#i have laughed i have cried i have felt dread i have felt victory

[havenandart]

a fast little doodle of dr. kiran devabhaktuni, the man the myth the neurosurgeon himself.

i've been reading the fantastic cor et cerebrum series by @audreycritter and i'll be so honest with you -- i love dev. i had to google dev to see if i just hadn't caught up to comics or if he was really in dc universe. such a fantastic display of writing and character. thank you for sharing him with us ♥

[mythorhuman]

Scream For Me

In the small town of Mystic Falls, shadows danced ominously beneath the pale moonlight, weaving a tapestry of ghostly shapes across the streets. Bonnie Bennett stood at the center of her turmoil. A powerful witch from a long lineage of magical practitioners, she felt the heavy burden of her heritage pressing upon her shoulders. Though she had always taken great care to conceal her gifts, she still always found herself in the middle of some danger to protect a loved one. She knew her ancestors wouldn't approve of her use of magic to help the vampire species, and they wouldn't approve of the man she loved.

Klaus Mikaelson, her boyfriend, was far from ordinary; he was the Original Hybrid, caught in a tumultuous battle between his inner darkness and the light that Bonnie embodied. Their love was strong like an inferno, igniting the air around them. However, lurking in the shadows was Kai Parker, a bitter and envious siphon witch whose resentment toward Bonnie simmered just beneath the surface. Cloaked in jealousy, he had woven himself into the darkness, adopting the sinister guise of Ghostface, his heart set on siphoning the very magic that made Bonnie extraordinary.

One fateful night, as the Halloween festivities began, Kai struck. Dressed in a chilling mask and flowing cloak, he approached Bonnie's backyard, where the flicker of candlelight illuminated her focused expression as she practiced an intricate spell. “Hello, Bonster,” he taunted, his voice dripping with venom and dark amusement. “Let’s see just how powerful you really are.”

Startled, Bonnie turned to face him, recognizing the familiar aura of magic swirling around him. “Kai, you don’t have to do this! We can help you!”

But he only laughed, the sound echoing ominously in the darkness. With a wave of his hand, tendrils of energy lashed out, binding Bonnie’s hands. She fought back, summoning her own magic, but Kai’s jealousy fueled his power, and she felt her strength begin to wane.

Just then, Klaus emerged from the shadows, his instincts kicking in at the sight of Bonnie in danger. “Malachai! Let her go!” he shouted, his voice a deep growl.

Kai’s laughter turned to fury. “You think you can save her? You’re just as much a monster as I am!”

With a burst of supernatural speed, Klaus lunged at Kai, the two combatants clashing in a flurry of power. Energy crackled between them as Klaus, with his vampire strength, pushed Kai back. But Kai was relentless, using dark spells to attack Klaus from all sides.

Bonnie struggled against her bonds, watching the fight unfold with growing dread. She could feel her magic being drained, her essence slipping away. “Klaus!” she cried out, her voice breaking.

Fueled by her desperation, Klaus found a new surge of strength. He knocked Kai to the ground, pinning him with a fierce glare. “You’re going to regret this,” he hissed. In a swift motion, Klaus sank his fangs into Kai’s neck, draining him of his lifeblood. The look of shock on Kai’s face was one of betrayal, but Klaus was unyielding, fueled by the need to protect Bonnie at all costs.

As Kai’s body went limp, Klaus turned to Bonnie, the victory bittersweet. She rushed to him, her hands trembling. “Are you okay?”

But as she looked at him, horror dawned on her. “You… you were in on it. You and Kai—”

“No!” Klaus interrupted panic in his eyes. “I didn’t want this! I was trying to protect you!”

Bonnie’s heart raced, torn between love and the truth. She had seen the chaos and destruction that followed in the wake of Klaus and Kai’s actions, the lives lost to their dark games. “How many people have died because of you?”

“None of it was meant to hurt you,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “I love you, Bonnie. That’s all that matters. We can keep this between us. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Bonnie felt the warmth of his words and the weight of her own power swirling within her. “You killed him,” she whispered, fear and love colliding in her chest. But deep down, she recognized the depth of their bond. “If I promise to keep your secret, you have to promise to never let anyone hurt me again. No more dark games, Klaus.”

He nodded, desperation shining in his eyes. “I swear it.”

Bonnie gazed deeply into Klaus’ eyes, searching for the essence of the man she had once fallen head over heels for. As she searched, she noticed the flicker of vulnerability that danced behind his usually steely gaze, a hint of desperation that tugged at her heartstrings. Despite the horror that had unfolded between them, she couldn’t suppress the undeniable connection that still sparked between them like electricity in the air.

“Nik,” she whispered, her voice trembling with unspoken fears, barely above a breath. “I don’t want to lose you.” The raw honesty in her words hung heavily in the space between them, laden with the weight of unexpressed feelings.

In a moment of unexpected tenderness, she reached up, her fingers brushing gently against his cheek as she tucked a curly strand of hair away from his face. The softness of her touch ignited an immediate spark. Klaus leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers.

“You won’t lose me,” he vowed, his voice low and earnest, each word steeped in an intensity that made her heart race. 

Then, as if time itself had paused to witness the moment, Klaus closed the distance that had felt like an insurmountable chasm. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle collision that held both tenderness and an underlying urgency. The kiss spoke of the flickering hope that still refused to be extinguished by darkness.

Bonnie melted into him, the outside world fading away, her worries and fears momentarily forgotten. In that intense embrace, she surrendered herself completely, losing track of everything but the warmth of Klaus’ body against hers and the promise of what their connection could still hold. The kiss deepened, becoming a delicate yet fervent exchange, as they sealed their fates together for eternity.

[ferrariregina]

Charles Leclerc request

I hope to one day have it in me to make you as miserable as you've made me

misery on the fast lane | cl16 × reader

pairing: charles leclerc × reader

warning: angst, unedited, also lets act like charles won a gp recently okay? okay.

summary: mentioned above.

you are seated at home, the flickering flame of the candle throwing agitated shadows against the wall. outside, the night is dark and silent, the world seems to be as quiet as your heart. a single polaroid, nestled between a pile of books, catches your eye. it's you and charles. embraced in each others arms, grinning at the camera like idiots.

you miss him, you admit. the way his fingers would trace your skin, delicate and electrifying, the playful glint in his blue eyes, his terrible imitations of celebrities, and that contagious laughter. but the bitter poison of hurt and betrayal lingers stronger than the remnants of love.

he was not just anybody; charles was the fan-favourite driver. every time he'd leave, you would dread his impending return because it should have made you happy. instead, the fear of him losing his life on the racetrack made you miserable. the anxiety was unbearable, but he always returned with that exhilarating grin. until one day, he didn't.

he didn't crash. no, we were the ones who crashed and burned when he admitted having fallen for someone else.

"will you forgive me?" his last words left a bitter taste that you could not erase.

now, you fantasize about the payback. how would it feel to make him as miserable as he'd made you? there's a sick pleasure just imagining it. your heart, once full of love, is now brimming with vengeance.

the warmth he provided, the promise of countless tomorrows, all of it lost and unattainable now.

like a cruel joke or perhaps fate trying to mend your broken halves, you found yourself standing across charles at a bustling party one night. you watched him standing tall, sipping champagne, a captivating sight indeed. his eyes met yours across the sparkling crowd, with an emotion you couldn't fathom.

"hey," he greeted softly, as he moved closer. the effervescent laughter and congratulatory cheers for his recent victory seemed to drown out.

"charles," your greeting was soft-spoken, brimming with bittersweet nostalgia - but you were far from presenting an open book.

"you look…" he paused as if the words weighing him down. "you look beautiful."

"thank you" you replied, stiffening when he grazed your arm with his fingers, those familiar digits igniting an old flame.

"you know… I've missed you," he muttered, eyes pleading. you felt your heart stutter but the seed of vengeance watered, determined.

"that's strange," you replied, feigning naivety.

"I want you back," he declared, grip intensifying. "give me a chance. please."

every cell in your body cried out for his touch, for his promise of a tomorrow. but your pride screamed, insisting you not fall for his pleas. give him a taste of his own medicine, you reminded yourself. you chewed on your lip, hesitant, before releasing a gentle sigh.

"I'm sorry, charles," you replied, taking a step back. "that's not possible."

"b-but I miss you…" his plea embarrassingly desperate, making you wince, a pool of sorrow welling up inside. "can we try again? please?"

you laugh without humor, the sound harsh and louder than you intended. "you have some nerve, charles," you state, trying to wince back the tears threatening to fall.

"don't you miss what we had?" he asks almost pleading now.

you want to lash out, yell at him for what he did, but instead, you say, "what we had is past, charles. a closed chapter. "I still miss you," he says helplessly. suddenly the victorious f1 champion seemed to be nothing more than a broken man begging for forgiveness.

your eyes soften for a brief moment. you miss him too, yet the devout hope to make him feel your agony overpowers your longing for him. you yank your arm free and walk away, leaving him standing alone.

as you walk away, you find it difficult to determine whether you have become stronger or colder in fulfilling your hopes. but for now, you are satisfied, his piercing gaze burning into your back, mirroring the same misery he had inflicted on you.

a/n: I loved writing this, hope y'all enjoy reading.thanks for this request! requests are open!

xoxo

[ask-forbidden-peach]

Peach pit - Oc X Wukong fanfic

Warning: Brief mention of kidnapping. Brief mention of breeding. No nsfw

——-

Ài was in her garden, softly holding some baskets of peaches as she walked through the garden, she happily waved at the passing monkeys who bowed. She smiled only to feel a certain breeze.

“Ah. Ah. Peaches. Nothing heavy. Remember?”

A Cheeky voice came as Wukong jumped from his cloud, taking her basket from her hands.

“Dear. It's fine. It is not that heavy.” She said as she rubbed her round belly.

Ài was about 5 months pregnant, her belly was round and her feet were a bit swollen but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Honestly the pregnancy was a surprise. Wukong was joking about being able to breed her but here they were. Honestly she remembered when she first found out. How she gotten nauseous and sweaty. She went to see a doctor from the monkey clan and well…we already know. Honestly the way everyone reacted when she told was priceless.

Her father? Overjoyed and weeped tears of pure joy and pride as he hugged his daughter

Xiù? Immediately started to cuddle her stomach and lay on her softly, holding her like an egg in a nest

Yìng? Weep and quickly have her sit down. She later learned he ‘accidentally’ hit Wukong in the head with a shovel

Wukong? Laugh at first until he realized she was serious. Then…he immediately grabbed her and cuddled her stomach

It was so nice to see that Wukong had a good reaction to the news. She worried if he didn’t want kids with her. They never really talked about it. They joked about it but still.

“Hey peaches. Here you go.” Wukong voice came, interrupting her thoughts as he held out some sliced peaches to her.

“Thank you Sun.” She was softly as she took the peach slices and ate them.

Well she will enjoy meeting this little peach pit in her.

Wukong smiled but seemed to saddened. “Ài…do you think I would be the best father to our cub?” He asked her softly, rubbing his neck a bit.

“Wukong? Of course you will. Why do you ask that?” Ài asked, looking surprised as she finished her slices, looking surprised and confused.

“It just…I ain’t really the best guy there is. The amount of trouble I caused, my selfish behavior, my well…tendencies.” Wukong chuckled nervously as he remembered some of his not so good moments.

“Wukong love.” Ài said as she softly leaned his head in her chest, holding his head softly. “You aren’t the best person that is for sure. You changed, you learned. You remember every single one of your monkeys names, their birthday. You are basically everyone father or grandfather. You cherish your monkeys so much that you actually planned to go to war on heaven for burning it and killing half of your subjects.” She said softly as she rubbed his ears, hearing him purr.

“You also cared for the monk and your brothers on the journey for the scriptures even when you got kicked out, angry or had that headache spell on you activated. You still saved them and made sure they were safe. You even rejected the title of the victorious fighting Buddha just to stay with your monkeys.” She said as she scratched his chin and felt him thump his tail softly on her leg.

She smiled as she kissed his head. “Remembered when you saved me from that demon when he kidnapped me? We weren’t even mates and you still came to save me, letting your hand burn from removing the talisman that bonded my powers and you…held me as I cried.” Ài voice seemed to waver a bit at the memory, the dread and terror coming back temporarily before she pushed it aside.

“You aren’t perfect but you are a gold heart monkey. You may be made of stone but under that is gold that shines through the cracks at time.” She said as gently made him look up at her. “You will be the best father for our cub. The best. You will cherish our cub. You will be the best father cause you will love, protect and guide this cub in life.” Ài said softly.

Wukong burnt ginger fur turned a bit red due to the blush as he nuzzled in her, purring a bit as he cradled her stomach. “Thank you Ài.” He said softly as he rubbed her stomach.

“Thank you Wukong.” She said softly as she kissed his head, holding him closer as the baby kicked, making Wukong nuzzle in her more.

The king and queen smiled, softly content in there growing family as the peach pits grew in the queen.

[luminouslotuses]

q!jaiden song dump………there’s a lot

anxieties (out of time) - the regrettes

what can i, what can i do? / can somebody give me a damn clue? / fear on my body like glue / can’t move, i can’t move, i can’t move / what can i, what can i say? / tellin’ myself that i’m okay / colors come after the rain

all of these anxieties / come over me, just let me breathe / are we just forever runnin’ out of time? / missin’ how it feels to really be alive / knock me down-down, up, back down / knock me down, i won’t back down

paint - the paper kites

this house has never been the same as before / it’s never felt warm, never felt warm / there’s something moving through the windows and walls / i’ve seen it before, seen it before / you left me living with a lingering soul / how little you know, how little you know

see where i am is where i’m wanting to be / i know what i need, know what i need / and there are many different places to see / i know how to dream, know how to dream / still there’s a wound and i’m moving slow / though it don’t show, though it don’t show

12345 - em beihold

and my neighbors’ screams are deafenin’ / so i’ve got the music blastin’ / feel the skin, the floor / the matches light the candle / hope it passes, smell the / one plant i can’t believe i kept alive / this must be what victory tastes like

instead of findin’ purpose / i could just sell insurance / or join a pyramid scheme / whatever the hell that means, oh / “you need a hug, are you alright?” / “nobody’s loved you much tonight” / only the mirror tells me i’m fine

before the line - dodie

i have an entire post on this one :]

not strong enough - boygenius

black hole opened in the kitchen / every clock’s a different time / it would only take the energy to fix it / i don’t know why i am

the way i am / not strong enough to be your man / i lied, i am / just lowering your expectations / half a mind that keeps the other second-guessing / close my eyes and count

there’s something in the static / i think i’ve been having revelations / coming to in the front seat, nearly empty / skip the exit to our old street and go home / go home alone

happy - mitski

happy came to visit me, he bought cookies on the way / i poured him tea, and he told me, “it’ll all be okay” / well, i told him i’d do anything to have him stay with me

i was in the bathroom, i didn’t hear him leave / i locked the door behind him, and i turned around to see / ooh, all the cookie wrappers and the empty cups of tea / well, i sighed and mumbled to myself, “again, i have to clean” / i sighed and mumbled to myself

and when you go, take this heart / i’ll make no more use of it when there’s no more you / and if you’re going, take the moon / then, maybe i will see you; in the night, i’ll see you

body and mind - girl in red

i’ve been in the deep end since i realized / there is a difference between body and mind / i’ve been at my lowest for the longest time / knowing my existence is not one of a kind

but i’ve had / my deepest cries for now / my heart’s out / my guard’s down

making the bed - olivia rodrigo

they’re changin’ my machinery, and i just let it happen / i got the things i wanted, it’s just not what i imagined

push away all the people who know me the best / but it’s me who’s been makin’ the bed / i’m so tired of being the girl that i am / every good thing has turned into something i dread / and i’m playin’ the victim so well in my head / but it’s me who’s been makin’ the bed

$20 - boygenius

pushing flowers that come up into the front of a shotgun / so many hills to die on

(take a break, make your escape) / gas, out of time, out of money / you’re doing what you can, just makin’ it run / (there’s only so much i can)

wait on me, i’m not ready / i still have to change, have to change, have to change

snow angel - reneé rapp

first to arrive, last to leave / what’s misery without company? / it’s hard to laugh when it’s hard to breathe

smiles hide what secrets keep / can’t tell a lie if you never speak / look in the mirror, she looks like me / but half-alive and twice as weak

if it kills me, i tried / if it kills me, i

[turnthemasunder-if]

I have a NSFW question, so please be aware! *Kisses Maria's forehead and quickly leaves the room before she murders me*

Thank you.

Well Happy advance Bday Gift from me Friend! So I decided to make this snippet very cute and corny at the same time. I hope you enjoyed it :) Also sing along lol.

(Maria's POV)

Maria's body trembled with exertion as she pushed herself to the limits of her physical and mental strength. Beads of sweat dripped from her furrowed brow, mingling with the sharp sting of determination in her eyes. Every breath she took was a battle cry, fueling the fire burning within her.

The silver sticks in her hands felt weightless, an extension of her very being. With each swing, they sliced through the air with a swiftness that defied comprehension. The clashing of metal reverberated through the training room, a symphony of power and precision. Maria's muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored their pleas, channeling her pain into every strike.

Her senses were heightened, the smell of sweat and leather filling her nostrils, mingling with the metallic tang of anticipation. The room seemed to pulse with energy, the air charged with electricity. She could taste victory, tantalizingly close, as she danced through the intricate steps of her training routine.

Then she brought the sticks together and extending it into a staff, twirling it faster and faster in her fingertips before bringing it behind her back and settling into a stance. She swept her arms out and slammed the staff onto the floor, creating a resounding thud that seemed to shake the entire room.

She leaned close, eyes darting to her side, body taut and tensed. Something was wrong, a creeping dread settling in the pit of her stomach. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, then the door to the training room burst open and figure came rushing in and closing it behind them. "Tarnish?" she asked curious and concerned at the same time.

Tarnish who always exudes charisma and confidence is now shaken like a leaf and sweating profosuly. She gasped and went up to him. "Whats wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost? Who followed you?. Tarnish's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. His body was still shaking as his gaze darted wildly around the room. He let out a low groan, clutching his side where a dark stain had begun to spread across his shirt. "Maria I need to tell you something!" they gasp and clutching their wounded side.

Maria lean close and using her body so that Tarnish can lean on to her for support. "Tarnish what wrong tell me?". Tarnish slowly eases down and put their back on the wall. Then Tarnish lean forward, blood dripping from his mouth. "Maria you must be brave, it's a doozy" he whispers urgently. She stares at them, fear rising in her throat. She tried to make sense of his words, but all she could see was the blood and the fear in his eyes. "What are you talking about?" she cried.

Then without any hesitation, Tarnish rush forward and kissed Maria on the forehead. "Bullseye!" they say laughing and moving to Maria's side and opening the door and exiting it. Maria is left shell shocked and confused."Tarnisshhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed.

She runs after Tarnish, seeing the end of their jacket biwlloing before diappreing on a ahllway. "I will whoop your ass till kingdom come!" Maria curses and give chase. Then apporaching the turn, she saw Tarnish entereda room and closing it with a bang. She rashead foward and bursted in.

Then pausing before she reached Tarnish, her senses were overwhelmed. The space was dark and dusty with a the right light to see everything, with cobwebs festooning every corner. But what stunned Maria was the banner that was hanging in the middle it reads. "Happy Valentines Day!" then a music started to play in the air with Tarnish dancing and singing.

If you're alone and you need a friend Someone to make you forget your problems Just come along baby take my hand I'll be your lover tonight

Whoa oh whoa oh This is what I wanna do Whoa oh whoa oh Let's have some fun

Whoa oh whoa oh One on one just me and you Whoa oh whoa oh Boom boom boom boom

I want you in my room We'll spend the night together From now until forever

Boom boom boom boom I wanna go boom boom And spend the night together Together in my room

Whoa oh whoa oh Everybody get on down Whoa oh whoa oh

Vengaboys are back in town Whoa oh whoa oh This is what I wanna do Whoa oh whoa oh Let's have some fun Whoa oh whoa oh One on one just me and you Whoa oh whoa oh

They started to dance with hips swaying, legs dipping up and dwon and fingers near their chest and forming a heart shape. Tarnish is acting like those Japanese anime dancers that Maria she's in T.V. so it made her giggle a little but she quickly composes herself.

Tarnish begins to advance and moving their way toward Maria. The room seems to shift with each move they make, colors dancing and swirling, making the world into a glorious mess. Maria stares at their soulful eyes, a warmness creeping over her body, and a shiver racing up her spine. "What are you doing?" she ask albeit disgusted and touched at their gesture.

"Remember the time that we have a mission in Paris during that summer festival," Tarnish asks sheepishly. "Yeah, you caught me crying and my ice cream had melted. I wasn't upset because of the rain. I was homesick and missing my parents. But then you walked up to me, and offered me a flower. I thought you were so cute, that I just wanted to keep talking with you for the rest of the night. That's when we became best close friends. But also remember that moment when we danced under the moonlit night on that gazebo? And we were the only ones there, and we twirled and spun, and suddenly you just leaned in and kissed me.

Maria blinked. Her mind was reeling, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She'd always been attracted to Tarnish, but she never imagined they would share the same feelings.".

"Well, I know you probably thought I was just being silly or messing around, but that kiss meant a lot to me. It was my first real kiss. And to this day, I never regretted it." Tarnish's voice had dropped to a whisper, their words weaving a spell over Maria. She found herself closing the gap between them, their bodies just inches apart. "I was afraid to tell you how I felt. I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same way. And, to be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to commit to anything. But now, I see how silly I was being. Spending all these years loving you, but too afraid to admit it. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love you, Maria."

A slow smile spread across Maria's face, and she felt a rush of emotions welling up inside of her but she crossed her arms she's not yet ready to crack her tough facade just yet. "Really?" she ask voice flat and even. "Yes," Tarnish said nervously. "Uh huh!" Maria looked into Tarnish eyes,!

"You may have hit me with a few corny jokes and pranks today, but you also swept me off my feet with your song and dance number. I can't tell you how touched I was by your thoughtfulness and your heartfelt words.".

"I can't believe this is actually happening," Tarnish said, their hands running through Maria's hair. But Maria swat their hands away. "I didn't say I agreed to your love!" she clicked her tongue.

"NO FAIR!" Tarnish pouts. "Even though I did that dance just for you?"

"Especially when you did that dance!" Maria deadpans, before bursting into laughter. "But really, that was very sweet of you. No one's ever done anything like that for me before."

"Then maybe you should take a chance with me," Tarnish teased. "I bet you can make me see fireworks."

"As long as I don't have to see another dance of yours," Maria snarked. "But seriously, I'm happy that you shared this with me."

"You're not happy yet," Tarnish laughed. "Wait until you see what I have in store." Then without warning, Tarnish planted their lips against Maria's. Maria was taken aback by the suddenness, but after a moment, she closed her eyes and let the feeling wash over her.

They leaned into the kiss, the world around them melting into a blur of sensations. Maria could feel the warmth of Tarnish's breath, the faint tickle of their fingers resting gently on her shoulders. She never imagined that a kiss could be so powerful, that a single moment could change the course of her entire life. Then she steps back and raised a hand and bitch slap Tarnish on the cheek. "Ouch!" Tarnish says rubbing their cheek with a sly grin on their lips.

"No kissing without my permission!" Maria chastise them playfully. "Whatever you say, boss."

"Now then, why don't we go catch a movie or maybe grab some lunch?" Tarnish suggested. "Sure, why not?" Maria agreed, and they headed for the door.

"By the way," Maria added. "This was the best Valentine's Day gift anyone's ever given me."

"And you haven't seen anything yet my loving side.!"

With a laugh, Maria reached out and took Tarnish's hand in her own, and they walked out into the chilling moonlight, the scent of the city and fresh air wafting to her nose.

[cherinoll]

FACES OF SOLITUDE

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, HOW SLOWLY THE DEPRESSION IN THE QUIET COMES ALONG.

THE SPIRIT OF COMMUNE SOON IS GONE, WHEN DIFFERENCE SETS IN, AND PEOPLE SAY IT IS WRONG.

FEAR ON FEAR, FAMILY DRIFTS AWAY, IT'S THE RISK OF COMING OUT - YES, I AM GAY.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, GRADUALLY THE WEAKNESS AND SECLUSION COMES ALONG.

MY VOICE IS NOT HEARD, IN THIS PLACE SO ALONE, THE WEATHER SEEMS BLEAK, WHERE THE SUN ONCE HAD SHONE. 

MY FAMILY FORCED ME HERE, YET THEY DO NOT VISIT ME, THE FACES HERE SHOW MISERY...REMEMBER ME, YOUR ELDERLY.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, HOW QUIETLY THE DEFEATS OF WAR COME ALONG. 

I FOUGHT FOR MY COUNTRY, BUT WHAT HAVE WE DONE?  YOU SEE FREEDOM AND VICTORY WON, I SEE LOVE AND HUMANITY GONE. 

MY HEART AND MIND SHALL NEVER BE FREE, I AM A SOLDIER FOR ETERNITY.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, SUDDENLY MUCH GRATITUDE IN THE STILLNESS COMES ALONG, I HAVE LEARNED TO APPRECIATE THE LAUGH OF A CHILD.

WHAT SEEMED TO BE NOISE, IS MISSED AND MOST MILD.  THE LOSS OF ONE DEAR IS EVERYONE'S FEAR. 

I CHERISH EACH MOMENT AND COUNT EVERY TEAR.  MY HEART'S PAIN DOES SHOUT, FOR I AM A PARENT WITHOUT.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, PAINFULLY THE ANXIETY AND FEAR COME ALONG. 

WHILE HE BEATS ME STILL, I CONTINUE MOVING ON. BUT WHAT OF MY CHILDREN? DO THEY KNOW THIS IS WRONG? 

I MUST BECOME STRONG, STEP UP AND FIGHT, GET HELP AND REMOVE THEM, TO A MUCH BETTER LIFE.  I WILL ALWAYS BE A MOTHER BEFORE I'M A WIFE.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, HOW QUICKLY THE INSANITY DURING HEARTBREAK COMES ALONG, YOU LEFT ME ALONE, NOT KNOWING WHAT TO FEEL.

HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE THIS?  OUR LOVE SEEMED SO REAL.  I TRIED TO FORGIVE YOU AND I TRIED TO FORGET.  I CAN'T REGAIN TRUST, AND YOU'RE FULL OF REGRET.

I LOVE MYSELF SO AND MUST MOVE ON, I AM THE WOMAN YOU CHEATED UPON.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, SLOWLY THE HUNGER, IN THE STREET COMES ALONG.  I NEVER EXPECTED TO END UP LIKE THIS, I'VE FELT A WARM HOME AND SOFT GENTLE KISS. 

I COULDN'T KEEP UP WHEN MY JOB WENT AWAY, AND I STARTED TO STRUGGLE, WEEK TO WEEK, DAY BY DAY. 

I LOST IT COMPLETELY, NOW HERE I STAND, IN A FOOD LINE OF MANY, IN THE GREAT PROMISED LAND.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, DESPERATELY I TRY TO FIT AND BELONG.  THEY LAUGH AND THEY TAUNT, AND NOBODY CARES, DEEP DOWN INSIDE AN INTENSE ANGER FLARES.

I DREAD EVERY MORNING I WALK IN THE DOOR, KIDS PUSH ME AND SHOVE ME, THROW MY BOOKS TO THE FLOOR. 

I AM ON THE VERGE AND MY THOUGHTS ARE OBSCENE.  JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, I'M AN OVER-BULLIED TEEN.

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG, I REACHED FOR A BOTTLE, THEN FOR A BONG.  I TRIED EVERY DRUG TO FILL THE SPIRITUAL HOLE, I DRANK 'TIL I PUKED AND SOLD THE DEVIL MY SOUL. 

I CRIED OUT... "TAKE ME NOW"...I FEEL SO ALONE!  AN ADDICT-ALCOHOLIC - WHO WOULD HAVE EVER KNOWN?

MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE, SOME SHORT AND SOME LONG.

WHAT IS YOUR PAIN, YOUR STRUGGLE, YOUR SONG?

Cheri Noll 2003

[ally-holmes]

Scars

Day 18 of the 30-day short story challenge

This time the prompt was scars and I explored the topic with our beloved IT middle-aged cast. As the house in Neibolt Street collapses Stan thinks about their scars.

Yes, Stan is alive. And so is Eddie.

CW: AU-Everybody lives | Nobody dies, brief mention of a failed sui**de attempt, mention of canon stabbing wound.

Words: 964

Also available on AO3

There it goes:

The morning air was dense and miserable on Neibolt Street as the Losers saw the house collapse. They almost didn't make it out. Defeating Pennywise once and for all had been cathartic, although the fulfillment of victory did not last for long as the whole structure started to fall deprived of its master to keep it up. As the last piece of wood fell, dust floated through the air, and a pregnant silence settled.

Stanley's heart was beating hard and fast in his chest, his pulse pumping in his eardrums. The vertiginous void in his stomach bubbled and suddenly he was laughing. Hysterically. Stan's maniac laugh had him pressing his hands on his opposite sides, tears falling down his face cleaning it from dirt and other residues.

Eddie followed his lead. Shaking like a leaf under a hurricane, Eddie grabbed Richie's arm whilst laughing as the lack of air was making him a bit dizzy. Memories of Richie floating, eyes white and mouth open suffering under the deadlights, rushed into Eddie's mind forcing him to secure his grab of Richie's arm.

Richie broke close behind. If someone had listened to his laugh at that moment they would not have been able to pin down if he was laughing hysterically or crying inconsolably. Eddie had rescued him from the deadlights and he remembered the pain, still pulsing on his lower back as he had fallen onto the crypt's floor. Eddie had hovered over him, beaming and so proud of himself for having thrown that javelin at the demon clown… Stan had grabbed them with unusual strength, pulling them out of the path of one of Pennywise's claws. A claw that could have, and most definitely would have, drilled Eddie's torso turning him into a human kebab. Reminiscing the recent events, Richie's laugh turned completely into sobbing as he got free from Eddie's grab only to pull him into a tight hug shared with Stanley.

Beverly's laugh made her lose her balance. Kneeling on the dusty road she felt her demons abandon her once and for all. She felt lighter as if after twenty-seven years of carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders it had finally disappeared.

Ben's laugh, although a by-product of the situation just as the others were, was timid and quiet, nervous and buzzing, unstoppable.

Bill laughed quietly observing his friend safe and sound losing their minds over their absolute victory. He started this. Twenty-seven years ago he had pushed and pressed his friends to find Georgie's murderer and face the damn clown. He put them at risk then, and he has put them at risk now.

Mike did not laugh. He felt utterly relieved, especially since he was the only one who stayed in Derry and remembered all the events of the past in order to call for the others in case Pennywise returned. He cried. Silently and a bit bitterly, to be completely honest. Mike drugged Bill in order to get him on board with a suicidal plan. Mike lied to his friends.

Bill, noticing Mike's unconsolable state, decided to hug him. Bill always was the big brother of the Losers and he saw no need to change that now, even if he was the shortest of them all.

At some point, they made their way to the townhouse. There's really no need to say that they made an unsanitary stop to jump at the quarry. They arrived soaked at the townhouse, in dreadful need of a warm shower and industrial quantities of soap.

The first call to reality was Eddie's bathroom covered in blood from when Henry had stabbed him in the cheek. That was not ideal. If his things were moved to Richie's room nobody would have commented on it.

Stanley, clean and dandy, entered the bar of the townhouse where the other Losers had reunited for an alcoholic breakfast with the idea of strengthening their resolution to call the police and give their statements before leaving Derry behind once and for all.

Bev was patching Eddie up mumbling under her breath that he ought to go to the hospital and have the stab wound stitched. A first-aid kit was laid out on the table where they were congregated. Mike, Ben, Bill, and Richie were tending to their own scratches and other wounds. Stan rolled up his sleeves ready to clean up his wounds.

Silently, which was very concerning, Richie took his wrists pulling him closer to take a sit in the empty chair. He frowned with contained sorrow. Stanley understood it. If not for his magnificent wife, Stan would've been dead by now. The moment Mike called him, he prepared himself for a bath and slashed his forearms open with a razor, but Patty looked for him almost immediately breaking the spell. The scars were going to be nasty looking.

"Don't you dare do that again," Richie's serious look pierced his soul.

He gave him a faint smile, "No one would've cared, Richie. Nobody remembered me anyway."

"You are my best friend. The only one that– Penny did something to our memories and for that, I won't say anything on your logic, but I do care."

Feeling a lump getting stuck in his throat, Stan lowered his head. "I know," he whispered.

As Richie worked into Stan's wounds, he looked at his friends. All of them were covered in scars, both physical and psychological. They all had demons yet to be beaten, fears to face, and all that jazz. However, they had destroyed a mystic, demon, alien clown as old as the world itself. If they could do that, they could do anything. The key point was to be together, and now that there was no powerful spell upon their memory, they would always be together. 

The end.

[popcornpoppin]

Familiar feeling - f. o.

pairing: Finnick Odair x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k+ (sorry that it´s so short)

warnings: s m u t (18+ only!!!!!), swearing

a/n: In this scenario Finnick has won the hunger games but he doesn’t get used by Snow in that way - bc our boy has suffered enough. I´m rewriting history ok. I liked the idea of this prompt but idk how I feel about it now that I´ve actually written it out, but nevertheless I´m posting it before I go insane looking at it. Dedicating this to my fave Finnick lover @andvys​ <33&lt;/b>

You just barely managed to deflect Finnick´s blow to your shoulder. You hooked your foot around his making him fall to the ground but he was quickly on his feet again before you had the chance to grab him. You and Finnick had been training together like this since you were children, in case either of you were to be reaped for the games. Luckily for you your name was never pulled from that dreaded glass bowl, Finnick however wasn’t as lucky - getting reaped when the two of you were just 14. Against all odds he had won and been crowned as the youngest victor in hunger games history. You remembered the day he had won as clear as day. When he was the only one left standing you had collapsed in front of the screen and cried of happiness. You could never bring yourself to actually watch the games, always making your friends tell you if he was still alive - dreading the answer, except for the final day. You had high hopes for him, you knew of his fighting talent first hand after all but there was still this nibbling feeling in the pit of your stomach that something might go wrong. Waiting for him to return to district 4 was pure torture, all you wanted was to see him in the flesh - to really convince yourself that he had survived. The second he had stepped onto the train platform in district 4 during his victory tour, you had jumped over the security railings - ignoring the peace keepers´ protests - and ran over to him to envelop him in a tight hug. You hadn´t stopped crying from the moment you saw him on that platform until he spent the night beside you, making sure you were okay and reassuring you that he was in fact there in front of you and that he was safe now. 

That was 5 years ago and you were now too old to be reaped but still your daily training sessions with Finnick continued. It was a habit at this point and you never really knew what kind of shit president Snow would pull. Especially with the existence of the quarter quell every 25 years, where all rules seemed to be out of the window. If Snow could force someone to fight double the amount of tributes, there was no limit to what he would make someone do to prove some sort of point.

The two of you continued trying to attack the other and avoid the other´s attacks. It was like a dance at this point, a routine you had to get through before one of you emerged victorious. You used all your might to try and land another punch to his body but Finnick was quicker than you. He easily caught your wrists in his hand and pinned your entire body to the floor. 

“If you want to win, you´re going to have to be less obvious.” He laughed, smirking down at you. He always was a bad winner and would tease you about it constantly when he won.

However his cockiness was his downfall because it made him distracted enough that you managed to summon all your strength and flip him over so that you were now the one on top, straddling him. Finnick might've been stronger than you but you were sneakier and more sly than he was. Using your weight and pressing down against him to keep him down, you were making it impossible for him to move - no matter how much he struggled against you. Now it was your turn to grin down at him, the roles reversed. His reaction took you by surprise - he was smiling up at you with that beautiful smile of his, impressed. You were about to laugh happily at the fact that you´d managed to win but the laugh died in your throat when you felt something beneath you - was Finnick getting hard?

Your eyes shot to his instantly and as he looked into your eyes his smile dropped completely, as realization dawned on him. Suddenly you were just staring at each other, neither of you moving or saying a word. You could feel his still very present bulge under you and you didn't dare to move an inch because of what that might do. Finnick seemed to have the same idea, knowing that if he tried to move you off him his crotch would rub against you. There were butterflies pooling in your stomach and you seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. His seagreen eyes bore into yours, trying to read your mind. Carefully and slowly you leaned down closer and closer to his face. His breathing hitched and his eyes frantically flickered between yours. Yours on the other hand flickered between his eyes and his lips, trying to coax his reaction before you eventually pressed your lips to his. His eyes closed, enjoying the kiss and softly kissing you back. Slowly you started grinding your crotch against his bulge. The moan you got in response made your heart skip a beat.

As your kissing started to grow more heated and hungry his hands moved to your hips, rocking you against him. A loud guttural moan tore out of you, making you blush as your eyes shot open to see his reaction. He was smirking widely up at you, enjoying the view of you on top of him. 

“You´re so beautiful, so so beautiful” he murmured as his hand cupped your face and stroked your cheek before his thumb came to rest on your bottom lip, slowly moving it into your mouth.

You held his eyes as you started swirling your tongue around his thumb and sucking on it, moving your mouth up and down as if you were giving him a blowjob. He groaned at the sight, feeling his cock pulsing under his training tights.

When you slowly shimmied further down he pouted a bit before realizing what you were doing. You pulled down his pants and boxers before quickly removing your own pants and underwear. Kissing your way up his thighs and stomach you lined yourself up over his rock hard, throbbing cock. 

“Wait-” he started, making you pause “Are you sure you want this?” He asked, looking up at you with a genuine look.

“Yes” you whimper.

When he knew you were 100% sure that you wanted this as much as him, he slowly placed his hands on your hips again, gripping them tightly. With the support of his hands you lowered yourself down on him. The two of you moaning in unison at the feeling. He felt so good, filling you up completely.

“Fuck you´re tight sweetheart” he swore, rubbing circles into your hips as you started rocking against him. Your walls clench around him as he meets your movements, thrusting into you. “God you're absolutely soaked. Don´t stop, you´re doing so well for me love”

You blushed heavily at his words, getting spurred on to bounce even faster on him. Loving how his touch felt on your body you removed your tank top and your bra, before taking his hands and moving them from your hips to your breasts so he was cupping them. His hands felt so warm against your skin as he started roughly massaging and kneading your breasts, making you close your eyes and lean back in pleasure.

“Look at me sweetheart” he rasped. You whimpered and met his eyes again, once green they were now dark and full of lust,  his pupils fully dilated. 

He met your bounces with thrusts of his own, hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. It was better than anything you'd ever felt before. It felt safe and natural with him, as if he knew your body as well as you did.

“Fuck I´ve dreamt of doing this with you ever since I learned what sex was” he moaned, thrusting even harder into you.

“Me too” you panted, bouncing on him faster as you approached your high. His cock twitched at your words sending shock waves into your body. He slowly dragged one hand down from your breasts to your slit and started rubbing circles on your now swollen and very sensitive clit. A loud whine left your lips at the sensational feeling, making him groan in response. Moving two fingers down your cunt he coated them in your juices, before moving them to his lips and into his mouth. He held your eyes as he lapped it all up.

“You taste so heavenly baby” he moaned before moving both of his hands to your ass, squeezing it roughly before gripping it and slamming you down on him even harder

You cried out his name as the burning sensation in your stomach overcame you and you came undone on top of him, he helped bounce you on top of him as you rode out your high and he chased his own. A particularly loud moan of his name falling from your lips tipped him over the edge. He busted into you, filling you to the brim, his cum coating your walls that were clenching around him. 

“You did so well baby” he praised, lifting you off of him.

You slumped down exhausted next to Finnick on the floor mat. The room was completely silent except for the two of you trying to catch your breath. Suddenly the silence was broken by Finnick laughing loudly before declaring “This is unbelievable”

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning your head to look at his side profile.

He turned his head from looking up at the ceiling so that he was now looking back at you “Apparently we’ve both had crushes on each other since we were pre-teens and it took us nine years to do something about it” 

“Yeah you’re right” you laughed, turning your head to look up at the ceiling again, before a sly smirk grew on your face “And you know I might have never found out how you felt about me if it wasn't for me feeling your-” Finnick quickly rolled over on his stomach and covered your mouth with his hand before you could say the last word of your sentence. You tried to squirm away but he quickly climbed on top of you, keeping you in place, making you laugh even more beneath him. Eventually he couldn´t contain his laughter either.

You could get used to this.

[creweemmaeec11]

Villain X Hero Writing Prompt- Today is the Villain's birthday but due to a bad memory accosiated with it (and because the villain is kinda lonely) they dont celebrate. The villain has a battle with the hero with the hero merging victorious, kidnapping the villain. The villain thinks they've been kidnapped for information however the hero made made dinner and got a meaningful gift for the villain. Have fun with this prompt!

I love this concept. Villains being surprised with pleasantries is everything♡ I know I didn't quite get to the present part, but it felt like the right place to cut it off. I also just realized I kinda forgot about the "for information" part, oops. also I'm so sorry this took so long!

As if their day couldn't suck any more than it already did, the villain had to go and top it off with losing in a fight with the city's hero.

Could this day get *any* worse?

They were handcuffed in the back of the hero's police car, driving through the city, towards the city jail, just like they had so many times before.

The villain had escaped jail multiple times, so this wasn't much more than a large inconvenience for them, at least it would have been, had it happened on *any* other day.

The criminal in question had gone out to avoid sitting at home alone with their thoughts today. Having to sit alone with their thoughts in a jail cell was an even worse option.

Letting out a deep sigh, they flopped back against the seat. Miserable. They just felt miserable. It felt like they couldn't even see colour in the world around them anymore.

"You're much quieter than usual," the hero commented as they drove, "Is something wrong?

"Excuse me‽"

"You're usually more talkative. These drives have never been this quiet before,"

"What do you care?" The villain muttered as they turned to look out the window.

That's when the villain suddenly realized something.

"Wait, we aren't going the right way," the villain blurted out, sitting up straighter suddenly.

The hero in the front seat gave a laugh under their breath, "you only just noticed?"

"This isn't the way to the station or city jail,"

"That would be because we aren't going to the station or city jail,"

The villain felt their throat tighten.

"Where are we going?" The villain asked, trying and failing to sound demanding. There were notes of slight fear. Nerves.

In the rearview mirror, the villain saw the hero glance at them, before their gaze fell back to the road ahead.

They didn't say anything.

"Hero..." the villain tried, "Where are you taking me...?"

"You'll see," was the hummed response.

A feeling of dread settled in their stomach.

Looking out the window, the car was already on the outskirts of the city.

Suddenly the radio was flicked on.

The villain swallowed nervously.

What a day to go out on, of all the 365 to choose from in a year.

After driving for close to half an hour, they were well outside the city and into the surrounding woods, pulling up to what looked like a small cabin.

It wasn't that the villain exactly *blamed* the hero for what they were about to do. Clearly, they'd pushed the other too far, or maybe the hero had finally grown tired of their game of cat and mouse.

This just wasn't how the villain imagined themselves leaving this mortal coil. It was always in a blaze of glory, last stand type of thing.

Still, they couldn't find it in themselves to fight back. Not today. Perhaps it was fate, to be taken out on the same day it all began. Poetic, if not ironic.

The hero got out of the car, straightening themselves and stretching for a moment before turning and opening the back door.

"Are you coming?" The hero asked, before surprisingly taking a step back away from the door so the villain could get out on their own. Not like it mattered, the hero probably knew there was nowhere to run out here now.

"Do I have a choice?" The villain muttered under their breath, looking at the ground.

The hero had the *audacity* to look *surprised* at that. As if they were shocked the villain wasn't jumping with excitement to get this over with.

"Well, I mean... no... I guess... I'd like to think I'm not forcing you but..."

The villain sighed, before swinging their feet out and standing up. Luckily, they'd been cuffed in the front this time, which- now that they thought about it, was also abnormal- but it made it easier to get out of the car on their own.

Still, they felt the hero put a hand under their arm to help steady them -as if polite bedside manner would change anything, only for the villain to shrug them off.

"I'm assuming there's nothing I can say to talk you *out* of doing this, is there?"

"What?" The hero asked in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"Ya know, pull the whole 'you don't have to do this, I'll be better, I swear' kind of thing?"

"Excuse me-?"

"I mean-" the villain continued. They were rambling now. Maybe the fear was finally fully starting to kick in. The desperation, because they really *didn't* want this. There was no way they'd allow themselves to beg, but- "it would be a lie either way, I guess, despite the fact I probably shouldn't have said that I'm assuming you'd already know anyway, so-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," the hero said, placing a hand on the villain's shoulder gently, snapping them out of their spiralling thoughts, "What in the world do you think I brought you out here for?"

The villain rolled their eyes, "At least make it quick, will you? And stop acting oblivious or like I forced your hand. At least own up to what your about to do,"

The other's eyes widened as the final piece clicked into place, "You think-! I'm not gonna kill you-!" They cried in what could have been mistaken for horror.

The criminal furrowed their brows.

"I brought you here to *show* you something, silly!" The hero explained, before stepping forward and unclipping the handcuffs off the villain's wrists.

Said villain's eyes widened, "what‽"

The hero nodded, smiling, "I have a surprise for you,"

"What?!" They asked again.

The hero only nodded excitedly before turning the villain by the shoulders and giving them a gentle push towards the door, "Go on! Look inside!"

The villain glanced at the hero uncertainty before stepping forward toward the cabin.

When they opened the door, they froze on the spot.

It wasn't anything crazy.... the inside looked like any other cabin. Table, chairs, small kitchen and living area with a couch and tv. Warm glowing lights and-

A banner hung from the ceiling that read in large letters "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"

The villain spun around so fast they nearly gave themself whiplash, turning to the hero that had sense come up behind them.

They jumped back slightly, words and air catching in their throat as they gawked at the hero like they'd grown 3 more heads.

Said hero laughed lightheartedly, "Surprise!"

"What..."

It was like that had become the only word in their vocabulary.

"I know it isn't decorated much, but I didn't think you'd like the cliche ribbons and streamers and party hats," they made some jazzhand-like gesture, "I was also going to blindfold you but I didn't think you'd let me do that either,"

The villain could only stare, like their brain couldn't process the words they were hearing.

"I also made dinner, and a cake! Oh! I also have a gift for you too!"

The villain didn't move.

"Oh, and one last thing, I gave up and the fun cliche stuff just for you so I'm gonna make you suck it up and accept a birthday hug,"

"Why..." the villain managed, "why would you..."

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve this, I don't-" their voice cracked.

"Hey," the hero said softly, taking a step forward, "I heard you didn't celebrate, and I couldn't just let that happen. Everyone deserves to have a good birthday,"

The villain couldn't find any words, but the single tear that managed to quickly slip out and down their cheek did all the speaking for them.

The hero gave a small, sympathetic smile before opening their arms.

Nobody moved for a moment, before the villain caved, stepping forward and looking at the ground. They didn't reciprocate, keeping their own arms close to their chest, but allowed the hero to wrap theirs around them.

They'd never realized just how much taller the hero was until they were basically burying their face into the heros collar.

The villain couldn't even bring themselves to care at the moment, because they suddenly felt so safe, which was bizarre, considering how they felt on the way, but here they were.

"I still don't think I deserve this. Especially from you," the villain muttered from where their head was still tucked down against the hero's chest.

"I don't think your qualified for that kind of thinking, considering what you thought you deserved on the way here, which I'm almost offended by, by the way,"

The hero was rewarded with a small laugh.

"So, come on," the hero said before suddenly pulling back. They reached up, gently using their thumb to brush away the tear track on the villains face, "no tears," They reached down, grabbing the villains hand to gently tug them further inside "let's make some better birthday memories,"

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[bokettochild]

I Am My Master's Sword

So... I ended up having feelings about Fi. Mostly because of a a post that was shared before my Tumblr break about her. Like, we talk about how Fi might have felt when Wind pulled her, and I know- I know! I talk about him a lot but-

Legend.

Legend was a kid, maybe even younger than Time was, when he pulled the sword. And unlike in the other timelines where Fi's decision hurt the hero, in this one, he died!

Fi is dedicated to, and assigned, one task; to help her master protect the world. So how would it effect her to fail in that task and let her master die? Only to be given another one, just as young and small and weak, to try and guide?

Anyways, I caught Fi feels and wrote her a little thing. It is TTTB compliant, but you don't have to read that 30+ Chapter mess to read this.

Hope y'all enjoy!

Perhaps it was not the goddess’s will, but Fi had favorites.

Logically, a sword should not have any attachment to her many masters, she should have been cold and loyal to all of them, granting them her power and aid until they returned her to her rest, and then waited for the next one to come and draw her blade.

But even so, there were a few of her masters that she had an especial fondness, for, even despite her attempts to remove her own feelings from the equation.

Master. Matdas. Link. The Hero of the Surface and the Sky. Chosen Hero of Hylia herself, her dearest and closest friend, easily stood at the top of her list of favorite heroes. He was the one to forge her to her fullest power and stand by her side. Certainly, he was an eternally exhausted and somewhat easily distracted young man, but in her lengthy experience, it seemed that was simply Her Grace’s preference for heroes. The point was that her first Master was her favorite, and dearest of friends, and despite his flaws; his tardiness and inability to focus for long periods, his utter cluelessness when conversing with other individuals, and his (honestly endearing) love of danger; she adored him.

They could not remain together forever though. She may be her Master’s sword, but a knight only requires the use of his blade as long as he is in battle, and with Demise defeated, there was no need for her power to be continuously used. It was with great sadness that Master had laid her to rest, and had Fi ad a heart, she had little doubt that she would have shed many a tear at their parting.

She lay at rest for many years.

The hero after her Master had no need of her power, forging his own blade like his ancestor before him and defeating evil without her aid.

It was the hero that followed after that that weighed heavy on her mind.

The young Hero of Time was both her greatest regret and her greatest sorrow. A mere child, one too young for her voice to be of any aid to him, her calculations and estimates nothing in comparison to the orb of blue light -a fairy she had determined- that filled the air with chatter and guided the boy along. Had she had her way here, he too would have gone on without having to wield her power. Such a choice was not in her metaphorical hands however, and when small fingers had clasped her hilt the possibilities of the future had overwhelmed her.

In another world, the sleep she sent him into saved him. In another world, her strength was enough. In another time, the hero survived and moved on with his life. In another world he grew up and was married and was happy. The echoes of that world resounded within her, but they were not the life that she saw in this time. No. In this time, her blade clattered to the ground amid the churned-up dirt and seeping blood as a boy too young had released his last breaths in an agonizing scream.

The princess defeated the monster that was Ganon, sealing him away. The princess took her blade in her hands and carried it far away from the castle, hiding it in a grove with a bitter curse on her lips for the blade's failure to protect its master.

Still stained in blood and dirt, Fi took the admonition of Her Grace’s incarnate, fully aware of her own failure in the gristly matter.

She sat alone in that grove for centuries.

Trees rose and fell and hand after hand tugged at her blade, curious but unworthy to remove her. Children had played at her base, uninjured by her dull blade as stories were shared about where the youngsters thought the broken and neglected blade had come from.

“A princess put it there.” A pink haired child had told his playmates. “I saw her in a dream once.”

“A princess?”

“Sure, Link, an’ my Gran’s a duchess!”

The other children had laughed and teased, eventually tiring of their play and wending back to where their parent’s and families gathered on the edge of the grove, half-way through a journey, no doubt to a festival or event in castle town.

Fi had watched with a stiff little smile. They were precious beings, Her Grace’s children, she could understand why Master and the Spirit Maiden had been so dedicated to protecting these people if such small beings were possible. She enjoyed watching them, as much as a sword spirit could, perched, invisible to the mortal gaze, on the hilt of her blade, watching games of tag and hide and go seek with dull eyes.

None of them should have been able to see her.

Purple eyes met hers regardless, shining and curious, and so painfully innocent.

Had the spirit had a heart, it would have sunk in her chest at the smile and shy wave cast her way.

“By Miss Blue Lady.” The boy had whispered, darting off with his playmates back to their caravan.

And just like that, she’d known that evil would again rise soon.

None but a Hero of Hylia ought to have been able to see her.

She dreaded the day that the hands of the pink haired boy would wrap around her blade. Would he be a child still, like the last one? Would he have aged at least as much as her beloved Master? Still young, but old enough to at least bare the weight of her blade without stumbling? Would Her Grace be able to hold strong long enough that her Chosen Ones would be allowed to age enough to bare their heavy burden?

Her soul wavered when the blade was pulled at last, and had she been capable, she would have cried tears of sorrow when she saw her new Master.

He was still so small...

She was far too big for him, just as the hero before him, but the very thought of sending him off, putting him to sleep like she had the last one..... The Hero of Time’s soul would have stirred and roamed free to find and shatter her should she do so, she had little doubt. And she would wish it. Never again, never again would she trap a mind in a body too old, nor would she so illy prepare her master as she had her last.

In another time, another world, a place covered with waves as far as the eyes could see, her choice was the same, and when a small boy, only twelve or so years of age had come, she had breathed her blessing on him even as a soul foreign to the Hero’s Destiny had pulled her free. In that world, her Master had not fallen, but the world had been corrupted in the wake of their victory, and it was left without a guardian to save it from the evils of the world.

But in this world, she had held herself aloof from the young one in her care, careful to not impress on him the destiny he neither chose not embraced. Duty pushed this child, orders of one above him and the glimmer of hope that whatever sorrow burdened his young heart might be relieved. There was little she could say or do to him regardless, after all, she was not meant to be locked into stone, away from Her Grace’s power and touch, where her blade could not regain its power and where she grew weak and damaged.

There was little she could do to aid the little hero, her Young Master, but Hylia’s wisdom touched the young one’s mind and he, rather than forsaking her for a better blade, took especial care to clean and care for her blade, gathering supplies and taking her to a smithy who strengthened and brightened her blade, and who’s hands guided her Young Master to mend her ailments and restore her to power.

Again, under caring fingers and a soulful gaze, she was restored to her true strength, and when little fingers had set to work, etching away a name in her steel, she’d never done a thing to stop them. He had never seen, but she had smiled at the little one as he looked down at his work with a firm nod.

His smile was so much like Master’s own, it made her spirit sing.

Her new master, her little master, the youngest she had known yet (in this time and in this world) was a good one. He tended her blade with all the care due by a young smithy, and even after he had replaced her to her resting place, his enemy defeated and his world saved, he’d taken care to visit and tend to her blade.

While he worked, he’d sing.

Sometimes the Ballad of the Goddess that he hummed, sometimes an old song she didn’t know. Sometimes he’d chatter, telling her about his day and how the world was. About the apple orchard beside his house and how it prospered, about the princess that was his sister, and about the things they’d seen on their journey.

Unlike before, violet eyes did not rest on her when she perched on the sword’s hilt, attentive and silent, but that did not stop her from watching him as he attended to her blade and the stone it was set in, as he cared for the ground and the area around it with all the worry and knowledge of a budding gardener.

But then he had stopped coming, and only the princess had come to her once and again, until Farore’s Oracle herself came, taking her blade in hand and whisking them away to a faraway country where her little hero, a bit older and a bit more experienced, waiting to take her on another adventure.

He had had help this time, there were friends and a mentor at his back as he fought the corrupted Golden Goddess that had been Nayru, but now acted only as a puppet to the evil Veran. There was no small amount of pride in the spirit’s soul as she watched him lead an army to destroy Ganon once more, to defeat Koume and Kotake and destroy the Tower of Evil that Veran had caused to be built.

Adventure after adventure, she had watched her little hero grow in skill and body. But with each task, each fateful quest, she had seen light leave violet eyes until they were hard and cold as stone. Eyes that lacked the purity and innocence to see her when at last her strength had fully returned. He no longer spoke to her, even as his hands worked dutifully over her blade. Only a set jaw and harsh stare met her gaze when she tried to catch his eye again, and again the spirit’s lack of a heart to break was felt as she watched bitterness and anger take over the boy as he cast aside any faith he may have once held for the Oracles and Her Grace Hylia.

Like a mother whose child has gone astray, she mourned, watching as task after task had consumed the innocent child and fueled the anger of the troubled teenager.

Sword spirits were not meant to have feelings, or to love and grow fond, and perhaps this was why. Because any Hero who must wield his blade for too long will change and grow callus and bitter towards those he loves, and she would have to watch the life fade from them as anger took hold. Hylia had attempted to grant her peace, to save her from the curse that was feeling, but she had pushed just enough to taste it, and now it was hers and a curse that weighed heavily on her as she was carried to and fro on quest after quest after quest.

Fi should not have known all of this, should not have known the heroes that she would meet in the future. Her memories should not have swum to her as nine heroes gathered, each baring his own blade as once more her Master had drawn her from her place to join with his fellow heroes to fight an evil that danced through time with no regard for its sacred pattern and the delicate lines cast between worlds. By all calculations, she ought not be able to know each in all of their individual splendor and lack thereof. She should not have known that the last of their number was once the youngest to wield her blade, or that in his time her strength was nothing to the world it was needed to save.

She shouldn’t have known that the boy’s father was a knight who’s power had been corrupted with her strength, a man brought near to ruin in her desperate attempt to right the wrongs she had done to those before him. Her strength was returned in his time, and it had nearly saddled her with the weight of another hero’s death.

She shouldn’t have known the beast that tamed himself with her power, the wolf that stirred inside the heart of a Hylian who had drawn her strength to himself in a time of shadows and twisted evils that spread far beyond the corrupted worlds and into Her Grace’s blessed land itself.

And there was her Master, and the child hero who she had killed and saved and ruined and lost all at once, alive from the time he had moved on from when he had left her yet returned her, his life tangled in the web of time and leaving holes and breaks across its surface. There too was her young master, angry and bitter and harsh, and two heroes whose fingers had never borne her strength; a hero whose power had forged his own blade and another who’d yet to find her in his desolate world.

Could a sword spirit sing in more than battle, she would have cried her thanks to the goddesses for a chance to see all of her masters, both claimed and not, gathered. Something stirred in her, although what it was was anyone’s guess, and no calculations and algorithms could determine its source, but Fi would smile as she danced in battle on her Master’s fingertips, protecting those that she had failed and who had been called too young, with the aid of one who she had grown and learned with.

It was her honor to aid them, to travel at their backs and to protect them from the darkness that followed and attacked them. To cleanse evil from their forms and return them too how they ought to have been. But her joy came when at last she could see her heroes connect.

A battle gone wrong, a misstep from one of the heroes and Master had been gravely injured, left unable to carry her and leaving her to be held and wielded by another until he was healed. There was arguing for who had a right, for who had a cause and who would wield her best, but at last she was landing in familiar hands, ones that fingered the etching on her hilt with a knowing and bitter look, but who treated her kindly as he pulled her baldric and sheath over his thin shoulders and followed along behind.

She should have kept silent, she ought to have. She had not spoken to any but the first and the last of her many masters, but she was unable to prevent it when she heard the thoughts of her Young Master.

It’s not like Sky’s actually just my Great-grandfather or something like that, he’s just... I just... I don’t want him to scold me is all. The royal family doesn’t last that long, Hyrule is wrong.

Since watching Master re-unite with the Spirit Maiden, she had not known such curiosity and -maybe it was joy- at hearing the thoughts of one of the heroes that had wielded her.

“So, you are Master’s offspring?”

Despite how the young hero -one of her favorites and the dearest to her soul, beside his ancestor in what might pass as her heart- might complain, she knew he found comfort in hearing her voice. It brought something to stir within her as well.

After centuries of silence, yet from master’s time no time at all, she was freed from silence and able, again, to converse with one of those to which she had been bound for eternity, and through him, Master.

Sword Spirit’s weren’t supposed to have favorites. But the pink-haired child that bore the Gift of Hearing and Understanding, be it animal, plant or spirit voices that he spoke to, was the connection to herself and her Master, a Link, if she might dare jest, to both her past and future, and to the heroes who she had been promised to protect. He stood beside the Chosen Hero in her memory, a favorite. And she too must have been dear to him, why else would he take such care to keep his mark on her hilt, a poorly scrawled name, only four letters, but ones that meant everything.

L-I-N-K.

The mark of ownership. A claim. A promise, and one that she would also keep and honor in kind.

She was her Master’s Sword, but she was also the blade of his descendent, and if pride could be felt by the Goddess’s blade, then Fi would have been bursting with it.

[starfinss]

Wingman — Akaashi Keiji

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Summary: Bokuto heard you like Akaashi and decides to be your wingman. It goes about as well as it sounds.

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Rating: Fluff, humor (SFW)

Word Count: 1,779

“Do you like Akaashi?”

You choked on your rice at Bokuto’s sudden question, sending you into a violent coughing fit as you pounded on your chest in an attempt to clear your throat.

“I’m sorry, what?!” You said once you could speak, taking a large swallow of water from your bottle.

Bokuto looked blankly at you, owlishly, which was sort of his default expression. “I asked if you liked Akaashi.”

You sent a glance to Yukie, who seemed to be trying her best to look innocent.

“Who,” you said pointedly, and you watched Yukie’s facade break, just a smidge, “told you something like that?”

Bokuto inclined his head in said girl’s direction. “Her.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yukie, I told you not to tell anyone. And you told him of all people?”

A pause, then offense flashed across Bokuto’s face. “Hey!”

Yukie made a pained noise. “I’m sorry! It kind of just… slipped out. We were talking about how Akaashi never seems to date anyone, and I remembered what you told me and I just… I couldn’t stop talking!”

“No offense, Yukie, but Bokuto isn’t the best at keeping secrets.”

“Hey hey, I can keep secrets!”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, hands flattened against your temples.

“Okay, prove it by keeping this one. I haven’t told Akaashi because I’ve never seen him ever show me any sign that he feels the same.”

Bokuto took a large bite of his sandwich. “Just tell ‘im anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s disgusting. And I dunno, he could reject me?”

Bokuto swallowed loudly, a splitting grin growing on his face.

“Well, what about this, (L/N). How about I be your wingman? Ey?”

Your mind flooded with all the ways that idea could go wrong, and the bad outweighed the good.

“No. No, Bokuto—“

“Come on, (L/N), let me help! I know Akaashi better than anyone, we’re best friends! I wanna do this for you, come on, let me!”

Bokuto was relentless on and off the court, and he was hard to argue with. He did know Akaashi the best, you’d give him that, even while you were friends with the quiet setter as well. Being team manager with Yukie really did have its perks.

And Akaashi really was too pretty for his own good.

You could benefit from Bokuto’s help, even if something would undoubtedly go terribly wrong in the process.

“Fine,” you relented, resulting in loud cheers, the sounds drawing the attention of the people eating lunch around you.

You exchanged a weary look with Yukie.

“I hate you,” you said, and she smiled.

“I know.”

Your eyes flicked back to Bokuto, who was bouncing in his seat.

“I have a plan.”

You put another bite of rice in your mouth. If this was going to be as insane as you thought it was going to be, you’d need a full stomach.

“Tell me.”

————————

Bokuto’s plan was horrible.

The first one he gave you involved you just walking up and kissing Akaashi, but your use of some choice language in response to that made Bokuto change tactics.

“Go into a closet—“

“No.”

“I could lock—“

“Bo!”

He groaned. “Let me talk!”

“Then stop giving me plans that could result in me being utterly humiliated!”

“Fine! Then try this. Just get him alone after practice and ask him to walk you home.”

You frowned. “We do that every day anyway. We live two houses apart.”

“Toss him some sets!”

Yukie made a frustrated noise. “I’m going to lock you in the club room.”

You gave her a fearful look. “Me?”

“No. Bokuto. But maybe you if we can’t come up with something.”

You closed your now empty lunch box. “So you’re in on this too, now?”

She grinned. “I’ve always been in on this.”

Anger simmered in the pit of your stomach. “Did you tell him on purpose?”

“What?” Yukie said, then paled. “No. That really was an accident. All I’m saying is I support you.”

“Well,” you sighed, “that’s something, I guess.”

“Lock you in the club room!” Bokuto cried, and the expression on his face coupled with the triumphant tone in his voice made it seem very much like he’d struck gold.

You paused. “What?”

“I was joking, Bo,” said Yukie.

“No, but it could work!”

It could. But you were pretty sure Akaashi had a key, so it would be kind of useless to put him in a situation he could easily get out of. And, to further this, you also had a key. Bokuto pouted when you relayed this to him.

“Come on, (L/N), let me be your wingman!”

You rolled your eyes. “Isn’t that what I’m doing? All you’re giving me is stuff like ‘lock yourself in a closet.’”

“It could work!”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, and you stood up, stretching your arms above your head.

“I’ll see you guys at practice,” you said, “text me if you get any new ideas.”

————————

Practice was somewhat of a nightmare. Of course, it went as well as it usually did, the gym full of Bokuto’s victorious shouts and Akaashi and the other club member’s sarcastic quips. But that wasn’t the problem. Every time something needed to be fetched or the water needed to be refilled, either Yukie or Bokuto, usually with matching grins, suggested you go with Akaashi. Akaashi, of course, shut this down fairly quickly since he had no need to assist you with such menial tasks.

But Bokuto didn’t stop there, no. It was too much to hope a hurricane would stop in its path.

Because during a break, Akaashi approached you.

“Is there any reason why Bokuto is constantly asking me to compliment you?”  He said as he dried his face with a towel.

You furrowed your eyebrows, dread sinking into the pit of your stomach. “He’s doing what?!”

“Asking me to-“

“No, I heard you. I just can’t believe he’s doing that.”

Akaashi blinked, oblivious to the situation. “Is there a problem, (L/N)?”

You sighed. “Yeah. No, I don’t know. This is a mess.”

From what Akaashi told you, Bokuto had started showering you with random compliments, then asked Akaashi if he agreed.

“I just want to know why he’s doing that. Do you think he has a crush on you?”

You shook your head. “No. This is… It’s something else. I don’t really want to talk about it, sorry Akaashi.”

He looked worried all of a sudden. “Is there something wrong?”

Your eyes went wide. “No! I’m fine, really. I just— I can’t talk about it.”

“Why?” Bokuto said, strolling over, and you deflated, “do you not trust him?”

“Bo,” you warned, speaking between gritted teeth, “not. Now.”

“Isn’t this what winging is?”

Akaashi looked deeply confused. “Winging? What is that supposed to mean? Did you make up a word for spiking?”

Bokuto seemed affronted. “No! I’m her… Her man wing—“

“It’s called wingman, Bo,” you muttered.

He was going to give you away.

“Tell him, (L/N), he thinks you’re pretty, smart-“

Akaashi blinked. “You asked me what I thought about that, Bokuto.”

Bokuto faked shock. “So you don’t really think those things?”

“I never said I didn’t.”

Bokuto gave a squawk you could only assume was a cry of victory. “See? See, (L/N) Akaashi thinks you’re pretty! You gotta tell him, tell him now!”

You looked at Bokuto with pure murder in your eyes, and he seemed to falter.

“Tell me what?!”

“Akaashi!” You cried, “talk to me outside, would you?”

You looked sharply at Bokuto.

You buried your head in your hands once you were outside. “ I might as well just come out and say it, because we both know Bokuto isn’t about to quit. That massive meathead is trying to be my wingman because he found out I like you today.”

You sent Yukie a murderous look as she passed the open door, raising your voice a bit as you spoke. “Because someone told him.”

She looked sheepish.

You closed the door, only breaking eye contact with her when you couldn’t keep in anymore due to the new barrier between you.

“Well, that’s fine,” Akaashi said, “I like you, too.”

You worried your lip between your teeth. “I understand if— Wait what?”

Akaashi looked at you blankly. “I like you too, (L/N).”

You were at a loss for words. “You never gave me any signs that you liked me too.”

Akaashi leaned against the door. “I walk you home every night.”

You frowned. “We’re literally neighbors.”

“That’s beside the point. Why do you think I bring you breakfast to eat while we walk to school?”

You blushed. “I thought you were being nice.”

“No,” Akaashi stepped forward, letting his hands fall to your shoulders, “no, (L/N). I like you. You’re an incredible person, and I thought I was making myself clear with my advances.”

Well, you decided, you were a dumbass.

“Wanna… Go get something to eat sometime?” You asked, voice quiet, and Akaashi nodded.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He kissed you, and you swear you forgot how to breathe, that you forgot your own name. You sighed softly, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. Akaashi was an intense young man, and kissing him, even if it was simple and innocent, was just as intense. You felt him wrap his arms around your waist with a heartbreaking tenderness, nose brushing yours as his lips pressed and ghosted against your own.

It was cold outside, but you didn’t care, not when his lips were so soft and gentle.

The door opened abruptly and you heard a shout that could only have belonged to Bokuto. You felt Akaashi smile against your mouth before he pulled back.

“I am the best wingman!” He cried, “Hey, hey, hey!”

You laughed. It felt good to laugh, especially when Akaashi was still holding you so close.

“You are, Bo,” you confirmed, resulting in more cheering.

“Akaashi got a girlfriend!” He shouted as he ran inside, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Is that what you want to be?” Akaashi asked, and you nodded.

“Yes.” You were unable to hide your grin.

“Then it’s official.” Akaashi kissed your nose, then stepped back.

“I will hold your hand when we walk home.”

You blushed at his bluntness. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Nice pun!” You heard Yukie shout, and you groaned.

“I hate both of you!”

You didn’t. But the smile that ghosted Akaashi’s lips as you said the words was worth it.

So was the burning kiss he gave you after practice, and the feeling of his hand in yours as you walked home.

Maybe having Bokuto’s help, as disastrous as it had been, wasn’t so bad after all.

[kiirokero]

Outro: Love is Not Over (Epilogue)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Um, Hoseok cries but they’re happy tears, like very brief mentions of kids without parents. 

Word Count: 4.3k

Note: Oh no.. Writing this made me sad :( It’s really over? (I don’t know why I’m asking that... I’m the author...)

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

Previous / The End ❁

Masterlist

I’m not a morning person. 

Never have been. 

   I used to dread the signs of a new day. I used to go to bed and groan at the thought of the sun peering through my curtains and calling me back to the real world. I’d curse the morning birds and their repetitive song and roll my eyes at the overly cheerful morning news host, who obviously sported a fake smile every time she was on air. 

The only reason I used to wake up was for Yunho. 

   When my alarm went off, my first thoughts were getting Yunho ready for the new day, so he didn’t have to hate it like I did. I’d wake him up, help him choose his outfit for the day, make his breakfast while he got dressed, and send him off to school. With a genuine smile. Even if I wasn’t a morning person, I’d be one for him. 

But things are different now. 

   The sun peeked its soft, pale yellow rays through the sheer ivory curtains that covered the windows of our bedroom. The sun’s warmth laid over my face like the hand of a mother trying to rouse its child from sleep. I was familiar with the motion. Several birds sung their morning tune, perched up on bare branches as they serenaded the woods like they have been since the first time they peeped. It was winter, meaning the birds have migrated to warmer places, although Busan’s climate didn’t make it feel like such. Yes, it was cold, but it was no winter wonderland.  

   Despite the slight chill outside and the slightly cloudy skies, everything felt pleasantly warm. Like the house was on its own schedule, changing seasons whenever it deemed necessary. It felt like the perfect April spring day under the white sheets of our bed, wrapped in a pair of gentle, slightly tanned arms. My body cradled in the embrace of my shirtless lover. 

   “Ma! Hobi! Wake up!” A giggle voice called, followed by the patter of running feet. Hoseok and I grumbled, playfully ignoring the hybrid and snuggling deeper into the covers. We heard Yunho scoff as we held back our giggles, waiting for him to do what he always did. He indulged our silent expectations. Yunho jumped up on the bed, shaking the mattress and us as he hopped up and down, laughing. 

   I relented and peeked my eyes open. My heart softened when I saw Yunho’s smile (Which was missing a couple of teeth) “Well, good morning to you too,” I chuckled, moving to sit up. “No...” a gruff voice from beside me grumbled. Hoseok tightened his arms around my figure, trying to persuade me back down in bed so he could snuggle me more. 

   I smiled, petting his bed head as compensation for my utterly rude movement. He grumbled again, opting to just snuggle into my side. “Hobi!! Wake up!” Yunho whined, bounding over to the older hybrid, jumping on top of him and grabbing his face with his hands, which were comically smaller. Hoseok let out a little “oomph” sound before he let Yunho move his head around and poke at his cheeks. 

   Hoseok’s eyes were still closed, but the heart-shaped smile that graced his face gave off waves of happiness. “Okay, champ, I’m awake,” He chuckled, peeking his honey eyes open to look at Yunho. The ten-year-old cheered in victory, scrambling off Hoseok to sit in my lap. “Do you know what day it is?” He grinned, his missing front teeth on full display. 

   I hummed playfully, tapping my finger against my chin as Hoseok watched us with a smile from where he was laying next to me. “Hmm, well, today is a big day, am I right?” I teased. Yunho nodded vehemently. “A very big day,” Hoseok commented. “Could it be... Your big day?” I asked. Yunho giggled. “Yes!” He exclaimed, wrapping me in a hug and nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck. I wrapped my unoccupied arm around him, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

  “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll make your favorite breakfast?” I offered. Yunho pulled back and looked at me with stars in his eyes before chirping out an “okay!” before he squeezed me one last time, bent down and gave Hoseok a hug, and scurried out of the room. The two of us watched him go with warm, melted hearts. “He gets cuter as the years go by,” I sighed. “Wait until he’s a teenager,” Hoseok poked. I looked down at his teasing smile with a pout. “Don’t say that!” I whined, doing my best to wiggle out of his grasp. 

   Hoseok didn’t let go, he just held me tighter while he cackled at my attempts. “You’re mean,” I chuckled, pushing his face away from my side. Hoseok playfully nipped at my hands with his sharp canines, fighting them off like his life depended on it. All with a smile on his face. “But you love me,” He gushed, nuzzling his face into my stomach once he won the fight against my hands. 

   I rolled my eyes, giving him one last scratch behind the ear before I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Hoseok whined, but let me go. “Come on, you menace. Put a shirt on and help me with breakfast.” I said, throwing on one of his sweatshirts and making my way downstairs. I heard him dramatically groan. 

   I made my way to the kitchen and got out the ingredients for blueberry pancakes, Yunho’s favorite. Today was January 14, Yunho’s 10th birthday. He’s been eagerly waiting for this day since December, constantly dropping hints of what he wanted and what he’d like to do. So for today, Hoseok and I planned to take him out to a new amusement park with Hyejin, Yoongi, and Hajun (a different from the one we frequented), go out for dinner, and come back home for ice cream. (and presents of course)

   “Hobi!!” I heard Yunho call from upstairs and the aforementioned man responded with a “Yes?” before I heard his footsteps trail through the upstairs hallway. When Yunho was about 7, he started calling Hoseok “Hobi” instead of “Mr. Hoseok” once he realized that Hoseok was sticking around for a bit. I think it was because Yunho fully accepted him into his life, but Hoseok argues that “Mr. Hoseok” was just too much of a mouthful. 

    “Eomma... Where’s Hobi?” Yunho mumbled one morning while I fiddled with the coffee machine. I looked down at him with a quirked brow. “Hobi?” I asked, and he nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Hoseok. Where is he? Did he leave?” He pouted. I gave him a reassuring smile as I picked him up and sat him down on the counter. 

   “Hobi went out to get some breakfast, don’t worry, he’ll be back,” I said, petting his head. Yunho leaned into the touch, looking up at me with his puppy eyes. “Promise? Promise he’ll come back?” He asked, sticking out one of his pinkies. I chuckled, grabbing his pinky with my own. “I promise. Hobi wouldn’t leave us, bub,” 

   Right on cue, the front door opened. Yunho’s ears stood at attention, and he quickly jumped off the counter. He ran over the Hoseok who had a box of donuts in his hands and latched onto his leg, nuzzling his face into the material of his jeans. “Hey, champ. Are you okay?” He asked, moving the box over to one hand and resting his newly unoccupied one on Yunho’s head. “Don’t leave like that!” He whined. Hoseok frowned, bending down so he could look at Yunho properly. 

   “I just went out to get donuts, bub,” He explained, opening the box in front of him. “I got your favorite,” He smiled, motioning for Yunho to take one. Yunho complied, picking up a regular glazed donut and taking a bite out of it. “Did Hoseok scare you because he wasn’t here when you woke up?” I asked, leaning against the wall. Yunho nodded with a slumped head. 

    Hoseok looked at me with sad eyes before he turned his attention back to Yunho. “I’m sorry, I’ll tell you next time, okay? And if I’m ever not here when you wake up, know that I’ll always come back.” He smiled. Yunho looked up at him. “Do you promise, Hobi?” He asked. I could tell the new name caught Hoseok off guard, but he shook it off, holding out his pinky for Yunho. “I promise.”

And he’s been calling him that for three years now. 

   Suddenly, Hoseok came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on top of mine while I mixed the pancake batter. “What was up?” I asked. “His adult canines are sore again, so I gave him some medicine,” He explained. I sighed, “Hopefully they’ll settle soon, and correctly.” Hoseok moved his head to rest over my shoulder and reached over to pop a blueberry in his mouth before saying, “It’ll be okay. I remember when mine started growing in, I cried until they settled. He’s already stronger than me,” He chuckled, giving me a kiss on the cheek before he pulled away. 

  Not long after, Yunho came running down the stairs, bouncing over to where Hoseok was leaning against the counter and plastering himself to his leg. Hoseok smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “How are you feeling?” He asked. Yunho shrugged, “Okay,” He answered. “Do you think you’ll be able to eat?” I asked before actually cooking any of the pancakes. “Mhm! I can eat,” He reassured. I chuckled, “Roger that,” Hoseok and Yunho both gave me a kiss before they moved into the living room to watch cartoons. 

I never thought I’d be a morning person, but damn, waking up next to Hoseok really changed that. 

   Since that day at Geumjeongsan, Hoseok and I took things slow and steady. Nothing changed at first. Hoseok would come by for ice cream nights like he always did, but then he’d stay after I put Yunho to bed. Then he took me on dates. Then he’d stay over for a couple of days. Then I asked him to move in with me. And now here we are, about 4 years later, with a new Jung Hoseok added to Yunho and I’s little family. 

  My bed never felt cold anymore, nights weren’t lonely or silent, and I looked forward to the morning. The mornings where I could peak my eyes open and see Hoseok’s sleeping face right in front of me, his hair all tousled. The mornings where I could wake up and hear his laughter mixed in with Yunho’s downstairs. The mornings when I was roused from sleep with a gentle, “Wake up, baby,” or “Honey~ wakey wakey~”

I’ve never been a morning person.

But Hoseok and Yunho made me one.

   The joyous screams of amusement park visitors echoed through the chilly air. The grind of rollercoasters tracks and other thrill rides hummed in a familiar rhythm. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy wafted past our noses as we entered the gates of the amusement park, keeping an eye out for a certain cat family. 

“If it isn’t my favorite sister! Ready for some amusement park fun?”

“Hyejin, you’re an only child. You basically adopted me in college to fill the little sister role. And yes, of course.” 

   Hyejin cackled as she ran up and wrapped me in a hug, while Hoseok excitedly greeted Yoongi, his best friend, with a hug of his own. Yoongi grumbled, but I could tell liked it by the way his noir tail swished back and forth. Yunho ran over to give them a hug as well, a blinding smile plastered on his face. 

   Hyejin pulled away and greeted him enthusiastically, picking him up and spinning him around. Yunho squealed in delight, their giggles intermixed with each other. Once Hyejin let him down, Yunho gave her a proper hug before bouncing over to Yoongi to give him one, too. “Oh god, you're getting big,” Yoongi commented, sounding exactly like an old man. “You’re going to be taller than your mother when you 're an adult,” He snickered, and I whacked his shoulder in defense. He let out an “ow” but continued to laugh. 

   “You know, that means he’d be taller than you too, Yoon,” Hoseok said, and Yoongi immediately cut off his chuckles to give the taller hybrid a shoulder whack of his own. I watched the interaction with a satisfied grin before I felt a tug on my shirt. I looked down to see Hajun looking up at me, silently asking for a hug. “Well, isn’t it my favorite nephew,” I said, kneeling down to wrap Hajun in my arms. He wrapped his arms around me in return, quietly nuzzling his face in my chest. 

   After we all exchanged our greetings and went over the rules with the kids, Hyejin clapped her hands together with a smile. “Alright! Let the adventure begin!” She exclaimed. Hajun and Yunho cheered with her as we started walking through the park. Yunho grabbed onto Hoseok’s hand while Hajun took Yoongi’s and the two of them pulled the grown men every which way. Hyejin and I lagged a bit behind, lost in our own conversation. 

   We walked through the food stands and carnival games, collecting drinks and a couple stuffed animals that Yunho and Hajun guilt tripped Hoseok and Yoongi into winning for them. “Look Hobi! It looks like the dragon from my show!” Yunho grinned, pointing up the red dragon plushie that was one of the prizes for winning the “Throw the ball and knock down the bottles” game.

   Hoseok looked at what he was pointing at and nodded in agreement. “Do you want it?” He asked and Yunho quickly nodded his head yes. “Now, now, I think you’ve won enough for right now,” I said. Yunho pouted, about to whine out a “But Ma...” before Hoseok beat him to it. “It’s fine, baby, just one more? Then we’ll stop,” 

   I sighed, relenting pretty quickly under Hoseok’s persuasive smile. He and Yunho cheered, going over to give the stall employee his money. The employee gave Hoseok three balls and pointed at the stack he’d be aiming at. Hoseok gave one of the balls to Yunho and asked him to take a shot at it. Yunho stuck his tongue out in concentration and threw the ball. It completely missed, but Hoseok was quick to turn his pout into a smile when he threw one of the other balls, successfully knocking down some of the bottles.

   Now, a man throwing a worn out baseball should not be attractive. But it was. It was attractive. I knew Hoseok went to the gym whenever he could with his friend Jeongguk, and it obviously paid off. He was fit, and his flexing biceps only proved that fact further. 

   Hoseok threw the second ball and knocked down the rest of the bottles, winning the dragon for Yunho. Hoseok handed the toy to Yunho, but before Yunho took it completely, he rubbed it all over Hoseok, getting his scent on the toy. Hoseok let him with a smile on his face. Once he deemed it scented enough, he hugged it to his chest and grabbed Hoseok’s land, running back to where I was standing. 

   “Look Ma!” He said, proudly showing the stuffed toy to me. “Wow!” I gasped in that typical “impressed mother” way before I shot Hoseok a grateful smile. “What do we say?” I asked. Yunho turned around and hugged Hoseok’s leg, “Thank you, Hobi,” He said in a singsong voice. Hoseok chuckled. “You’re welcome,” 

   We continued on our journey through the park, occasionally stopping to get on rides like the teacups and the merry-go-round. I made sure to take plenty of pictures of Yunho’s bright face and Hoseok’s heart-shaped smile. (And occasional face of fear when the rides suddenly sped up)

   “Ma! Can we go on that one?” Yunho asked, pointing at one of the rollercoasters. It was quite tame, nothing crazy, just fast paced and a couple of small drops. I looked at it, feeling my stomach go a bit queasy. I was never the best with rollercoasters. “Go with Seok and see if you reach the height limit,” I said. Yunho grabbed Hoseok’s hand and shook with excitement as he led him to where the height limit board was set up. Hajun also pulled Yoongi over. 

   Hyejin giggled. “They look absolutely adorable, don’t they?” She asked. “Who? Yoongi and Hajun? Yes, Yoongi and mini Yoongi are the cutest,” I chuckled, but Hyejin shook her head. “No, silly, Hoseok and Yunho,” she clarified, and I let out an ‘ohhh’ before I nodded my head in agreement. “Yes, they are also the cutest.” I smiled, watching as Yunho bounced up and down in excitement when Hoseok told him he reached the limit. The two of them looked over at me and I shot them a thumbs up, waving them off as they got in the queue. 

   “I’m proud of you, ya know,” Hyejin spoke up, turning to look at me. “Why’s that?” I asked. Hyejin playfully rolled her eyes because to her it was so obvious what she was alluding to. “The little family you’ve made with Hoseok,” She said, “You changed so much, and for the better. You’re literally glowing every day and so is Yunho. You don’t have that doubt anymore, and that feeling isn’t rubbing off on him anymore.” 

“Really? I mean, I definitely feel better, but I didn’t know I was looking like it too.”

“I’m just happy to see you so happy.” 

   I smiled, looking back at where Hoseok, Yunho, Yoongi, and Hajun were standing. The four of them in their own little world as they talked about whatever. Probably music, which was what the boy’s new obsession was about. “My boys make me happy,” I said with a shrug. 

“Have you ever thought about marriage?” Hyejin blurted out. 

   I choked on the water I was sipping, coughing it up as it made its way down the wrong pipe. Hyejin gently pat my back, like a gentle form of the Heimlich manoeuvre however the Heimlich wouldn’t help in this situation since water wasn’t a solid. “W-What?” I stuttered out, looking at Hyejin with wide eyes. 

  Hyejin took the fact that I wasn’t dying as an invitation to start laughing. I swatted at her with a pout. “Don’t laugh! You caught me off guard!” I whined, and Hyejin laughed harder. After she had calmed down, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat before looking at me again. “Have you ever thought of marriage? Like, marrying Hoseok?” She asked for the second time, but this time I didn’t choke. (Luckily)

   “Um... No? I haven’t, isn’t thinking about this a bit too soon?” I argued. But Hyejin shook her head. “You’ve been together for like, 4 years. I don’t think it’s early at all,” She said, crossing her arms. “You’re saying you haven’t thought about it at all? Like never?” She questioned, and I shook my head. “Not at all. I just, live in the moment and appreciate the fact that Hoseok is with me in the first place,” I gushed. 

   “Do you want to though?” She rose a playful brow, nudging me softly. I spluttered, “I um. I don’t know...? Yes...? Marriage is expensive, though. The venue, the dress, the food-” I listed, but Hyejin quickly cut me off with a finger to my lips. “Gosh don’t think about that, think about if Hoseok were to get down on one knee and pull out a ring right now, would you say yes?” She asked. I chuckled, “Hyejin that’s-” “Nope! Answer the question!” She chirped. 

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah... Yes, I’m sure I would,” I answered truthfully, feeling my ears heat up in embarrassment. Hyejin squealed, bouncing up and shaking me out of excitement. “Ah! So cute, I can’t wait for the wedding,” She gushed, wrapping her arms around me so I’d bounce up and down with her. “Hyejin! Stooopp” I whined, feeling the stares of passersby. 

  Hyejin pulled away once the excited cheers of rollercoaster-high Yunho and Hajun came bounding over to us. They cheerfully told us all about how Hoseok screamed and Yoongi closed his eyes the whole time. Hoseok walked over to me with a pout, clearly embarrassed about his lack of courage. He wrapped his arms around me and whined about how awful the rollercoaster was. But I could only blush as I thought about what Hyejin had talked to me about. 

“Happy birthday, dear Yunho, happy birthday to you!” 

    “Is the cake good?” I asked Yunho who had a forkful of ice cream cake in his mouth. He nodded with a smile, his face scrunching up cutely. I chuckled, petting Yunho on the head before I started to clean up the mess we had made, which was mostly wrapping paper mess from Yunho’s gift unwrapping extravaganza. 

   As Hyejin and I went to put the dishes in the sink and throw the trash away, she spoke up with a pout. “We’ll have to get going... All three of us have things to do in the morning,” She sighed. “Why do you sound so guilty?” I chuckled, patting her on the back in reassurance. “Because it’s so early! And I wanna hang out with you longer,” He whined. “Hyejin, you see me like all the time. It’ll be okay. Why don’t we meet up for coffee on Wednesday?” I offered. 

   Hyejin immediately cheered up, enthusiastically agreeing to the plans and wrapping me in a hug. “I love you,” She said. “I love you too,” I responded. Yoongi came back in from where he and Hoseok had disappeared out back, keys in his hands as he looked over at Hyejin. “Ready?” He asked, and Hyejin nodded. 

   Yoongi told Hajun to say his goodbyes, which he did, albeit reluctantly, as Hyejin and Yoongi said their own. “Take care,” Yoongi whispered to me, and he gave me a shoulder hug. “You say that like you 're going away for a long time,” I said. Yoongi just shrugged, “I’m not, but still, take care.” I smiled at him. “Will do and I love you too,” Yoongi looked away with a blush, running off to hide behind Hyejin. 

   “Bye!” We all waved as we watched them go from the front door. The Min family reciprocated with their own set of waves and chorus of “Bye”s. Having guests leave after a party aways feels so odd. I never realized just how quiet the house was at night. 

   “Okay! Time for bed,” Yunho chirped, padding over towards the stairs. Hoseok and I raised our brow, looking back and forth between each other and Yunho with wide eyes. That was abrupt... “You don’t want to stay up? This is the only day I let you,” I said, utterly confused. Yunho turned around and shook his head no. “Nope!” He said, popping the ‘p’ “I have school tomorrow,” He said. 

   “Alright, since when do you want to be ready for school?” Hoseok chuckled, tilting his head at the younger hybrid. “Tomorrow is Appa day, where we’re supposed to bring our Appa to school with us,” Yunho smiled, like what he was saying was nonchalant. I cringed. I never really like the concept of “Eomma days” or “Appa days” because, like Yunho, not everyone had an Appa or Eomma. It just seemed harmful, in a way. 

   “Are you sure you don’t want to stay home tomorrow?” I asked, but Yunho vehemently shook his head no. “Then Hobi and I would miss Appa day!” He whined. Now if Yunho surprised us with his enthusiasm for school, he rendered Hoseok and I... Well, speechless. 

   Hoseok coughed, taking a minute to process the meaning of Yunho’s words. “Is that okay...?” Yunho cautioned after seeing Hoseok’s reaction. “Yes! Yes. It’s perfectly okay. We can, um, we can get donuts for breakfast, yeah?” He sputtered out. Yunho’s face lit up. “Okay! I’m going to go take a shower,” He proclaimed before he ran up the stairs towards the bathroom. 

Silence. 

There was nothing in the air but silence between Hoseok and I. 

Until Hoseok’s soft sniffles reached my ears. 

   I made my way over to Hoseok and cupped his teary face in my hands. “Hey... Why are you crying?” I asked with a worried look. Hoseok didn’t answer at first, and I gave him the space to calm down and gather himself. “He-He wants me for Appa day, so does that mean...?” He sniffled, looking at me with pleading eyes that silently asked me if this was real and not a dream. I nodded. “I think it does,”

  Hoseok cried even harder, burying his face into the crook of my neck and wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight. “He sees me like that?” He cried. I didn’t realize just how seriously Hoseok took his role as a father figure, and I guess the conformation from Yunho that he was, in fact, his father figure made him feel like he had won the World Cup. “He does. You deserve that honor, Hoseok,”

“I just... I don’t... Appa”

“Shh, take a deep breath, okay?”

   I let him cry in my neck until he pulled away by himself, leaving me with a saturated collar and sleeve. Hoseok looked at the wet spot and chuckled. “Sorry,” He croaked out, but I shook my head and took one of his hands in my. “No need to apologize, it’s just a shirt. Let’s get ready for bed, okay? You have a big day tomorrow.” I smiled. 

Yunho was my light.

And now he has a father could be things that I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just Yunho, Hoseok, and I

“What’s stopping you, Seok?”

“I’m just nervous, Yoon. What if she says no?”

“Why would she say no?”

“I don’t... Know...”

“Exactly, so just take her somewhere nice and ask. That’s how I asked Hyejin,”

“You make it sound so easy... But alright... I’ll do it.”

Tag List: @kurochan3​ @mrcleanheichou​ @anonymous-armys-blog​ @bella-raina @purelyecstacy​ @lindsayjoy444  @unicornbabylover​ @xicanacorpse​ @creatorspalace​ @thesweetest-peas​​ @fangirl125reader​​

© KiiroKero

Another Note: I have drabble plans for the OLINO universe that I might write and post. They won’t be out for a while but I might write them. 

[kevindayisafrog]

What if Neil never made it home? (Kevneil pain)

TW - physical abuse (choking), panic attacks, hints of suicidal thoughts, grief and loss of a MC, anxiety

“Where is he?”, Andrew’s monotone voice chilled Kevin all over, making his already rapid heart beat faster. “I-I don’t-“, Kevin put his head in his hands and let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know where Neil was and he was dreading the worst. He was holding his hand just minutes ago but the fight broke out and..Kevin let out a strangled sound and squeezed his eyes shut. “Andrew-“, Nicky’s fear made him look up in time to see Andrew marching towards him up the aisle of the bus. “Andrew, I promise I don’t know where he is”, Kevin pleaded as Andrew ran into him and grabbed his throat, “Andrew, please, I don’t-“. He let out a choked whimper as Andrew’s hands grew tighter around his neck. A million tortured moments of Riko flashed behind his shut eyes making Kevin want to disappear; run away from this place to find his Neil. “Andrew”, he tried to whisper, the name barely coming out. “Where the fuck is he?”, Andrew’s voice barely changed, his deadpan face still remaining; boring into Kevin’s memory. “His father-the butcher-“, he knew Neil would hate him for telling everyone his past, but if it would get Andrew off him, he’ll try anything. As soon as Andrew lets go he can run; he’d run faster than he ever has, until his legs break beneath him. He won’t care about the pain, he’s lived through pain his whole life, what’s a bit more? If it helps him get Neil back he’ll walk through fire, he’ll go back to the nest, he’ll kiss Riko’s feet and smile as he slowly dies. “Baltimore-the butcher of Baltimore”, Kevin closed his eyes and let a tear fall out. Who cares if the foxes see him cry? He doesn’t give a shit. They mean nothing to him. “Andrew get off him”, Matt looked between the two and wrapped his arms around Andrew’s waist, pulling to no avail, “fuck”. Kevin looked up into Andrew’s empty eyes through his blurring vision and prepared for the pain he’ll get before whispering: “please, Andrew, I can’t lose him”. Andrew’s hands grew tighter than before, making Kevin let out a laugh fueled on pain and fear. He looked over Andrew’s shoulder fleetingly as Matt, Aaron, Nicky and Coach finally pulled Andrew off; his throat bursting with a numb pain. “Kevin, sweetheart”, Abby kneeled beside him and pulled his head gently onto her lap, “if you know about Neil’s past we need you to tell us now. It’s important”. Kevin closed his eyes and swallowed through the burn in his throat, silently apologizing to Neil for his truth. “His father..is the butcher of Baltimore. He just got out-“, he pressed a hand against his mottled throat and swallowed the taste of blood, “out of prison. We need to save him”. Nicky let out an inhaled ‘fuck’ as Matt got ready to hit Kevin. “For fuck’s sake, Kevin, why didn’t you tell us before? Is that why he was scared of his own shadow? Because he was fucking running away?”, Wymack ran a hand down his face and swore. Kevin nodded and cleared his throat, “yeah, he ran away with his mom when he was eleven. But she died and..”, he shrugged and let out a pained sigh as Abby began to rub lotion onto his bruising neck. “Fucking great”, Wymack turned his back to the team and shook his head before turning to glare down at Kevin, “you should’ve told us sooner, Day. What if something has gone wrong and we’re too fucking late?” Kevin winced at his words and slowly closed his eyes; he’s been blamed for a lot of shit in his life, but Neil’s possible death stabs deeper than anything before. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, desperate for someone to believe him. “That’s not good enough right now. Everyone get in your seats”, Wymack barked as he strode to the front of the bus and sat down with a loud sigh. Kevin stood up slowly and sank into his seat, watching out of the window as his fear and anxiety choked him once again.

Kevin sunk into the corner of the hotel room and dropped his head into his hands; his left hand red raw from his anxious picking. He didn’t want to stay in this room, he didn’t care if the FBI forced them to, he needed to get out. They reassured him that Neil would be okay, but he didn’t believe them. Kevin flinched as a hand was placed on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze making him want to crawl out of his skin. “He’s going to be okay”, Abby smiled down at him and placed a gentle kiss on his temple, “I know what he means to you”. Kevin blinked up at her and tried to hold his anxious tears in; he didn’t want anyone to know what Neil meant to him. Neil was his and he was going to protect him until the day he dropped dead. “Fuck’s sake”, Wymack grumbled as a loud knock startled everyone up onto their feet. They all stood in silence as their Coach opened the door cautiously and grunted when two FBI agents walked through the door with annoyed facial expressions. “I’m Special Agent Browning and this”, the smug suited man gestured to the taller man beside him, “is my partner Special Agent Towns. We are working on the Baltimore case and can officially announce that the butcher has been executed”. He said it so proudly, so smugly that Kevin wanted to rip the man’s face off with his bare fucking hands. “But this information is not to leave this room, do you understand?”, Towns glared at each face before nodding and pulling a notebook out of his jacket pocket, “we would like some information on Nathaniel Wesninksi, the butcher’s son”. Nathaniel. That name alone brought too many bad memories up that Kevin wanted to scream. He wanted to scream that his name is Neil, he hated that name and he ran so far away to forget it; but now they’re pinning him back down with it. “His-his name is Neil”, Kevin spoke up and felt everyone’s eyes turn to him, “and I want to know where he is”. He tried to stay formal and authoritative but his voice cracked in fear. Both agents shared a small look, a silent conversation being spoken right in front of their faces, before Browning nodded and turned to face the room. “We are sorry to say that Nathaniel did not make it. Our condolences”. Kevin felt the air leave his lungs as if he’d been shot a million times in the chest. “What?”, he whispered as the Foxes turned to shoot him death glares. “For fuck’s sake, Kevin. You should’ve told us”, Matt spat as Dan physically held him back from killing Kevin. “I didn’t-he didn’t want me to, I was just-“, Kevin took a step back in instinctive fear as the Foxes began to shout over each other, each word ripping deep into Kevin’s skin that they began to merge together into a numbing ring in his ears. “He’s okay, they’re just-“, Kevin gripped his chest with his left hand and replayed all his memories with Neil, “they’re lying. He’s okay”. Browning shook his head and sighed, “I’m sorry, kid, but his father got to him before we could infiltrate the building”. Kevin fell to his knees and covered his ears, his lungs bursting in his chest. “No, he’s okay, he’s okay”, he whispered hoarsely, bile slowly creeping up his bruised throat. His ears began to ring with shouts and cries as he watched his Neil slip away behind his eyelids, the blue eyes that he fell in love with slowly closing shut to never open again.

“He’s okay”, Kevin whispered as his body began to shake, painful sobs ripping through his chest, “he’s okay”. He replayed every interaction with Neil, his body still humming with his touches, his cheeks still blushing from the soft kisses. “He’s okay, you’re lying”, he whispered though it came out barely audible, his throat burning with the bile. He felt like he was dying and he was leaning into it; hoping that this will finally be the moment where he’ll die and won’t have to live without Neil. The boy that he fell in love with the moment he saw him swagger onto the court when they were eleven. The boy that mouthed off to the press, to Riko, but would kiss him so gently; would hold him with such tenderness that it would sometimes make him want to cry. His reason to fight back who has lost the battle; who proved that life would never get better, at least not for them. He let out a wail as he felt his lungs collapse, his body shaking so much that he felt as if he were leaving it; finally being freed. “Kevin”, a blurry voice broke through the deafening ring in his ears, a voice so soft that it made his heart break more, “Kevin, sweetheart, give me your hand”. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked through the tears, his head swimming with his fight or flight reflexes. He wanted to do neither; he wanted to disappear. “Give me your hand”, Abby gently took ahold of his hand and placed it against her neck, “feel my pulse, can you feel it?” It took too much energy for Kevin to nod so he squeezed his eyes shut instead. “Good, now match my breathing, I know it’s hard but you can do it”, Abby began breathing too loudly for Kevin’s ears and he just wanted to push her away, but he tried anyway; she always makes him want to try. “Good, that great, you’re doing so well”, Abby whispered through breaths, a sad smile in her voice. “I don’t want to do it”, Kevin whispered as he felt his chest sag in defeat. “No, you’re doing great, I’m so proud”, Abby cupped his face and wiped away the tears that were infinite. Kevin shook his head and dropped his head on her shoulder, opening his eyes to watch as the other Foxes had turned their backs on him. Neil was the only one that made him want to stay here, so why did he let him go? All he had to do was hold a little tighter, but Kevin always let good things slip through his fingers, “I’m sorry”, he whispered though no one heard him.

Kevin strode onto the Ravens court with his head held and with a victory already in his grasp. “For you”, he whispered to the sky before tapping the butt of his racquet against the floor and changing hands, “you gave me your game and I won’t let you down”.

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.

Medieval Au

Princess Y/N Stark of York New must marry a man chosen by her brother, by the time she is 21. Her brother's council have the perfect man in mind, one that is terrifying and hell bent on having his Queen. But Princess Y/N's heart belongs to another, and luckily so does her hand in marriage. 'A princess is far more powerful than a king, my love. You have the power of merging families and kingdoms. You have the power of carrying hopeful heirs to the throne. You have more power than you know...'

Bold italics are flashbacks.

Series warnings: swearing, medieval views on women, arranged marriage, smut, bloodshed, violence, 18+ readers only

Part warnings: talk of arranged marriage, swearing, violence, blood, attempted kidnap

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<Part 4<

Part 5

The following day Steven promised he would spend the full day with you. After eating breakfast the two of you visited the local village. It was something Steven did when his busy schedule permitted him to, but it was something he always did when you were visiting. You had fallen in love with the villagers after your very first visit to the kingdom. They were all so pleasant and cherished their King. Another thing that reminded you of your home.

After spending a few hours visiting the market where you had lunch as well as buying one or two things, you went back to the castle so Steven could work on a couple of things in his study where you read one of his many books before the two of you had dinner together.

The following day you weren't able to spend that much time with Steven due to him needing to be present in meetings, again. You were left in the company of Sir Clint Barton who was an expert archer and your teacher for just that. The two of you spent hours practising before Steven managed to escape the dreaded meeting he was in and joined you for a little while before the two of you had some lunch. He reluctantly returned to his 'Kingly duties' as he put it with an eye-roll making you laugh. That night you ate with your ladies-in-waiting in your chambers, a little disappointed not to be seeing the King again that night.

"Tell me, Bucky, you spent some time in Wakanda with King T'Challa, didn't you?" You looked back to the man behind you.

King Steven had decided the two of you, along with Bucky and Sam were going to spend the day riding and doing a little hunting. You had a feeling Steven wanted to get out of the castle and away from his council.

"I did, Your Highness," Bucky answered.

"Would you say he's a kind man?" You asked curiously. "I've only met him once but I felt perhaps he was."

Bucky nodded, "He is one of the kindest souls I have had the pleasure of knowing, Your Highness."

"What about King Thor, Steven, is he kind?"

Steven nodded with an almost silent grunt, "He is... Although, you may find conversation with him a little slow, Princess." Steven grinned cheekily at you.

You giggled nodding, "Yes, I have had the pleasure of meeting him once or twice, Your Majesty."

As kind and as brave as King Thor was, his lack of knowledge on matters other than battle and maidens he's bedded, made conversation a little unbearable if you weren't someone with a cock between their legs.

"Are you not going to ask about Prince Loki, Your Highness?" Steven asked in a playful tone.

You scowled playfully at him. "Oh, I am glad you find amusement in my turmoil, King Steven." Steven chuckled making you scoff but smile none the less at him. You did enjoy the teasing between the two of you.

"I think we'll stop here," Steven spoke after a few minutes further riding into the woods. He was quick to dismount and offer his hand to you. He smiled tenderly at you as he held you steadily by the waist. "Okay?"

You gulped, nodding your head, "Yes... thank you,"

You smoothed your dress out stepped around his bulking frame, suddenly feeling shy under King Steven's gaze.

Slowly the four of you began to walk through the trees. Steven and Sam held a crossbow each with Steven on your left as you walked alongside Bucky.

"Rabbit, in front," Sam called out quietly before Steven aimed and fired at the rabbit a hundred or so feet in front of you.

"Good shot, Your Majesty." Bucky praised Steven as he moved forwards and collected the rabbit. His eyes seemed to wonder over your shoulder for a brief moment as he moved back to where he was stood before.

The four of you continued to walk on, conversing softly as you kept an eye out for rabbits. Each aim of the King's crossbow was on target, and soon the rabbits were mounting up.

"Would you like to have a go, Y/N?" Steven asked as he began to reload his crossbow.

Your eyes widened a little in surprise, "Oh, I'm not sure I'd be able to. It's a lot different to a bow and arrow."

Steve shook his head with a reassuring smile. "I'll teach you," He held his arm out towards you and waved you over to him.

You drew in a shaky breath as you slowly walked over to him, taking his hand he offered to you and allowed him to pull you in front of him. You gasped as Steve held the crossbow in front of you with both hands, caging you in. Shivers ran down your spine as his breath tickled the back of your neck.

"Take this hand," He reached down with his left and held yours, "Place it here," He put your hand into position. "Then put your other hand here," He did the same with the other hand. "Relax your fingers, Y/N, that's it... Then you just pull back, until it's in position... like that," He whispered as he moved your hand once more, showing you how to aim, "And then, you press here, and-" The arrow shot from the crossbow with a whistle through the air and landed in the bark of a tree with a crunch. "Perfect!" He praised you.

You grinned from ear to ear, "I hardly did anything, Steven," You turned to look at him over your shoulder.

"Everyone has to start somewhere, Princess," Steven smiled down at you. You were still stood in front of him with his chest pressed to your back. "Let's see if we can find you a rabbit, shall we?" Steve took your hand in his and began to lead you through the trees.

It took some time and a lot of help from Steven but you eventually managed to catch your own rabbit using the crossbow. You were so excited when you were successful, you jumped up with a cheer and wrapped your arms around Steven's neck.

"Sam," Bucky called out as he picked up the last rabbit they had just shot. "Let's start binding these things together, shall we."

"I hope you don't mind me saying, Steven, but you don't quite seem yourself." You whispered as the two of you stood together leaving the two knights to tend to your catches.

Steven let out a heavy sigh, "I do apologise, Princess. There is no need to worry, I assure you." He gave you a smile to reassure you.

You frowned at him. You reached up and placed your hand on his arm, trying not to think about how his muscular bicep felt under your hand. "Steven, I'm no fool. I know there is something you're worried about." You gave him a gentle smile.

Steven let out a breathy chuckle, "How is it you know me so well, Princess?" He smiled down at you. He reached up and brushed a strand of your hair back from your face. "These damn meetings I've been having." He sighed, "The council seem to think, without a queen by my side, I am in no position to be leading the kingdom to victory." He frowned.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. "Wait... They are forcing you to marry?" You gulped, feeling something foreign inside your gut as you thought about Steven marrying someone once again.

Steven nodded but before he could open his mouth an arrow was shot through the air from somewhere deep in the woods and landed in the tree between you and Steven, splintering the wood with a loud crack. Steven was quick to pull you into his arms and to draw his sword at the same time as Sam and Bucky.

"Did you see who it was?" Sam asked as he moved to stand before you and Steven to shield you as Bucky stood behind you, blocking the two of you from any more arrows.

Steven shook his head, "Bucky, who had you seen before?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Not sure, Your Majesty, it was just a glimpse of someone. I fear there may be more than one." Bucky answered, "Perhaps we should start making our way back to the castle, Your Majesty?"

"Agreed," Steven tightened his hold on you and slowly the four of you began to make your way back towards where your horses waited.

However, before you could get too far from your spot, another arrow was shot, this time it hit Sam's shoulder. He cried out in pain almost dropping his sword.

"Run, Y/N, you must go!" Steven ordered, pushing you forwards, leaving no room to argue. He knew your horse would keep you safe.

Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you ran as fast as you could. The sounds of swords clashing together and echoing off the trees around you, terrified you. You were desperate to know what was going on but you knew you had to run.

"Your Majesty!" Bucky cried out.

Your feet almost stopped moving and tears began to fall as the trees started to rustle from the winds. You strained your hearing, desperate to hear any sign of Steven. He couldn't be dead, he couldn't. You were so close to Storm, you could almost feel his warmth under your fingertips, you had to push yourself.

You screamed out in terror as an arm wrapped around your waist before a hand covered your mouth, muffling your screams. You clawed at the filthy hand that covered your mouth and kicked out your legs in front of you.

"Be quiet!" A deep voice ordered behind you whilst you were dragged backwards away from your horse.

You pulled the hand from your mouth the best you could and sank your teeth into it, ignoring the foul taste that hit your tastebuds. The man cried out in pain and let go of you. "STEVEN!" You screamed out, trying to move closer to the horses. The four of them stomping their hooves, bucking and whinnying, trying to break loose.

"Be quiet you little bitch!" A hooded man hissed as he hit the back of his hand across your cheek. The force of it knocking you off your feet. "Get up," He ordered as you laid on the floor. "I said, GET UP!" He bent over you as you kicked and screamed at him. You slapped your hand across his face, scratching your nails across his cheek and drawing blood, causing him to take a step back. He glared down at you as he drew a small blade from his boot. "You little-"

The man let out blood-curdling scream as Steven's sword was plunged into his side before he was kicked away from you.

"Sam, if he's not dead, fucking kill him," Steven ordered as he sheathed his sword and moved to where you were laid on the ground crying.

You stared up at him, fear in your eyes. He was covered head to toe in dirt and blood, some most likely his from the one or two gashes that you could see through his tunic. He looked every bit of the feared warrior you had heard stories about.

"Princess?" Steven whispered and bent down beside you as he held his hand out towards you, expecting you to take it.

"Oh, Steven!" You cried out, launching yourself towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your tears rolling down your face and soaking his tunic. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"Shh, it's okay," Steven soothed, his large hands cradling the back of your head as you sobbed. "I've got you," He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "You're safe."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @fckdeusername

[starbornsinger]

Nepenthe

Azriel x Gwyn one-shot (light angst, fluff)

Warning: ⚠️ ACOSF spoilers, mentions of abuse ⚠️

The day was not turning out as Azriel had originally anticipated. That much, at least, he had gathered. Now today wasn't like other unanticipated, unwelcome distractions. Those were the kinds he dreaded— days where he would return to the townhouse soaked in blood he wasn't sure belonged to him.

Those days haunted him on ones like this.

Yes, today was a different kind of unexpected. Rhysand had decidedly summoned him for lunch in his office, to discuss politics and prisoners and what color he and Feyre would paint the baby's room. It went in and out of Azriel's mind. Most things did, these days. The time after the war, after spending months trying to get those goddamn Illyrians back in line, it was taking its toll on him. His shadows, which curled behind his ears like tufts of dark hair, now seemed to swallow Azriel’s face whole, clenching around his body with an armored ferocity Rhysand was accustomed to.

Maybe, Azriel told himself, that was why he called him here. To see what he was up to. How he was doing. It annoyed him, when Rhys fluttered around him like a concerned mother hen, desperate to understand his feelings and thoughts.

He doubted he deserved to be cared for like that.

And maybe, he thought with a wry snort, it was why he had sent him on such a meaningless errand. A distraction, one he merely welcomed with indifference.

"There's a book," Rhys had drawled, leaning back in the chair pushed out from his onyx desk. Behind him, the portrait of his Mate seemed to glimmer with curiosity. "In the library beneath the House of Wind. A history book, about the royal bloodline. Feyre is making a family tree, and wishes to learn more about my ancestors. If you don't mind, I'd like you to retrieve it for me."

As though Azriel had nothing better to do. Truthfully, he didn't. But still he had replied slowly, his voice tight, "Can't you get it yourself? Or send Cass?" Rhysand only barked a laugh. When it came to his brother, Azriel knew he would do anything he asked. For his brother, he would have jumped into the Sidra if he had asked. It was beyond the duty to the High Lord with which Azriel regarded Rhysand; but that didn't mean he wouldn't give him grief for such a stupid task.

"No, shadowsinger," he had purred in reply, mouth stretching into a taunting grin. "I cannot. I'm far too busy looking at paint samples with my Mate. And besides, the priestesses like you best, don't they?" Rhys barked a laugh. Azriel opened his mouth to retort, to defend the way his shadows flinched, but he set his jaw tightly. The shadowsinger gave a subtle nod, then rose from his seat. A soft brushing of knuckles against his stony mental shields had him pausing in the doorway.

You can hide it, Rhys had said. You can hide many things from us. But you can't hide from me. You need this today.

Hide it, indeed.

Azriel huffed as he flew, wings beating against the cool summer breeze that rippled across his dark head. He needed to stretch his wings, to clear his head and focus on the warmth beating down on his back. The sun, hanging lazily in the afternoon sky, illuminated the blues and reds of his wings and cast his shadow over Velaris as he made his way to the library. He told himself he had only wanted to get it over with, and that was why he was moving so quickly, darting across the sky. That he wanted to go back to the townhouse and sulk. But Mother damn him, he couldn't stop that swell in his chest as he came nearer and nearer. That swell was akin to dying a joyous and euphoric death— there was no other way Azriel could accurately describe it. His heart pounded in anticipation at what he knew lay beyond those ancient doors.

Her.

Azriel had become accustomed to Gwyneth Berdara’s strange beauty and equally strange humour during their training; had grown to like her friendly nature and competitive, passionate spirit. If anything, he admired her. He might have even feared her. That cheerful female with copper hair that shined in the light of the sun and moon, both of which seemed to love her. They had spent months, moving side-by-side, grinning at each other across the ring while trying to slash the other with a sword.

Their encounters outside of training were brief, and conversations short. He supposed he wasn't one for talking, and allowed her to lead them in a dialogue. But as time went on, Azriel found the little smiles on her rosy lips now reflected on his, and the bright laughter that filled his ears now echoed softly in his own throat. With her, he felt his emotions bob to the surface, and for once, he didn't stop them.

From the moment he'd met Gwyn, she'd held Azriel's attention with a preternatural ability, and had caught him off guard more times than he'd like to admit. The shadowsinger, spymaster, king of shadows— taken by surprise by a young priestess.

His lips turned upward at the thought of her.

᯽

Azriel landed on the balcony of the House of Wind, his wings snapping behind him as he eased into a walk. His descent down the swirling staircase to the library was a silent one. Azriel had been to this athenaeum hundreds of times, far more than he could count, but it had never gotten easier.

The pain and sorrow he felt in the priestesses' sanctuary was suffocating, at times. Not because he had felt the same anguish himself, but because he had rescued many of them from it. Because the shadowsinger had seen the horrors they'd escaped from, and faltered, unknowing of what to say or do to offer comfort.

He remembered rescuing Gwyn. Azriel was the first of the Inner Circle to arrive. He remembered dragging his blade across the throat of the Hybern general who thought he had a claim to Gwyn, who thought he was worthy of even gracing her presence. His scarred hands shook even now with fury, fury and rage towards the soldiers who had defiled her home and her body.

Azriel knew though, it was nothing compared to the pain she must have felt. He couldn't bring himself to think of it. Every inch of him now trembled with that dark rage, the joy now vanished without a trace, and he clenched his fists— the fists of a killer, he thought bitterly. Distraction was a fruitless effort. They had hurt her, and he had made them pay with their lives.

He only wished that killing them might have eased her mind, as he hoped to. It didn't. Even now, he found himself staring at the wall late at night, wondering if those mental scars were healing.

Or if they were just as ugly and unavoidable as the ones he bore on his skin.

Melancholy filled him as he walked further into the forlorn depths of the ancient library. He seemed to disappear into it, willing the shadows nearby to whisk him away into oblivion.

᯽

The hymn sung during today’s dawn service had yet to leave Gwyn's mind. It was a soft, gentle song, full of joy and sorrow and hope— the beacon she needed today. When she had woken this morning, the heaviness of her heart had weighed on her with a particular viciousness. It had been difficult to rise, to dress in her familiar blue robes and run a brush through her tangles of copper hair.

But she had done it. A small victory. And she had dragged herself to morning service, as she did every day. It had taken her many months to work up the courage to attend after arriving initially. She couldn't bring herself to fill her heart with music, with love. Not when it was so ravaged by hate. Gwyn didn't know if she deserved to feel joy like that. But when she was through with feeling sorry for herself, through with feeling such overwhelming shame, she dragged herself to that first service and never looked back.

Now, she led the songs with a fervor she hadn't felt in the 2 years since Sangravah. Now, she was bursting with life. With passion. Although the shame had never quite left her, she was happier. Lighter. Gwyn was healing, and happy to do so.

Gwyn had suggested the priestesses sing an older selection of music today, one that cried love in the rawest of forms. It was in a language long forgotten, and the words that had been lost were replaced by lyrics in the common tongue. The song carried on long after the service had ended, caressing the dark confines of her mind and coaxing her out of her stupor.

Perhaps, she thought to herself with a small smile, it was magic. To her, music was magic.

And so Gwyn carried on with her day, pushing the cart that only seemed to get heavier and heavier as the hours flew by. She nodded to priestesses that passed by, and offered small smiles to those she recognized the scents of. The library was a quiet existence, save for the occasional conversation; so she filled the silence, humming and singing and tapping her fingers as she worked.

᯽

It was that soft singing that caught Azriel's attention as he stood before Clotho, his hands resting on the desk politely. Perhaps a reminder to those watching that he too, was damaged. A silent request to be accepted into their sacred space. He had asked politely about the book Rhysand had requested, and a silent prodding about the possibility of him seeking it out. With a shallow nod, Clotho permitted it, and waved a gnarled hand of dismission. She too, seemed to perk up at that singing, but merely shrugged when Az raised a brow. He studied her for a moment, before nodding and turning away. Clotho returned to her work without another word, but a secret smile ghosted her lips.

A few priestesses had indeed watched from afar, but quickly returned to their work as he approached the endless rows of books. Level Four, Section 3A, he repeated over and over. Level Four, Section 3A. Curiously, Azriel glanced over at the group of priestesses who now spoke quietly, and offered a rare, gentle smile to the group before descending down the spiral ramp to the next level.

Still that singing seemed to follow him, echoing off the stone walls.

It was, in simplest terms, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. His shadows harmonized with the gorgeous melody, a reverence of the Mother like no other. The song called to Azriel with an intensity that made his blood tremble, and pulled him until his feet seemed to move on their own, down and down and down into those depths of darkness and light and beauty. He picked up speed, his heartbeat erratic as his mind echoed with that damn music.

When he reached the fourth level, he turned in the direction Section 3A, looking up at a nearby sign. But when he took the first step, his shadows nipped at him, grabbing him by the sleeve and tugging him in the opposite direction. Come, they whispered. Find her.

Azriel hesitated for a breath, glancing back at the sign, then obliged. He was walking blind, betraying every battle instinct that had drilled into him. Ignoring them, he let his shadows guide him with a racing heart, until he found the source.

Mere feet away, there she stood, her straight copper hair tied back by a simple blue ribbon, the same sapphire shade as his siphons. A few stray wisps of red were tucked behind her delicately pointed ears. His shadows wanted to curl around those pretty ears, to run their dark fingers through the silky strands of her perfect hair, but he quickly tugged on their leash before they could slip away from him. Gwyn's lips moved gently, her voice vibrating with a clarity he wasn't quite sure was possible for Fae— but she wasn't entirely Fae, was she?

This damned female would surely be the end of him.

He felt his knees wobble, as her voice waltzed towards him on a star-studded breeze. Azriel had heard beautiful singing before— had been to the theatre several times with Rhysand and the Inner Circle, had tapped his foot to the sound of street performers on the cobblestone pathways of Velaris. But this was nothing like them. She was casual, examining the spines of books and then tucking them into spots on the shelves, rearranging them until she was satisfied. Her musical prowess was a stark contrast to the sight of her; Mother, just seeing her standing there was a perfect melody that made his blood sang. The words that left her lips though, were something wholly magical.

Gwyn was confident in her singing, confident enough to do so in a near silent library where all listened and admired her talent. When Gwyneth Berdara sang, the troubles of the priestesses weren't simply forgotten. Instead, they became tangible, and beautiful, and raw. They became a song, a flawless execution of emotion, a dance of mourning and a waltz of life , all at once. It was a release; a rebirth. It was an almost laughably common occurrence for females to cry tears of relief during her performances, but one that gave Gwyn a swelling sense of pride.

In her songs, there was an honesty that only Mor had ever shown; it was all swirling together like she herself was Cauldron-blessed and the Mother was pouring Gwyn's soul into the world. Time had frozen for— well, Azriel wasn't sure for how long. The faelights flickered around them, two beings lost in the eternity of the library, one seemingly unaware of the other.

If Azriel hadn't known better, he might have admitted how much his heart had calmed. How his chest had warmed, and the heavy weight he had been feeling on his shoulders had slowly but surely vanished. But he dare not say a word, and instead, savored the moment in contented silence.

His shadows, on the other hand, were perfectly content to dance and harmonize alongside her. They hugged the shadow cast at her feet, their misty forms swaying between them. Azriel clenched his fist, and swallowed. Stop it, he tried to command them. And of course, they ignored him wholly. Gwyn's song came to a close, and she hummed the tune to herself as she pushed the cart a bit further down the aisle. The shadows followed, and Azriel took a silent step forward, beckoning them. You're supposed to listen me, you know. They laughed at him in reply.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop, shadowsinger?"

Azriel's heart stopped.

᯽

Gwyn had known Azriel was near the moment he had stepped foot into the library. She wasn't sure how or why, but something in her seemed to suddenly resonate— a feeling ringing inside her that she couldn't quite explain, and only seemed to grow louder and more intense.

Until it was behind her, and she swore she felt the most tender of brushes against her ear, tucking her hair back. A bit of darkness flickered in and out of the corner of her eye, and a smile formed on her lips. Gwyn welcomed his shadows, let them settle at her feet and dance to her song. She had always liked them, anyway. She had been humming throughout the day, but when she had felt that warmth in her blood, it was as though the voice of the Mother had whispered into the curve of her ear: Sing.

So she did.

Gwyn had heard Azriel's soft footsteps as they approached the rows of shelves on Level Four. It wasn't particularly hard to identify them; no other males outside of the Inner Circle were permitted to visit, and no other was as subtle about his movements as the shadowsinger was. Months of training and sparring had accustomed her to his preternatural stillness. Yes, Gwyn assured herself, she had become very familiar with him. Had deduced that it must be him. Nothing more than that.

She dare not admit that she would have felt him and his shadows even if she were blind and deaf.

So finally, Gwyn spoke. Her lips curled into a teasing smile, and she turned to face Azriel fully. And of course, there he was, standing at the end of the aisle as she had expected. What she hadn't expected however, was that his eyes would be as wide and mouth hanging open as it was. Gwyn blinked, the only indicator of surprise, before she soothed her expression into one of cool teasing. The High Lord's spymaster straightened up as well, setting his jaw tightly. He cast his gaze to the floor.

"Gwyn," was all he said in greeting.

"Azriel." Her teal eyes sparkled, and her freckles seemed to glow like stars in the faelight. "What brings you here? Surely not my singing." A soft laugh.

What he wanted to say was, Yes. It was you. You and that damn gorgeous voice. I couldn't hear anything but you. Couldn't think about anything else. Hell, I forget walking down here.

But instead, he simply answered, "Book."

A pause. Azriel's cheeks flared, and his shadows made to quickly hide his embarrassment. He coughed. "A book. For Rhysand. A— a history book. Clotho directed me to this level."

"Ah," replied Gwyn. There was no hint of judgement in her tone. At least she didn't think he was a moron. His shadows flicked towards her curiously. "I see. And what sort of history book could interest our mighty High Lord?"

Gwyn's grin was unrelenting, but Azriel was far too stiff to even look up at her. He had been caught. The shadowsinger, the fucking spymaster for the Night Court, had been caught red-handed by a young female. Cassian would have guffawed at the sight of him blushing like an idiot.

Gwyn picked up a particularly heavy book, standing on her toes to reach a higher shelf. She strained, but was determined to reach what was too high above her head. Without thinking, Azriel moved. His strides were smooth, powerful even, and he stood beside her. A comfortable distance away, he took hold of the book, and gently pried it from her hand. A silent request. She obliged, releasing her hold as his scarred fingers grazed hers. A tingling sensation crept up her body from that contact, while Az pushed the book into its slot effortlessly. Gwyn still remained on her toes, looking up at him as he seemingly towered over her. Yet, she was not afraid of him. It was impossible to be, not when he was so gentle, and so strong, and had saved her life—

"Family history," he clarified. His voice was a low caress. "For Feyre." Azriel's hand lingered on the shelf high above her for a moment, a finger trailing slowly down the cracked spine of the book. Gwyn's eyes darted from his face to the book, then back to his face. A moment seemed to stretch into a thousand tiny moments that burned into his mind like etchings on a cave: face, so smooth and gentle, yet lively; plush, pink lips that curved upwards, that seemed to have a magnetic pull to his. If he leaned down far enough, his mouth might have met hers. Gods, she was divine. As expected of a priestess, he supposed.

He took in the rest of her face: a strong, stubborn chin, with equally opposing gentle eyes, that flared with surprise once more. He sensed a gradual change in her scent, one he didn't recognize. Gwyn's freckled face flushed pink, and Az worried that he might have overstepped her boundaries.

So he retracted his arm, and took a step back. The heels of Gwyn’s silk-slippered feet lowered to the floor. The male ran a scarred hand through his dark hair, and Gwyn tracked the movement, her eyes catching on every strand and wave of his silken locks. Her face seemed a bit rosier than it had before. He swore silently, worried he had upset her.

"Thank you," Gwyn said rather suddenly, as though snapping out of a daze. The faint blush did not leave her cheeks, though. Her hand drifted to her necklace, fiddling with it and zipping the small flower pendant along the chain. He only stole a glance at her, not wanting to stare too long and make her uncomfortable. But seeing her in that necklace, touching it so affectionately... Az felt his mind ease into a calm. With Gwyn, he felt absolved. Even for just a moment.

"Would you mind helping me? Find the book, I mean." Azriel asked, jerking his chin towards the section. Thinking for a moment, he quickly added, "That is, if you're not too busy."

Gwyn halted, and chewed on her lip. She glanced up at the other floors, as though looking at something in quiet consideration. then returned her gaze to him. There was no way she could say no— not when he made the sorrow in her mind settle. Not when he made her feel so... happy.

"I would love to."

Something about that smile… It was so disarming. He had no defenses, no stealth, no plans for her. Even his shadows, usually astute guard dogs, had rolled over to bear their bellies to her.

They liked her.

He liked her.

A secret, happy possibility was tucked away in the back of his mind.

Gwyn’s heart skipped a beat, as though she was wondering the same thing.

What they could be.

“Lead the way, Berdara.” He made a lazy motion with his hand, and the corners of his lips tugged upwards. He sketched a bow, like a true courtly gentleman.

She returned the smile, her teal eyes sparkling with a new feeling, and took his arm. "Gladly."

The touch sent his heart soaring.

nepenthe (noun)— something that makes you forget grief or suffering.