#i started the quest and refused to go to bed until it was done

[fluffydisneyprincess]

Just finished 4.2 archon quest and--

I have so many thoughts and feelings and I don't know how to process any of this

Focalors, you are a devious one indeed...

[cobrakaisb]

always an angel, never a god

summary: the aftermath of luke’s failed quest to the garden of the hesperides includes a dirty motel, a new wound, and sharing a bed with his best friend. 

word count: 2.8k

featuring: ONE BED TROPE, set pre-tlt, luke and reader both have crushes on each other, lowkey hurt-comfort, mentions of injuries/getting injured, death, angst with a tiny bit of fluff

“let’s just stop here for the night, then we can keep moving,” you begged, standing in the motel parking lot. luke was weary, eyeing the property distrustfully. “it doesn’t look safe,” he mumbled, hand fisting the strap of his worn blue backpack so tightly that his knuckles were white. “please,” you whispered, eyes shining with tears. it had been a rough couple of days, especially with the major losses you’d both suffered. 

“just until tomorrow morning,” you begged. he sighed, but nodded his head. you exhaled a breath of relief, as your forehead came to rest on his shoulder. he stiffened, but relaxed under your soft touch. your lips ghosted against his shoulder, as you planted a soft, barely-there kiss on the faded green cloth. luke’s fingers gently brushed against the back of your hand, wrapping around your wrist. you lift your head from his shoulder, lacing your fingers together, and lead him towards the motel lobby. 

it’s clearly rundown; the carpet floors are dirty and the room reeks of mildew and sweat, but neither of you complain. you're just happy to have access to a bed and a shower. luke walks up to the check in desk, ringing the small bell to alert the employee(s) that someone was here. a few minutes pass by, but then an older man comes out from the back room. he looks hesitantly between the two before asking, “can i help you folks?”

“we’d like a room please. just for tonight,” you explain, squeezing luke’s hand a little tighter as the man continues to stare you two down. you can’t imagine what you look like to him: bruised, battered, bleeding, and crying. not to mention luke’s face; the wound was still open and dripping blood every few seconds. you’d done what you could on the road to help stop the bleeding, but the only real way to heal it was going to be with stitches and deep disinfectant.      

“just your luck, we have one room left,” he smiles, inputting something in the system before handing you a key. you smile tightly at him, feeling the tension in luke’s shoulders seeping into your bones. why would there only be one room left if the parking lot was empty? “thanks so much,” you replied, leading luke out of the lobby and towards your room on the second floor. 

“i really don’t like it here,” he grumbled, setting his bag down on the floor once you entered the room. you toed off your worn out black converse, locking the door behind you as you rolled your eyes. “it’s just one night. besides we need to rest and regroup now that…” you started to say, but ended up pausing. it hurts to mention her; the wound in your heart is still fresh. you swallow, taking a deep breath before turning to luke, “let’s take care of your face.” 

he nods, wordlessly following you into the bathroom. he watches as you grab the first aid kit from the backpack and turn on the hot water. he waits patiently, occasionally admiring you, while you wet one of the few provided face clothes. “this might sting,” you whispered as you began to clean away at the blood and grime caked onto his cheek. he winces, gripping onto you for support. 

“it’s okay. you’re okay. i’m almost done,” you said, trying to soothe him. instead of watching your motions, he looks at your face. your eyes, ones which normally shone bright with joy, were dull; the vibrant colors muted by your sadness. he wondered if you felt pity for him and his failure, or if you were still coping. this quest wasn’t meant to be a three person one, but you refused to let him partake in the challenge alone. he couldn't help but blame his dad for your sorrows; everything always came back to the gods.

“can you sit down on the toilet for me? i want to clean the cut, and i need a better vantage point,” you explained, putting the towel on the side of the sink as you opened the first aid kit. he complied to your orders, taking a seat on the closed toilet. he waited with bated breath, as you dug around in the kit, looking for whatever it was you needed. finally, you made eye contact with him, a small smile on your face as you held up a cotton ball and bottle of peroxide. 

luke groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “no, absolutely not,” he mumbled, moving his head away from you. he froze, however, when your palm rested against his uninjured cheek. “please luke, i don’t want it to get infected,” you whispered, voice soft and thick with emotion. his brown eyes meet yours; they’re swimming with worry. “okay,” he relaxes, rolling his shoulders back to release some of the tension in them. you smile softly, trying your best to be reassuring as you remove your hand from his cheek to pour a small amount of peroxide onto the cotton. 

“this is going to sting,” you warned. luke takes a deep breath, and subtly nods for you to continue. as gently as possible, you begin to clean the deep wound running from his eye to his jaw. luke hisses, his right hand gripping onto your thigh. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you mumbled, but you continued your ministrations. luke doesn’t answer, simply gritting his teeth and keeping a hold on your thigh. after a few more swipes, you pause to inspect the wound. your hand grips his jaw, and you turn his face to the right; satisfied with your work, you throw the used items in the small garbage.

he watches as your attention focuses back on the first aid kit. you’re digging through the small red box, searching for the required items to stitch up his face. despite his dire situation, the crushing weight of worthlessness and embarrassment, and his most likely infected wound, he couldn’t help but feel serene. being here with you was exactly what he needed; you were all that he needed. 

“okay so i have the needle and thread. do you want to shower first? otherwise you won’t be able to,” you explained, moving back to stand between his legs. luke’s hands came to rest on the small of your back, fingers creeping under the hem of your tee shirt. “i’ll shower, then you can stitch me up,” he agreed, humming softly as you absentmindedly twirled one of his black curls around your finger. “perfect. i’ll be right outside,” you whispered, trying to step out of his hold, but his arms just tightened around you. 

“stay,” he pleaded, brown eyes widening. you sighed, a conflicted look in your eyes. “i can’t lose you,” he whispered. “i won’t lose you,” he continued, resting his head against your abdomen. you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. everything was getting to be too much, on the both of you. “i’m not going anywhere angel, i promise,” you replied, fingers carding through his hair in a feeble attempt to soothe him. he lets out a shaky breath in response, and you can feel his tears seeping through your tee shirt. 

“it’s okay. i’m right here,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice from cracking. your fingers still card through his hair as you lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. this whole quest has been a pot of emotions, and it seems like it’s finally boiled over the edge, for both you and luke. you want to let your guard down, and crumple to the floor and sob, but you don’t. luke needs you right now. 

a few minutes pass by, but he calms down. he sits up straight, arms still holding you in a vice grip. “i’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you aren’t sure what he’s apologizing for. “there’s nothing to apologize for. i’m here to support you, whatever that looks like,” you explained, cupping his jaw with a small reassuring smile on your face. “will you just sit outside the door? i need to know you’re there,” he said, reverting back to the original conversation. “whatever you want,” you answered. once the words leave your mouth, his arms unravel from your waist. you step back, giving him room to stand. he pulls you right into his chest. “we’ll talk later,” he promised, waiting for your hum of agreement to let go.

“shower. you reek,” you teased, trying to bring some joy back into the depressing atmosphere. he finally cracks a smile as he pretends to smell his underarms. “a shower is a good call,” he agreed, lightly pushing you towards the door, a sign that he wants to get changed. you obliged, leaving the room just as the sound of gushing water arises. 

luke takes his time in the shower, letting the water drip down his clean body. he knows you’re sitting right outside the door, just like you promised, because he could hear your soft humming and mutterings. he was angry, and he refused to let that anger out on you. instead, it stews inside of him; all the resentment, annoyance, and disappointment. he was supposed to come back a hero, they all were. instead, he’s returning a failure, and with one less friend. he thinks about his father, who recycled a quest from the history lessons at camp and refused to help. he thinks of you, his pillar of strength. he thinks of beth, hoping that she reached elysium, where she belonged. his mind wanders back to camp half-blood, and the faces of his siblings and all the unclaimed children fill him with dread. what will they think, now that they’re head counselor failed?

“are you almost done?” you asked, pulling him from the depths of his mind. he shakes his head gently, water spraying from his soaked curls. “just finishing up,” he answered, turning the water off. “i put your pajamas on the sink,” you replied, closing the door so he has some semblance of privacy. “thanks,” he answered, and the sound of the opening curtain muffled your reply. he takes a couple extra minutes to dry off and pull on his pants, purposefully leaving the shirt to the side. 

“okay i’m decent,” he shouted, and the door cracked open. he sees you standing there with your eyes closed, and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “i told you i was decent!” he laughed, and you opened your eyes with a giggle. “i just had to make sure,” you replied, your usual smile encompassing your cheeks. he playfully shakes his head at your words. “whatever you say,” he said, and reclaimed his seat on the toilet lid. 

you took your spot between his legs, and his hands found their home on your waist. “this might hurt, and take a while because i have to go slow, but it’ll help you heal,” you said, holding up the needle with a shaky hand. luke grabbed your wrist, steadying the shaking. “hey, it’s gonna be fine. i trust you,” he mumbled, placing a soothing kiss on your palm. “i know, but i hate seeing you hurt,” you answered, taking a deep breath. finally, once you’ve calmed down, you begin stitching up the wound. luke remained still through the entire process, but you could see the pain in his eyes. in a matter of minutes, and with the quick snip of the scissors, you tied off the stitches. 

“done,” you announced, tapping on his forearm. luke thanks you, and gets you from his spot, admiring his reflection in the mirror. “handsome as ever,” you whispered, heat creeping up your cheeks when you realize he heard you. he blushes at your words, but still manages to throw a cocky smirk your way. he doesn’t comment on your words, instead he pushes you towards the shower. “get cleaned up so we can sleep,” he mumbled, closing the door on his way out. you’re frozen, forgetting how to function, but once you regroup, you take the time to shower. 

it’s longer than usual, but you deserved it after everything this quest has put you through. while you’re standing under the showerhead, letting the water wash over you in waves, you can’t help but blame yourself. everything that went wrong could be pinpointed back to you. you and beth were supposed to take care of the dragon, but you were distracted by your worry, turning to check on luke. in that split second, everything went downhill from there. you should have just remained focused, followed the plan, and none of this would have happened.

“i think you should get out of the shower now, before the motel sends us their water bill,” luke whispered, opening the door to the bathroom. you clear your throat, blinking harshly. were your cheeks wet from the water or tears? “i’ll be out in a minute,” you promised, and luke agreed. once the door closed, and you were back in the privacy of the bathroom, you stepped out of your sanctuary. it’s when you dried yourself off that you realize you forgot to grab your sleepwear, but thankfully luke had you covered. sitting on the bathroom counter were a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, along with your hairbrush. you felt yourself smiling gratefully at the gesture, and started your nightly routine. 

he heard the sound of the door opening before he saw you. you were wearing the clothes he’d laid out, and your hair was dripping wet, despite your efforts to dry it. you threw the towel on the floor, letting it sit in a sopping wet heap, before climbing into the bed. he didn’t think you’d comment on the fact that the motel manager seemed to be playing matchmaker, and he was right. you lied down silently, pulling the covers up to your chest as you turned to face him. 

“it’s all my fault,” you whispered, eyes glossing over as you looked at him. luke’s eyebrows furrowed, and a confused look took over his previously serene face. “what?” he replied, uncertainly. “everything with beth, your scar, the quest. it’s all my fault,” you continued. he was baffled by the fact that you genuinely believed that. something of this caliber, of his undoing, was not your fault. “why would you think that?” he asked, genuine curiosity present in his tone. “i was supposed to distract the dragon, we both were, but i was nervous. i looked away for just a second, and the dragon maimed beth. then came for you,” you answered, voice cracking and shaking. luke’s hand cupped your cheek, wiping away at the lone tear before it could drip down the bridged of your nose. 

“beth died a hero, she knew what she was signing up for,” he whispered, thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek. he wanted to reassure you that none of it was your fault, that nobody would blame you for what happened, that he didn’t blame you. “the blame doesn’t fall on you,” luke continued, staring softly into your eyes. “never,” he finished, kissing the tip of your nose. 

“but she’s gone. and your quest…” you trailed off, more tears brimming at your water line. “my quest was stupid anyway,” he replied, pulling you closer to him. “it was never serious. not to him,” and luke didn’t need to specify who the him was. “but it was important to you,” you said, finally meeting his brown eyes, “so it was important to me.” luke sighed at your words, his eyelashes fanning his cheekbones. “you’re the most important thing to me angel. i’ve stopped craving his approval long before this,” luke explained. 

he wished that he kept his closed so that he didn’t have to see the shocked look on your face. or the pity flashing behind your eyes. he knew, deep-down, that you didn’t pity him, you just felt bad for everything he’s faced. you felt guilty for the relationship with your parent, when he had none.

“he loves you luke, you must know that. maybe not as much as i do, but there has to be some compassion there,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled your foreheads together. “nobody can love me as much as you do,” luke whispered, lips ghosting over your skin from the proximity. “of course not, angel,” you answered, closing your eyes. he knew the stress of the quest and day was taking over you, so he let you fall into the arms of hypnos. 

when you were really asleep, he whispered the words he’d been dying to say: “i love you.” 

the way i am not strong enough to be your man // always an angel, never a god

[versadies]

next time (alhaitham x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. next time

ADDRESSED. alhaitham (w/gn!reader)

STAMP. in which you feel distant from your lover, who busied himself with the akademiya for reasons you’re unsure of until it’s too late. (loosely based on tightrope from the greatest showman)

CONTENT. angst/no-comfort, spoilers to sumeru archon quest (3.2), neglect, hint of kidnapping, hint of violence, azar is a bad person as always, grammar errors, ooc!alhaitham (this was written b4 3.4 was released)

POST-SCRIPT. alhaitham didnt come home so i decided to post this questionable fic and prolly plan to make a series about him out of pure pettiness. enjoy. (will make a part two soon and its him groveling <33)

LINKS. masterlist \ taglist \ part two

How long has it been since you’ve last been with your lover?

You could hardly recall, and you’re afraid to admit that you’ve given up trying to. Despite residing in Alhaitham’s place for months, it feels as if there’s a wall between you two.

Whether or not it’s Alhaitham’s wall or yours, you could not find a hammer to break it.

It started a month ago – you feel a bit saddened when you realized how long this went on – when he started acting weird.

He started being a little late than usual, staying in his office all day until he realizes that it’s 3 am or such, would only hum in response whenever you say “I love you” to him, refusing to come to bed until he’s done with his work in his office, only taking a few bites of his breakfast that you took time and effort to make for him before rushing out to go to the Akademiya — sometimes he wouldn’t even say his farewells to you — and come back for only Celestia knows when,

And the very thing you noticed most from this recent change: he stopped reaching out to you.

Of course, he’s willing to talk to you when you speak to him first, but his responses were rather short and swift, as though he wanted to get this conversation to be over and do other things.

When you asked Alhaitham why he’s always away these days, he claims he’s been in the Akademiya fixing something, and that was the end of your conversation.

You knew he was lying though.

In reality, he hasn’t actually been as in touch with the Akademiya as he was before due to a “mission” assigned to him by the Grand Sage, something you found out from the General Mahamatra, Cyno.

You understand that your lover had to keep secrets from you as some of his business with the Akademiya are confidential, but you just wished that he took the time to reassure you that this is just him being busy and not something that will go on forever.

“I’ll see you later.” He says, standing up from his seat before coming towards the front door without as much as a goodbye kiss. He always made sure to give you a kiss before he leaves, he claims it’s good luck.

You didn’t utter a response to him, nor did you bother finishing your meal anymore. It seems you’ve lost your touch if you could no longer find yourself eating your favorite dish that you’ve loved for so long.

You’re thankful Kaveh, your dearest best friend and your lover’s roommate, is away in the Akademiya at the moment. If he were still here eating breakfast with you at this very moment, he would’ve noticed the way your form has been trembling ever so slightly from thinking too much of what’s going on between your relationship.

You could already imagine what he’d say if he were here.

“What did that brainless buffoon do again?” Kaveh would say in an angry tone, yet his eyes show concern towards you. “Just say the word and he’ll have to deal with me, I got you.”

Nothing, you’d say. He’s just… far.

So far, so out of reach.

You always tell yourself that Alhaitham’s simply just too busy from his projects in the Akademiya these days – he’s the Scribe after all – but this is Alhaitham, the same man who you’ve worked out with about making time for your relationship and each other’s works, the same man who’d always spare time for you even when he’s as busy as he can be and the one who would always hear you out when you call for him.

He’s a man of many things, but never one who’d ignore his own lover and act as though they’re nothing but a stranger — not without warning in advance about it, that is (which never happened at all, mind you).

You then thought that you must’ve said something that upsets him, but you could hardly recall the last time the two of you had a conflict, nor could you recall what you said that could have offended him. Besides that, he wasn’t one to ignore you for such a reason.

So… what was it? What was the one thing that made your relationship as it is now?

Was it… you?

You accidentally let go of the plate you’re washing as a result of that thought, the sound causes your thoughts to cease for just a moment.

Surely, if there really was something wrong, he’d tell you… right?

You then decided that it’s time for you to try and reach out to him once more and hope that this time he’d listen to you.

The day was nothing but a blur, and fortunate enough, your lover came home early for the first time just as you were about to lie down on your shared bed.

“Alhaitham…?” You called out his name softly, looking at the doorway to see him. “You’re home..”

He glances at your way with an unexplainable look on his face. “Were you expecting me?”

You started fidgeting your fingers nervously. “Can we… Can we talk?” Just this once, please talk to me.

He opens his mouth to say something but immediately stops himself.

“…” He thinks for a moment.

Just as you’re about to ask if there’s something bothering him, he lets out a sigh and turns away from your direction.

“Let’s talk about it next time when I’m… done with my work.”

Your eyes widens for a bit, wanting to ask him to stay–

But he’s busy… He’s too busy with matters that are more important than you. You thought to yourself bitterly, stopping yourself from reaching out to him once more.

There’s always next time… Whenever that may be.

“...Very well. Goodnight, Alhaitham.” You said quietly, tucking yourself in your bed as your back faces his direction. You didn’t notice how he finally looked back at you with a longing look on his face, only to walk away towards his office without another word.

Next time ( Name ). Alhaitham thought with a soft sigh. I’ll come back to you as soon as I get rid of the Akademiya’s schemes.

He just needs time to execute said plan.

–

Currently, everything goes according to plan.

Soon enough, Lesser Lord Kusanali will be free and ( Name ) can be safe when Azar gets punished. Alhaitham thought as Azar continued on talking about how he knew Alhaitham’s plan all along.

“...Heh, you'll see me as a traitor regardless of what I say, no?” The scribe said, crossing his arms. “Even if you impugned me, it would have little effect on you all.”

Azar shakes his head. “You misunderstand. Losing our Scribe would irreparably damage the Akademiya's regular operations and the development of Sumeru's future academic systems…” Something flashes through the Grand Sage’s eyes, his lips twitching upwards. “For that reason, it’s for the best if someone does it on your behalf.”

The scribe almost lost his breath for a second.

He narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly are you implying?”

Azar lets out an amused huff. “You know exactly what I’m implying, scribe.”

The scribe dared not to think of the worst, until the next words that left the Grand Sage’s mouth almost made his facade falter.

“Your lover is quite an exceptional person and fought well for someone who doesn’t wield a vision, but it was all for naught it seems.” He can’t help but chuckle to himself. “It’s just a shame that they have to pay the price for your betrayal.”

“Lover? You have a lover, Alhaitham?” Paimon whispered, shocked at the turn of events. This wasn’t a part of the plan at all!

Meanwhile, Alhaitham slowly starts regretting not taking you with him from the beginning. He should’ve been more attentive, he should’ve warned you about the Akademiya instead of being so focused on the plan to the point where he’s basically neglecting you, he should’ve taken you to Aaru Village instead of leaving you–!

It was only then when Alhaitham realized his mistake.

This mistake isn’t something that’s from the mission, but it involves something that’s more important than this plan,

He made the mistake of unintentionally neglecting you.

Suddenly, he remembers his last conversation with you.

You started fidgeting your fingers nervously. “Can we… Can we talk?”

He opens his mouth to say something but immediately stops himself. He wanted nothing more than to drop everything and listen to what you have to say, but he knew he needed to prioritize the mission to save Lesser Lord Kusanali, not when he has to go back to Aaru Village to talk about the plan with everyone tomorrow.

He lets out a sigh and turns away from your direction. “Let’s talk about it next time when I’m… done with my work.”

If only he knew there wasn’t a next time after that.

Alhaitham tries to compose himself. “You said that I betrayed the Akademiya, but you, Azar... You've betrayed all of Sumeru, betrayed its archon!” He said.

Just you wait, ( Name ). I will make up everything once I come for you, wherever you may be.

Azar remains composed. “Hmph, so flight has turned to fight at long last. Guards!”

The scribe notices how all the guards position themselves, pointing their weapons at him and his allies. He just needs to finish this swiftly so he’ll be able to focus on finding you.

He lets out a deep breath before he begins the next phase of his plan.

I just need to deal with those who dared to lay a hand on you before I find you, ( Name ).

part two

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing

[batneko]

bowuigi love spell idea

Some wannabe Big Bad got it in their head that the reason Mario is so successful is he's got the Ultimate Sidekick in his own brother. What better way to defeat him than to kidnap Luigi and cast an elaborate unbreakable love spell on him? Romantic love will beat brotherly love, right??? (No.)

Obviously this doesn't go well, Mario rushes to Luigi's rescue and beats the snot out of the villain along the way. But it just so happens that one of the many complicated components of the spell was stolen from Bowser, and he barges in to get it back just as the spell is reaching its peak.

Nobody notices what happened at first. Luigi is so happy to be rescued that he thinks he's just feeling especially grateful to Bowser, even though his help was accidental. On their way out Bowser finally sees the magic circle on the floor and the items placed at various points and mutters "isn't this a waxing moon heart prison?"

Later, when Luigi is lying in bed wide awake thinking about Bowser of all people, he remembers that Bowser had known the name of the spell. No need to worry Mario about this. Surely if Luigi just... asks nicely? (And he really wants to see Bowser too, that's a bonus.)

Bowser thinks the situation is hilarious, but doesn't hesitate to help Luigi when he asks. Unfortunately he's lost track of the book he read the spell in (Luigi politely doesn't ask why he was reading about love spells in the first place) and can't remember all the details. They search the castle but find nothing.

Luigi comes back a week later. They do some more searching, try out a couple curse-breaking methods. Nothing. Bowser offers to let Luigi come back again, and finally Luigi asks why Bowser is being so nice about all this.

"I know what it's like to love someone who doesn't love you back. Wouldn't wish that on anybody."

So Luigi comes back the next week. And the next. And the next. At one point he accidentally refers to it as "date night" and Bowser laughs at him but starts calling it that too.

It's nice spending time with Bowser like this. It's REALLY nice. Sure, the feelings are artificial, but that doesn't stop him from feeling them. Having Bowser's attention, making him laugh... it feels good. Luigi almost forgets he's trying to STOP feeling this way.

It goes on for months, until finally one day, after one more failed curse-breaking attempt, Bowser asks, "What if it never works?" "I'll leave you alone," Luigi says. "I'll get out of your hair for good." "Would that be so bad?" Bowser asks. "Is it really so AWFUL being in love with me?" "No..." Luigi admits. "But you deserve someone who loves you for who you are." "You're the only one who thinks that and that's just because you're cursed," Bowser says. "I mean it. Not just because of the curse, I don't think there's anybody who doesn't deserve to have somebody love them." "Then stay," Bowser says. "Be that somebody." Luigi finally realizes what Bowser's saying... what he's been hinting at for weeks, actually, and Luigi refused to see it. "I could be good to you," Bowser says softly. "I could make you so happy." Luigi gets up and leaves without a word.

It's the hardest thing he's ever done, but he tells himself it's for the best. What if the spell does break one day? He'll stop loving Bowser and shatter his heart. And even if that doesn't happen, it's not good for Bowser to settle for artificial love.

So Luigi goes straight to Mario (okay, after ice cream and a cry sesh) and tells him... most of the truth. He lets Mario believe that Bowser has been annoyed with the situation this whole time. Mario knows a lot of people who know a lot of people, so one quest later they've finally found an Old Master Wizard who remembers the spell.

"Just wait it out," the guy says. "Don't make any rash decisions, and you'll be good in a month." "...what." "Yeah the waxing moon heart prison only lasts until the moon is in the same phase it was when it was cast, then you've gotta top it up." "Is... it possible to top the spell up by accident?" "Not a chance, it's nearly as complicated as casting it the first time. Don't worry! You'll be back to normal in four weeks."

It's been four MONTHS. And Luigi never noticed his feelings changing... much. They seemed to go from infatuation to something deeper but he can't remember when exactly.

Did he fall in love with Bowser for real?

Did he break Bowser's heart by leaving for nothing?

On the way back Mario keeps staring at Luigi, waiting for an explanation, but Luigi can't give him one. He shakes Mario off before they reach home and makes a beeline for Bowser's castle.

It takes a lot of apologizing before Bowser will see him, and even after explaining that the spell has been broken for a long time now Bowser still doesn't seem interested in anything Luigi has to say. So Luigi gives a big flowery speech about all the things he likes about him while Bowser glares in silence, but at last Luigi ends it with, "I love you."

It's the first time he's actually said those words. He's talked about "the love spell" and "my feelings," but he's never said "I love you" to Bowser's face.

Bowser picks him up and kisses him.

"I love you too." "Oh! Great." "It's gonna be a while before I can remember that it's not magic making you love me." "I understand." "So you'll need to tell me. A lot." "I can do that!" Luigi says.

He's got a lot of time to make up for.

[siriannatan]

Solutions to Insomnia - Scott fWhip

My quest to drag S1 fWhip through terrible situations with a comfort Scott on the since continues, it would seem…

fWhip could not sleep at all. Not an unusual occurrence. He became known for skipping sleep. Staying up later than healthy. Yawning and falling asleep in weird places. It became so normal even his closest allies, family stopped worrying. Just a fWhip thing, he'll be fine.

The only person who seemed to hate it was... fWhip himself.

He stared at the ceiling. Unable to sleep. Vaguely aware it was nearly midnight... So much for going to bed early. He stared at the ceiling and thought back to the worst moments of his accursed insomnia.  When and why he chopped his hair off and is still refusing to let anyone fix the mess it is. Not like anyone expects him to be put together in any way. Not like his allies cared if he was doing okay. They would just leave him sleeping in their meeting room and not even tell his advisors where he was. Sending all of Grimlands into a panic.

But that was two weeks ago. Things were fine even if Gem was still unhappy with the whole Rivendell alliance and fWhip's arranged marriage to the younger prince. But that was fWhip's business. And Sausage and Pearl voted yes. And it wasn't like he was anything special himself. No half-dragon. No wizard. No Pearl.

Just plain, normal fWhip with only his brain and a bad knee. Totally useless without his crossbow and explosives. Not like he could have any good ideas that did not involve explosives.

He sighed, turning to his side for what felt like the millionth time that night. Why can't he just sleep normally? Why did he have that unplanned nap earlier, after running one last time over this year's plan to get the heating in town for the upcoming winter.

fWhip was about to go and find something to read or do until he passed out when there was a knock on his balcony door. He was not expecting any guests tonight. None of his allies would come to him with any issues. With a yawn and heavy, exhausted steps fWhip walked up to the window. Not bothering with the lone robe tossed over a chair.

To his shock, on his balcony was none other than his fiance Scott of Rivendell. Looking at it all like he didn't just fly all the way from Rivendell. Which he had to have done to get to Grimlands before any note made it. If one was sent at all which it should. "Oh... Hello... I apologize if I woke you up..." the elf chuckled as always oozing confidence.

"I wasn't sleeping anyway..." fWhip shrugged totally not sure what to do with Scott. "I won't have angry elven military knocking on my door looking for you tomorrow?" he asked to start with. Just to be sure and let Scott inside. It was slowly getting chilly in Grimlands.

"No, no, I told my parents I want to visit you... Since we're supposed to get married and stuff..." Scott clarified, looking about the dark room. "I kind of underestimated how long it'd take to get here, I was not counting on making it for dinner but still not this late..." he chuckled nervously. Looking briefly at fWhip's messy bed.

fWhip hummed and nodded along. Forcing his brain to try and think if any guest rooms are ready at all and ready enough to house his future husband. Unfortunately, he rarely had guests. "Unfortunately I didn't have any guests lately so I'm afraid my guest rooms aren't quite suitable..." he sighed, messing his already messy hair even further. He couldn't even offer to give Scott his own bed in it's current state.

Scott just chuckled. "I don't mind sharing if you don't. We are supposed to get married, eventually," he hummed, shooting fWhip a smirk that could only be described as flirty. "We don't have to tell my brother, he'd flip over something as simple as just sleeping in the same bed," he added, still looking over in a very flirty manner.

"I'm afraid I'd make for a terrible bed mate." fWhip chuckled regretfully.

"Why so?" Scott asked with a raised eyebrow. His short coat was already off and hung over a chair.

fWhip chewed the words in his mouth for a second. "Insomnia. I have trouble falling asleep and sleeping," he said, deciding Scott should know ahead of time. 

The elf just giggled. A very nice sound to fWhip's exhausted brain. "Have you tried sharing a bed with anyone? It could help, let your brain relax, knowing you're not alone?" he offered, with another of his many layers being removed.

At this point, fWhip was ready to try anything to finally sleep well so he just shrugged and agreed. He could deal with consequences if anyone found them too early. And offered to loan Scott something to sleep in. The elf 'forgot' to pack anything. fWhip guessed he just wanted to leave the palace in Rivendell. Luckily at least some of fWhip's sleep clothes fit the elf. Why must Scott be so tall?

Once they were in bed, Scott wasted no time cuddling up to fWhip. He was cold but not unpleasantly. More like comfortably chilly. fWhip could quickly feel himself drifting away as Scott chattered about helping him fix his hair as he played with it. He just hummed along as he slowly fell asleep in Scott's arms. Probably his best sleep in a long time...

If he didn't have THE dream. A red sheep looking at him with big, black eyes. Unblinking. With nothing but an endless shallow sea of blood and red fog rolling about. Dark grey sky with no clouds or sun. Blood Sheep, words came to his mind on their own. Technically the main god of Grimlands...

fWhip could not move or do anything other than hold the Sheep's stare. It felt like an eternity and like just a few seconds at once when She let out an echoing 'baaa'. And the vision was over. And fWhip woke up. 

He was still in his bedroom. Still in Scott's arms. The sun has long risen. And fWhip felt rested like he never did. Weirdly thirsty...

[lilianlay]

Hello! Have you done the latest archon quest? If so, would you mind writing lee alhaitham and ler kaveh from genshin impact? Thank you!

Hello anon! I'm sorry that I didn't write your question for so long, I had a lot of study. I really liked your idea with ler Kaveh and lee Alhaitham, it's very interesting and funny. I haven't fully completed this quest yet, and I hope I was able to get into these characters at least a little, because I already love them. Hope you like it^^ Have a nice day and hug❤

Don't underestimate your roommate

Kaveh and Alhaitham

- Alhaitham! - the voice carried from the living room, in which the architect Kaveh was now. He abruptly opened the door to the researcher's room, who was sitting on the bed reading a book.

- I think I already told you that before you go into my room you need to knock. - said the gray-haired without looking up from the book. - It's better not to go at all.

- I don't care. - the blond crossed his arms and turned up his nose.

Blue-eyed sighed and looked at his roommate.

- You're not leaving until I ask you what you want from me, are you?"

Kaveh nodded.

- Okay, what do you need?

- Help me with one project.

- And here stop, we agreed, you don't climb into my affairs, and I into yours. I don't understand your architecture and I'm not going to help with this. - Alhaitham started reading the book again.

- Hey, that's not fair! Once I asked you for help and you immediately refuse. - the blond sighed dramatically.

- Yes, I refuse.

- Hmph.. Because you took both keys again and I stood at the door for several hours, I didn't have time for this project at all and it's your fault.

- Because you don't have to be..

- By whom?! - the red-eyed interrupted.

- An architect.

There was a huffed and Kaveh sat down on the bed.

- Get your butt off my bed right now. - displeasedly said the researcher.

- Or what? - the blond chuckled.

- Did you enjoy being outside?

- Are you serious about scaring me with this?

Alhaitham narrowed his eyes and began to shove his roommate in the side with his foot.

- What kind of kindergarten? - but then it dawned on Kaveh and he grabbed the gray-haired's leg.

- Let go! - the user of sword started trying to free his leg, but nothing worked.

- I don't think so. - the architect showed his tongue and touched the bare heel of the user of the dendro element with his nails.

There was a muffled squeak and the researcher completely covered his face with a book.

- It's already interesting - Kaveh was very excited about the opportunity to find out about the weakness of his roomate.

- N-no, there is nothing interesting in this! Now let go of my leg and get out of my r-room. - Alhaitham tried to keep his voice, but he was trembling a little and squeeze his toes.

- Hmmmm - the blond chuckled. - Did I find the weakness of the great Alhaitham.

The researcher didn't answer and continued to hide his face behind the book. Kaveh giggled softly and began to tickle the arch. The leg began to twitch and shake. The architect smiled contentedly at this reaction and began to use his nails.

- S-stohop it immehediately.. - a shaky voice was heard from behind the book.

- Or what?~

- Or I you.. Ahahahahahaha - but Alhaitham couldn't help laughing when the nails touched his sole and the ball of his foot.

- You seem to know how to laugh! Why didn't you do this before? - giggled red-eyed and began to tickle faster.

- Thihihihis is stupihihid! Stohohohop thihis childihiHHIHIHIsh gahahahame - finally, the gray-haired put the book away and covered his face with one hand, and with the other hand he tried to reach his roommate.

- No, you deserve it. Oh, is traveler knows about your weakness. Hmm, maybe I should tell him about it~

- Nohohohoho, dohohohon't yohou dahahahare! the researcher leaned back on the bed and started pounding the mattress with his fist.

- So that he continues to consider you the strongest, unemotional, taciturn? Then I'll tell for sure, Aether must know the truth. - Kaveh stopped briefly, but that was to sit on his roommate's hips.

At this time, Alhaitham was able to catch his breath a little and looked at the architect, brow furrowed.

- Get off me you pervert! - he began to squirm. - You're heavy.

- What?! I'm not heavy! - the blond pouted.

- And the fact that the pervert didn't deny. - the blue-eyed chuckled.

- What..? You asked for it! - Kaveh narrowed his eyes and began to tickle the user of dendro element's armpits.

- Whahahahahat?! Yohohohohou've finihihihihished ahahalready! - gray-haired tried to catch quick hands.

- What makes you think I'm done? You offended me. - the red-eyed theatrically puffed out his cheeks and again used his nails and from this a snort was heard. - Did you snort? - there was silence from the blond, and then loud laughter. - I can't believe you can do that ahahaha. I need to tickle you more often. Especially when you take two keys.

- Stohohohop, I'll mahahahahake yohohohou a cohoHOHOHOPY of the kehehehehey, juhahahast stohop! Whahahahat more dohoho yohou need from mehehEHEHEHE? - Alhaitham has already weakened, although he tried to close his spots, but he had almost no energy left.

Kaveh became so engrossed in tickling that he forgot his first important mission.

- Oh yes, exactly. So, if you help me with my project, I'll stop. - he slowed his fingers a little.

- I dohohohon't undeheheherstand thihihis, I alreahahady told yohohohou ahahabout ihihit.

- Hmm, did you like tickling so much? Okay, then we will continue~ chuckled and began to tickle faster and go down to his ribs.

- Nohohoho! Thahahahat's enohohough! Okay, I agrehehehee, I'll hehehelp yohohou, just stohohohOHOHP IHIHIT - Alhaitham's legs twitched exhaustedly.

Kaveh smiled triumphantly and stopped.

- Now I know how to you persuade and see your smile. - he poked him on the cheek.

- Oh, shut up. - the grey-haired blushed slightly.

- I don't think so. Okay, now let's get on with the project, or do you prefer the second round?~ the red-eyed finally got up and walked out of room.

Alhaitham did try to help the architect, but he also got ticklish pokes and squeaks very often. And the user of the dendro element repeatedly says he will get revenge.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

To Love a Ranger Chapter 4- Aragorn x OC

Aragorn x Issa

Description: The Fellowships sets off from Rivendell. Aragorn had told Issa not to come, but she has never been good at following directions.

Word Count: 2.2k

“Are you going to talk to me yet?” Aragorn’s voice rang out through his and Issa’s shared bedroom. It had only been a day since the council and Issa had refused to talk to him once he demanded she not go on the quest with the Fellowship. She was angry at him, and she was even more hurt that he didn’t trust her to not get hurt. Issa said nothing as she continued to stare out the window. The man sighed then moved towards her.

“Come on Issa, you can’t just not talk to me forever,” he muttered as he neared her. Just before his hands landed on her waist she moved away.

“Are you going to let me join you yet?” She finally shot back, still refusing to look at him as she took a seat on their bed.

“You know I can’t,” he responded softly, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“You can though,” she muttered, probably a little harsher than she meant to as she moved her shoulder from under his hand.

“It’s a dangerous quest, my darling,” he defended desperately, taking a seat beside her.

“One that I can manage just as much as you can,” she exclaimed, finally facing him with sad eyes. “Aragorn, we have done everything together. What makes this time any different?”

“I could lose you,” he retorted. “This is much more dangerous than anything we’ve faced before, I can’t stand the thought of losing you to it.”

“And you expect me to willingly let you go knowing that you could potentially die in the process? I’m not the only mortal human here Aragorn,” she snapped, standing up once more. “You’re being a hypocrite saying that I can’t go because I could die when that’s exactly what you’re about to do!”

“It’s different with you,” he started, but she cut him off.

“Why? Because I’m a woman?” She glared at him. “You believe that I’m too weak to do this?”

“Of course I don’t,” he answered immediately, also standing up.

“Then what is it?” She exclaimed. Aragorn paused, attempting to figure out what to say, but Issa shook her head before he could open his mouth.

“That’s what I thought,” she huffed, walking out of the room and ignoring her fiance calling her name. She didn’t stop walking until she reached the woods of Rivendell, she was going somewhere that few people knew about.

There was a small clearing the one could come to after a few minutes of walking. In the middle of the clearing was a giant Royal Poinciana Tree that had gorgeous red flowers that bloomed every summer. It was planted there specifically for her, that exact place was where she had been found after her parent’s deaths. Lord Elrond planted the tree to honor her parents and thank them for bringing Issa to them. Ever since then she found that going to the tree calmed her down. She would climb the tree and sit there for hours at a time.

That’s exactly what she did. Immediately upon finding the tree she ran up to it and climbed the branches. She finally settles on a branch thick enough to comfortably sit on without the worry of it breaking that was still well hidden by the leaves, branches and flowers that surrounded her. She sat there thinking about the events of the past few days.

She was still stewing in her anger nearly an hour later when her ears suddenly perked up as she heard the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s foot nearby. Her hand automatically went to the dagger that stayed strapped to her at all times.

“It is just me,” Legolas’ voice drifted through the air, almost as if sensing her thought process. Issa let out a small sigh of relief then dropped her hand.

“What do you want Legolas?” She questioned, not moving from her position.

“I came to check on you,” he responded simply, walking to the base of the tree. “Aragorn asked me to.” At the mention of her fiance’s name, she frowned.

“Well you can tell him that I’m fine.” The Elf didn’t answer at first, instead opting to climb the tree so he was at her level. They sat in silence for a moment, Issa refusing to look at her friend.

“I know you’re probably mad at him,” he finally started, earning a scoff from the girl.

“That’s an understatement,” she muttered, crossing her arms childishly. Legolas couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up, and he shook his head amusedly.

“But he’s doing this for good reason,” he continued.

“Let me guess,” she said sarcastically as she faced him. “Because he doesn’t want me to get hurt?”

“Because he wants to make sure that you won’t be traumatized by what we might do or see,” he corrected her. “If he has the option to spare you the pain of going on this journey, he will. It doesn’t matter that he might go through it, his first priority is you. Even if it means that you’ll be angry at him.” Issa considered his words, then looked down. Legolas offered her a sympathetic smile.

“Though, I wouldn’t suggest you stay mad,” he added, standing on the branch. “We leave tomorrow, this may be your last chance to see him. I wouldn’t waste it sitting here in anger.” He shot her one last smile before hopping down, landing perfectly on his feet.

“Show off,” she called, which earned a laugh from him as he walked away, leaving her to mull over their conversation. Finally she sighed, knowing that he was right. She hated when that happened because it meant she was wrong. But, perhaps it was for good reason this time. 

She returned to the Last Homely House an hour or so later, finally ready to talk things over with Aragorn. Upon returning to the house she made her way to her room, but not before swiping a few honey cakes from the kitchen as a white flag of sorts. She knocked three times, and was thankful when an answer came.

“Come in,” Aragorn called softly. Issa took a second to straighten out her clothes then took a deep breath before walking in. The man in question was at his desk looking over what looked to be a map, but faced her once she closed the door.

“Issa,” he greeted, eyes softening at the sight of her. She smiled awkwardly then glanced at the plate in her hands.

“I’m not about to say that I was wrong,” she started slowly.

“I would never expect that of you,” he half joked, standing up. She shot him a teasing smile before sighing.

“But, if this is potentially the last time I see you, I want to make the most of it,” she concluded, holding out the plate to him. He took it, then surprised her by setting it on the desk and pulling her into a hug.

“I love you, you know that right?” He asked softly. A small smile graced her face as she returned the hug.

“Of course I do, and I love you too,” she responded in the same tone. Aragron pressed a kiss to her cheek before pulling away and leading her to the bed, grabbing the plate with his free hand. They settled into bed and talked the night away as they ate the honey cakes. 

The Fellowship of the Ring left right as the sun began lighting up the sky, and Issa packed her bag and left nearly an hour later. She had decided at some point in the night that whether or not Aragorn liked it, she was going to help. Luckily, being raised with Elves, she had outstanding tracking abilities. It also helped that Merry and Pippin were a rather boisterous duo, she could hear them nearly a mile away and she used that to her advantage. She made sure to keep a distance between her and the group. Of course wasn’t going to stay like this for the whole trip, just long enough that it would be too late for her to go back.

She knew better than anyone that someone would figure out they were being followed, but she most definitely didn’t expect it to happen so early. The Fellowship had decided to settle down on the Eregion Hills for the night. Issa figured that it was safe enough, so she allowed herself to move closer to the group as the night began to draw near, but she almost immediately regretted it.

“I sense someone nearby,” Legolas suddenly said. Immediately, everyone stopped what task they were assigned for setting up camp and faced her. Issa’s eyes widened and she silently cursed herself, moving to hide behind a large rock as quietly as she could. 

“I sense it too,” Gandalf informed them, already picking up his staff.

“Where is it coming from?” Aragorn questioned seriously, grabbing his sword. Issa paused her movements as Legolas closed his eyes, allowing his other senses to take over. After inhaling deeply, he turned in the girl’s direction.

“There,” he answered, beginning to walk towards it as his bow lifted. “I smell...grapefruit and honey?” That made Aragorn pause mid step, and a deep sigh left his lips. He moved to stand by Legolas, looking at the rock Issa crouched behind.

“I know it’s you Issa, come on out,” he called knowingly. For a moment Issa thought about not moving and pretending like she wasn’t there, but she knew that if she didn’t come out, Aragorn and Legolas would come get her. So, with a small sigh, she stepped out from behind the rock and into the light of the campfire. Everyone lowered their weapons at the sight of her, and she offered Aragorn an awkward smile. 

“Aragorn, I love you and I’m sorry, but you’re crazy if you think that I wouldn’t at least attempt to come along,” she informed him. “Besides, it’s good to have another tracker in the group.” The Man sighed again then looked at the Elf by his side, but Legolas only offered him an amused grin.

“Gandalf did say that something like this would happen,” he pointed out, patting his friend’s shoulder then moving to sit down beside Merry and Pippin. Aragorn huffed, then took Issa’s hand, leading her away from the group.

“What did I tell you about coming along?” He questioned upon dropping her hand, not giving her the chance before he answered his own question. “I told you not to come, and yet here you stand defying my orders.”

“I remember what you said,” she responded defensively, crossing her arms. “I just didn’t care to listen to it. I deserve to be here just as much as you do, and I’m just as valuable to the Fellowship as you are.” Her fiance shook his head, running his fingers through his hair frustratedly.

“You need to return home right now,” he demanded, but Issa shook her head immediately.

“The only way I’m returning home is with you by my side, in a casket or not at all. We’ve already traveled too far for me to just turn back now, that happened the minute I stepped out of the borders of Rivendell. You know that just as well as I do.” 

Aragorn sighed, as much as he hated it, he knew that she was right. It was too far to travel back alone, and it would take a war and a half to force her to turn around. Just leaving her was out of the question for him, he’d never forgive himself if she got hurt after he intentionally left her alone. Issa knew that, too. 

“Aragorn,” she called softly, effectively catching his attention by pressing a gentle hand to his cheek. “Let me do this with you. If I come, we all have a better chance of coming home alive, not just the two of us. I’m not high maintenance and I can handle my own in tough situations.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me, my darling,” he muttered softly, leaning into her touch. “I already know how much of an amazing fighter you are. And you’re incredibly resilient, and passionate, and stubborn…” They shared a small laugh at that, and Issa stared up at him with pleading eyes.

“Then let me come with you,” she begged quietly. Aragorn sighed again, debating within himself before ultimately nodding.

“Okay,” he finally responded, which made her perk up. “But, unless instructed otherwise, you are not to leave my side for anything.”

“I’ve never had a problem with that,” she retorted with a wink. The man grinned then removed her hand from his cheek, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Well, I believe I should introduce you to the others. Master Baggins was curious about you earlier,” he informed her as he began leading her back to the campsite.

“Really?” She asked, surprised and a little flattered that the Ring Bearer showed interest in her. Aragorn simply nodded as they reached the others. Everyone looked up once they came into view, and Aragorn squeezed his fiance’s hand gently.

“Everyone, Issa will be joining us for this quest.” He informed everyone in the Fellowship (though the others seemed to already know) before they all settled down for a dinner that Sam made. Aragorn refused to let go of Issa’s hand, though she most definitely wasn’t complaining. The journey ahead of them was filled with the unknown, but it comforted both of them that they had each other for it.

[abra-ka-dammit]

also

i thought i'd pretty easily slip into nocturnal hellzone again like immediately upon no longer having to wake up for work but it turns out that, even if i try to go back to bed after my cats inevitably wake me up at 7 anyways for breakfast, i have trouble staying in bed and end up getting up after all. even when i stay up till 2. fuk

exceptions thus far have been caused by migraines, during which i often desperately urge myself into sleep to try to timeskip the pain

i shoulda slept more yesterday given THAT hellish migraine but my bitch ass decided to start working thru the post shb quests again before it got too bad and then refused to stop until i literally puked from pain and was like aight i think its bedtime lol

(I think i might be done? i saw shb credits again before logging)

[cruelprincae]

❛ Unless that is a direct command, my High Queen, no, I don't suppose I will stop. ❜ Cardan answers, his voice flat and deadpan. He doesn't tear his gaze from the gushing wound on his Seneschals' thigh, not even to look at her as he speaks; instead, the King's fingers trace the outline of the awkwardly stitched-up wound ( for the Faerie medics are not used to tending to humans ), studying its texture as he tries to recall everything he has once read about human wounds and how to treat them. From the back of his mind, after a thorough and collective search, he draws the information that if the wound keeps oozing discharge, and should it suffer any discoloration, then that means the wound in question has been infected. His head tilts as he studies the injury further; there is no discoloration yet, but the gash is still new and leaking blood ― all signs that it can still suffer a good amount of infection if he lets Jude go on on her stubborn quest of trying to kill herself.

❛ Alas, I do. I should be out there trying to charm Queen Annet of the Court of Moths out of pledging a war to Lady Nore of the Court of Teeth, and yet here I am, by your bedside because I know damn well should I leave you unsupervised you will climb out of the window to chime into battle. ❜ Granted, Jude could still do that. Whereas she was forged in the ways of the sword ― courtesy of the High Court's Grand General, Madoc, ― Cardan't had outright refused to entertain swordplay and learn how to fight; and, given how far more solid her body as a human is, Jude could have easily shoved past him and return to her merry suicidal mission. Perhaps, the only reason why she hasn't done so already is because she likes to be coddled by him, but, as much as Cardan likes the thought of it, he won't indulge himself in delusions.

She hates him, he reminds himself. The reason why she wants him gone is that she can't bear to look at his face for too long - and the reason why she hasn't escaped is that his human Seneschal has been incapacitated by her scorching wound.

❛ Think of it like this, ❜ The Faerie King continues as he dips a finger into the healing herbal ointment and spreads it around the wound. Taking the cotton-soft bandages into his hands, he starts to wrap them around the stitched-up wound until it is neatly sheltered away, and if his fingers burn while they touch the soft skin of her thigh, he ignores the sensation altogether. ❛ Who is going to rule Elfhame if you suffer a very early death ? Surely not me. I'm the pretty face on the throne. ❜ A valid excuse, but not quite what is concerning Cardan. He hates fearing for her every time she grabs her armor and goes out to fight a rising evil. More so, he hates the way his heart drops to his stomach when he sees her injured. ❛ I trust you'll agree that it is in Elfhame's best interest that you stay alive. Now stay here, or I swear to Mab I'll restrain you to my bed. ❜

@cruelprincae asked: "Hold still…" @ jude

"Quit it, I don't need to be coddled." She tried swatting his hand away from the injury she'd gotten. It was kind of sweet that he was trying to help, but she was embarrassed and that was making her a little twitchy sitting here with Cardan's full attention on her. Part of her just sitting, waiting, on him saying something silly of insulting about it being because she was human. Yet, he'd actually been nice to her so far, concerned almost and it was terrifying. Because it was hard to keep him at arm's length when he was actually touching her and being nice. "Don't you have more important things to be doing than dealing with this? It's nothing. I'm fine."

[jupitermelichios]

So I’ve been playing a lot of skyrim lately, because it’s video game comfort food, and I decided it was time for my Redguard Dovahkiin to settle down. (Actually I specifically just wanted to be able to adopt some of the random orphans you meet because I felt guilty about them, but you need to be married before you can do that so that there’s someone at home to take care of the kids while you’re off galivanting).

So I travelled around a bit, chatting up likely looking npcs until I found one I both liked and didn’t feel guilty about marrying (I feel bad if I marry one of the warrior adventurer types, making them be a stay at home mum) and settled on an obnoxiously cheerful argonian called Shavee because her life was frankly shit, and I thought she’d probably be good with kids.

So off I go to Riften to the Temple of Mara to arrange the wedding. I book it in for the next day, realise I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, and spend the night before the wedding robbing every house in the city in the search for something to wear. Eventually decide everyone in Riften has terrible fashion sense and break down everything I stole into raw materials and use them to craft myself an outfit and some jewellery that i’m pretty happy with. I even carefully pick out my fanciest looking sword to wear.

(don’t know why I bothered, frankly, shavee turned up wearing a shirt covered in suspicious stains and weilding a pickaxe, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this marriage)

(also for comedy purposes, bear in mind I play with survival mods that mean my character needs to eat and sleep to live, and I literally spent the entire ingame night on this and forgot to eat and drink anything either and then just downed four bowls of wolf stew right before entering the temple so I didn’t starve during the ceremony. also I discovered during the wedding that I am dying of rockjoint, which I contracted from sleeping in a pile of hay on the floor of a skeever infested cave, so even being six foot tall and jacked can’t make up for the fact that I am exhausted, running a fever, and probably covered in wolf which I spilled because my joints are slowly atrophying, and even the fanciest clothes in the world aren’t going to cover that up)

so I enter the temple, and my finance is there, and Lydia my housecarl, and some random NPCs the game thinks are my friends because I did fetch quests for them

One of the random NPCs is Lisbet. Atfter I did her fetch quest, I then did another quest in which I discovered Lisbet is secretly a cannibal and part of a demonic cult that worships the daedric prince of decay by kidnapping priests, sacrificing them, and then eating their corpses. Raw. I think the raw meat is the sticking point for me here honestly.

I ultimately decided not to sacrifice the random priest to a daedric prince in exchange for one magic ring and all the raw human I could eat, because frankly, that doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me. I was expecting there to be some kind of dialogue choice where I could nope out at the last minute, but it turns out there isn’t one, so after they drugged the priest and tied him to the altar, I just got out my sword and started swinging.

I killed most of the cult (including the town butcher, because I had brought meat from him before and was extremely pissed off that he might have been secretly feeding me humans) but a couple of them got away, which I figured was fine because they weren’t trying to kill me.

Except it turns out, if any of them escape, then every time you see them in the future there’s a random chance that they’ll fly into a violent rage and try and murder you.

Lisbet is at my wedding. Lisbet decides that clearly me marrying this random argonian woman with two lines of dialogue is the happiest day of my life, and she cannot allow me that happiness, when I’ve taken so much from her.

So she tries to kill me. Only she can’t, because I’m stuck in a pre-rendered wedding animation, and also she’s sitting next to Lydia, my faithful retainer and owner of a really big axe.

It also turns out that Lisbet is essential, meaning she can be knocked unconcious but not actually killed because she’s needed for some quest or other. And the minute she wakes up from unconciousness, she tries to kill me again, so Lydia knocks her unconcious again, and I’m stuck, I can’t move, because I’m supposed to be in the wedding animation.

Except Shavee has, not unreasonably, see all this and decided that she doesn’t like me enough to risk getting murdered, and has done a runner, leaving me at the altar, but more importantly, leaving me trapped in a broken pre-rendered animation, so all I can do is stand there at the altar, staring at the space where my fiance was supposed to be, listening to the sounds of Lydia trying and failing to beat a cannibal to death behind me.

Okay, I think, clearly this wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m going to go for the registry office option and complete the wedding using the dev commands. I do this. The priest gives me a wedding ring, and I can finally move again. I chase after Shavee, who has an impressive turn of speed on her, and eventually catch up right by the city gates. I try to talk to her.

Apparently using the console has completed the wedding for me, but not for her, because she still only has the same 2 lines of dialogue she usually has.

Clearly this is working, I can’t leave my kids with someone who can only say 2 things and doesn’t even know she’s their mum, that’s irresponsible.

I try loading from inside the temple. I get the same problem.

Eventually I figure out that I need to use the dev controls to disable Lisbet’s entire existence in the universe.

Shavee and me get married. As the priest reads the vows, I stare at Shavee and wonder why she couldn’t even be bothered to put on a clean shirt. I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be.

Once the ceremony is over, and I’m happily married to the dirty green lizard of my dreams, and we’ve agreed that until I can make her recognise my extremely nice modded house exists I will share her single bed in the unheated flophouse in Windhelm she calls home, I re-enable Lisbet, because I’m worried I’ll forget if I leave it too long.

Fun fact about skyrim, it loads in quite a lot of npcs and objects by dropping them from the sky. I have no idea why this is the case, but it’s objectively the funniest way to load in objects.

I re-enable Lisbet. She falls from the sky, clips through the roof of the temple, and lands in the pew beside Lydia, stands up, draws a knife, and is immedately beaten unconcious.

I no longer care, because Shavee now has all the exciting new spouse-only romantic dialogue options like “Could you cook something for me” and “have you made any money lately”, and I know she’ll be a great mother.

I limp to the door of the temple, while around me the guests not involved in the Lydia-Lisbet murder cycle scream and duck for cover.

I open the door to the temple, immediately collapse and ragdoll down the steps, which is how I discover I am dying of rockjoint.

I limp to the orphanage down the street, adopt two kids, and then finally remember that I’m carrying garlic bread, which as we all know, cures all known illnesses.

When I emerge back into the street, full of the joys of motherhood and garlic bread, I find the town in disaray. Lydia is chasing Lisbet through the streets with an axe and a dragon is circling overhead, burning npcs to death. People are running for shelter, screaming, while the guards try to take down an entire dragon using only the worst bows and arrows in the game.

I decide that as a parent, I have to think of my own safety first and leave them to it.

I head out of the city, intent on returning home and figuring out why Shavee refuses to move in with me. A man hanging around the stables challenges me to a boxing match. For want of anything better to do, I agree.

Halfway through the fight he dodges at the wrong moment and I punch one of his horses in the head.

Two guards attack me while I desperately try to surrender. My kids will miss me, but I’m prepared to go to jail for my horse crimes, I’m an honest citizen. Also my horse crimes seem somewhat less important than the dragon.

The guards refuse to accept my surrender. I am stabbed to death. As I collapse in front of the indifferent horse, Lisbet exits the city, followed by Lydia. The last thing I see before I die is Lydia swinging her axe at Lisbet’s face.

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

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You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

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Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin noticed Arthur’s odd reactions to things,

 +1 time he could start on the road to helping.

TW: Graphic descriptions of child abuse, claustrophobia, panic attacks/flashbacks/disassociating.

1)

Merlin notices things. He always has done, ever since he was a child. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was the ingrained fear of being snuck up on (as a Bastard child, as a citizen of Essetir, and as someone with magic) or maybe it was just some odd, innate skill. It doesn’t really matter: Merlin is observant, he has keen eyes, which is why he notices Arthur’s sudden change in disposition.

It was a normal afternoon, Arthur and Merlin had just gotten back from the first hunt of the spring and were filling The King in on how it had gone. Well... Arthur was, Merlin was just sort of stood there. 

The servant was annoyed that Arthur had dragged him along, both to the hunt and to the meeting, but The Prince had been so excited (not that he showed it too much) at the prospect of telling his father how well everything went, he conceded easily. It was rare that Arthur got his father’s approval; Merlin had only been serving him for a few months, so maybe it was stupid of him to want to see Arthur happy, but oh well. He may be a prat, but he meant well and he loved his people, he deserved a little happiness occasionally.

Uther was in fact proud, and Merlin had better luck than Arthur at holding his grin in, though that changed quickly. 

Arthur was looking out of the window and making casual comments on when he planned on going out next, and Uther, stepping quietly without even realising it, manages to move to the space just behind him without Arthur noticing. He claps a firm, but proud hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and if Merlin hadn’t known that Arthur would deny it later, he would accuse him of jumping a foot in the air. He turns around quickly, eyes wide and barely focusing as Uther gives his son another congratulations, as well as a terse “Make sure you keep it up.”

The sudden tightness in Arthur’s shoulders and his clear discomfort at having Uther so close do not go unnoticed by Merlin and he frowns, making a split second decision that could very well get him put in the stocks:

“Sorry to interrupt, My Lords, but The Prince mentioned wanting to join the evening patrol. Sir Leon and his partner will be leaving shortly.”

Uther whips his head around disapprovingly, and his anger at Merlin for interrupting whatever it was he was about to say translates to a tightened grip on Arthur’s shoulder. The Prince flinches slightly, but carefully steps away from The King, speaking before he can order the servant punished:

“Right you are, Merlin. If you’re happy for me to take my leave, father?”

Uther looks back to his son, confused, but approving of Arthur’s sudden eagerness to join extra patrols:

“Very well. I expect you to keep up the hard work, Arthur, I shall be disappointed if you start slacking again.”

Arthur nods and bows, but doesn’t say anything, his jittery demeanour getting worse with The King’s vaguely threatening tone. He walks stiffly from the room, and Merlin follows with a confused frown, making sure to keep his distance and step loudly on the stone floor; apparently Arthur was feeling jumpy today.

Arthur, still in his armour, leads them down to the courtyard where Sir Leon and another knight were indeed preparing to leave. The Prince doesn’t say anything to Merlin, simply nods in his direction before joining the others, and Merlin thinks he must have done the right thing if Arthur wasn’t shouting at him for giving him extra work that he hadn’t intended to do.

He stores this new, odd information in his mind for future reference, reminding himself to stay away from The Prince’s back and warn him of anyone approaching.

2)

The next thing Merlin notices doesn’t come from a specific incident, more from a series of odd happenings over time.

When Arthur had been released from the dungeons after Merlin’s miraculous survival from being poisoned, he was a mess. At the time, Merlin had smugly suggested that it was because Arthur was worried about him; his hair was similar to a bird’s nest, as if The Prince had been running his hands through it and pulling it on a near constant basis, and the shirt he was wearing frankly stunk of sweat.

Arthur had rolled his eyes at that and slunk off to sulk in his chambers—once Gaius had assured him Merlin would be fine—and the young servant had taken that as confirmation.

The first time Merlin actually witnesses Arthur’s quick, shallow breath and wide panicked eyes, they’re rushing through the narrow servant corridors. The Prince’s grip on his sword looks uncomfortably tight and the sweat on his brow seems a little odd: they weren’t running that fast. Merlin figures that Arthur is just stressed out from trying to catch the sneaky arsehole assassin who was trying to do in as many councilmen as he could before getting away. 

Which is an understandable thing to be stressed about.

Merlin only takes actual note of it when, after the assassin had gotten away, The King had demanded Arthur retrace his footsteps back through the castle to see if the criminal had dropped anything or hidden anywhere. Arthur practically freezes up at that, his wide eyes and pale skin making Merlin frown in confusion, only for his frown to deepen when Arthur stutters through his suggestion of having another knight lead the internal search whilst Arthur heads out into the city.

The relief on Arthur’s face when Uther agrees is, though brief and immediately hidden, immense. 

Merlin thinks back on the state Arthur had been in after he’d quested for Merlin’s cure. Perhaps... perhaps Arthur had been such a mess because he had spent a night in the dungeons, and not because he had been worried about Merlin.

As much as Arthur might like to think Merlin’s an idiot, the servant makes quick connections, pieces things together easily, like a children’s puzzle. At least when it comes to Arthur.

The servant is also reminded of the way Arthur insists that Merlin leave a few candles lit in the evening. At first, Merlin thought it was because Arthur was sneaking out of bed to get more paperwork done (Uther may rarely see it, but Arthur works ridiculously hard), but he checked the paperwork one morning and nothing had been added or altered. Then he though that it was maybe so Arthur could see any attackers coming in the night, because he was paranoid like that, but the candles always burnt out after a couple hours anyway, so it wasn’t like they were lasting through the night.

Merlin figures he was probably just reading into things too much (plus, he knows that accusing Arthur of being afraid of the dark or tight spaces would get him nothing but a slap up the head and, depending on The Prince’s mood, a visit to the stocks), though Arthur refusing to stay in Merlin’s tiny bedroom for any longer than necessary, and insisting on multiple torches being lit whenever they ventured into caves, forces Merlin to reconsider.

It was after one such adventure in one such cave that Merlin took advantage of the castle’s funds being available to him, and heads down to the market to buy some larger candles (and if he cast a spell to make them last longer... well... no one needed to know). Arthur gives him an odd look when he walks into The Prince’s chambers that evening and begins setting up and lighting them without acknowledgement; Merlin answers his questioning hum without looking at him:

“I know you like to be able to see just in case attackers make it into your chambers: these ones should last all the way until the morning. I set up a standing order with a merchant in the lower town.”

Arthur frowns confusedly, knowing that no one had managed to sneak into his chambers in months; it was definitely odd that Merlin had suddenly decided that this was a good idea. Still, Merlin doesn’t look back at him as he casually moves around the room, lighting the new candles and hoping that Arthur wouldn’t notice him leaving the curtains open by about an inch. He notices, though he doesn’t mention it in his response:

“Hmm. It seems you’re finally putting that brain of yours to use, Merlin.”

Merlin finally turns to look at him, glaring half-heartedly as he sarcastically laughs. Arthur just grins at him, glancing at the strip of moonlight on the floor for only a moment before climbing into his bed, muttering for Merlin to go ahead and get an early night.

From then on, Merlin packs extra torches in his pack when they go adventuring, and if he has room, a candle, in case they end up in an inn. If Arthur notices any of that, or the fact that Merlin always opens the window whenever they’re in the tiny Physician’s chambers for more than five minutes and always keeps him company on the now-rare nights Uther is angry enough to lock Arthur in the dungeons... well... neither of them point it out.

3)

The next odd reaction doesn’t happen until years later.

Of course Merlin keeps noticing Arthur’s aversion to surprise touch (especially from knights and his father) and general dislike of the dark/closed spaces, but dealing with it and adjusting to make things easier just sort of becomes part of their routine, without either of them really realising.

Arthur has been King for a few weeks when it happens. It's warm, too warm for armour, so the roundtable knights are practicing their hand to hand instead of using swords and shields. Arthur usually sits out for these lessons, teaching and observing from the side-lines as opposed to taking part in spars. Merlin had always thought it was odd, but the one and only time he had brought it up, years ago, Arthur had forced him to join in on the lessons. He had a lot of bruises that day.

But today was not a usual day apparently; Arthur joined in. He seemed reluctant at first, like he was unsure if he actually wanted to, but his first weeks as King had been going well and he’d had a successful meeting with some of his Lords the previous day, so he’s in a good mood. He finally caves when Lancelot offers to spar with him; there was something about the gentle man that just makes everyone in his vicinity feel a little more at ease.

The sun was shining, but heavy rain the previous week means the grass was bright and soft; all in all, it was a lovely day, but Merlin’s focus was still on Arthur and the way he and Lance dance around each other. All the knights were holding their strength back a little, the purpose of sparring is rarely to go all out, but practicing form and technique and footwork is always a good idea.

Arthur falls into the rhythm of the spar, dodging and side-stepping and blocking with ease, neither he nor Lance were eager to speed things up in the heat. He was moving automatically, running on instincts and just a little bit of adrenaline, which is probably why he freezes up when confronted with something so terrifyingly familiar.

A glint of sunlight off something metallic caches his eye, and his gaze moves away from the fight for barely a split-second, but when he looks back all he can see is shortly cropped brown hair, a bright red tunic, and a fist swinging for his face.

Lancelot yelps when Arthur doesn’t block like he had expected him to, and Merlin is sprinting over before The King’s head has even finished rocking to the side. The other knights go to crowd closer, worried for their leader, but Merlin waves them off harshly and they keep their distance, trusting him. Lancelot looks horrified, but dutifully steps back as Merlin puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and uses the other to tilt his chin from side to side. 

Merlin’s frown deepens when Arthur just lets himself be manhandled. Even in his worst injuries he was reluctant to let people check him over; Merlin quickly notices his wide eyes staring vacantly and the breathing that was far deeper than it really should be. He tries to get The King to look at him as he speaks lowly, so the others can’t hear him:

“Arthur? You with me?”

Arthur gulps, blinking rapidly and meeting his gaze, though Merlin can tell that he still isn’t really seeing:

“I... I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean... I wasn’t...”

Merlin can only just hear Arthur’s whispers, and he’s grateful for the fact that the others definitely can’t hear them. He moves the hand on Arthur’s shoulder down to grip the other man’s hand and squeezes, and uses the other to shield his eyes from the sun as he mutters:

“Arthur, it’s Merlin, you’re out on the training field with members of the Roundtable, it’s late Spring, and you were crowned King three weeks ago. Arthur?”

It’s only then that Arthur’s eyes come into focus. 

Merlin has never been grateful to have the bones in his hands almost break, and he doubts he’ll ever be grateful for it again. Merlin’s squeezes back, digging his nails in just a little as a subtle “please don’t break my hand”. Arthur loosens his grip and Merlin raises his eyebrow slightly in question; the blonde groans slightly and lifts a shaking hand to rub his eyes:

“What happened?”

Merlin glances at the huddle of knights behind him and gives them a reassuring smile before he looks back to Arthur, speaking so everyone can hear:

“You took quite the well placed hit from Lance, got a mild concussion and lost yourself for a minute. You’ll probably be fine by this evening, but I want to get you in the shade just in case, ok?”

Arthur seems surprised at the explanation, but nods wordlessly, letting Merlin guide him up towards the castle without a fuss. That just worries Merlin more, and he speeds up slightly as he yells over his shoulder:

“Leon’s in charge!”

Leon just chuckles, knowing that Merlin wouldn’t be paying them the slightest bit of attention if Arthur was even close to being seriously injured, but Gwaine just tilts his head and frowns:

“I love the guy but since when does Merlin decide who’s in charge? If he had said Elyan was in charge would we have just... gone with it?”

Leon shoves him playfully and tells him to get back to work, giving Lancelot a comforting pat on the shoulder as they all look away from the servant-King duo.

Merlin doesn’t take Arthur to the physician’s chambers, but goes to The King’s bedchamber instead; Arthur wasn’t actually concussed, but his mind had been elsewhere for a moment, so much so that he hadn’t recognised Merlin and spoke to him as if he were someone else. He sits The King down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of him, hands on his knees as he frowns:

“Arthur? Still with me, or gone again?”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath, making eye contact with Merlin again as he straightens his back and answers confidently, his voice wavering only slightly:

“Yeah, yes, I’m with you. Sorry, lost in thought. I don’t feel concussed, are you sure?”

Merlin nods and stands up, leaving Arthur on the bed as he moves to open the window and get him a goblet of water:

“Hmm, I lied, I don’t think you are either, you weren’t hit that hard to be honest, but you weren’t really... with it, thought it best to get you away from the others.-”

He turns around the see Arthur tense and angry-looking, though Merlin gets the distinct impression that it’s not aimed at him:

“-You probably just got dazed by the hit, that and you’re overtired, you’ve been staying up late the last few nights. Drink this, maybe have a nap, or at least stay out of the sunlight for a few hours, you’ll definitely be getting a headache at some point soon and I don’t want you to make it worse.”

He hands over the goblet of water, holding it slightly out of Arthur’s reach so the other man has to stand for it. He manages to stand on his own two feet with no issue, and the shaking in his hands is lesser than it was before, though not gone entirely, so Merlin makes a mental list of all the chores that he could finish here, in Arthur’s presence. The King drinks the water absent-mindedly, leaving the goblet on the side table as he mutters:

“Overtired... yeah, probably.”

He wanders towards his desk, collapsing in the seat and staring half-heartedly at the paperwork spread all over the place. Merlin relaxes slightly, deciding that maybe there was a reason Arthur never joined in on hand-to-hand.

4)

Merlin wasn’t fond of Arthur’s current visitor, Lord Algere, but he was pleased to note that Arthur didn’t seem all that fond of him either. He was an old supporter of Uther’s, which meant the occasional snide remark about how Uther would’ve handled certain situations differently, followed by deferential admissions of being “a close friend and advisor to the former King.”.

He was just friendly and kiss-ass enough that he couldn’t be kicked from court, that Arthur still had to be polite to him, but he rubbed pretty much everyone up the wrong way and Merlin couldn’t wait until he left to go back to his estate, thankfully situated on the furthest edge of the Kingdom. 

It's the day before he’s due to leave when he says it:

“You remind me of your father a great deal, you know, you’re very similar.”

Arthur freezes up at the so-called compliment, but recovers quickly, giving the Lord a tight smile before excusing himself so he wouldn’t be late for the city border patrol he was undertaking. Normally Merlin didn’t go with him on these patrols, he’d only be gone for a couple hours at most and he was joined by a partner; it gave Merlin time to finish up some chores, but the servant felt the need to be there today.

The King is silent the entire time, which is unusual considering he's riding alongside Sir Leon today, and those two always have something official to talk about. He doesn’t even spare Merlin an annoyed glance when the servant drops his bag and has to dismount to pick it up, only halts and waits for him to catch up again. Though he's sure The King had relaxed slightly at the beginning of the patrol, when Merlin mentioned that he fancied tagging along, and if Merlin weren’t so worried he’d be immensely proud at his apparent ability to put Arthur at ease.

Leon gives Merlin a worried grimace as they ride back into the citadel, but Merlin shakes his head and smiles, his meaning of “I’ll deal with it, I’m sure he’s fine” obvious in the action. The two of them have gotten quite good at silently communicating over the years, God forbid Arthur find out that they were trying to look after him.

They made the journey up to Arthur’s chambers in continued silence, though Merlin really starts to really worry when Arthur just wanders over to the window and stares down into the courtyard. He only does that when he’s feeling particularly pensive. Merlin lays out the work he knows Arthur had wanted to get done this afternoon and perches on the edge of the desk, facing Arthur’s back with his arms crossed:

“Arthur, you alright? You’ve been quiet.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t turn away from the window, staying silent. Merlin purses his lips, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out what he thinks might be wrong. He moves across the room and sits himself down at the dining table, casually starting on the polishing he had left there earlier as he speaks, trying to keep his tone as neutral and absent-minded as possible:

“I’ve no clue what Algere was talking about earlier, he either knows nothing about you, or didn’t know your father nearly as much as he says he did.”

Arthur finally turns from the window, fixing a curious frown on Merlin, who forces himself to keep his gaze down:

“What makes you say that?”

Merlin still doesn’t look up, but knows that he’s on the right track. Arthur has been able to admit, especially recently with his changing opinions on magic, that his father was not a good man, though he still struggles to admit that he wasn’t a good father:

“Well, from what I’ve seen, you look way more like your mother than you do Uther, and you don’t act like him at all, you haven’t picked up on any of his mannerisms or anything.-”

The servant finally looks up at Arthur, his words true but his nonchalance false as he continues with a confused frown:

“-To be honest, I’ve always thought you act more like an odd mix of Leon and Morgana. You’ve definitely got Leon’s sense of chivalry and respect and his knightly traits, but your... how do I say... fiery attitude when it comes to your sense of right and wrong, that’s definitely Morgana. Uther was quick to anger, you’ve got fairly good control of your anger nowadays. Uther was set in his ways and refused to change no matter the consequences, you bend traditions all the time, improve things in ways that Uther would never have dreamed of doing.-”

The servant shrugs and looks back down to his polishing:

“-I just don’t see the similarities, and I certainly know you better than Algere. I’ve a feeling I knew Uther better than Algere as well.”

Arthur hums non-committedly, but sits down at his desk instead of turning back to the window. Merlin feels the tension leave his shoulders, but doesn’t relax fully when he notices Arthur staring at his folded hands instead of working. Apparently it had only partially worked:

“Arthur?”

He doesn’t look up, just shuffles slightly in his eat as he lowly answers:

“Do you think I might... turn out like him? In the end? People say he was kind and gentle when he was young. If... if I ever have children...”

The question goes unasked, but the fear in his voice is palpable, and Merlin has to stop himself from sprinting from the room to burn every painting of Uther he can find. Instead, he puts the armour down on the table softly and stands, making sure to step loudly and clear his throat as he leans against the edge of Arthur’s desk again:

“Arthur, you’re a wonderful King, a wonderful knight, a wonderful man, and I guarantee that one day you’ll be a wonderful father. Don’t stress, you’ve out done your father in every other aspect of your life, I’m sure you’ll continue to do so.”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a slight frown on his face, though it’s more thoughtful than anything. Merlin holds his gaze with a soft smile for a few moments, content to wait for Arthur to give him some sort of cue; Arthur just rolls his eyes and shoves him from the table, picking up a quill and finally beginning to actually work:

“Try not to insult the former King too much in one sitting, Merlin. And that armour won’t polish itself.”

Merlin just laughs quietly and moves back to the table, understanding and accepting that that was probably the best he was going to get. He makes a mental note to mention Arthur’s similarities to Leon next time the three of them are together; Arthur will be relieved, though he won’t show it, and Leon will be flattered beyond words. 

He dares not do it with Morgana. Both of them would be secretly be pleased, though they’d kick up one hell of a fuss trying to deny it.

5)

Thankfully, the two of them are in Arthur’s chambers when it happens.

Merlin’s not entirely sure he could use the “concussion” excuse like he did last time, not with the length of time it lasted.

It’s late, the curtains are drawn—with the traditional inch wide gap allowing a strip of moonlight to fall across the floor and over Arthur’s bed—and Arthur’s special candles have been lit. He’d been made aware of the spell Merlin had cast on them a few months ago, and though he was annoyed that Merlin had put himself at such risk, he hadn’t asked him to remove the spell, which the servant took as a good sign (both that Arthur wasn’t too mad about the magic, and that it had been a good idea).

The King sits at his desk, doing his normal pile of evening paperwork and trying to fit in as much as he can before Merlin snatches it away and manhandles him into bed, Merlin who is generally pottering around the room tidying. Arthur thinks of it more as just... moving the mess around, but he let’s him be; Merlin’s quiet company is much appreciated, especially with all the difficulties Arthur is having with repealing the ban on magic.

The King lets out a deep sigh, sitting back in his chair and tiredly rubbing his eyes. Merlin notices, because of course he does, and wanders over, a concerned frown on his face as he sits in the chair opposite him:

“You alright? Hit a snag?”

Arthur hums but shakes his head, opening his eyes but staying slumped in his seat; Merlin makes plans to get him to bed at some point in the next half candle mark at least:

“Hmm. No, just tired. This whole thing is draining, I wish I could just force them to see sense.”

Merlin knew that the them Arthur speaks of is the council. Currently, The King has about half of them on side, not including Leon, Morgana, and Gaius, but they need a majority by a significant margin before they can move forward, and Arthur refuses to act in any way that isn’t democratic.

Merlin nods, smiling softly at his lap as Arthur closes his eyes again:

“This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-”

At first, Merlin doesn’t notice the way Arthur’s eyes fly open, nor the way he slowly sits up straight, nor the way his shoulders tighten and his skin grows pale and his eyes go vacant.

“-but I think you’re doing great, don’t be too hard on... Arthur? Are you alright?”

Merlin frowns when he finally looks up to see The King sitting ramrod straight and staring into the middle distance, his breathing ragged and his blue eyes glassy and unseeing. He stands slowly, moving around to Arthur’s side to crouch there and wave a hand in front of his face.

He doesn’t react.

Merlin shakes his shoulder slightly, hesitating only momentarily before touching him, but even then, Arthur doesn’t respond. The servant gulps, glancing over his shoulder at the door to make sure it was locked before touching a hand to Arthur’s forehead and muttering a spell; he normally uses this spell to wake up unconscious people, but it has no effect on The King other than sending a slight shiver through his body.

Merlin calls his name a few times, but it expectedly has no effect. He tries to test Arthur’s pain awareness by pinching the underside of his arm, and whilst he flinches away slightly, he doesn’t come to, still stares blankly at the opposite wall. Merlin thinks of calling for the guards and asking for Gaius, but somehow he doesn’t think the elderly physician will be able to help; there was no magic at play here, and he certainly hadn’t been poisoned. In all honestly he just looked a little zoned out, like the time Merlin had lied about the concussion, except it was clearly lasting longer this time.

Merlin frowns but tries his best to keep the panic at bay, it had only been a few minutes now, but other than breathing Arthur hadn’t moved an inch.

The servant takes a deep, relaxing breath, or at least what he hoped would be a relaxing breath. It’s not. He uses magic to slide Arthur’s chair away from the desk slightly, and moves into the space it leaves, shuffling all of the paperwork away and leaning on the edge. Once again, he puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and takes his hand with the other, squeezing slightly.

He waits.

After another ten minutes or so, Arthur’s breathing gets slightly more frantic, and he begins squeezing Merlin’s hand back. Merlin moves closer, crouching in between Arthur’s legs and shaking his shoulder again, but he stops when Arthur begins muttering:

“Didn’t... I... I’m sorry. Not my.... didn’t... didn’t mean to... sorry... disappointment...”

Merlin’s frown deepens at the barely audible whispers, especially when he notices the tears gathering in Arthur’s eyes. He shakes his shoulder again and forces himself to speak, just about managing to keep the waiver from his voice:

“Arthur, there’s no one else here, it’s just you and me, it’s just us, just Arthur and Merlin. It’s the evening in late Autumn, it’s almost time for bed, you sparred with Percival this morning and had a long, annoying council meeting this afternoon. You’re sat at your desk in your chambers with me, no one else.”

Arthur’s eyes come into focus, slowly at first and then all at once. He blinks and stands suddenly, almost tipping his chair backwards in his haste as he reaches a hand to his sword-less hip. Merlin moves back quickly, grimacing as he bumps harshly into the desk. Arthur’s gaze whips around the room desperately, as if searching for a danger that he was certain was there, before his eyes finally land on Merlin. The servant holds his hands out placatingly, not relaxing even as Arthur takes a deep breath and seems to calm down.

The King slumps back in his seat, rubbing the tears from his eyes with shaking hands; Merlin crouches down again, but doesn’t dare touch him, not quite yet:

“Arthur?”

His head whips up, but he relaxes again when he sees Merlin sat in front of him:

“Yes, sorry, I... must of dozed off or something.”

Merlin frowns, but nods one, speaking slowly, his tone low and even:

“Hmm. Must’ve, you looked like you were having a nightmare or something so I woke you. Time for bed, I think.”

For once, Arthur actually agrees with him, not bothering to argue like normal as he stands on shaking legs and heads to where Merlin has neatly laid his sleeping clothes on the bed. Merlin’s concerned gaze follows him, but he doesn’t move too far from the desk, deciding that he and Gaius definitely need to have a chat about... whatever the hell that was.

Half a candle mark later, Arthur is quietly wishing his manservant a good night and dismissing him. He was obviously distracted, Merlin normally can’t be frowning for more than thirty seconds before The King is hounding him about what’s wrong, but thirty minutes pass with not a question from Arthur, and Merlin makes his way to the Physician’s Chambers hoping that Gaius is still awake.

Thankfully, the elderly physician is still pottering around, tidying away various bits and pieces and generally preparing the room for a new day tomorrow. He immediately notices Merlin’s peculiar mood and gestures for the younger man to sit opposite him at the table:

“What’s bothering you, my boy?”

Merlin sits slowly, biting his lip and trying to decide just how honest to be:

“What does it mean if someone... zones out, completely, for extended periods of time?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow:

“I’m going to need a little more than that, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs but nods, shuffling in his seat slightly but responding:

“I was with someone earlier today. We were just chatting whilst we worked and suddenly they just... weren’t there anymore. Stiff, eyes glazed over, ragged breathing. They responded slightly to pain but it didn’t snap them out of it and they just... sat there, utterly blankly, for about twenty minutes. Eventually they started muttering to themselves, but it didn’t make any sense, then they... woke up, I guess, and thought they had fallen asleep. They definitely weren’t asleep, but they weren’t... I don’t know, conscious?”

Gaius frowns but nods, clutching his hands tightly on the table as he explains, his voice grave:

“Hmm. Sounds like an extended disassociation episode. I gather that I’m not to be told who this was?-”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, and though he looks slightly annoyed, Gaius nods and continues:

“-This happens mostly to people who experience something extremely traumatic, though it also happens in victims of extended abuse, especially if the abuse was in childhood, the younger the victim, the worse the reaction. Occasionally it can happen randomly, though it’s mostly triggered by something in their surrounding environment.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and Gaius would easily hazard a guess at saying he looks angry. He doesn’t point it out though, just waits for his ward to continue:

“What can trigger it? And what other symptoms will child abuse victims display?”

Gaius takes another deep breath, but slowly responds:

“Anything can be a trigger really, something they see or smell or hear, something someone else does or says.-”

(”This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-” pops into Merlin’s head.)

“-As for other symptoms, aversion to touch, occasionally fear of being alone, OR fear of being in another’s presence. Some experience trouble with regulating strong emotions, difficulty in regulating long term relationships, platonic or otherwise, trouble with self-esteem. It varies from person to person, there is no strict list of obvious signs. Might I ask... why?”

Merlin shakes his head and stands, moving towards his bedroom with clenched hands and tight shoulders. Just before he shuts the door behind him, he turns to look at Gaius over his shoulder, brow furrowed and voice low:

“What... what was Uther like? When Arthur was a child?”

Gaius closes his eyes briefly, letting out a weary sigh and trying his best to hold in his grief:

“Strict, extremely difficult to please. He never... he never hit Arthur, not in public anyway, though it wouldn’t surprise me if he was violent privately. As a child, The Prince was terrified of the dark, and the dungeons. I got the impression that Uther forced him down there on more than one occasion. Arthur is... the one your concerned about?”

Gaius knows the answer, but it doesn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes when Merlin wordlessly nods before shutting the door behind him.

+1)

A few weeks have passed since Merlin had figured it all out.

He didn’t dare bring it up to Arthur, and shuts the conversation down any time Gaius mentions it. The conversation is for Arthur, and Arthur only, and Merlin wasn’t going to force it. 

Besides, they’ve been extremely busy with the transitions; The Kingdom was going from anti-magic to pro-magic, and Merlin was going from servant to a member of court. Arthur had tried to force nobility onto him as well as his position as Court Sorcerer, but Merlin had put his foot down at that, insisting that he wouldn’t become some stuck up wealthy arsehole, not even if his life was on the line.

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, Gwen, and Morgana had grinned at that, Arthur and Lancelot rolled their eyes, Mordred continued to insist on calling him “My Lord” anyway, and Leon had looked marginally affronted as he mumbled something along the lines of “I’m a Lord you know, technically.”.

They aren’t lucky this time around, and it all comes to an explosive head in a quiet, though still habited corridor in the middle of the afternoon.

Afterwards, Merlin absent-mindedly considers the fact that they could’ve been in the courtyard or the throne room or somewhere equally busy, and thanks the Gods for just this little bit of luck; only two servants, one guard, and the... the noble and his son were in the corridor at the time.

Arthur and Merlin are making their way to the council room, preparing themselves for a busy meeting: it was the first since magic was officially legalised, and the first that Merlin (and Gwen, though that was another matter entirely) would officially be sitting in on. Though, in all honesty, pretty much the whole Kingdom knew that Merlin had been advising Arthur privately for years.

Merlin frowns and Arthur stiffens slightly as they spot the noble gripping his young son’s collar and aggressively whispering at him. The boy can’t be more than ten summers old, but the tears in his eyes display his utter terror clearly enough; no child should ever have to be that scared, especially not of their parents. Merlin resigns himself to just magicking the pig’s trousers down when no one was looking his way, but barely a second after he makes that decision the man raises his hand, and slaps the boy across the face.

Everyone in the corridor freezes as the boy cries out, and the noble doesn’t seem to notice the way the guard looks frantically between him and The King, waiting for instruction, or the way the servants and Merlin were staring, horrified. Arthur breaks out of his shocked stupor first, striding towards him with his fist already raised and his eyes blazing:

“How fucking DARE you?!”

His knuckles make violent contact with the man’s mouth, and the spray of blood from a busted lip and loosened teeth is what spurs Merlin into action. He runs forward, scooping the distraught boy up in his arms and quickly handing him over to one of the servants:

“Take him to Gaius, swear that you will not utter a word of this to anyone bar the Court Physician?”

His eyes flash golden as the servants’ both nod, and they rush off in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. Merlin, satisfied that they will be unable to break their promise, turns next to the guard, momentarily ignoring the way Arthur has shoved the bleeding noble against the stone wall:

“Fetch the Lady Morgana and Guinevere and tell them to go to Gaius and the boy, stay with them, swear that you will inform no one bar those three what has happened?”

The guard nods, understanding the magic implicitly as Merlin’s eyes flash gold again. He spares The King and his deserving victim one last glance before running towards Morgana’s chambers.

Merlin turns, finally, to Arthur, almost-but-not-quite recoiling at the tears on his cheeks as he lands another punch to the noble’s jaw. His face is black and blue at this point, and Merlin pulls Arthur back just as he raises his fist again; he thrashes in his grip, but quickly sags as his breathing deepens. The noble falls to the floor, unconscious in all likelihood, and Merlin clicks his fingers, banishing him to the dungeons with nothing but a shower of golden sparks.

Arthur breathes deeply, leaning all of his weight on Merlin as he clamps his un-bruised hand over his mouth, his wide eyes staring intensely at where the boy had been stood moments before. He doesn’t respond to Merlin’s calls, and with another flash of gold, they disappear, reappearing in Arthur’s bed chamber.

Merlin shoots Mordred a quick message over their mental link as he lowers Arthur to the floor, leaning him against the edge of the bed and moving around to be crouched in front of him. The King’s breathing has gotten dangerously deep and dangerously fast, the tears streaming down his face as his hands clench and unclench around nothing. Merlin quickly intertwines their fingers in an effort to stop Arthur hurting himself, but that just freaks the other man out even more as he desperately scrambles to get away from the contact.

Merlin lets go and moves back, eyes wide and desperate as he watches Arthur bring his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms and rocking slightly. His cries are muffled, but Merlin can still hear the heart wrenching sound; the Warlock takes a moment to breath before he stealthily moves around the room, lighting candles, locking the door, and shutting the curtains (bar an inch), before moving back to sit beside Arthur, a foot or so of space between them.

After a few minutes of no change, Merlin starts humming. He can’t remember any of the words, but it’s an old lullaby his mum used to sing when he couldn’t sleep, when he was scared of his own magic and his own friends and every shadow that moved in the dark. Arthur’s breathing slows, though he still hiccups occasionally, and Merlin rests his hand on the stone floor between them: an offer, not a demand.

Arthur doesn’t take it, instead shuffling over to lean his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin freezes, not daring to put his arm around the other man as he continues to hum; he must’ve circled back and restarted the same song six, seven, eight times before Arthur nuzzles in further and sniffs before muttering:

“You’ve a good voice, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs a gentle laugh, leaning his head on top of Arthur’s softly as he quietly replies:

“Runs in the family, my mother used to sing to me, though I don’t really know any other tunes I’m afraid.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t reply, turning into Merlin’s chest slightly as the Warlock hesitatingly wraps his arms around the other man; he stops being so hesitant when he notices Arthur’s eagerness. Merlin pulls him close, sighing but letting Arthur settle in before he says anything. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the pain shooting up his spine at being sat on the stone floor for so long, but he decides he doesn’t really care, if this is what Arthur needs.

After a few more minutes, he rubs his cheek into Arthur’s soft hair and speaks, his voice gentle and loving:

“Feeling better?”

Arthur stiffens slightly, but quickly relaxes, nodding into Merlin’s chest and mumbling:

“The boy?”

Merlin smiles at Arthur’s worry:

“Safe. He’s with Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen, under protective guard.”

Arthur nods again, tightening his hold on Merlin’s tunic:

“And his... father?”

“Bloodied up and locked in the dungeons, far away from his son. Mordred let the guards know that he is not to leave under any circumstances, told the council that the meeting had been postponed until further notice, and then went to relieve the guard in the Physician’s chambers.”

The King relaxes, and so does Merlin, though only slightly, he knows that this is where that terrifying conversation has opportunity to rear it’s ugly head:

“Arthur, are we going to talk about this?-”

He rushes to carry on when Arthur’s breath hitches and his hands pull on Merlin’s tunic slightly:

“-You can say no, Arthur. I swear, I will never, ever ask, not if you don’t want me to.”

Arthur doesn’t relax, but he shakes his head, gulping before replying, his voice thick:

“No, it’s fine, I should probably... talk about it, right? Morgana is always on my arse about being less repressed or whatever.-”

Merlin nods, but doesn’t say anything, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair rhythmically. Arthur lets out a deep breath, humming contentedly at the gesture and leaning even more into it:

“-My father was... difficult to please. His default was anger, no matter what, and it was... rare, for him to be anything but furious. He never... not in public, and never left marks where anyone could see.-”

Merlin struggles against the urge to hit someone (preferably Uther, though unfortunately he was dead. He supposes Uther’s old supporters would do in a pinch), but he makes do with taking a deep breath:

“-When he was especially furious he would lock me in a storage closet, or the dungeons. He... he would order that all the lights be put out, and all the windows covered, so I couldn’t see. Merlin I couldn’t see anything. I still... I can’t stand the dark, but I’m guess you figured that out?-”

Merlin knows that he’s referring to the candles and the perpetually open curtains and nods, humming in agreement:

“-How pathetic is that? A grown man, a King, afraid of the dark.”

Merlin tightens his grip on Arthur and shakes his head:

“It’s not pathetic, Arthur. It’s an automatic response, a defence mechanism that your brain puts in place to try and protect you from being re-traumatised. To this day, I’m terrified of fire, even though I have no reason to be anymore, even though it can’t hurt me as a Dragon Lord.”

Arthur gulps, but relaxes slightly, though his voice is quiet, almost ashamed as he continues:

“I can’t look at Lancelot’s turned back, I struggle to spar with him as well. He... he doesn’t even look anything like my father, he just... he always wears red and has the same hair as my father when he was younger and they’re the same height. Sometimes I feel like I’m a child again, everything around me just disappears and I’m back in that dungeon, or my father is stood over me screaming. How am I meant to be a good King when I’m scared of my own shadow?”

Merlin sighs, staying silent for a few minutes as he attempts to put an answer together in his mind. Arthur sniffles again, and Merlin is suddenly made aware of the wet patch where Arthur’s head rests on his tunic:

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, as many times as you want: you are a wonderful King. You’ve delivered a Golden Age upon this Kingdom, your friends love you, your people adore you. You’ve never just been a good King, Arthur, you’ve been the best this Kingdom, and this world, has ever seen.”

Arthur loosens his grip again but huffs a quiet laugh against Merlin’s chest, which the Warlock definitely counts as a win:

“Kiss-ass.”

Merlin laughs this time, though he doesn’t stop carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair:

“Nah, when have you ever known me to kiss ass? I speak only the truth, My Lord.”

They both fall silent again, and Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s chest. Merlin drops his arms immediately, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable, but Arthur just takes one of his hands and goes back to sitting by his side, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. The silence is long, but comfortable, and it’s dark outside by the time Arthur speaks again:

“Merlin?-”

The Warlock doesn’t make a sound, but squeezes Arthur’s hand in acknowledgement:

“-I thanked you for all the big stuff: saving my life, and saving the Kingdom, and all that. But I never thanked you for the small stuff. The candles and the endless support and the excuses.”

Merlin frowns slightly in confusion, not that Arthur can see:

“Excuses?”

“You didn’t think I didn’t notice, did you? You started years and years ago. You always seemed to notice when being with... with my father, or the knights, or anyone really, was getting too much, you always had some excuse ready. Sometimes you outright lied, even if it would get you in trouble, just to get me away from people. I don’t know how you knew... no one else ever realised. Saying I had paperwork when I didn’t, or a patrol when I wasn’t scheduled for one, or a concussion just to give me some privacy. Thank you.”

Merlin smiles slightly, squeezing Arthur’s hand again:

“You were too busy looking after everyone else, someone had to look after you. I’m grateful it was me, Arthur, I-”

He pauses and sits up slightly straighter, though it doesn’t jostle Arthur too much. He lifts his head anyway, staring at Merlin in concern with tired eyes:

“Merlin?”

Merlin looks to him suddenly, but smiles:

“Hmm, sorry, just Mordred. Updating me on the kid and asking if you’re alright.-”

Arthur’s cheeks flush slightly, but Merlin’s smile grows as he shakes his head:

“-Don’t worry, no one knows about... this, just that you went berserk when you saw a Noble beating his kid, and punched his teeth out.”

Arthur relaxes and nods, humming thoughtfully as he looks to the floor. He stands up, wobbling only slightly after being curled up in the same position on a cold stone floor for several hours, and Merlin follows him confusedly:

“Do... do you want to go check in on them? The kid’s been asking after you apparently, wants to thank you.-”

Arthur looks conflicted, almost as if he were worrying that he wouldn’t actually be welcomed, so Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles, waiting until Arthur looks at him before continuing:

“-We can leave it until morning, if you like, but you saved that boy, Arthur, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t move until Merlin wipes his face clean with his sleeve and smooths out his clothes. If he uses a little magic to make the two of them more presentable, then neither of them mention it as they walk purposefully to the door.

Merlin looks to Arthur stood next to him, his hand hovering over the door handle:

“Ready?”

Arthur smiles at him, taking his hand and squeezing it, but not dropping it as he opens the door and steps into the corridor:

“Ready.”

~

THE END!!!

As angsty as it was, I really enjoyed writing that😅. I couldn’t help myself though, I had to give it a happy ending :D

I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! I love y’all!!

My Ko-Fi, which is where I post sneak peeks of upcoming works, check it out and consider donating!!

[ko-riacchi]

Live Stream

Pairing: Shigaraki x F!Reader Genre: Smut, Angst Length: 4,3k

WARNINGS: NONCON! 

Thank you to @cultbabyyy who read through it as soon as I was done  And thank you to @kazooli whose fics made me realize that I can write whatever the fuck I want

(Inspired by Yagami Yato’s Shigaraki Pt.3 audio)

Tomura was a man-child. Which meant that when he had a new toy, he couldn’t help himself but to rub it in other people’s faces that he had something that they – in fact – no longer had.

 The room was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the computer screen and the various sources of blue light stemming from the computer tower, mouse and keyboard.

Tomura sat in his computer chair, arms possessively wrapped around your form and you wriggled and squirmed in his grip, trying to get loose.

“Now, now,” Tomura rasped into your ear. “Don’t struggle too much. You wouldn’t want any accidents to happen, now would you?”

Your face scrunched up and you bit your lip, knowing exactly what Tomura could do to you – even accidentally – and you stilled in his grasp.

 His right hand left your figure now that you were placated and grabbed the computer mouse, the sound of it clicking reverberating through the otherwise quiet room.

You weren’t particularly interested in whatever he was doing on his computer, so you let your eyes wander through the room. You needed to find a way to get out of this situation, this room and especially this dangerous hold that he had over you.

You knew that the first two were comparatively easy to achieve, once you had successfully managed to pull off the latter one. After all, you hadn’t managed to become a pro hero without learning a skill or two.

But your offensive quirk just wasn’t suited to squirm free of his grasp without potentially getting disintegrated should all of his five fingers touch your body. Usually, you were quite content with your abilities but right now you couldn’t help but curse yourself for not being born with a quirk more similar to the one of your old teacher, Eraserhead.

Your gaze continued to examine the room, trying to find anything at all that could help you in your predicament. But mostly, the shelves were littered with games upon games, accompanied by the corresponding console. Behind you, a bed stood in the corner of the room, the sheets thrown on it carelessly. While those may not be able to aid you in your initial quest to rid yourself of his dangerous hands, you would be able to use them to cut off his vision once you had gotten free – even if it was just for a second.

 Your thought process was interrupted by Tomura, whose hand slid back to your body, grasping your hip in his hand while making sure that his pinky was lifted as to not accidentally kill you.

“Now we just have to wait for a few more minutes and the show can get started,” he said, his hands leisurely beginning to stroke your sides.

“Show?” you echoed confused and for the first time, your focus landed on the computer screen in front of you where a website you didn’t recognize was opened.

What you did recognize however, was the screen in the middle which reflected your own surprised face and the grinning one of Tomura behind you. Your eyes flitted to the top of the monitor to find a small camera on top, the little red light on the bottom center telling you that it was currently recording.

Back on the monitor screen, your eyes zoomed in on a small number in the corner and quickly you concluded that it showed the current viewer number of what obviously was a live stream.

“Wh-what are you planning, Shigaraki?” you asked him and turned your head and upper body so you could look in his eyes.

His gaze locked on to yours and a grin stretched across his face, cracked lips quickly moistened by his tongue so they wouldn’t crack further.

“Why, I thought since I’ve got you here, it would be a… shame not to share all the fun we’re about to have with the world,” he explained. “I even sent some links out to your dear colleagues, wouldn’t want them to miss out on it, now would we?”

Your eyes darted back to the monitor for a second, the viewer counter steadily rising, before you locked your eyes with Tomura again.

“It doesn’t matter in what way you’ll try to hurt me. I’m a hero, for God’s sake, don’t think I’m not used to pain. All you’re going to achieve by streaming this, is that my colleagues will trace the IP and find this place even faster.” You sent him a defiant look.

 Tomura erupted into cackling laughter, sounding like the crazy madman he was. “Hurt you? Oh no no no no, I think you’re misunderstanding. I’m not going to hurt you.” His right hand moved upwards to grip the top of your hero uniform; his pinky raised by acquired habit.

“Rather, I thought…” he continued, his grip hardening around the sturdy material before he purposefully burrowed his hand in it. “We could have some fun in a different way.”

Your horrified gaze went towards your chest, where the material of your suit began to crumble away in ashes, opening the view to your undergarments.

“Fuck you!” you screamed and started to struggle in his grasp. His left hand gripped your side harder, pinky raised, while his right hand came up to grip your chin.

“N’ah, ah, ah,” he chided you and his grip on your chin became painful. “Don’t forget that I hold your life in my hands.”

Before you had the chance to reply to him, his lips descended upon yours. His kiss was harsh and bruising, the feeling of his chapped lips uncomfortable on yours. You tried to break free of his hold, but it was futile. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked your lips, hoping to gain entry. You pressed them together more fiercely, your jaw gnashing with the force you brought up to keep your mouth closed.

Tomura clicked his tongue in disapproval. He took his mouth off you for a second to take a look at your tense face.

“Now, now, doll, while it would be a shame if this level was too easy to clear, I think you still don’t understand exactly in what situation you are currently in.”

As if to prove his point, his hand lifted from your jaw and gripped the fabric of your sports bra with all of his fingers. Instantly, the material began to crumble away under his grip until all that remained was a small heap of ashes on your legs.

Now, with nothing to cover your shame, your face burned with embarrassment and your arms shot up to cover your breasts.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me,” Tomura grinned and grabbed your arms to pull them away from your chest. “I’m sure your viewers would love to get a good look at you.”

 You tried to fight his grip, but his raw strength was far superior to yours, so you had no chance but to uncover your breasts for everyone to see. Your eyes felt hot and began to sting but you refused to let any tears fall. A hero didn’t cry, no matter how dire the situation got. On the screen, you saw an influx of messages on the chat, not even bothering to try and read the contents; you were sure that it wasn’t something you would actually want to read.

Before Tomura could continue to embarrass you further, a “ding” sounded from the computer speaker into the silence of the room. This led Tomura to giggle in excitement.

“Seems like the first one of our special guests has just entered the stream,” he said from behind you. Your head whipped around to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked him, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh, don’t worry, my doll. That ‘ding’ you just heard? Means that one of my invitation links just got opened and one of your colleagues just decided to finally join us. Why don’t you be nice and greet him?”

Tomura took your right hand he was still holding and began to wave it for the camera. Your eyes closed in frustration, knowing there was nothing you could do about it. When he was finally done waving for you, his hand let go of your wrist and immediately you covered your chest the best you could.

His now free hand gripped your hair and pulled your head back. His head burrowed itself in the crook of your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin. His lips moved up towards your ear and he whispered “Now, let’s make sure that we put on a good show for our viewers.” before taking your earlobe into his mouth and biting on it.

“Once I’m out of here, I’ll fucking kill you,” you answered him through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the unpleasant wet feeling of his mouth on you. You felt him smile against your skin, but he didn’t say anything to you in return. Instead, his hand left your hair and glided down your face and neck, making its way down to your breasts.

Your hand gripped his wrist, trying to keep him from touching you in this intimate place but you already knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop him. Moments later, Tomura’s hand had reached its goal and he began to fondle your breast roughly, pulling and twisting your nipple.

Your face scrunched up in pain and once more, you tried to pull his hand away from your body – to no avail. He continued tugging and twisting and shamefully you noticed that your nipple was getting hard. You knew that it was merely a bodily response to being stimulated but it was still hard to stomach that your body was reacting to it when you sure as hell weren’t enjoying his ministrations in the slightest.

And it seemed like you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Tomura had as well and you felt his grin against your neck. “Oh, seems like somebody’s enjoying it?” he gloated and tugged on your nipple harder.

“As if!” you exclaimed, hoping that nobody else would believe his incredulous words. Everything about his touches was uncomfortable: His grip was rough and his hand felt scratchy on your delicate skin.

Once more, you started to wriggle in his grasp, knowing that nothing would come out of it. With just the threat of his hands, he had you defeated before you had even started fighting. And although what was about to happen horrified and scared you, death scared you even more.

Now his left hand let go of yours and instantly, you started curling in on yourself, trying to prevent him from touching you further or the viewers on the stream from seeing you. He allowed you to remain in this position for a few moments while his gaze was fixed on the screen, reading the influx of comments.

“It seems like the majority of our viewers want us to move on to the next level already,” Tomura said and his left hand snaked under your armpit and up to your throat, tilting your body back against his.

“What do you say we give the people what they want?” Another tug on your nipple, and his hand left your breast before it continued downwards to your panties. Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to free yourself from his grip and save the last bit of dignity you still had left. Tomura wasn’t fazed by that however and his hand steadily continued until it had clawed into the material of your underwear and it decayed into nothingness along with your last shred of hope to somehow free yourself of this situation.

The little pile of dust that had settled on your crotch was blown away by Tomura and his mouth stretched into a wide grin, his dry lips close to cracking open. The hand that had disintegrated your panties now took your right thigh and pulled it to the side, effectively spreading your legs and displaying your pussy for everyone on the stream to see.

You had closed your eyes, not wanting to see yourself and your shameful display mirrored on the screen. Your hands, that had been on his arm up until now, trying to free yourself of his grasp, fell limply to your sides as all fight left your body. You knew that there was no way you would be able to get yourself out of this situation before Tomura had had the chance to defile you. Your only option at this point was to wait for your colleagues to arrive and save you – and hoping that you wouldn’t get killed before they would do so.

Once Tomura felt your body slacken, he began to laugh. “What? Not gonna fight me anymore?” he asked, his voice full of malicious joy. “And here I was beginning to enjoy your feisty attitude.”

Your change in behavior didn’t however stop him from continuing on with his little show and his right hand moved from your thigh to your pussy lips, spreading them open with the pointer and middle finger of his hand to give his audience a good show.

“That’s some grade A hero pussy,” he grinned into the camera as rubbed his finger around your hole a few times. “I wonder how many dicks it has taken so far…”

He turned his face from the camera to you as if he was waiting for an answer. You weren’t willing to give him that information though and kept your mouth shut, even as he lifted his other hand from your neck to your cheeks to squeeze them and get you to talk.

After a moment however, it seemed as if he had lost patience waiting for your answer, as he retracted his hand and put it back into place on your neck.

“It doesn’t matter. Once I’ve fucked you, I’ll have you ruined for other dicks for all eternity,” he cackled, his pointer finger pushing into your dry cunt immediately after he had finished his sentence.

You hissed out in pain. The skin on his finger was rough and you – surprise, surprise – were not turned on at all, so it hurt when he shoved it inside without any preparation at all.

When Tomura heard your hiss, he cackled again, moving his finger around inside you.

“If you’re already struggling to take my finger, you will break apart once I shove my cock inside you.”

Slowly, he began to move his finger, and with horror you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter the more he prodded your walls. Soon, he was able to fit a second finger inside your heat, angling them upwards and against where he had read the g-spot was.

When you took a sharp breath, he knew that he had been successful and he continued to push against the little rough patch of skin, knowing it would be so much more bitter for you if your body enjoyed the ordeal.

After a few moments of pumping his fingers inside you, he stopped and leaned forward a bit, reading through the comments in the chat.

He laughed. “Yeah, that little hero pussy is getting nice and wet,” he replied to one commenter. “It’s sucking my fingers right in.”

As if to demonstrate, he pulled his fingers out a bit and moved them around, until a squelching sound could be heard, and then pushed them all the way inside again, which elicited a muffled moan you hadn’t been able to stop in time.

“She’s definitely enjoying herself,” he answered another comment, looking at you with a sleazy grin. “Isn’t that right, hero slut?”

You grit your teeth and held back the curses and slurs you wanted to reply with, knowing that it would amuse your tormenter.

Once Tomura felt like he had replied to enough comments, he turned his attention back to you, thrusting his fingers inside you harshly one last time before he took them out, lifting them to the camera first to show the glistening juices before he put them inside his mouth and licked them with an exaggerated hum.

“I hope you’re ready for the final boss,” he whispered into your ear, although he made sure that it was loud enough for his audience to hear.

You shook your head, one last time trying to squirm out of his grasp. All that achieved however was that your ass rubbed against Tomura’s bulge and he let out a soft hiss.

“No need to be impatient, little hero slut,” he said with a grin as the hand that held your neck lifted you higher so the other hand could loosen and push down his pants.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to, as soon as Tomura’s erection bobbed free and sprang up between your legs, your eyes wandered to it, widening when you saw his size.

Tomura had to have seen your expression mirrored in the stream because he let out a manic laugh, his entire body (and dick) shaking with the emotion.

“Oh, don’t worry, it won’t hurt… much,” he cackled as he rubbed his dick along your slit, coating it in your juices. You body twitched when the tip of his dick rubbed over your clit and a shameful whimper escaped your throat, although you willed yourself immediately to shut up.

Not wanting to see your own violation, you closed your eyes as Tomura positioned himself at your entrance and began to slowly push inside.

You couldn’t hold back the hiss that escaped your throat at the intrusion, nor the squirming as you tried to get away from it.

Tomura only tightened his grip on your neck you, pushing your body down on him as his dick breached further and further into your wet heat.

Tears threatened to escape your eyes once Tomura was fully seated in you and only through sheer willpower, you managed to hold them back, unwilling to give up this last bit of pride you had.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Tomura groaned, stilling for a second to get used to the feeling of your cunt. “Don’t tell me you were a virgin?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer the villain. No matter what you would say, he would only find it amusing and possibly use it to torment you further, either calling you a stuck-up hero bitch, thinking you’re too good for anyone, or a hero slut, willing to let anyone willing fuck you.

When Tomura realized he wasn’t getting an answer from you, he chuckled before he adjusted his four-finger grip on your neck, pulled almost all the way out of your cunt and slammed you down again until he was inside you to the base.

A pained cry flew from your lips but you had no time to even try and hold back your voice anymore, because Tomura immediately continued to jackhammer into you, moaning and panting into your ear as he showed the world how your cunt ate up his dick.

Your hands flew up to grab at his arm, futilely trying to steady yourself at least a bit, as he pushed and pushed and pushed into you. Squelching noises you were sure the microphone was picking up as well, came from your cunt as it greedily sucked Tomura’s dick back in every time he pulled back.

“Fuck, this is some grade A pussy,” Tomura groaned, his hips only slowing down a bit as his muscles began to hurt from the position. He caught his breath while he lazily thrusted into you, his moist breath uncomfortable on your ear.

Suddenly, Tomura moved and stood up from his chair, pushing you up as well with his hips. The hand that was around your throat slipped from under your arm and instead pushed down onto your back, laying you flat on his computer desk while his dick never left your tight cunt.

As soon as he had finished adjusting to the new position, he began railing you again, his hips slamming against your ass as his dick burrowed inside you further and further.

You let out a pained scream as his thrusts reached even deeper now, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to shut out the pain. At least in this position, the camera wasn’t able to get a shot of your face, you thought in relief, as it was too high to capture your body laid out on the desk.

Tomura must’ve noticed that fact as well because the next moment, the hand that pushed your back down moved up and grabbed your hair, pulling you up so your face was angled towards the camera. Your eyes flew open, a choked cry leaving you as you felt the burn on your scalp of your hair being pulled.

Right in front of you, you could see the red blinking light of the recoding camera and even though you wanted to close your eyes again, you found that the position made it impossible for you to do so.

So you had no choice but to stare into the camera as Tomura fucked you from behind while grunting and panting, your eyebrows furrowing as your eyes filled with tears.

After a minute of thrusting and you getting slammed against the desk again and again, Tomura leaned forward to read some more comments, his face erupting into a cackle when he read one of them.

“They’re saying I’m not taking care of you,” he told you, pulling at your hair some more so your head leant on his shoulder. “Saying you look like you’re not enjoying yourself.” He let go of your hair which caused you to fall forward onto the desk, almost slamming your head on the wood. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

With those words, his right hand began snaking around your waist, moving down so he could rub at your clit. His other hand pulled your back against his chest, giving the camera a better view and himself some more room to move his hand around your little nub.

At first, it was easy to ignore the touches on your clit, instead focusing on your uncomfortable position but then, he moved his fingers in a way that teased your clit just right and your mouth flew open as a loud moan left your lips.

“Ahh, so that’s what gets you going,” he laughed, immediately repeating the motion and trying to get you to make some more noises. You tried to hold back the sounds, tried to force yourself to close your mouth so no more moans and whimpers could escape you, but Tomura simply moved his hand on your chest upwards, pushing two of his fingers inside you mouth so it would stay open.

His thrusts had increased in speed again, his dick rubbing against your g-spot as his hands teased your clit and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your peak.

You moved your body and tried to angle your hips in a way that would made Tomura’s actions at least a bit more bearable but he noticed right away and made sure that you could not escape the orgasm that was building inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re getting even tighter,” he rasped, out of breath due to his insane pace. “Are you gonna cum around my dick?” He laughed at your pained expression, letting out a grunt as your walls began twitching around him.

“Yeah, just like that. Cream around that villain dick like the hero slut you are,” he groaned, feeling himself edging closer and closer to orgasm as well.

With one last effort, you tried to move away and stop his hand from pushing you over the edge but it was useless and with a cry, you came on his dick, the tears you had held back the entire time running down your face as your body twitched and convulsed, milking his cock like some desperate bitch in heat.

Tomura let out a choked groan, pumping into you a few more time as he announced that he was going to fill your slutty pussy with his cum, before you could feel his dick twitching inside you. You wanted to shout, wanted to beg him to at least not cum inside but his hand was still in your mouth and so you simply cried in silence as his warmth spread through you and began dripping out of your pussy.

Tomura let out a shuddering breath as he calmed down from his high, falling down in his seat and taking you with him. His dick began to get flaccid and with a plopping sound the pulled it out of your abused cunt, spreading your pussy lips for your audience to show them the copious amounts of cum that now dripped out of your slit and down your ass.

“Next time,” Tomura laughed as he pushed his cum back inside with two of his fingers. “Let’s try out that back entrance of yours.” He teasingly let his finger circle around your cum-covered asshole while you simply lay on his chest, motionless except for your harsh breaths and the sobs leaving your body.

He wiped his gooey fingers on your chest before he leaned forward to grab his computer mouse, waving to the camera one last time and telling his audience he hoped they had enjoyed the show before he cut the stream and the red light of the camera turned off.

 ____________________________________________

When the screen turned black, back at the agency Katsuki slammed a fist on the table. He didn’t want to watch one of his coworkers violated but they needed to make sure you weren’t killed while his colleague on the desk worked on tracing the IP.

Katsuki whipped his head up, shouting over to the other pro-hero. “Did you fucking trace the stream?!”

It was silent for a minute while his colleague typed furiously, trying his hardest to get a location.

“…no.”

Katsuki’s scream of rage could be heard through the entire agency.

[luna-writes-stuff]

¿Are your requests still open? i got an idea: Thorin and recent wife! He's going to war. She is helping putting his armor. ¿Some with drama and crying?...

Quest for Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield

I went for Thorin leaving for Erebor and also, I don’t know how putting armor on works and I don’t want to risk writing the wrong things, so it’s helping him get dressed in general, so I hope it kind of fits your request! (I might have gotten carried away while wiring this,,,,hope you don’t mind)

Headcanons, female s/o

Tw: Angst, all the angst, bit of fluff (sprinkle of it), crying, Thorin being poetic and whatnot. I may or may not have cried writing this.

- Thorin leaving for Erebor hadn’t truly come as a shock to you. He had spent years trying to find his father, and you were always at his side, traveling with him wherever he went.

- But upon telling you he was leaving to reclaim his old homeland, you grew concerned. You knew it was dangerous for Thorin. He would not be the only one going for that mountain. Sure, he was the only one with the right to reclaim Erebor, but that wouldn’t hold off thieves and darker powers.

- So you immediately decided to come with him, accompanying him as you had always done. But you weren’t allowed to come. This poor dwarf had begged you to stay at home, trying his best to keep you safe.

- He was also aware of the dangers the road would bring and he would not wish that upon you. He would not purposely drag you into something that could cost you your life.

- After days of begging to come with him, you finally gave in, staying with Dis in the Blue Mountains, taking care of the remaining dwarves. You hadn’t been content with Thorin’s terms, but you knew there would be no way to convince him.

- You knew his decision was made out of love, yet you couldn’t help but feel miserable. Especially on the day he left.

- You had gotten up early, making a cup of tea before Thorin could even remove himself from the bed.

- As you had been braiding his hair again, you couldn’t stop the silent tears from rolling down. Your sight grew blurry through the droplets of water, but you refused to make a sound. Thorin was looking outside the window, looking at the small dwarflings already scattered over the open fields, their mothers not far away from them.

- It wasn’t until a tiny sniffle escaped you, he realized you had not been okay at all. He tried turning his head around, but you placed your hand of top of it, making him look straight ahead as you tried finishing the braid.

- “Amrâlîme-“ he started, but you cut him off, your voice cracking just a little, “Don’t. We both knew this day would come.”

- He was quiet for a few moments, before speaking up again; “You know I’m letting you stay out of my love for you, right?”

- You didn’t respond to him, your mind only focused on braiding his hair without screwing up.

- “I don’t want to put you in danger,” he tried, his head lowering a bit. “You must stay here for me. Stay safe.”

- “I have always been safe as long as I was with you.” You defended, grabbing one of your beads from the dresser beside you.

- “But you know this is important to me, right?” Thorin explained, even though he had done so a thousand times before. “When I come back, you can become a queen, Ghivashel.”

- “I don’t want to become a queen, Thorin.” You uttered, securing the piece of jewelry before letting go of his hair.

- “All I ever wanted was to be by your side. A crown doesn’t matter to me. All that matters to me is you. You and me.” The tears in your eyes had finally gathered enough to fall down on your lap, the sour taste of it lingering on your lips. You hadn’t even noticed Thorin turning around yet.

- “You promised me it would be the two of us until death do us apart.” Your voice cracked at the ending of your sentence, a sob stuck in your throat. Upon that sound, Thorin leaned forward, gathering you in his arms whilst he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

- “You promised, Thorin.” You whimpered into his chest, your hands clinging onto the fabric. “I know, I know.” He shushed, happy to hold you for a little while, knowing it might be the last time he’d ever hold you again.

- “It has always been the two of us and it will always be, Amrâlîme. I want you to stay with me as the stars fade out and all the water on this world has dried out. Even when the earth starts to shatter and all light disappears, I want you here with me.” He whispered, his hand now on your face, his forehead touching yours. “But that cannot happen if I lose you on this journey.”

- The question you had been dying to ask was on the tip of your tongue. The both of you knew exactly what it was, and both of you knew the answer too. “But what if I lose you?” You choked out, a new set of tears already forming.

- Thorin was quiet in response, not sure how to answer. The silence struck you hard, another sob escaping you as you furiously tried to wipe your tears away.

- “You won’t lose me, Kurdel. I promise.” Thorin replied, his eyes holding nothing but love for you, even as you could see them glossing up too.

- “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Thorin.” You warned, leaning into him again. He was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you close once more.

- “Death won’t mean you lose me. I will always be with you. Even if you can’t see me.” With that, he reached for his hand, pulling a ring off and handing it to you. It had been the ring you had crafted for him when you were in your first year of courting.

- “Keep it safe until I’m back.” He muttered, placing a kiss on this top of your head. Just then, a knock was heard from the door, signaling his company had come to pick him up. His head shot up, yet it quickly wandered back to you.

- “Come home to me” You silently whispered, holding onto his hands. “I don’t care if you’re victorious or not. Come home to me.”

- Thorin hadn’t responded expect for a single smile on his face, holding both remorse and sorry.

- “Men lananubukhs menu.” He mumbled, placing one last lingering kiss to your lips. Your hand quickly found his face as his grabbed the back of your neck and back. When the two of you pulled away, your hand remained on his arm.

- “I love you too.” You uttered, showing a weak smile that was on the verge of collapsing. Thorin knew, and it pained him to leave you like this.

- “Do not spent your tears on me, Amrâlîme. I only ever wished to see you happy.” He encouraged, his hands rubbing yours, placing a soft kiss to it.

- “I will be back before you even notice I am gone.”

- But he wouldn’t be. You weren’t prepared to say goodbye to him that day. Yet now, a year later, that dreadful letter from Erebor had appeared and you realized you would not get another shot for a proper goodbye.

- You were left with nothing but the beads he gave you. Days had grown heavy on you. Your return to the mountain had been much anticipated, yet you remained in the Blue Mountains, not ready for a place that held so much grief and misery.

- “Until all light disappears, yet the sun shines, and you are not here next to me.” You mumbled, fidgeting with the ring Thorin had given you, the warmth of the object slowly disappearing.

[startanewdream]

A short moment after the battle, written as an answer to: 1. Harry dealing with emotional people; 2. "How was it?" "Wet".; and 3. Ginny is too tough to cry.

Ginny is crying.

It’s not the first time Harry sees her crying, but somehow this time feels more personal, more invasive.

There is a sob, a self-contained one that speaks of how she doesn’t want anyone to hear it, how this is her moment of sorrow alone. Harry thinks of seeing Ginny at the funeral that morning, acting as a rock for everyone - helping her mother get dressed, supporting George, making sure all her family was fed and offering Harry her hand in a gesture that spoke of how she didn’t blame him at all for what had happened.

He always thinks of her as tough, not in a harsh way, but in a practical way, as if she doesn’t want to look weak, doesn’t want to look younger and smaller than she is. He understands it. Ginny hates to be underestimated, hates when others think of her as powerless.

Which is probably why she hung on all day, putting a brave face for everyone, helping her family, until she could have a private moment for herself to let all her feelings overflow her. Quiet. Independent. On her own.

Harry thinks of everything they talked before, of explaining his departure and his quest, and then of Ginny telling him how things were in Hogwarts that year, how they’ve been hanging on by a thread - a thread that, if he gathered everything everyone had said, was carried by Neville, Luna and Ginny. Ginny had always been good at hiding her feelings - she understood too much what pouring out her soul into someone could do - and Harry could guess how she had refused to show any weakness, how she had stubbornly refused to bow down to anyone.

She is strong, that he knows without a question.

That’s why seeing her laying against the pillows on her bed - her face wrinkled, eyes closed in pain, the tears flooding silently on her face, for once succumbing to her grief - seem as indecent as if he caught her undressed. The tears flow like a stream, soft, crystal clear, marking her porcelain skin, falling into her lap with a quiet fatality.

The thing is Harry never had much experience with crying people. The Dursleys taught him that he wasn’t supposed to cry, that he should swallow any unhappiness for no comfort would be provided. Emotional people scared him in a way that no deadly threat ever did; he never knew what he was supposed to do - Ron would suggest a cup of tea, Hermione would suggest a talk and none of those options seemed fine to Harry.

He remembers how it was with Cho, how he could never understand what she needed, how lost he was about her feelings - all of her grief and confusion that Hermione needed to explain patiently to him just like she would explain a particular difficult charm. And even with Hermione, his best friend, he could never provide her with the support she needed - he thinks of that time on their quest for Horcruxes, when they wouldn’t talk for days - as if there was some barrier that made him unfit to deal with other people’s emotions.

Maybe he is broken.

Harry knows he could go away, could leave without Ginny even knowing he was there. But the truth is, as terrified as he is, he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t know how to do it, but it’s Ginny. He can’t leave her.

So he opens the door of her room, making enough noise for her to know he is there, and Ginny opens her eyes with a start. They are red, opaque, and Harry thinks suddenly of those golden days on Hogwarts grounds, when the tears he’d see on her face were of mirth, of a joke they shared, of the pure joy of being together.

He’d rather have those happy tears, but he won’t run away from her unhappy ones. He wants to be there for her in all of those moments. He’s done being apart from her.

Ginny is trembling, her lips curved into an ashamed grimace as if she feels bad for being caught in that moment of sorrow. Her mouth opens and Harry can already hear how she will say she is fine, she will be down in a minute, she was just too caught in everything that happened today but she is fine, don't worry about her.

She will insist a lot that she is fine until everyone starts believing it.

It’s what Harry would do anyway, and in this aspect, he thinks they are a lot alike.

So he sits next to her in bed, raising slowly the back of his hand to touch her face, asking for a permission that Ginny grants him with a tiny nod of her head. Her skin is wet, cold; he dries her tears and Ginny closes her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch.

Then she holds his hand, stopping his movement, and opens her eyes, taking a deep breath.

‘I am -’

‘No, you are not’, Harry whispers, knowing and thinking of everyone that’s been lost. There are too many names there. ‘But you’ll be’.

Ginny looks at him, quiet desperation in her eyes and Harry tries to show her that is telling the truth. It won’t be tomorrow, it won’t be easy and it won’t ever truly stop hurting, but this grief she is feeling now doesn’t last forever; she will learn to live with it, to shape her life around it and to keep going. One day after another and, if she allows it, Harry hopes to be there with her in each one of those days.

After a very long time, she nods. The tears are still falling from the corner of her eyes, slower now, and since Harry can’t go away, he does the opposite: he pulls her into his arms and Ginny accepts his hug, burying herself deep into his chest. Harry is not sure of what he is supposed to do, but there are things that seem wrong (pushing her away, standing there still), so he lets his hand caress the strands of her hair, softly, brushing her back, and then he lies down in her bed, still keeping her - safely - on his arms.

He doesn’t know what he is doing, but at least this feels right.

His shirt is damped with her tears when Ginny breaks apart a little. Her eyes are still red and swollen, but her fierce expression Harry knows too well. Her gaze falls briefly to his lips and then back at him, demanding and pleading. Harry watches her, the tears still glistening on her eyelashes, before he moves closer, brushing her lips with his, a soft kiss that lasts a few seconds.

It’s a kiss that tastes salty and that speaks of grief and sorrow and the hope things will get better.

He breaks apart quietly, places a soft kiss on the top of her head, and hugs her closer.

[tk-writer]

When Side Quests Go Wrong. [Din Djarin x Reader]

You get a taste of Mando's sweet side.

Word Count: ~950

~~~~~

The last thirty seconds of your life were a blur.

One moment you were trudging through a rural dwarf planet, accompanying Mando on some sort of side quest, and the next you were being carried bridal style as lasers flew around your head. It happened way too fast for you to process.

Reddish orange hues currently swirl in your vision, You hear the sound of close range shots and what you hope are small, distant explosions. You look up to see your protector, the one who is currently shielding you from god knows what type of danger, and all of a sudden your stomach starts doing flip flops.

He was carrying you.

The Mandalorian was carrying you.

You try to say something, but all that comes out is a groan. Your head is pounding from all the noise and you're pretty sure you checked out for a second back there, so you close your eyes and redirect your focus on counting each hurried step he takes.

“Hold on. We’re almost to the ship.”

The seconds drag on, but eventually you hear the familiar sound of automatic doors and heavy boots on metal sheets. He carries you to the storage room and sets you down gently on a makeshift bed, one he put together the night before after you complained about the chairs in the cockpit hurting your neck.

You open your eyes once the headache subsides. He's studying you, and he's much more tense than usual; you can tell he's a bit shaken up from whatever the hell just happened. He dotes on you like a mother hen, checking your limbs for signs of serious injury while you try not to squirm too much. With utmost care, he presses his fingers around your ankles and shins. You stifle back a giggle, but you can't stop yourself from twitching, so he pulls away momentarily to make sure you're alright.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is cool and level, with just the slightest hint of concern. It’s so endearing that you’re compelled to tease him. Just a little.

“Why, you worried about me?”

He sighs, but it sounds more relieved than annoyed.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“They were going to kill you, Mando. What was I supposed to do, sit there and watch?”

“I had it under control.”

“Liar. If I hadn’t been there, you would’ve been minced meat.”

He scoffs. You let out a small laugh too. It’s a bit of an exaggeration on your end, but even so you were happy you had been there to cover him. If anything had happened to him or the kid...

“Next time, you’re staying on the ship,” he interrupts your worrisome thoughts with another one of his demands.

“And miss out on all the fun? I refuse.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

“Then you’ll have to make me.”

He’s irritated of course, but his shoulders finally relax now that he realizes you’re really okay. Maybe you should have laid it on thicker so that he’d baby you a little longer. It’s a silly thought, sure, but Mando was very sweet when he wanted to be. You wanted to cherish these rare moments as much as possible.

“What am I going to do with you…” he mutters offhandedly.

“Something terrible, hopefully.”

He pauses, and you sense something bubbling beneath his armor. You can tell he’s giving you some sort of warning look.

“You’re in one of your moods again, aren’t you.”

“What ever do you mean, sweet Mando?”

He shifts closer to you, slowly at first to give you the chance to move away, then moves forward once he sees you haven’t flinched. You wonder what emotion is hidden behind that mask of his.

“Hold on. It looks like you have a fracture… here.”

He grabs the area right above your knee and squeezes firmly. It's an abrupt, visceral feeling that almost makes you scream.

“Hey-! Ahaha, don’t!!”

He says nothing, repeating the same motion but at a much quicker pace. He grips both of your thighs firmly, squeezing seldom touched places in a random, unpredictable pattern. Jolts of lightning surge through you, and within a few seconds you’re lost once more in a fit of laughter.

You try to twist away, but his hands follow you and find other equally sensitive areas under the premise of “checking for injuries.” Which includes the sides of your ankles, the tops of your legs, and a horrible spot behind your knee that he had discovered earlier. Fighting him off is unlikely, but your legs thrash regardless.

He kneads you like dough, pressing gently on your muscles with his the tips of his fingers. His gentleness is ruthless, the complete opposite of what you’d expect from a guy with such a long kill list. You writhe in place, unable to do much besides take it and laugh. All while he silently tickles you to death.

“Nonono-NOO! Mandoooo!"

You splutter out a few weak pleas in between embarrassingly loud squeaks and giggles, but he doesn’t let up until he feels like it. And that doesn’t happen for another minute or two. You finally get to catch your breath, and while you’re gulping in air you can hear the sound of faintly muffled chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” you demand, still half-giggling.

“Nothing,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s actually laughing, you're not imagining things. It’s quiet and soft, but it’s definitely a laugh.

You want to say something else, but you’re feeling a little dizzy so you lay back down. Mando tickling you, Mando laughing, Mando tickling you and laughing…

You need to get “injured” more often.