both to an empty bench at the edge of the lake. The chirping of birds coming home has died down a little, giving rise to owl hoots and cricket trills. The sun’s set completely, and the light of the lamps bounce off of the peaceful lake. They sit, basking in serenity.

Katara’s the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Azula silences her. “I understand why you’d think that way. In fact, I’m the one who should be making an apology. I’ve been a complete asshole to all of you. I know my age doesn’t really excuse my behaviour, but I truly am sorry for all the things that happened during our childhood.”

Katara can do nothing but blink, hanging her jaw to the floor.

This is like some kind of fabrication her brain’s desperately making up, trying to paint Azula as a better, decent human being. But, no! The coat is still warm around her and she can still smell that damn intoxicating smell. Surely, you can’t feel and smell stuff in dreams, right?

“I- I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t have to accept my apology right away, STEM.” Azula’s perfectly manicured fingers raise up. “I know it’ll be hard for you to do that.”

Is it hard, though? Katara can’t help but wonder. All her life, she’s been living in this mental image of Azula Sei’naka being top of the food chain, preying on everybody else. But to think that her image’s been wrong for over a decade, stuns Katara.

“Okay. But I need some time.” Katara hesitates. “It’s not like we’re going to meet again after tonight.”

Even in this dimly lit setting, Katara can still see Azula’s face fall. “Right.”

Silence falls between them again, and the blue-eyed woman is determined not to elongate it any further. “Getting my application accepted was hard. But they eventually did and I was the happiest girl on the planet.”

Azula perks up. “Medical school?”

Katara smiles. “Yeah.”

“Tell me more.”

“Well-”

“OH MY GOD IT’S AZULA SEI’NAKA!!” A woman’s screech echoes through the open lake and both Azula and Katara jump out of their skins.

Wide blue eyes meet annoyed golden-brown and panic sets in.

“I swear, they have like a seventh sense or something.” Azula grumbles before taking Katara’s hand in hers. “Quick, before a crowd settles here.”

They get up in a flash, rushing towards the direction of Azula’s car. Katara’s pretty sure she’ll never get over the feel of her hand in Azula’s.

***

The first thing that Katara notices is the delicious warmth. And only after that does she lay her eyes on the expensive furniture laid out in Azula’s mansion as she steps in through the door. It’s huge. Katara’s entire house can fit into Azula’s living room. And yet, she doesn’t feel intimidated. They had been laughing when they arrived and the mirth dies down on Katara’s face and a look of complete awe replaces it.

“Wow.” She breathes.

“I know, right?” Azula smiles behind her.

Blue eyes scan the entire space. “Beautiful.”

Golden eyes never leave Katara. “Yes.”

Katara turns around in a flash. “You could at least try and be humble.”

Azula just chuckles.

The over coat’s still around Katara’s shoulders.

“Drink?”

“Just water.” Katara replies, making herself comfortable on the huge couch. The whole house seems abandoned. For such a star, this seems to be such a lonely life to lead.

A few seconds later Azula hands her a glass. She takes a big gulp, before setting it down on the table set low in front of her.

“Remember that one guy who always had to skateboard everywhere, even into the classrooms?” The diva asks, sitting down beside Katara.

Katara almost chokes on her water, remembering it. She swallows hurriedly before speaking. “One time, he literally ran over my foot and didn’t even apologise!”

“The nerve!”

“Oh, please! As if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

Azula pretends to think for a while before nodding. “You know what? I would have.”

Both of them share a giggle.

Silence falls between them again, making them sober up from their laughter.

“Hey.” Katara says after a while.

“Hm?”

“You mentioned earlier about a rough time you went through . . .”

Azula’s gaze falls on her. “Yeah . . .”

Katara pauses for a moment. “I mean . . . If you’re not comfortable talking about it-”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Azula sighs. “I went through this whole psychotic phase triggered by my mother leaving and my father being a bitch about it . . .” She notices Katara’s expectant glance and continues. “Long story short, I got over it by contacting Mai and Ty Lee again. I don’t why I contacted them of all people, but maybe it was the child in me reaching out to the happy days with them again or something. And . . . here I am.”

Katara’s eyebrows knit together. “Wow . . . I . . .”

Azula lets out a dry chuckle. “My brother and I coped in different ways. But we coped, and that’s what’s important.”

Katara nods.

She moves closer to Azula on the couch, with the intent of comforting her. She reaches out a hesitant arm, not really sure if she’s allowed to do it. The diva’s waiting, looking at Katara’s hand with a strange expression that she can’t decipher.

When a few seconds pass with Katara not progressing even a bit, Azula chuckles again, shaking her head. “You’re bad at this.”

The blue-eyed woman huffs out a breath and her arm falls limply on the couch. “You need not add fuel to the fire.”

“Comforting people isn’t my strong suit either. But I learned from the best. Here, let me demonstrate.”

Katara’s heart stops when pure warmth moves from one side of the couch to sit right next to her in one fell swoop. She watches on with bated breath and deer like eyes. The diva’s arms open up wide, inviting her. Katara stares at her open arms for a long moment. “W- What am I looking at?”

Azula rolls her eyes. “You’re supposed to hug, silly.”

“Oh.” She leans forward, not really opening her arms for a hug, but purely intent on just, going with the flow. She’s hesitant at first but then, when she sees that Azula means no harm, she allows herself to fall completely.

Azula’s arms instantly wrap around her, like a second over coat. It’s crazy how Katara can feel her heat even over the enormous coat. It’s like she doesn’t even need it anymore. She’s tense for a bit, but relaxes rapidly as she understands how comfortable this is.

“See?” She hears Azula’s voice vibrating near her ear. A hand wraps around her waist and pulls her forward to make her lean on the sturdy chest, more comfortably, and Katara just short-circuits. “This is comforting.”

“I’m pretty sure this is called cuddling.” Katara mumbles out from underneath layers of clothing and warmth, half buried and half trying to hide the faint red of her cheeks.

The laugh that ensues, emerges from deep within the diva. Like an earthquake waiting to spill. “Well, in that case-” She says, before removing her arms from Katara’s lithe body and moving back.

Katara whines almost immediately. She wasn’t even aware that she did it until she hears Azula’s confused, “What?” above her.

“Don’t!”

“Don’t what? I thought you didn’t want to-”

“I never said that!”

Azula pauses for a moment. “Okay, then . . .”

Katara feels the warmth of Azula’s hands returning back to her and she instantly feels at ease.

It’s crazy, really. If you’d gone back in time and told a teenage Katara that she’d be cuddling with THE Azula Sei’naka, she would’ve probably slapped you across the face. But things are different now. Things are blurry and grey and somehow also ruminant and luminous. Almost like Azula’s singlehandedly slurring a clear pond.

“Remember that one time you wore heels to class?” Azula murmurs against her hair.

Katara nods, or at least tries to. “I would’ve tripped and ate dirt if you didn’t . . .” She lifts her head up slightly, looking into soft golden-brown orbs, “If you didn’t catch me.”

She doesn’t know what comes over her. Maybe it’s the alcohol still in her system. Maybe it’s the quiet of the night. Maybe it’s the rush of feelings at the old memory. Maybe it’s their proximity. Maybe, just maybe it’s the look Azula’s giving her. She isn’t quite sure. But the next thing Katara knows, she’s reaching her head up closer to Azula and capturing the actress’ lips in a soft, hesitant kiss.

It only lasts a second, before Katara pulls back, reeling at the feeling. A slight sense of panic settles in her heart, her mind racing to the possible things that could go wrong, and if this was a bad idea. But the smile that paints Azula’s face slowly, pulls her back to reality. It’s a huge risk, Katara knows that. And yet it’s something she’s willing to take.

“Remember when we did that?” Katara asks softly, searching golden orbs for something that she herself isn’t sure of.

Azula exhales in a rush. “Maybe if you do it again, it’ll come back to me.”

Katara lands a slap on Azula’s chest in mock anger. “Asshole.”

The giggle that erupts from the diva’s chest instructs Katara to feel it more. She moves impossibly closer to Azula, eyes staying locked on her, heart thundering away inside her bruising chest. She feels like a teenager again, head giddy and giggly.

“Remember when I did this?” Azula gushes, immediately before dipping her head down and placing an open-mouthed kiss on Katara’s soft neck.

“Azula!” Katara gasps, her eyes shutting close involuntarily.

And Azula’s hot breath is against her ear. “I love how you say my name.”

Katara shudders. She’s rarely called Azula by her name before. She simply did not see the need to do it, as people often knew whom she’s referring to without even the mention of her name. This is probably the second time this has happened. The first time, well, Katara would blush beet-red just thinking about it.

Azula’s skin is unfathomably soft. Her gentle hands scout Katara’s tan skin, before pulling her own coat away from the healer’s delicate shoulders. Katara shivers at the sudden hit of cold air, but then, Azula’s mouth is upon her shoulders, enveloping her in pure heat.

“Azula . . .” She’s whispering. Maybe she’s whining, she doesn’t really know. But it’s all she can say right now.

When Azula looks back up, Katara knows exactly what’s supposed to happen now. And she does just that. Their lips crash in sync for a bruising kiss, hands desperately trying to pull each other as close as possible. It’s aching and urgent now, kinda like how it was all those years back in their school’s supply closet.

It’s insane how the same kind of energy is buried within them even after all these years.

They get up in a hurry, making their way to Azula’s master bedroom, stumbling and crashing into random stuff along the way. When they finally make it, it only takes Azula a fraction of a second to push Katara to her back on the bed.

When the clothes come off, Katara feels Azula’s eyes on her, drinking in the luscious sight, hungrily raking her gaze everywhere, unashamedly.

“I can’t believe you’re here, in front of me right now.” The actress is saying, climbing on to the bed, to sit right in between Katara’s legs. She loops her arm around Katara’s waist and lifts her up, pulling her close. The motion causes the healer to land right on Azula’s lap, her leg wrapping around the actress’ sides.

The noise that escapes Katara is sent straight from hell.

The only coherent word out of the healer’s throat is, “Azula . . .” and everything after that, becomes a pure, warm, fuzzy, mesh of feelings and desires that she didn’t even know needed satiation.

***

Katara’s fingers trace soft lines over Azula’s bare chest. Their bodies are entangled in a way that has Katara unable to differentiate between her limbs and Azula’s. It’s quiet and serene, with only their breaths for company.

“Azula . . . ?”

“Hm?” The actress is barely awake, exhaustion from their long list of satisfying activities creeping into her system.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

Katara hesitates. She looks up lazily at golden-brown orbs that are half closed. “No one’s ever . . .” she pauses, “done that.”

Azula’s eyes fly open when her brain registers what Katara’s talking about. “No one’s ever gone down on you?!”

The healer flinches a bit, guilt rushing over her system. She shakes her head, ashamed.

“Oh Agni!” Azula exclaims softly, noticing Katara’s reaction. She sits up a little, properly looking at the healer. “Why are you sorry for it?!”

Katara averts her eyes to Azula’s chest, unable to look at her anymore. “Well, you know . . .” she shrugs, “I’m inexperienced, and . . . it’s not something I’ve ever explicitly asked for or anything-”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“It’s fine, Azula. I don’t deserve it any-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Azula’s voice is stern and firm. “Oh, you beautiful piece of shit . . . do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

Katara blinks. “What?”

Azula huffs. “Do you know how many days and nights I’ve spent thinking about doing that to you but was unable to?”

“Azula, what are you-”

“And here you are telling me that you don’t deserve it?! Hello?! What in the whole world-?!”

“Please, calm down.”

“No, STEM, you need to understand. It’s a crime that no one’s ever gone down on you!”

“Well, most of the people I’ve been with told me that-”

“Most of the people you’ve been with are jerks. You have no idea of how wonderful you are!”

Katara blinks at Azula’s outburst, wide-eyed and astonished.

“You deserve everything good and to think that they were stupid enough to make you think that you aren’t good enough for it just-”

She gets cut off with Katara’s mouth planting itself heavily on hers in a searing kiss. Azula’s stunned.

When Katara pulls apart, she has this seductive look on her face that makes Azula’s insides go bananas.

“Prove it then. You don’t have to keep thinking about me anymore. I’m right here. So, prove to me that I’m good enough.” Katara’s breathing against Azula’s face and that’s enough for Azula to roll on top of her, intent on securing round 2.

***

okayyyyy this has been sitting and steaming for a LONG time now and i didn't wanna keep you waiting anon, i'm so sorry.

hope you enjoyed this!!

[goodlucktai]

find another guiding light

rise of the tmnt pairing: don & leo, don & raph, don & mikey word count: 4k title borrowed from dear reader by t swift pre&post-movie

read on ao3

x

“What the hell are we gonna do about Leon?” Donnie says one day when both his older brother and his twin are gone from the lair on a two-man training run that is almost certainly going to end in disaster.

He doesn’t know why he says it. He certainly isn’t expecting any answer that isn’t just an annoyed groaning sound, because what other answer even is there?

But Mikey replies, “You mean how self-destructive he’s been lately?” and it puts Donnie fully on the back foot.

“What?” Donnie says blankly.

“Is that not what we’re talking about?”

“I mean—I guess—I wouldn’t have called it that,” Donnie says, but now that he’s saying it he’s not sure.

Mikey snorts. The sound is humorless. “What else would you call it? Running around throwing himself face-first at every bad guy we find without waiting for back-up, refusing to hang back and come up with a plan even though it used to be his favorite part of a mission, not listening to anybody about anything—it’s like he forgot what self-preservation even is.”

Donnie is thinking really hard and really fast, looking at the last few months through this new lens.

Leo’s their self-proclaimed face-man, but he’s also the idea guy. Donnie is an outright genius when it comes to science and engineering and everything in between, but his twin isn’t stupid. Leo is as clever and Machiavellian as any storybook trickster, and tactics come as easily to him as breathing.

He’s always been the one to suggest a plan, to guide his brothers back on track, to keep them from getting in over their heads. The only times he and Raph ever used to butt heads was when Leo had an idea more stealth than smash.

Donnie would never admit it out loud but Leo’s had those qualities since they were kids. He’s charismatic and charming, a theater kid at heart with the modified genetics of a super soldier and a mind every bit as bright as Donatello’s, even as it twists and turns down other avenues. It made sense that he’d be shoehorned into a leadership role as he got a little older. Leo is the type of person who would be thrilled to captain the crew.

So then why did Leo do a complete 180?

And Mikey made another point, too, whether or not he knows it. If Leo was just being a huge jerk outright, Dr. Delicate Touch would have made an appearance by now and shut that shit down hard. But the fact is, Dr. Feelings has taken point on this one—and if there’s one thing Donnie’s learned the hard way, it’s that Mikey in feelings mode is usually the right one to listen to.

Mikey is watching his pastries rise in the oven. Donnie can see his expression reflected in the glass door. It’s flattened out into plain worry.

“He never tells us any of the important stuff,” the youngest Hamato says, tone uncharacteristically bitter. “He just goes on and on about things that don’t matter until we’re distracted, and it works every stupid time.”

“Leo’s always been that way,” Donnie interjects half-heartedly. “You can’t come at him head-on about stuff or he clams up. You gotta go in a series of annoying, convoluted circles to get to the heart of the thing. He’s literally the creature in the middle of the labyrinth.”

Mikey points at Donnie, as if to say ‘you got me there.’ “And that’s exactly why I don’t think Raphie’s method is helping.”

It’s obviously something he doesn’t want to admit. Mikey is his brothers’ number one fan and cheerleader first, person second. He bites the inside of his lip and starts twisting his fingers in a manner that promises to be painful. Donnie digs into the pocket of his hoodie and shoves one of his own mesh and marble fidget toys across the table at him. It’s an obnoxious lime green color and it makes Mikey smile involuntarily. He twists the toy instead and Donnie falls back into his train of thought running at roughly mach ten.

Raph’s method of confronting anything is head-on. That’s just the type of guy he is—steady and solid and unflinching. And they all depend on him the way most other people probably depend on the sun to rise every morning. Donnie literally does not know how they would make it a single day without Raphael, and prefers not to think about it.

But that also means that Raph and Leo can be like oil and water. And suddenly, the ‘A Team’’s constant bickering and late-night shouting matches and cold shoulders makes more sense.

“I don’t know what to do,” Mikey admits, this empathetic powerhouse with more emotional intelligence in one finger than Donnie has in his whole body. It’s incredibly disheartening to hear. “So for now I just want Leo to know that someone’s on his team.”

Whatever else he might have said is cut off by the familiar electric snap of a portal opening near the turnstiles, and then a second later Raph and Leo materialize in the lair, mid-roof-raising-argument.

Raph is carrying Leo carefully through the living room. There’s blood on his hands, enough to make Mikey suck in a breath from his station in front of the oven. Right away, the facts come together in Donnie’s brain: Leo got hurt.

What looks like all the bandages from the medkit on his waist are wrapped around his arm. Whatever happened, it was bad enough to push out those stress lines around Raph’s eyes and mouth, bad enough that he still hasn’t set Leo on his own two feet, like he might be able to undo all the pain if he just keeps holding him. But Leo is doing what Leo always does, hiding whatever he’s actually feeling behind a smarmy grin and a smart-ass attitude, and Raph’s fear and worry and love have coalesced into something huge and ferocious that sounds a lot like anger.

Now Donnie knows what to look for.

“—what happens when you don’t listen!” Raph snaps furiously. “God, Leo, it’s like you don’t even care!”

“Why should I? Look where it’s gotten you!”

Something darts through Mikey’s eyes that makes Don want to snap at something.

“Leo,” he says, his flat tone cutting through the fight like a souped-up soldering iron through the cheap components of a certain rat’s ancient CRT TV (not that he would know), “you’re still bleeding.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Raph and Leo both look down at the slider’s arm. Red is blooming across the crisp white gauze. Mikey makes a wounded noise. Right away, Leo clambers out of Raph’s arms with a joke to make their youngest feel better—“It’s okay, Miguel, you should see the other guy!”—and Raph’s getting heated again at the apparent flippancy, and god, it never fucking ends, does it?

Leo is retreating further and further into this new character that doesn’t care about himself or anybody else, and it’s happening right before Donnie’s eyes. He’s already slinking away, out of the warmth and light of the kitchen, away from his family

Donnie realizes abruptly that there is a non-zero chance he might lose his twin brother. That one day he might wake up and not know Leo anymore.

He stands up, chair screeching behind him.

“Lesser twin, with me.”

Leo opens his mouth to try to get out of it, but that’s not going to happen. Donnie’s not having it. With the way their bodies work—ninpo and genetic modifications and yokai-isms, oh my—if it’s still bleeding, it needs stitches. And Leo, self-made team medic, ought to know that.

He gives Leo a look that says Remember when Taylor Swift’s Folklore album came out and you performed the entire thing in my lab and I swore I didn’t record you? I one-thousand-percent recorded you.

Leo’s look back succinctly says You motherfucker.

But he falls in next to Donnie without another word, a move that probably bewilders their brothers into next year. He definitely isn’t happy about it. He’s still prickly and defensive. It seems like he’s waiting to get ganged up on.

Raph starts to follow them and Donnie says, “I got it.” He shoves Leo a step ahead of him, putting his own body between him and Raph like a wall. It doesn’t feel good to do it. He chooses cowardice and doesn’t look back at whatever Raph’s expression looks like as a result.

Behind them, ever-reliable Mikey jumps in immediately with a bright, “You can help me with the cupcakes, Raph! We’re doing cream-filled red velvet!”

In the infirmary, Donnie points Leo toward a cot. Leo rolls his eyes and hops up to sit on the edge of it. He starts unwinding the gauze from around his arm agreeably enough, wincing a bit when the final layer sticks and comes away with a painful pull.

Don’s stomach swoops unpleasantly at the sight of the torn skin. It’s definitely not the worst he’s seen—they’ve taken worse damage flubbing skateboarding moves on the half-pipe—but it’s still not nice to look at. He takes a moment to swallow hard, then asks, “What happened?”

“Typical oozesquito shenanigans,” Leo says off-handedly. “Alley cat? Adorable. Mutated yokai alley cat? Not as much.”

Donnie grimaces sympathetically. “Claws or teeth?”

“Teeth. Hey, do you think we can get rabies?”

“I can’t wait to find out.” Putting rabies vaccinations at the top of his mental to-do list, Donnie gestures with a sweep of his arm at the infirmary. “This is your domain, Nerdo. Where’s the stuff I need?”

“You know I don’t actually need an assist. Like you said, my domain.”

“Wow that’s a super interesting non-answer to my question.”

With a dramatic, put-upon sigh, Donnie’s little brother points him in the right direction and says, “Steri-strips are in the top left cabinet.”

Immensely grateful he wasn’t directed towards the suture needles or the skin stapler, because as willing as he is to help it really doesn’t take much for Vomitello to make a guest appearance, the softshell rummages through Leo’s meticulously organized industrial-tool-chest-turned-medical-supply-cabinet, triumphantly coming up with a pack of adhesive bandages and some antiseptic wipes after a moment.

He pushes the wheeled stool over with his foot and it bounces gently off Leo’s knee, shuddering to a stop just in front of him. Leo tries to kick it as Donnie sits down and nearly succeeds, giggling like a menace when Donnie staggers and almost eats it face-first on the floor.

“Okay,” Don says loudly, not actually as annoyed as he’s trying to sound. “Arm.”

“Donald, seriously, I got it.”

“Leonard, seriously, I will upload that T Swift footage today.”

Leo mimics him with all the maturity of a three-year-old but ultimately surrenders his arm. He looks tense and uncomfortable the whole time, like he’s forgotten how to let someone this close.

And Donnie thinks about what Mikey said in the kitchen, about wanting Leo to know he had someone on his team. He thinks about how things were a year ago, when that would have gone without saying.

It doesn’t take long to wipe down Leo’s arm and press the steri-strips over the wound. Then Donnie sits next to him on the cot. Neither of them speak up right away. They can both tell this is going to be a Moment, and Donnie, for one, is bracing himself. He gets the feeling that he really, truly, can’t fuck this one up.

“I know something’s percolating in that abstruse brain of yours,” he finally says. “So talk. But do me a favor and skip over all the posturing and trying to convince me nothing’s going on and lying right to my face, okay? I don’t know how much time we have before Mikey kicks the door in and drags us to a TED talk.”

It’s as much of a threat as it needs to be. Grudgingly, like he’s prying each word up out of the mud, Leo mutters, “I want dad to take it back.”

Donnie wants more than anything to shake Leo until all of his secrets fall out of his mouth and Donnie can sweep them away to a safer place. Like an encrypted folder on his computer. But he can’t do that, so he has to settle for—ughh, patience.

It pays off. Leo admits, in the safe, familiar space of his infirmary, that he doesn’t want to be team leader. He doesn’t want things to change. His crooked, cooked-up scheme is to just—fuck up over and over again until papa decides Leo can’t be trusted with that mantle that rightfully belongs to Raph.

Donnie understands him. Of course he does. He hates change, too. It makes him feel itchy and restless. He likes knowing what to expect. He likes when everything is in the same place he left it.

If Leo wanted to be the leader, he’d be good at it. As long as he doesn’t want to, he won’t be. So it’s a scheme—Donnie can get behind that. He knows whose side he’s on. It’s the side he’s always been on, since the day he read the definition of “twin” out of a water-logged dictionary. It’s his job to be here. Leo’s kind of an idiot for expecting him to be anywhere else.  

“Not a bad hypothesis,” Donnie says, pressing their shoulders together. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Leo’s face split in an honest smile. “It’d probably work a lot better for you if you’d let Raph in on it, you know.”

“Please, are you kidding?” Leo scoffs. “As if he’d ever play along. Half the time I think he must hate me. I stole his job and now I’m not even doing it right.”

Are we talking about the same person? Donnie wants to demand. Raphael, the guy who carried you home not even twenty minutes ago? The guy who’s always carried you?

He doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “Let me handle Raph.”

Back in the kitchen, the cupcakes are filled and in the process of being frosted. Mikey’s going all out, piping bag in hand, an assortment of edible decorations spread across the counter. Raph is gamely assisting to the best of his ability, even though his big fingers make it more of a task than it rightly should be. They both glance up when Donnie and Leo come in.

“Hey, your timing is as suspiciously convenient as always,” Mikey says cheerfully. “I need to take some pics for my Insta but after that you better come eat some of these.”

“Everything good?” Raph asks gruffly.

“Todo esta bien, hermano,” Leo says, breezing inside like he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes unloading his fear of failure and inadequacy, as well as his certainty that the big brother he admires so much doesn’t like him anymore. “It smells like magic in here! Michael, we gotta get you a sponsor or something. The world needs to experience this.”

Mikey laughs and passes Leo a piping bag. “Raphie’s working on a rainbow sprinkle unicorn cupcake over there, and you’ll never guess who that one’s for.”

The surprise that darts across Leo’s face hurts to look at. His eyes drop down to the lopsided multi-colored creation taking shape under Raph’s clumsy hands. He looks more vulnerable in that moment than he has since the day dad unceremoniously turned everything they knew upside down.

“Raph, I need to talk to you,” Donnie says loudly because he’s about to get mad and do something he’ll probably regret, like put his fist through the projector in the TV room. “Chop-chop. The sprinkles can wait.”

“The sprinkles cannot,” Mikey and Leo chorus at the same time in exactly the same tone like the freaks of nature they are. Raph makes the right choice and escapes their company, following Don down the tunnel toward his corner of the lair.

“Okay, focus up,” Donnie says the second the reinforced door is closed behind them.  “We’re getting your old job back.”

He understands why the infirmary gave Leo the courage to talk. His lab does the same for him. It’s like Mikey’s kitchen, Raph’s dojo—they each have a place that makes them feel their best.

“Wait, what?” Raph looks bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“The leader schtick, Raphala, keep up please. Leo’s going to keep sabotaging himself at full-speed until papa sees the light and demotes him. I’d like to see that happen before he breaks all of the bones in his body.”

Raph’s brow furrows beneath his mask. “Hang on, is that what he’s doing? I thought he just—didn’t care.”

Donnie gives that remark the deeply unimpressed look it deserves. “Right. Leonardo Hamato, the guy who started teaching himself field medicine when he was eight years old after you sprained your ankle and he cried for two hours because he didn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t care.”

He kind of feels bad for dumping this on Raph the way he has, but honestly. They’ve been stuck in place for months now, and Mikey’s been on edge constantly with all the fighting, and Leo’s going to get himself killed trying to prove something no one else believes, and Donnie can feel something toothed and tender coming alive inside his chest, trying to bite and claw and fight its way out.

Leo’s afraid you hate him, he doesn’t say, but he wants to. Leo’s scared all the time now. Of course he’s been acting like an asshole, when’s the last time he actually told somebody he was scared?

Donnie’s the fixer. He wants to fix this. If Raph would just get on board, maybe he’ll be able to.

“If Leo wanted to be the leader, we would have heard about it one million times every single day since he was four, ” Donnie says plainly. “The fact is, we haven’t. Draw your own conclusion.”

“But he’d be good at it,” Raph says, his tone blank with surprise and a total lack of comprehension. “That’s why dad gave him that role in the first place. I was always supposed to be the placeholder while Leo grew up. And now if he’d just put in the effort—if he’d try—he’d be amazing.”

“Okay, and I’d be good at domestic terrorism, but somehow I think you’d frown upon me reaching my full potential there.”

“Donnie!” Raph looks scandalized, like the NSA might be listening in. Puh-lease.

“Look,” Donnie says. He has no idea why he’s the one fielding these feelings talks, but he gives it his best shot. It’s probably not fair to shovel it onto Mikey’s shoulders all the time anyway. “You’re not a placeholder anything. Don’t say that. You’re our leader. We’ve always followed you. If we didn’t want to, we wouldn’t. Especially Leo. He’s a nightmare person. He’s never done a single thing he didn’t want to do. He was happy being your right-hand man.”

The snapper stares at him. His eyes are all dewy, and Donatello prays to any imaginary higher power that might be listening that he won’t cry, because Donnie becomes absolutely useless in all directions the second his siblings cry.

Miraculously, Raph smiles instead.

“Okay,” he says. “Raph’s listening. Loop me in.”

Actually talking about stuff changes everything—who knew?

It’s like they’ve been stuck in a boarded up room for weeks and someone finally wrestled a window open and let in a fresh breeze. All the stagnant air got swept out and they could finally breathe again.

They’re all playing along now. There are multiple levels to this deception happening all at the same time. Raph and Leo still bicker where papa can hear it, but they’re as thick as thieves at all other times. Raph is the one who makes the final call on a mission, but he makes it a point to hash things out with Leo first, so it’s really their final call. Donnie watches as Leo learns the ropes without realizing he’s learning the ropes. As Raph teaches the way he probably would have liked for someone to teach him. They meet in the middle, on each other’s team, where they belong.

If Raph is the foundation they build their lives on, Leo is the sky they reach for. Gravity was all out of whack with the two of them at odds. Donnie never wants them to fall out of orbit ever again.

They still lost the key, but it wasn’t anybody’s fault in particular. They were all playing keep-away with it to tick off Hypno and what’s-his-name, and Mikey shouted, “Go long!” and Donnie flubbed the catch. Raph called out, “I got it, I got it!” and Leo took that as a challenge because of course he did and neither of them got it. They were all laughing about it. They had no idea what that stupid key was, how were they supposed to know it was going to end the world?

Casey Jones still came back from a broken future, and Raph still got captured by the Krang, and Leo still stepped up in a big way, accepting the responsibility he never wanted and leading his family forward into certain danger because he had nowhere else to lead them.

And Leo, who knew how to stack the deck in his favor, who had never done a single thing in his life that he didn’t want to do, looked death right in the eye and told it, “I missed on purpose.”

It’s a good thing Mikey came up with that Hail Mary pass in the form of a sunlight-golden portal, because Donnie’s mind went cold. Donnie’s mind went straight back to the plans for a particle accelerator that he’d abandoned when he was thirteen years old. Donnie was fully ready to rip this goddamn universe apart to get his twin brother back.

In the infirmary Leo is happy to see everyone crammed into the room and camped around his bed, and distressingly honest, though that part is largely thanks to the morphine. Donnie puts a firm kibosh on personal questions, as tempting as it is to grill him when he’s all loopy and his constant guard is non-existent.

“I love this song,” Leo mumbles out of nowhere at two o’clock in the morning, two days after the almost-end of the world.

Mikey’s dead to the world and sprawled on Leo’s plastron, because they’ve discovered through trial and error that the immediate weight and warmth of a sibling nearby keeps the panic at bay when Leo wakes up in the dark and doesn’t know where he is right away. Casey is asleep on the other side of the bed, his head pillowed on his arms. Raph and April are in a pile on the other bed, dozing fitfully.

Donnie’s tablet is in his lap but the screen went dark with inactivity an hour ago. He’s been watching his twin sleep, deep in thought. After dinner, he’d asked S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. to play one of Leo’s favorite albums through the speakers, low enough not to wake anyone in the infirmary on its own.

Now, he says, “Yeah, I know, Nardo. I’m going to end up on the DJ blacklist right next to you with all the Taylor Swift music I’ve been forcing everyone else to endure for your benefit.”

Leo smiles. With the deep bruising on his face and neck, it looks more daring than it should, here in his little corner of the world. “Admit it, Tello. You’re a Swiftie.”

“No one will ever believe you,” Donnie says, some weight in his heart beginning to lift the longer Leo looks back at him and sounds like his old self. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Leo replies frankly. “Physical therapy is gonna be a B-word.”

“Thank you for unnecessarily censoring a word we’ve both heard a million times, I appreciate that.” Donnie leans forward, placing his tablet out of the way on a nearby overbed table, and says, “I have a question for you, now that you’re no longer lost in the sauce.”

“I bet it’s gonna suck,” Leo mutters.

“Do you still not want to lead us?” Donnie asks bluntly. “You saved the world, you know. I think it’s fair to say you’ve earned your stripes.”

Leo doesn’t answer right away. He’s drawing idle patterns on Mikey’s carapace with his good hand, staring up at the ceiling with hooded eyes.

“I learned my lesson,” he finally says. “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

Whatever he has to. Donnie relives the moment that portal closed, the moment Leo took his own life in his hands to protect his family, the moment everything that Donnie knew was ripped apart in front of his eyes, and thinks, That’s a dangerous precedent.

“Not what I asked,” Don tells him.

“It’s not about me,” Leo replies tiredly. He’s Donnie’s little brother and he sounds ancient, like he’s lived too much life already.

“I don’t know what the hell that means, but fine,” Donnie snaps. “Then it’s about me. It’s about Raph and Mikey and April and Papa. Junior, even. Everyone who loves you more than life itself. It’s about us.” He stares Leo down, daring him to break eye contact, to make light or make a joke. Donnie will climb into that bed and strangle him and no jury on earth would convict him for it. “And you’re one of us. You’re our family. So it’s about you.”

For once in his life, Leonardo is speechless. He swallows a few times, tightens his grip around Mikey, and darts a guilty look toward Raph.

“I don’t want to do it alone,” Leo admits quietly. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re my other half, dumb-dumb,” Donnie tells him in no uncertain terms. “You could do any crazy, stupid, impossible thing you put your mind to. But,” he adds, because this is important, and it’s something all of his siblings could stand to hear at least a dozen more times until it’s successfully been drilled into their stubborn brains, “you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything. You’re a kid, Leo. We all are. This never should have been our problem to solve.”

Then, because he can’t bear the way his younger twin’s eyes get full and wet, he adds, “Next time a warmongering alien race tries to take over the world, I’ll just do it first.”

Leo laughs out loud, like it was surprised out of him. Raph is stirred awake by the sound, and when he sees Leo’s up, he tries to lunge out of bed so fast that April ends up on the floor. Within minutes, everyone in the room is wide awake and talking over each other and the music is drowned out by all the noise. Not even a full forty-eight hours ago, Leo was trapped in a cold, dark place, where a monster held him down and hurt him—but now he’s here and he’s safe and he can still laugh. It’s a hoarse, wheezy sound, and it’s the best thing Donnie’s heard in days.

He’s got a good feeling about tomorrow.

[localcryptidsteg]

ITS FINALLY DONE

Chapter 2- The Mountain Temple and the Monkey King

Following the golden furred monkey deeper into the jungle, Mk observed two things: first, the corruption seemed to recede before the spirit, just enough to allow he and Mei to follow safely after. Second, it closed in again behind them. There was no going back without the spirit.

Mei was the first to make an attempt at small talk. “So, you know our names.” She didn't finish the thought, tail swishing behind her as she waited for the spirit to pick up. “Mhm! Mei and Mk!” The monkey grinned, darting up a tree briefly to check their surroundings before hopping back down. He didn't respond further.

Mei sighed. “So what's yours?” She snipped. “Oh! Uh... I have a couple of em! My friends call me Sun Wukong, but most people call me... The Monkey King!” He turned with a flourish, posturing proudly with his hands on his hips and looking expectantly at the two...

... Who both just blinked back at him in confusion.

“Aw come on, you guys! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of me! I used to be a huge deal!” The spirit pouted. Mei shrugged. “Sorry, man. There are legends about the two kingdoms that were here, but nothing about actual kings.” Mk nodded in agreement.

The monkey demon grumbled and turned around, going back to leading the little group. “Hasn’t even been that long, ungrateful-!” He muttered under his breath.

“Its been about 300 years, actually!” Mk interrupted. “And nobody who's come here before has ever come back, so it's not like we have a record or anything...”

Mei stopped that train of thought before Mk could spiral into despair, as he was wont to do. “Anyways. What about the other guy? If you're the Monkey King, is he just the Normal Monkey? And no offense but he was dressed a lot more like a king than you are.”

Wukong scoffed. “He's the resident asshole, also the Other Monkey King, but that's NOT important!” he brushed gracelessly over that particular topic, ducking under some vines and holding them up for his companions.

“So it's true then? There really were two kingdoms here at one point?” Mk asked, barely restrained curiousity in his voice. “What happened here?”

Wukong stopped, shoulders falling. “... That’s not my story to tell, bud.” He answered quietly. “Look, I'll explain what I can when we get to the temple, but-” he was cut short by heavy footsteps. “-It's not safe out here!” He half-hissed half-whispered, moving an arm protectively in front of the young spirit guides.

A towering creature made of twisted wood stepped in front of them, wandering the jungle aimlessly. It seemed, for a moment, like it would pass them by, but something made it stop and turn directly toward Wukong. The gold spirit chuckled nervously, tail lashing behind him. “Uh. Hey big guy! Don't suppose you're just gonna let us pass...?”

He was met with a large wooden club being dropped a hair's breadth from his face. “Yeah, that's what I figured, RUN! GO GO GO GO GO!” The Monkey King frantically turned, shoving Mk and Mei ahead of himself. “You're not ready to fight this thing yet, so don't look back!” He urged as the trio sprinted away. The wooden spirit gave chase, only marginally slowed by the flora and terrain.

“WHAT GIVES, MAN? WHAT IS THAT?” Mk screeched hysterically. “What, you’ve never seen a wood knight before? Thought you were a spirit guide, kid!” The monkey shouted back. “Where are we going???” Mei yelled.

“Detour! Don't worry about it!”

The group made a mad dash toward what appeared to be a break in the trees, only to find themselves at the edge of a crumbled cliff face. “Fuck! I swear there used to a bridge here!” Wukong bristled, and thinking fast, grabbed Mk by the wrist. Mei looked like she could handle herself, but Mk was clearly new to all this.

“Ready kid? On three you gotta jump! Aim for that ledge!”

“What??”

“Don't think about it just do it-” The wood knight interrupted him, broaching the treeline “-Now!”

Mk jumped as instructed and Wukong followed. “See? Not so bad, right you two?” The spirit laughed breathlessly, clinging to the rock formation. Mk had already hauled himself to the flat ledge top. Catching his breath he looked around. “... Mei?”

When she didn't respond, his eyes snapped back toward the other ledge. The dragon girl was locked in combat with the creature, and actually seemed to be doing pretty well. She managed to topple it, even, but when she turned to follow the others, a wall of thorns and glowing magenta pustules seemed to errupt from out of nowhere, blocking the way forward.

“Mei!” Mk's voice cracked with worry.

“Im fine, Mk!” The dragon girl's voice floated over the wall in response. “You two go on ahead, I'll find another way around!”

Mk tried to protest but the sound of her footsteps thundering further away told him she wasn’t going to be reasoned with.

Mk looked helplessly between the wall and the Monkey King. Crestfallen, the spirit shook his head. “There's nothing I can do about big patches like that, kid. I'm sorry. I don't think she's coming back.” He scratched at the back of his neck, equal parts disappointed and frustrated.

Mk was silent for a moment before steeling his nerves “... She said she'd find another way around.” He turned to keep moving. “Mei never lies. So I have to believe she'll find another way. We have to keep going.”

Wukong observed the boy silently for a moment, a bit surprised by this new resolve. “Hm.” The spirit nodded. “Alright then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cliffside path to the Mountain Temple was just as corrupted as the jungle had been, at first. But as vegetation grew more sparse, so did the rot. The walk to the temple was spent mostly in solemn silence. Wukong had made it clear he didn't think Mei would survive the jungle, and Mk didn't want to talk about what happened.

It wasn't the most comfortable trek, but the mood shifted a bit as the massive stone temple carved into the side of the mountain came into view around a bend in the path.

“Here we are! Home sweet home! Sorta.” The monkey king turned and finally removed his mask, grinning at Mk.

“You really are a monkey!” Mk blinked in surprise, taking in the face peering back at him. Gold eyes set against a peach-toned marking blinked back. “What, did the tail not give it away?” Wukong's lips curled back over his fangs as he snickered at the boy's shock.

“Well no, I mean- I thought you were like Mei and it was just the tail, or it wasn't literal, or something!”

Wukong just grinned at him.

“Nah! Anyways, we're nearly there, so I should probably warn you about the others! Most of them are fine, but you're going to want to avoid the lion, the pig, and the bull for now, at least until I can show you how to purify the corruption. Lucky you, they don't usually show up unless you go looking!”

“Why? What's their deal?” Mk frowned, curious. He noted that the closer they got to the temple, the more gravestones and statues and little shrines littered the path. They all had worn masks tied to them. “And... how many others are there, anyway?”

Wukong slowed. “Too many. Not nearly as many as there used to be, but still too many. Their deal is the same as the guy you saw me fighting earlier. They're trapped here because they're mad and scared and won't let go.”

He hopped down a crumbled staircase in the path and held out a hand to steady Mk.

“You're not the first spirit guides to show up, kid. Most of them did help, a little. But they all eventually ran up against a spirit that was too much, and paid the price. The ones that are left now are the strongest and most wounded, or the souls who care too much about them to leave behind.”

Mk took the offered hand and hopped down as well. “So, which are you?”

Wukong seemed stunned into momentary silence. He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I suppose I'm the second kind. I can't leave until I know they're all ok.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wukong frowned as they finally made it to the temple. The entrance, clear when hed left, was covered by the same glowing, plant-like corruption the jungle had been covered with. “What on earth-?” He mumbled to himself. “Hey kid, first lesson! Look around and see if you can find some kinda big flower bulb!” He turned to see Mk, who was slowly being circled by little red lights.

The monkey bristled. Found us that fast, did you? He thought to himself.

“Don't panic or anything! Just wait and see what they are!” The ghost instructed the boy. The first of the lights hit the ground and turned into a small wooden creature with an axe. Wukong sighed in relief. Just sprouts.

Mk, who was being menaced with the axe, was significantly less relieved. He knew how to fight, in theory. But fighting was more Mei's thing, and she wasn't here yet.

“Uhhhh... little help?” He yelped, quickly sidestepping a clumsy swing.

“Just whack it real hard with your staff-thingy!” Wukong chirped unhelpfully.

“Can't you help me??” Another dodge out of the way.

“Kid, do I look armed?”

“It didn't seem to stop you from fighting that guy earlier!”

“Yeah but he wasn't armed either. Doesn't count! Besides, best I can do is hold them still or knock them over, now just smack the damn thing!”

Wukong hopped up onto a nearby stone pillar as a second glowing ball lighted on the ground near him and turned into yet another sprout.

It seemed to briefly consider going after Wukong, but decided against it, turning in favor of the easier target. “Mk! Watch your back, kid!”

Mk spun and cracked the new sprout in the head with the end of his staff, sending it flying. “Hey, you got it! That's the idea, kid!” Wukong cheered him on as it finally seemed to click that fighting the little spirits off meant he had to actually fight.

He managed the sprouts easily but when the third light finally joined the fight, it revealed itself to be much bigger. It wasn't too much tougher, but Mk found he actually had to gain distance from it and choose when to attack.

It kept trying to rush him, closing any distance he got. Wukong was actually a bit worried for the human for a moment as he was backed against the edge of the cliff path.

“Back OFF!” Mk ducked a sweeping arm, slamming his staff into the creature's side and letting off a pulse of gold light that shattered the creature. Unfortunately, the force of the blow also split his old, weathered staff.

Mk took a moment to realize it was over.

Meanwhile, Wukong hopped excitedly down from his perch and rushed over to the boy. “You did it! You did it kid! Ha! You really are a spirit guide!” The monkey chirped and chattered enthusiastically.

“What was that?” Mk looked warily down at his broken staff.

“There are deities in the land, bud! As long as you can tap into that energy, you can use them to purify the corruption, that's what happened! Go on, focus, and this time, try to aim it at that flower.” The monkey grinned.

He pointed at a bulb near the rot-covered entryway that opened once the last spirit was beaten.

“But... my staff broke.” Mk held up the two halves of the twisted wood stick. Some chipped crystal fell to the ground.

“You don't need it for something small like this! The staff is just a focus point; it makes life easier, but it's not necessary. But look, if it's really that important I have an extra one laying around somewhere inside the temple. You just have to get rid of that flower and we can go get it!” Wukong's eye twitched impatiently.

“Yeah yeah yeah, ok! I'm goin’! SHEESH!” Mk took a deep breath and approached the flower, focusing and trying to replicate what he did before. It took a few attempts, but he succeeded eventually, and the flower and the thorns and vines blocking the way forward lit up and disintegrated, almost like they were burnt away.

“Nice job, kid! Now come on, let's go find that staff!”

[thegroundsofbrooklyn]

omgomgomg okay. ralbert dickensian era au where albert is the son of a rich family and race is a street kid

so i'm thinking when they're both young, 13 or so, race pickpockets this expensive watch or something from albert's dad and nobody sees him do it except albert

albert has an extremely rocky relationship with his parents and hates how restricted and tied back he feels being forced to live in high society. he has a singular kind-of-friend finch, who's the son of a family friend but is nice to him and seems to understand him. so as he sees this random street boy's hand slip into his father's pocket and pull out the most expensive item he has on him, he meets this kid's eyes and they have suddenly this unspoken moment of solidarity

and this memory follows albert everywhere as he grows up, even though he never sees race again. because the idea that someone who he's always been told he's supposed to scorn and look down on was able to so easily fuck his father over gives him hope that maybe he's not as trapped in this life as he feels.

(also he always remembers the way they seemed to click together when their eyes met. he hasn't ever really been exposed to proper free interaction with other boys, but for some reason this just felt right)

fast forward to when albert turns 18. his parents are sending him to university and on the day he leaves, he has a huge argument with them. so the second he gets off the carriage and arrives at college, he just goes for a walk to clear his head because everything just feels like too much

and as he walks down the street he bumps shoulders with someone who's walking with their head down, and he feels their hand slip into his pocket and grab the pocket watch that his little sister smalls gave him. he yells at the person, but they sprint off before he even gets a chance to see anything except a flash of blond hair. he's heartbroken that he lost this object, and his bad day just got worse.

only that night he hears a knock on his window, and when he goes to investigate he sees none other than the person with blond hair who robbed him earlier, who he suddenly recognises as boy he met all those years ago. race holds out his hand and in it is the pocket watch - he tells albert that he only recognised him after he stole it, so he followed him back to return it. 'i couldn't just leave you, it's been years since that day and i ... i just wanted ...' the 'to see your face again' goes unspoken.

race finds himself knocking on albert's window more and more. he doesn't really mean to, but he can't stop himself from going back again and again and again. both he and albert see a lot of themselves in the other, and as they get closer and closer (and fall in love) it feels like they were made for each other.

unfortunately when the two bullies of the college, oscar and morris, discover albert's relationship with this street boy, they take great delight in letting his father know personally. of course, since this is set when it's set a lot of people are super homophobic, and albert's father is definitely included in that, so he immediately pulls albert out of his university studies and brings him home, giving him a very angry and probably physical telling-off about how he's brought shame upon him. albert knows that if he stays put and goes along with it, he won't ever have agency over his life, so he wastes absolutely no time in locking his bedroom door, grabbing the few things he needs, climbing out the window, and going to find race, before taking him to finch's house, who hasn't seen albert in several years but was always kind and is now able to pass them on to jack and davey, who help them disappear. albert and race are able to escape, running off to a different country where they are able to live privately, finally happy in their lives.

they finally feel like they don't have to run anymore. albert's family erase all record of his connection with them, and he can't really bring himself to care. finch visits albert and race from time to time, and they actually become really good friends. they're safe and happy ... and they all live happily ever after 👍

[ellievalkdraws]

tw child death tw suicide tw child abuse

>Be Jade

You never did pay much attention on these hunting trips, while you did understand that your grandpa wanted for you to get better at your sharp shooting. You much preferred spending your days growing plants in your greenhouse and talking to your friends, but alas you were sent on another one of his hunting trips. In the distance you saw a deer, and your grandpa pointed at it, commanding you to shoot at it. You raised your gun, aimed down the sights, pulled the trigger. BANG. And just a little off, the deer dashed off into the woods. And so the two of you moved on hoping you would get one next time. You got caught up in your own thoughts, thinking of many things such as how there were any deer on this island. You suspect that grandpa brought them here but he always denied it. You were  also wondering how your friends are doing, you could not wait till you could talk to them, but more so you were thinking of prospit and the clouds on skiaia, something had been wrong recently, they had been quite almost as if they were mad. As you come out of your thoughts you realize that you had wandered off. You looked around for him and there in the distance you saw him, rifle aimed high and his back towards you. You start walking towards him. A stick beneath your food. Crack. He turns around fast.

BANG. 

>Be Dave

Ever since you could walk bro had been training you in his sick moves and how to be totally ironic and today was no different. When you had gone to try to play on the xbox he had jumped you swinging his sword down on you, you rolled away doing this old song and dance. It is not one you liked but it is one you did. You hoped to one day get on bros level of cool where you would enjoy it but this is not the day. You go back and forth looking forward to a sword you can use and bro dropped the sword and grabbed your legs swinging you. This has happened before and while it's never fun, you are definitely used to it. This time tho, you felt as you flew, it's a little hard, and as you got closer to the wall time seemed to slow. You're scared. More scared than you have ever been. Splat. You hit the wall and your body is filled with pain, you feel the slight warm blood running down your lip. You look up at your bro, his expression neutral and things go blank.

>Be rose

You were alone again. Your mother was properly in some dusty corner drinking the night away. She had one up on you in the stupid game you two always play. You were mad tonight. You tried to keep up the air of knowing it all and being above all it but honestly you just don't care tonight. You wanted to be seen and loved tonight and you have no idea why you were feeling these emotions so strongly. You wandered the house alone, carefully keeping an eye for your mother but she was nowhere to be seen. You stumbled across the bathroom with its huge imposing doors, as if daring you to come inside. As you stared at the door you know what will get your mother's attention, you opened the door, climbed on the counter and opened the medicine cabinet. You pulled out a bottle, the child lock not even stopping you for a moment. You opened the lid, 1 pill, 2 pills,  3 pills, you went faster. 1 bottle 2 bottles 3 bottles. Most of them did not taste good, your head hurt and your muscles seemed to seize up. You get down from the counter and fall to the ground in pain. Your vision is blurry, and you puke a little, puke mixed with blood lays on the floor. You're so tired, you decided to take a quick nap. You don’t wake up.

>In the dream bubbles

Your stomachs are turning and you three do not know what to think of this. Some many of your alt selves, dead. Many as young children, never even given a chance. With Lord English coming their death would soon happen again, though this time with no afterlife. Rose stands there embarrassed, seeing her alternative self considering she had thought of doing it before, and now proof that she could have stood before her. Jade is horrified she had never put much thought into her grandpa's frankly complete disregard for gun safety and is having second thoughts.  Dave is completely devastated. He knew bro could be bad but this was really bad.

thank you obscenicon for the idea.

[wolviecat]

Not anyone's fault - Wolviecat - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Day 17 of the Febuwhump: Silent tears

This one has a character death, so please, be warned.

It all happened in a second, so fast that they didn't even register it before it was over. One moment, CT-3567 and CT-3571 were fighting. Sparing. They all knew they weren't supposed to do it outside the training sessions, but they all also came to a lesson with bruises and scrapes and black eyes, and no one ever said a word. It was just a way to burn out excess energy. A game. One of the few they knew.

But now, CT-3567 was lying on the ground, face gray and scrunched up in pain, one arm curled around his chest. CT-3571 was hovering over him like a dysfunctional med-droid, babbling nonsensical apologies. He looked like he was about to cry. 

Brothers never cried. That was a natborn thing.

CT-3562 sighed. '71 was always a little too nervous and unsure for a soldier. He jumped down from his bunk and kneeled down next to '67. “Stop freaking out, Dots, he just knocked his winds out of him.” He slid his arm under '67's back. “C'mon, get up, you need to walk it off.”

'67 nodded. He pushed him up.

'67 screamed.

“This sounds bad, Lefty,” whimpered Dots, eyes huge in his pale face: “what if he broke something?” 

“He just knocked his wind out!”

He didn't know why it came out as a shout. Or why his hands were shaking. Dots' nerves were just getting to him. He just needed to focus on '67. He pulled up his tunic, and hissed in shared pain. Brother's ribs looked wrong, crooked, and a huge dark spot was already spreading over them. He swallowed, his throat suddenly too dry.

“It's just a bruise, '67,” he said, keeping his voice steady: “a bit of bacta and you'll be fine.”

The tube they'd stolen from the medbay was almost empty already and smelled a bit off, but it helped enough to get '67 back on his feet. 

It's going to hurt for a couple of days, Lefty was sure, but that was it. Nothing more.

CT-3567 collapsed during their afternoon training. It was hard on all of them, running around in their full kits, in the endless kaminoan rain. But '67 was already falling behind during the day, tired and breathless from even walking around. 

When he'd fallen, Dots was the first one by his side, pulling first '67's and then his helmet off. '67 looked worse than in the morning - breathing in pained little gasps, lips tinted blue. Dots started to unclasp his armor.

“Get back in the formation!” the trainer shouted. He looked down at '67, nudging him with the tip of his boot. “Get up.” '67 moaned weakly, but didn't move. The trainer frowned.

“I said get up!” He pulled his leg back, readying for a much stronger kick. 

“No!”

The trainer turned his head, blinking, almost like he didn't even notice Dots before.

“Please…”

He grabbed 'Dots by his hair and pulled him up. “Please what, CT-3571?”

“Please, don't hurt him,” said Dots, adding a quick sir when the trainer shook him: “he got hurt, but he will be fine, I promise…”

“Got hurt?” the trainer repeated: “By himself? If he's that clumsy, maybe he's not cut out to be a soldier of the Republic.”

“No, sir.” said Dots: “I've hurt him. We were fighting and I hurt him, sir.”

“You?”

Dots noded. The trainer finally let Dots go. His knees cracked on the deck.

“So he's your responsibility now, CT-3571. Don't bother the medbay with it, unless you want him decommissioned right now. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

The trainer smiled.

“The rest of you, stop staring and start running! You have three more laps to finish!”

He left Dots and '67 behind. At that moment, it felt like a mercy.

“Lefty!” 

He turned his face to the pillow, trying to ignore Dots's voice pulling him out of sleep. Maybe he would give up and go annoy someone else.

“Lefty, please, wake up!”

He groaned, opening his eyes. 

“What?”

In the low light of the emergency strips Dots looked awful, tired and scared, light catching on the damp lines under his eyes and nose.

“'67 can't breathe.” 

That was enough to wake him up. 

'67 was sitting at the edge of his bed, head between his knees, breathing fast like he'd just finished running laps around the Tipoca city, wispy hair around his face stuck down with sweat. Lefty touched his forehead, ready for it to burn under his fingers, but '67's skin was cold. A little too cold. 

"Lefty… " '67 sounded young, like a scared 5-year instead of an almost-ready cadet. "what… happened…" He started coughing, curling even tighter on himself. 

Lefty bit down on his lower lip, thinking. They all had some medical training, but nothing more than first aid. Whatever was wrong with '67 was well beyond their knowledge. 

"We have to get him to a medic."

"Didn't you hear the trainer?" yelped Dots: "if we go to the medbay…"

"Not a medbay. A medic." He got up, already rummaging his brain for names. "Hush is bunking on this floor. He’s a nice one, he will help us." Before he ran out of the room, he turned to Dots once more.

“Don’t let him fall asleep.”

Hush sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing. Dots was watching him, wide eyes almost glowing in the dim room, waiting for his next word. ‘67 was lying with his head on his knees.

“I can’t tell much without a better scanner,” Hush said, running his hand through his sleep-messy hair: “but I think it’s haemothorax.” A couple of seconds of silence went by. “One of the broken ribs has nicked his lung and the blood is now pressing down on it.”

“Can you help him?” asked Lefty.

He nodded, then he picked up his bag and started pulling out different instruments and bottles. “I can drain the blood away. That way, his lung should reinflate on its own.” He rolled up ‘67’s tunic, wiping the skin down with a disinfectant. He turned to Lefty. 

“Hold him up. He needs to be upright so the blood can run off.”

Lefty wrapped his arms around ‘67’s chest. He could feel him shivering against him.

Dots closed his eyes, trying to ignore the crunch of the needle piercing his brother’s chest.

It worked.

It took two hours, but ‘67 was finally breathing a little easier. Hush bandaged his chest and left them with a pack of painkillers.

“Try and keep him as calm as possible. No running, fighting or anything, okay.” He sounded resigned. He knew as well as them that there was no way to keep him out of training for long enough to let him heal.

For maybe a week, they believed that it could work out. ‘67 was still tired and in pain, still dead last in anything physical. Second to last, at best - Dots often stayed behind with him, making sure he was safe. The trainers shouted at them, putting them down in front of the other cadets. They ended with all the punishments and demerits they could. But ‘67 was slowly getting better, and that was much more important than Dots’ scores. They weren’t that good to begin with anyway. 

He coughed, and it hurt, but it was better than if that nasty stuff stayed in his lungs.

He wasn’t eating that much, pushing the protein paste around the plate before he gave it to someone else.

He slept a lot, in any free moment, head resting against the wall or on the table or on someone’s shoulder.

It was Lefty who had found him this time, when he hadn’t come for the evening lesson. Pale, shivering, he didn’t even stir when Lefty shook his shoulder. ‘67’s skin was burning against his palm. 

He ran to medics’ quarters half blind, heart beating so high in his throat he was almost choking. “Hush!” he screamed, voice breaking: “‘67 is sick, you have to…”

It wasn’t until now he noticed he was speaking to an empty room.

“...help us,” he finished, dangerously close to a sob.

They’d already been deployed.

Slowly, he walked back to their room.

It took another week, and Lefty had the feeling Dots didn’t sleep for a minute during it. He definitely wasn’t going to the lessons, to training, to the mess hall, showers, anything. Normally, the trainers would send for him the first time he would be late, but it felt like they knew what was going on and were just waiting for the end. Dots was sitting by ‘67’s side, changing the cold cloth on his forehead and neck, giving him water and any food ‘67 was able to eat and antibiotics they’d managed to steal. Lefty tried to make him go to sleep a couple of times, offering to keep watch. Dots always just shook his head.

“I don’t want him to wake up without me.”

There were dark circles like bruises under Dots’ eyes, the little brown spots across his skin suddenly stark.

“‘67 would want you to get sick taking care of him.”

“Beam,” whispered Dots. “He told me. Beam. He wanted to have a name.”

He woke up to a silent room. The labored breathing that was filling it for the last week was gone. Lefty looked up.

Dots was sitting next to his brother’s bed, holding his cold hand, and his shoulders were shaking soundlessly.  

[gaybd1]

Still Hurting: Zuko reflecting on/mourning their failed relationship- he's never going to be able to move on. he takes off his betrothal necklace.

Shiksa Goddess: Sokka falls for Zuko hard and fast (I'm thinking this takes place like right after Boiling Rock) ("I could be in love with someone like you")

See I'm Smiling: Zuko working in the Fire Nation and his husband Sokka comes to visit him, but watch out! Sokka has to get back to the Water Tribe ASAP and do Chief Things. Zuko just knows by now this Isn't Gonna Work, Sokka's maybe still in denial

Moving Too Fast: Sokka decides to stay in the Fire Nation with Zuko after the war! Pretty soon they're sharing a room and publicly dating!

A Part of That: Zuko is in the SWT to visit Chief Sokka and loves his part in this cute little family, but also realizes things in the Water Tribe are a lot happier than the miserable life he's settled into in the Fire Nation

The Schmuel Song: Just fluff. Early years fluff of Sokka and Zuko loving their life together in the Fire Nation. Maybe they're hanging out with Druk or the turtleducks

A Summer in Ohio: This is one of the first Long Separations after Sokka took over as chief and is obligated to be in the SWT so much. Zuko writes to Sokka about how much he misses him and can't wait for him to come back

The Next Ten Minutes: Sokka proposes to Zuko! It's perfect and beautiful and they're both perfectly aware that their lives might get complicated later, but none of that even matters right now because they're happy and in love and this is going to work!

A Miracle Would Happen: No cheating in this AU, folks! But Sokka is getting increasingly distracted by his work and his obligation to his tribe; he realizes for the first time that he needs to put the Tribe above his own happiness

When You Come Home to Me / Climbing Uphill: Not sure here, I think just Zuko's frustrations about running the Fire Nation. Things are difficult, maybe more rebellion/assassination attempts. He appreciates Sokka being there to support him

If I Didn't Believe in You: They get into a fight about Sokka's priorities. Sokka tries to reassure Zuko of his love for him but Zuko keeps giving so many examples of when Sokka hasn't cared for him enough and... he's right

I Can Do Better Than That: Zuko's first visit to the SWT to Meet the Family as Sokka's Official Boyfriend. He asks Sokka here to be ambassador

Nobody Needs to Know: Near the end of their relationship, Sokka needs to choose between visiting Zuko for the anniversary of the war ending- something he's done every year since they got together, and is a huge deal to Zuko- and staying in the SWT to address a not-so-big Huge Deal. Sokka chooses the tribe.

Goodbye Until Tomorrow: This is after Sokka and Zuko's first kiss and Zuko is BUZZING, like the happiest he's ever been in his life!

I Could Never Rescue You: Sokka writes a goodbye letter to Zuko, officially ending the relationship. He says it would never have worked out and that he's sorry, and that maybe in another life with fewer responsibilities they could have been together forever.

I need CRAVE a The Last Five Years Divorced Zukka AU

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Hitman (No, not the game franchise.)

You know that trope where big quiet scary Hitman man who is known for being so skilled and heartless that you need him to at least tolerate you first before placing a hit. Or else he would just straight up kill you when he thinks you're mildly impolite.

Yeah that AND you, the reader, as the only soft spot for BQSHMM (Big Quiet Scary Hitman Man).

No don't give me flak about how this is just a bootleg of [Insert similar character here] because you are wrong, this is inspired by every Stoic and Brooding Contract Killer Character Ever and Batman even though I have never watched any movies or read any comics about him.

All I know that he :

Rich

An orphan

Can punch

Quiet

Does parkour

Hot buff nerd with all 20/20 vision

Acted by Christian Bale at least once

Have a family of other bat millennials and bat gen z's

Hates clowns

Wear smudged eyeliner

fast car

Cool belt

I get my sources from tumblr, occasional memes and snippets of batman conversation I happen to be in. I don't know if they are canon or not.

And also actually heavily inspired by the Korean movie Door Lock (2018) , except in this fic you're the ONLY victim <3

And this fic is just something to make your pussy or bussy or nonbinarussy throb, nothing too serious. Goes without saying, don't do this shit irl.

Enjoy.

Tw: AFAB reader, yandereness, violence, sex things, non con, somno oral, basically smut

(pt 1 out of 2)

You don't know squat about the underworld. Naive, innocent little you, still thinking that the black market is like a farmer's market except the vendors are selling not-so-legal-or-Farmer-y stuff such as... Oh, I don't know, like... Unpasteurized Milk?

You never once dabbled anything remotely legally dark, not even jaywalking. You are a law abiding citizen, following all the rules to a "T".

Oh, the Irony. You caught the eye of a person who kills people for a living. And that is highly illegal. Probably more illegal than Jaywalking.

He is lean and muscular with a large frame. Yet, so stealthy like a fucking cat that can squeeze through a dime sized hole with no noise and no complaint. Face, hands and basically vulnerable parts of his body like the neck are scarred from previous missions.

Stare into his eyes and you will see a void. All humanity has been scraped clean, who gives a shit if granny falls to her death in front of him? He doesn't see her as human or animal, simply something invaluable. At most, he's going to be slightly irritated that her blood got onto his coat and he is running out of peroxide.

No one catcalls you anymore. They're all dead or silenced in his own, crazy, silly way. Like getting their tongues cut off, or getting lobotomized (and miraculously surviving) to get the point across to everyone in the overworld and the underworld.

He is like what Santa is to kids in the 60's, he watches you 24/7. Knows if you've been good or bad. He could be watching you from a roof, using his rifle scope . And using his sniper rifle if he sees a threat.

Fresh syndicate criminals sees you as meat, a leverage to control the world's more notorious assassin. Seasoned ones know to stay the fuck away from you. Veterans know to not even think about or look at you. Your Hitman stalker is like a bloodhound for things that threatens your safety, as soon as anyone looks at you wrongly, it's bedtime forever.

It doesn't even take a look. He just knows if you're thinking about it. Actually, he takes no chances, everyone he doesn't trust is dead. That includes just about everyone he meets. Really puts the fear in the hearts of huge crime rings when he managed to leave the decapitated heads of their best men on the doorstep of their supposedly 'unknown' and 'unidentified' and 'anonymous' leaders.

From there, no matter how many of their members he kills off or WHO he kills off...gangs, mafias, crime syndicates and corporations knew not to go after him OR you. It's just not worth it, they're better off just cutting their losses and advising their members to steer clear at all costs.

This one man band is so scary that he gains protection somehow. Why?

Well, imagine this:

A rookie hitman decided to execute the most foolish task and try killing him.

So the rookie gets captured as expected and gets tortured.

Rookie says Mafia X sent him.

The entirety of Mafia X is going to disappear in a week unless someone can give Big Scary Gary Stu Hitman OC an explanation, saying Mafia Y framed them.

Then Mafia Y will be in deep shit. Provided Mafia X managed to convince them or else BOTH X and Y will get fucking nuked to bits.

But hey, business is good on his side. He's everyone's default hitman to go to (if you have the money), because it's almost always a 300% success rate.

Why 300%? It's because he's going to kill the intended target (and their entire family), the one who paid him and a person who is at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hmm. Maybe the guaranteed death of the customer isn't good for business. As long as you follow the rule of thumb:

Don't be a dick.

Then you should have a pretty good success rate. Maybe.

You really can't tell.

Make a comment about his only joy in this world, which is you, the reader, and you're (not the reader) is getting instant death. It's like saying Voldemort's name.

He is the monster under your bed. Literally, he lives under your bed, sliding out at night to sniff your hair. That seems to keep him content.

For now.

Maybe you've noticed that your fridge is a little emptier than you remembered. Sometimes you don't remember buying a jar of pickles and opening them. There seem to be always something to eat these days, you're not one to shop responsibly. Then why are there actual healthy foods like fresh produce and meats instead of frozen, TV dinners?

Maybe the spirit of New Year's Resolution came and possessed you during the weekends. Maybe. Definitely not because you have an unknown roommate around.

You're not complaining, you get to eat delicious and healthy "fresh leftovers" in the fridge even though you have no memory twisting the gas knob of your stove.

You swore you just replenished your body wash, why did it decrease so much?

At times, you're sure that your toothpaste is about to run out, only to see a slightly used, plump tube on the sink shelf. Did you replace them while you're drunk? Why did you not have any recollection of it? Why is your toothbrush already wet?

The toilet paper holder never seem to run out of toilet paper too. Usually, once a month, you would have to awkwardly waddle out of the bathroom, pants around your ankle just to get a fresh roll. You stopped doing that now.

Yeah, these stuff leaves you weary and pretty much on edge. But you're already dead inside from working 12 hour shifts at minimum wage in customer service. Having a little spice in your life would give you that kick to keep you going once in a while.

Plus, free food and toiletries. The stuff you get back is way more than you can ever afford. Which you're grateful for and would even turn a blind eye to the fact that it's very clear someone is living with you without your consent or knowledge. And your place is much more cleaner and neater. A win for you.

Or you're just that fucking oblivious and airheaded that you don't think anything is out of place, I don't personally know everyone who reads this.

For the sake of plot, you will be the latter. It's easier to write for.

So you think all is sunshine and rainbows, you're fed, your chores are done and the trash took out itself. Yay!

You sleep better, like, much better. Too better. Too quickly as well, you missed the dip in your mattress.

You shouldn't have drank that mysterious cup of your favorite drink that mysteriously appeared in your fridge and has some white residue at the bottom!

You don't even wake up when he drapes his arm over you, cuddling you until the sun shows itself over the horizon. Sometimes the hugging can make your eyes open a bit, but you shut them back cause you thought it's just your sleep paralysis demon feeling a little loving towards you.

Having fingers gently running through your hair while you're off to dreamland is... Nice. Having a pair of lips tenderly kissing your face is... Nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses from your jaw down to your chest is... Questionable. But somewhat nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses down from your chest to your already exposed, vulnerable pussy is... Well. Up to your intepretation.

Hey, it's not like you're awake to stop him from spreading your legs, pumping your hole with his fingers and lapping you up, right? Who is going to stop him? Not you, definitely. You're just egging him on by cumming on his tongue as he tongue-fucks you like he's dehydrated and you're his only source of water.

No worries, your bedsheet won't be drenched when you wake up. He is sure to catch every single drop of your sweet, sweet, love nectar. What a thirsty menace, he is. Pleasuring you with his mouth in your sleep for hours and hours on end.

Actually, one hour and a half on average. He has other things to do, unfortunately. Like, putting a bullet in one of his target's cerebrum? He has a job too, you know.

The room would be silent save for his slurping, smooching, smacking and the stirring of Mac n' cheese. Gulping too, he swallows everything you give.

Once he has his fill, he would press one last kiss on your sex and a few more against your inner thighs as thanks before wiping his chin and lips with his thumb. He isn't going to let any of it go to waste, he's licking the left overs from his drenched digits. Eating you out seems to satisfy him.

For now.

He smiles as he slowly puts your underwear and sweatpants back on.

Hygiene is important. That is why, after every meal, he would brush his teeth.

With your toothbrush of course.

He would stare at himself in the mirror as he scrub his molars clean, already missing the taste of you. He tries not to put too much focus onto his own reflection as he dislikes staring into the deep, dark, depressing abyss. He is indifferent about himself, so apathetic that it's... Hollow. Empty.

He gives no shits about the world. They could burn for all he cares. Only you made him feel something, made him feel pure bliss, only you mattered to him, only you can make a tent in his pants. Only you, only you.

God, you were his only will to live. If you go, he goes. Period. You are irreplaceable, special and extremely important, his life, his happiness depends on yours.

You are perfection, no one can compete. Anyone who says otherwise is wrong and deserves to be waterboarded before getting impaled on a stick like shish kebab. You are his escape to his bleak reality, a drug, an addiction. A severe, addiction. He is too far deep, you can't pry him away from you, crowbar or by otherwise.

He lives for you. No, I don't think you understand the intensity of his love for you. He LIVES for you, if it wasn't for your existence, he would have taken his own life long ago.

I'll say it again, only YOU can get his dick up by looking in his general direction. Only YOU can get away with so many fucking things others had died for doing.

If the world is going to have this... Mega wipeout and he is given a chance to save 1000 people, he would only save you. No one else-- and also himself. The 998 empty slots would be wasted.

Only YOU... Could make him smile.

He gargled and spat into the sink, washing your toothbrush before replacing them in their original spot.

He sniffed your face towel deeply before using it to pat his face.

Your self proclaimed boyfriend went on to take a nice, hot shower. Steam fogs up the mirror and shower screen, he scrubs himself clean with your body shampoo. Stripping any smell, grime and blood off him.

He makes sure to remove the hair clogging the drain.

Again, he took a deep whiff of your shower towel before using it as intended.

He dries his hair with the towel as he gets out of the bathroom, wearing a fresh set of his pyjamas. His eyes softened as he sees your sleeping form on your bed, he mumbled a:

"I'll join you in bed in a minute, honey."

Under his breath. It's not like you're conscious to know what the fuck is going on.

He pecks your forehead and brushes the hair away from your face.

"I love you." He whispers. He receives zero (0) responses.

It's always like that. You go to sleep, he gives you the best head in your life, but you're to asleep to realize, he then brushes his teeth, he showers, he fix himself something to eat, he brushes his teeth again because... Smells. And finally, he goes to bed with you.

He likes pickles. It's salty, sour, briny and helps replenish his electrolytes. Anchovies too, its... Fishy, salty, oily. Lemon sorbets are also nice, it's sweet, sour and refreshing. Natto is great for his brain, he also likes the slimy texture of it and he doesn't mind the bitterness.

Okay, he just likes the taste of pussy. Specifically, your pussy. It should taste kinda salty, kinda sour, kinda sweet and kinda bitter.

Whatever.

But usually, he would just fix up a ham and egg wrap for himself. It's quick to prepare, not too smell offensive, not too noise offensive.

He would munch on it as he goes back to your bedroom. There is a TV in front of your bed, so he would turn it on and put the volume on zero. Your self proclaimed boyfriend would pull you to his chest, making you use him as a pillow as he enjoys his simple dinner and watch whatever is on TV.

One hand holding his meal, the other rhythmically patting your rear.

Sometimes, he pats a little too hard, the screen is a little too bright, the wrap is a little too tasty, you would wake up. But not fully.

You would slur and stir. Eyelids heavy, it's a struggle to even pry them apart.

He would remedy this by bringing his wrap to your lips, which you would, without fail, get a nibble. That's enough to send you back to sleep, subconsciously chewing and swallowing that micro bite.

You always thought your sleep paralysis demon has the sexiest chuckle and the softest kisses.

The next day rolls by and you're alone on your bed. The thing between your legs feels funny and you have a faint taste of ham and eggs in your mouth.

You yawn and swung your legs over the edge. Letting your feet touch the ground, giving him full view of your ankles from under the bed.

It's your off day today and he knows you would usually spend these doing nothing. Just lazily laying around, rot your brain with social media, cry about your mediocrity, then go back on social media, binge eat, cry about your mediocrity again, social media, binge eat and finally sleep until the next day.

These are the days where he so badly wishes to fuck your brains out, to fuck the tears away. To give you orgasm after orgasm to forget whatever is making you sad, to make you prefer him thrusting into you instead of seeing suspiciously successful lives on the internet, to overstimulate you so you think about nothing but pleasure.

Let the room reek of sex, let the moans and wet slapping bounce off the thin walls, let the taste of you coat every square inch of his mouth. Let his hands roam all over your body and let him worship you as this deity having a gorilla grip on his life.

These are the days where... It's best for him to leave your apartment to carry out a hit. As he might simply just lose control and take you as soon as he hears your sniffling. Stuff you full of cock and tongue, kissing your sorrows away.

The aftercare stuff excites him too, he would want to see you relax in his hold, letting him work his masseur magic. Allowing him to feed you proper, warm meals after a pleasant, sensual shower.

He may be obsessive and unhinged. But not delusional. At least, not THAT delusional to think you'll see and accept him as your boyfriend if he jumps out of his hiding place now. You're going to have a panic attack and possibly throw up and die.

So he has no choice but to suppress it. He will have to strike when an opening comes. Maybe, enact a cliche romantic meeting and work up from there? Perhaps, that sounds like a good idea.

He is satisfied with what the bottle of sleeping pills hidden in his pocket can do.

For now.

[messers-moony]

Nothing Left | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: Everything crashes within seconds and Sirius doesn’t know where to go. 

Everything went downhill so fucking fast. How was that even possible? Everything was perfectly fine a year ago, but it seems that within that year, everything had collapsed onto the helpless boy. It was like being beneath a crumbling concrete tower that fell with no warning. Like being slapped in the face unexpectedly. Like getting doused in freezing water on a Sunday morning. 

In retrospect, it sucked. 

Sirius Black would know first hand. His entire life had been a screw-up from the beginning. It started with his parents, who - at the start - loved him. But when he turned out to be the child they never wanted all that love had vanished. They tortured him, broke him piece by piece, they built up trauma that took years for him to express to his friends. It wasn’t until third year when they heard him crying alone in his four-poster bed and asked what was wrong. He could remember the comforting embrace James Potter had given him. 

Nevertheless, it never ended there. The summer going into his sixth year, Sirius decided it was enough after too many Cruciatus Curses and body binding curses; enough was enough. His hands were trembling after enduring just ten minutes of the torture curse, and it was a struggle, but he packed everything he could. His heart broke at inevitably leaving his little brother behind. He could only hope that Regulus would understand. 

It took a Knight Bus trip to the Potter residence in Godric’s Hollow. The sky could’ve resembled how Sirius felt. Back at Grimmauld Place Twelve, the sky was always cloudy and rainy. Godric’s Hollow allowed the sun to shine past the fluffy clouds, but tonight was different. The sky was dark and thick, black clouds covered the stars. Rain poured from them, and it pittered on the stone roads. Sirius was instantly drenched when he stepped off the Knight Bus. 

Hesitantly he made his way to the door, where he knocked softly. The house was two stories and was a relatively big family home - not bigger than Grimmauld Place - but an average family home. The house was a mixture of grey, dark purples, and brown. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ patched jumpers. Sirius could hear movement from behind the plum door, and it opened to reveal a familiar face. James Potter with his messy hair, hazel eyes, and long limbs. James was muscular, but he was also tall, not Remus tall but taller than Sirius. 

James didn’t speak and ushered him inside. The following morning at breakfast, Euphemia - Mrs. Potter - had given Sirius the excellent news of his new forever home. The Potters would never forget the way Sirius lit up and how a smile had taken over his face. Sirius didn’t remember being this happy except for when Regulus was born. 

But his forever home was not forever. 

In seventh year, James’ parents had died, and nobody had comforted Sirius except one person who attempted. James had Lily, and that was enough for him. Perhaps it was selfish to think that James should be comforting him. It was definitely selfish. Sirius was doing really good at hiding how he felt until he crumbled behind a tapestry near the dungeons. 

Sirius didn’t know if it was good or bad luck that Regulus - his prefect Slytherin brother - had found him behind that tapestry. Regulus had pulled back the fabric slowly with his wand lit. His face had softened at his older brother sobbing with his knees to his chest. Regulus allowed his wand light to extinguish before sitting in front of him in the same position, allowing their socks to touch at the tips. 

They sat there for a couple of minutes before Regulus moved closer, albeit hesitantly to sit beside Sirius. Regulus had his back against the concrete, and Sirius curled up onto him while the younger Black brother rubbed his older brother's back. Sirius cried harder and harder. It took an hour before he subdued to sniffles and whimpers, but Regulus took it as his time to speak. 

“I know they meant a lot to you,” Regulus stated, still rubbing his older brothers back, “And I don’t blame you for grieving them.”

Sirius sniffled, “I ought to be grateful for them, really.” Regulus released a sound that sounded like a chuckle, but it was so foreign to Sirius he couldn’t tell, “They kept you safe. Kept you away from mother and father. They gave you a home where you could finally be you.”

“And no matter how mad I want to be at them for taking you away from me,” Regulus admitted, “I just can’t be because they gave you everything you wanted, and I’ve never seen you happier in my life.”

Regulus didn’t stop talking, “You know… I- I found my own James Potter.”

Sirius looked up at Regulus with flushed cheeks, but his facial expression was baffled, and Regulus presented him with a small smile, “Okay, maybe she isn’t my ‘James Potter’ per se because I don’t see her as a sister but rather she’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s- What’s her name?” Sirius croaked; his throat was so raw from crying. 

“Y/n L/n.”

“A- A Gryffindor?”

Regulus made that sound again, “Yeah. A stupidly brave one too. Even worse.”

Sirius smiled, “I know her.”

“Don’t tell me she was one of your conquests.” Regulus grimaced, and Sirius chuckled, snuggling back into Regulus’ chest, “No, she wasn’t. It turns out she has the hots for the other Black brother.”

Regulus smiled, and they allowed the silence of the castle to consume them. It was dark in the corridor on the other side of the tapestry, and Regulus could see the faint moonlight peaking out. He could also imagine the stars glittering beautifully in the midnight sky. He could see the star Sirius shining brighter than ever, and he just wanted his brother to feel the same. 

“I plan to marry her.” Regulus said before he could stop the words from falling from his mouth.

“What happens then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mother and father will never approve.”

Regulus scoffed, “I’m done with their bullshit and have been for quite a while.”

Sirius met his brother's eyes again, “I left right after you. It turns out there is no more heir to the Black family name.”

The older Black brother smiled brightly and tightened his grip on his younger brother. Regulus couldn’t remember feeling this warm since they were little boys running around the backyard. Sirius was practically on top of him, and that was okay. For now, everything seemed okay again. Maybe Euphemia and Fleamont were gone, but even in their deaths, they managed to benefit Sirius’ life. 

Now it all seemed fruitless. 

Only a couple of months later, Sirius and Regulus had gotten into a huge kerfuffle. It ended with screaming, raw throats, tears, and flushed cheeks. Sirius could remember how Regulus playfully mocked his and Remus’ relationship. He didn’t know exactly what happened, just that he was pouncing for his little brother, and Remus was holding him back. Sirius had yelled some very awful things that he couldn’t take back. 

She hadn’t done anything. She didn’t even know that an argument had happened. Y/n had been reading in the common room when the book was flung out of her hand, and she was pushed against the stone wall of the Gryffindor Tower. Y/n met eyes with stormy grey ones, not unlike her lovers, but these weren’t her lovers. These were his elder brother's eyes, and he had lifted her off the floor against the wall until James had pulled Sirius off her. 

Y/n hit the floor with a thud and repeatedly coughed, hands on her throat. James had stormed into the boy's dormitory with Sirius with him. She didn’t even understand what was happening not until she met up with Regulus in the prefect dorm, and he saw the marks on her neck. Sirius had taken it too far, and Regulus was furious. They were no longer on speaking terms. 

Now Sirius had someone entirely different to grieve. 

Sirius had felt like his heart hit the floor when he was forced to move out of James’ house with Lily due to Harry being born. Remus had moved away to take care of his sick mother and asked for privacy. The funds that had previously been in Sirius’ account had been squandered, and now he was paying the price. 

He had absolutely nowhere to go. Truthfully, there was one place he could go, but he didn’t think he’d ever be accepted there. He had said unforgivable things, but James had given him enough confidence that it would be okay. Reluctantly, Sirius Black took the Knight Bus to the suburbs in London. The community felt so modern and new. It was different then Godric’s Hollow which had been around for so many years that it began to weather and erode. 

The deja vu was hitting him like a brick. Their house was a mixture of grey, black, white, and maybe blue - Sirius couldn’t tell in the darkness if it was white or pale blue. Perhaps he’d find out tomorrow if he was even welcomed inside. Sighing and shivering, Sirius knocked on the door. He could hear little squeals of delight that sounded much like a child. He also heard talking, but he froze when the door opened. 

Regulus Black, at the age of twenty-two, looked good. His hair was to his jaw, and it was wavy at the ends, whereas Sirius’ was much more straight. His eyes had turned silver over the years. His cheeks looked much fuller, and he looked a lot better. Regulus was no longer looked underweight, but he was still slim and skinny. Black family genes, Sirius supposed. Sirius couldn’t meet his brother's eyes. 

“What do you want, Sirius.” 

His name falling from Regulus’ mouth instead of a nickname hurt more than he expected, “I had nowhere else to go…”

Regulus scoffed, “James finally kick you out, eh?”

“Yeah, he did.” Sirius sounded so distant, “Perhaps it was about time, and here I am, at your doorstep.”

“Come on, Sirius.” Regulus motioned for him to come in, and Sirius did. 

The house was much cozier inside. The floors were dark wood, almost black. The living room - on Sirius’ left - was a darker turquoise color with grey furniture. The dining room - on Sirius’ right - was a light grey. The furniture was a marble table, white wood chairs with cushions, and a beautiful light fixture. Regulus led him to the kitchen, which was straight ahead in the hallway. 

It was a beautiful mint green color with black and white furniture. The appliances were primarily black and the furniture primarily white, but regardless, it was beautiful. They had another table in the kitchen that was a grey wood instead of the shiny marble in the dining room but nevertheless screamed elegance. Sirius sat at one of the barstools at the L of the counter. Regulus slid him a cup of tea. 

“Your house is beautiful.” Sirius complimented, and Regulus placed the cup back into the saucer, “Thank you. My wife picked everything out for the most part. I either built it or painted it.” Regulus smiled. 

“Your wife?”

Regulus hummed, “Y/n Black. Ring any bells?”

Sirius swallowed, “Yeah.”

They both took a sip of tea, “I have two kids too. Both boys.”

“Two?!“ Sirius nearly spat out the liquid he had just taken a sip of. 

“Twins. Fraternal, thankfully.”

He placed the cup down, “What’re their names?“

“Perseus Regulus Black and Leo Alphard Black.”

“Perseus and Leo, huh?“

Regulus blushed, “It wasn’t my idea. It was Y/n’s.”

“I like them,” Regulus looked up at him, “The names. I’m sure they fit them too.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t long until footsteps began to echo coming down the steps. Y/n had grown up too. Her face was sharper and her curves more defined. If Sirius was honest, she didn’t look like she had kids at all. To be fair, he wasn’t really staring at Y/n but more so his brother. Regulus had a starstruck expression as his wife walked towards him. He had a dopey smile on his face and stars in his eyes. Regulus really loved her, and Sirius could tell, hell, anyone could. 

Y/n stopped in her tracks at seeing Sirius, “What’s he doing here?” 

Regulus placed an arm around her waist, “He came looking for a place to stay. While I was waiting for you, I decided to catch up with him for a little.”

Sirius looked guilty, “Ultimately, I’m leaving this decision up to you.” 

Y/n sighed and looked at both brothers. She thought of what he did back at Hogwarts. She thought of how Regulus had cried and ached for his brother, wishing for their relationship to be back the way it was. She thought of her two children who always asked about their Uncle Sirius, who was never around. 

“Sirius,” Y/n began, and Sirius held his breath, “Where will you go if I were to say no?”

Sirius looked at his lap, “The streets.”

He couldn’t hear the footsteps that approached him until soft hands lifted his head where he met soft e/c eyes, “I’m willing to look past everything that happened at Hogwarts for the sake of my children. They deserve their uncle. But I need you to show me that I can trust you and that you won’t cause trouble.”

“I’ll do anything.” Sirius complied, and Regulus smirked, “Don’t say that. She’ll have you remodel something.”

“You’re an asshole.” Y/n whirled, and Regulus continued to smirk, “I told you to use magic, and you said we should do it the Muggle way.”

He shrugged, “We got good memories out of doing it the Muggle way.”

“If getting paint all over me counts as good memories, then sure.”

“It does.” Regulus smiled, “Your face was priceless.”

“Dickhead.” She muttered. 

Sirius grinned, “Well, Sirius. If Y/n lets you stay, then you’re welcome here. What I did back at Hogwarts was uncalled for, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mocked you and Remus.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.” Regulus countered solemnly, “Had I not done that; then we could’ve had a better relationship. For that, I’m sorry.”

Sirius stood up and hugged Regulus tight, “New beginnings?”

“New beginnings.” Regulus smiled. 

Regulus led Sirius up the wooden stairs up to the second story. It seemed to have had four bedrooms and two bathrooms, one in the master bedroom, one in the hallway, not including the one downstairs. On the end of the left side was a door leading to the master bedroom. On the right end was a cabinet and two doors across from one another. Then in the middle of the back was a door leading to another bedroom which Regulus had opened. 

The bedroom was spotless and beautiful. It was painted a grey with purple undertone with a queen-sized bed. Most of the furniture was white, and the bedding was black. Sirius had brought his trunk to its normal size and placed it at the end of the bed. Regulus smiled as Sirius looked around. 

“This is yours for as long as you want it.” Regulus stated softly snd Sirius had tears in his eyes, “Thank you.”

Sirius hugged his brother again, “I really mean it, thank you.”

“I love you, Sirius.” Regulus confessed, “You’ll always be my brother. The one who held me during thunderstorms. The one who sewed up my teddy bear when it had gotten ripped. The one who took the blame so I wouldn’t get punished.”

Sirius was gripping the back of his shirt tightly, “That stuff doesn’t just go away.”

They parted, and Regulus smiled, “Get some sleep. I’m sure you’d like to see the boys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to meet my nephews.” Sirius admitted smiling brightly. 

“Get some sleep, Siri.” 

“You too, Reggie.”

[offbrandhange]

Wedding Day ! | 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

Fluff & NSFW headcanons on your wedding day/night with some of the AOT boys!

! Slight NSFW !

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of sex, pregnancy. Fem ! reader.

Majority of this is fluff, but there are mentions of !BEEP! sooo yeah.

Characters: Armin, Eren, Erwin, Jean, Levi

a/n: I have to take my SAT tomorrow, please wish your girl good luck for those sweet, sweet good grades....

𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓 𝕬𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙 ~

Helps you plan the wedding and possibly loves it even more than you do. He’s a sucker for quality time. 

Armin would prefer a small or medium-sized wedding. If you want a large wedding though, there’s no way he’s holding you back from having it. 

100% a beach wedding. No doubt.

The venue is BEAUTIFUL. Spent countless nights researching and visiting places to make sure you got the best.

Eren is chosen as the best man, although Armin feels guilty for having to pick only one out of all his friends.

On the day of the wedding, Armin is a panicking mess. Eren and Jean literally have to give him a pep talk before he goes to stand at the alter.

Practiced deep breathing techniques before the wedding. Unfortunately, they aren’t working.

When you finally walk down the isle, Armin starts crying softly. Eren put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him......which just made him sob harder. He cried multiple times during the wedding.

Your wedding rings are the set his grandfather and grandmother shared :’)

Specifically told the bartender not to serve Connie and Sasha more than 3 drinks. He doesn’t trust them making their own alcohol-related decisions at his wedding.

Armin isn’t a dancer but....he practiced how to slow dance just for you.

Shy at first when it comes to the more fast-paced dancing, but Jean coaxes him into it, and he ends up having a lot of fun.

The speeches are so nice!!! But mostly because Armin asked Mikasa to read them over before hand to make sure they were okay.

After the wedding ends and everyone has left, you and Armin sit and watch the waves at night.

NSFW below !

The beach was reserved...meaning it is now completely deserted. I am now politely reminding you, Armin is not a saint. Honeymoon sex on the beach, anybody?

The sex is slow and sweet; he takes his time with you and kisses you all over. It’s 100% the definition of, “making love.”

If you’re down for a kid right now, Armin’s down for a kid right now. He WILL try for a baby with you if it’s what you want.

After you made a mess of yourselves in the sand...Armin would probably let you sleep for a little bit as he watched the waves. He doesn’t want it to end yet.

When he’s finally content, he would carry you back to the hotel, trying not to wake you.

Super considerate dusting the sand off you, and then tucking you in bed. He’s totally cuddling you to sleep, too.

𝕰𝖗𝖊𝖓 𝕵𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗 ~

Pretty much gives you full control of the wedding planning; he only has a few requests.

Eren would be the type of dude to invite friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends. Your wedding is gonna be packed.

Has no idea what kind of wedding he prefers.

Please, god, don’t let him pick the venue. He will go to the first one, look around, and go, “Yeah, this is pretty nice.” That’s how you’ll end up getting married at an AirBNB with a nice backyard hidden behind the local Walmart.

Doesn’t know if he should make Armin or Zeke the best man, so he flips a coin to decide. It landed on Armin, and from that day on, Zeke was super salty.

Tries to convince you to try on the wedding dress/suit the day before. He can’t sleep that night because he’s so keyed up thinking about how pretty you’ll look.

On the day of the wedding, he’s super fucking ecstatic and practically bouncing all over the place.

Eren would get kind of impatient when waiting at the isle, to the point it would annoy the groomsmen. Jean came so close to saying something but was thankfully stopped by Armin.

When you finally walk down the isle, he’s BEAMING. He tears up a little bit out of happiness, but nothing too extreme.

Armin had to help him pick out the wedding rings otherwise you would’ve ended up with one of those plastic spider rings you win at Chuck e. Cheese’s.

Eren gets so fucking drunk you’re worried you might have to carry him back to the room by the end of the night.

Jean literally nit-picks everything Eren does the whole night....which almost ends up resulting in a drunken bar fight...at your wedding. It ends up fine, though, because Levi and Mikasa step in as bodyguards.

You SWEAR Mikasa is giving you dirty looks. Likewise, Eren SWEARS he’s getting dirty looks from Levi.

He does alright slow-dancing, but is so tipsy and distracted by how attractive you are to him, he’s kinda just....trying his best.

Absolutely OBLITERATES the dance floor when the fast-paced songs come on...

WILD assortment of speeches. Mikasa is crying, Armin’s reading a poem, Floch’s trying to get you to join his cult, Zeke is crying......and Eren is sitting there like, “Is this almost over.” You’d think it was America’s got talent, or something.

When the wedding ends, he 100% drags you to your favorite fast-food restaurant. Still in your wedding attire. Seriously, this dude is crazy, but he’s fun.

NSFW below !

When you get back to the hotel, he lets you eat your food--and then he fucks the shit out of you.

Way, way, way more rough than usual; super passionate sex. Multiple rounds, too. You don’t even KNOW how he has this much stamina by the end of the night.

Not even TRYING to get you pregnant, but his dumbass probably accidentally would.

Good luck trying to walk tomorrow!!!

When he’s finally tired, he is GONE. Like, you could scream bloody-murder and he still wouldn’t wake up.

𝕰𝖗𝖜𝖎𝖓 𝕾𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖍 ~

You can TRY and take that wedding planner from Erwin--the only way he’d give it to you is if you pried it from his cold, dead hand(s).

Tells people he’s married MONTHS before the wedding.

Everyone.....and I mean EVERYONE.....knows you’re getting married. he will walk up to strangers and brag about you.

Erwin invites everyone he sees. Elderly woman crossing the street? Invited. Barista at the coffee shop? Invited. Guy on the bus who offered him a seat? Invited.

All those people attend the wedding, too. Why? Everyone knows and loves Erwin. So when your wedding is literally PACKED with people you have never seen before--you’re only slightly surprised.

You know those reality shows where they have HUGE, expensive weddings? Your wedding would put theirs to shame. Erwin goes ALL OUT.

The venue? A literal castle. How did he manage to book and afford a castle? Don’t question it.

Your wedding dress doesn’t have a budget. Seriously, your wedding is crazy expensive--and straight out of a fairy tale.

You’re pretty sure Levi made himself the best man--and Erwin was fine with it.

Is super excited on the day of the wedding. He knows it’s going to be perfect; he got his eyebrows done just for the occasion.

When you walk down that isle his smile is SO BRIGHT. he is SHINING.

Yeah, those wedding rings? Imported from Italy, plastered with giant, real, diamonds. You will never be able to say Erwin doesn’t spoil you.

Pretty chill wedding, nothing’s too rowdy and everyone’s still having a good time.

Whispers sweet nothings and tells you how happy he is the whole night. He can’t go five minutes without saying, “I love you.”

Just TRY to get him to stop holding your hand; he won’t.

Erwin is so good at slow-dancing??? And he’s so careful with you, too. 100% the one in the lead, but he’s spinning and dipping you so sweetly. Not to mention the way he’s looking at you...

He’s a serious guy a lot of the time, but I honest to god believe in the sweetest way possible, you would genuinely have a really fun time fast-pace dancing with him. You would both be laughing at each other’s moves.

Majority of the speeches are super nice. Hange tried to get Levi to say something, brought him up to the stage and....he starred at the crowd for a couple awkward seconds, then walked off. He conveyed his message through his eyes, I guess?

The wedding is so long you weren’t sure it was ever going to end...

Hotel? Nah he booked that castle, that’s where you’re spending the night...

NSFW below !

You’re fucking in the king bed tonight baby, literally.

Pays attention to your needs/wants the WHOLE NIGHT. Seriously, he’s a soft dom, and makes sure you’re more than satisfied.

Tons of body worship?? He’s so sweet and careful with you.

Erwin secretly really, really wants to give you his babies and start a family with you on the honeymoon. If you’re willing, he will make sure he gets you pregnant; you’re getting no sleep.

After you’re done, he will run you two a bath and clean you off. He adds in a little bonus massage, too.

When you get in bed, he pets your head, cuddling you until you fall asleep. You could’ve sworn you saw him smiling before you drifted off to sleep.

𝕵𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝕶𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖎𝖓 ~

Jean would definitely help you plan the wedding--he values romance a lot, so having the perfect wedding for him and you, is important. He also doesn’t want to put all the weight on you.

Brags to his friends that he’s getting married--they all get tired of hearing about it.

Normal sized wedding--not too many, but not small, either. Lots of family and friends.

The venue is at a barn. Yes, he picked a barn. it’s a nice venue, too; the only problem is that he’s not going to be able to escape those horse jokes.

Marco is chosen as the best man--and when Connie hears about it, he sulks for a few days. He gets over it eventually, though.

He’s kind of nervous the day of--but Marco reassures him and teaches his some deep-breathing techniques.

Keeps his cool until he goes to stand at the alter--and then he’s in full-blown panic mode. “What if I can’t make her happy?” “What if she runs away with Eren?” meanwhile, Eren is standing right there with the other groomsmen, like “wtf?”

When you walk down the isle--he’s super overwhelmed. He feels a huge sense of relief you didn’t ditch him and run away, but also metaphorically hit by a semi-truck of emotions since he realized he’s ACTUALLY getting married. There’s a little bit of happy crying.

His mom picked out your wedding rings; you only find out when she brags about it--and Jean yells at her for telling you.

His wedding gift to you is a giant portrait he drew of you--and on the back, there’s a message in French. He won’t tell you what it says, but you’re pretty sure it’s an oath to love and protect you ‘till the day he dies.

He does pretty well slow-dancing. His mom also mentions he begged her to practice with him so he didn’t mess up.

He’s a little worried about making himself look like a fool dancing in front of you--but for you, he does it anyways; You both laugh your asses off and have a lot of fun.

The speeches make Jean look like he wants to drop dead from embarrassment. He’s not sure what’s worse--Connie and Sasha doing karaoke, Eren making horse jokes, or his mom telling all of his embarrassing baby stories.

After everyone leaves, Jean takes you to look at the animals before you leave, too.

NSFW below !

 As for honeymoon sex; you better not make a horse joke, otherwise you’re getting laid in that fucking barn. Maybe. He threatens that, but you know he wouldn’t want to have sex there on your wedding night. He’s 100% down for another time, though.

A mix of rough and sweet at the same time--he does the right things at the right times.

Is a lot more passionate and soft than usual--very careful with your body, and makes sure to really take everything in; He wants to remember the night for as long as he lives.

Immaculate aftercare; and on top of that, he lets you fall asleep in his arms, occasionally kissing your forehead.

Bonus: he sings you to sleep.

𝕷𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 ~

Lets you plan the wedding, but looks it over and makes sure there’s nothing too crazy happening. He, somehow, is worried you’re going to plan a circus or something else ridiculous to show up.

No one knows you’re getting married until the envelopes are mailed to family and friends. In fact, some people didn’t even know you were together.

Pretty small wedding, it’s mostly people who are very close to you two. It has a very homey-feel.

The venue HAS to be indoors. Levi thinks an outdoor wedding is unsanitary--so you end up getting married in a banquet hall.

Erwin is 1000% the best man. You don’t even have to ask, you already know it’s going to be Erwin.

Is literally shaking and sweating his ass off he’s so nervous the day of the wedding--if anyone asks, though, he swears he is fine. Has no idea it’s completely obvious he’s on the verge of absolutely freaking out.

Erwin and Hange try to get him to relax--but he continues to deny that he is in fact, NOT calm.

When you walk down the isle and he makes eye contact with you--his brain short-circuits. His mind literally stops working and is constantly repeating, “p...p...pre....pretty..” the whole damn time.

Mentally saves the image of you in your dress/suit to use as his motivation to always come home to you.

Tries to remain expressionless, but is literally tomato-red and on the verge of crying; he never thought he’d be able to find happiness--it feels like everything is finally going to be okay. Erwin is smiling like a proud dad, and Hange is trying to suppress their amazement that the dude’s showing emotion.

Your wedding rings are fairly plain--but on the inside of the bands, both of your names are etched.

He won’t read the vows out loud, he simply hands you a letter and tells you to read it another time.

When the time comes to kiss--Levi literally hides behind you and shyly pulls you in. The view the audience gets is your back--and they aren’t sure whether to clap or not.

Your wedding gift to him was a giant assortment of different teas--and he genuinely seemed really excited to try them. He didn’t realize it, but when he mentioned tasting them, he said, “with you” at the end.

Has no idea how to slow dance. Erwin tried to help him, but it didn’t do much, so you teach him on the spot. Your first dance, he concentrates really hard on not messing up, eyebrows furrowed and all.

Doesn’t know how to dance fast-pace either, in fact, he’s pretty confused. You have to grab the man and force him out of his comfort zone, spinning him and all. Hange and the Survey Corp members are laughing their ass off at his bewildered face.

The speeches went pretty well--except for when Hange didn’t stop talking; Levi threatened to force them off the stage, and you don’t think he was joking.

The wedding was fairly short--but only because Levi rushed everyone home; he just wanted to drag you off and keep you to himself for the rest of the day.

After the wedding, he takes you to a spot nearby to watch the sunset. He has a soft smile, and you can tell he’s genuinely happy.

You take HIM back to the hotel--he would’ve been fine staying there just a little longer, in the peace of it all.

NSFW below !

You’re literally taking his virginity. He saved himself for marriage; he wanted to make sure he gave himself to the right person.

Very nervous--and kind of insecure, too. He isn’t sure what you’ll think of him, and he’s worried about you seeing his scars. He STILL isn’t completely convinced you really want him.

Lots of body worship and reassuring him; he melts at your touch.

Once he gets comfortable and into it, he repeats “I love you” a lot.

He doesn’t last very long...but keeps going until you get off, too. He’s still a little confused by everything, so you have to teach him.

He’s half asleep after cumming--but still insists the two of you need to get in the shower.

Was too tired to stand, so you took a bath together instead. He falls asleep, leaning on you, when you massage his head.

You end up being unable to wake him up--the man is dead tired from not only sleep deprivation, the long day, but also his first time.

You can’t get him out of the bathtub, either--he’s too bulky to lift. You expected him to be much lighter due to his height, but his muscle makes him a lot more heavy.

Hange and Erwin have to be called to haul his ass--naked--out of the tub and into the bed. Hange is of no help since they’re laughing so hard--and Erwin is helping, but trying so hard not to break face and laugh too.

After they leave, you cover him up and cuddle into his frame; you could swear you heard a quiet, “thank you.”